He reached down and undid the hooks in front that held it together. As the last one fell away, he pushed the bra aside and fondled me. Then he stopped... slid off me and removed his shirt and pants, keeping his boxer shorts on. Suddenly a knock came at the door. ‘Massage!’ said a female voice, in English. ‘Oh my God, Sasha, I forgot to tell you! I ordered us a massage!’ A smile lit up his face. ‘You stay there,’ he commanded, as if I had a choice. My heart beat faster. Someone was going to see. I made reservations for dinner at the same restaurant where we'd had our first date. The evening was low-key, full of romance, and most definitely "us". And later that night, when me made love, it was not about "getting laid". It was about what we shared together, and for me, it was about what she wanted.Suffice it to say, I was becoming more and more disgusted with the person I'd been in the other timeline. I no longer wanted to be anything like him.Finally, I was "getting it."February 23,. More

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