Within a few days the man came back to Miranda’s house, catching her alone as she prepared to jump in the shower before going to work. The physical attraction was undeniable. The man desired Miranda more than the air that he breathed. Within moments they were back in the bedroom, his strong arms wrapped around her, his rough hands caressing her. Miranda, captured in the throws of lust, followed along. After all, she figured it would be better she was intimate with the man before the act of a threesome came into play. Or at least that’s what she told herself as his fingers traced the edge of her pants, slipping them to the floor. For a split second John crossed her mind, but then the man’s gentle lips met her own and the rest of the world slipped away.
Nothing existed for Miranda. Nothing but the man. No thought of John. No thought of work or her shower or the family that could walk through the door at any moment. The second his lips met her own, Miranda thought of nothing but the fireworks that sparked inside of her. She ached with desire as the man’s throbbing member filled her, oblivious to how easily the man was weaseling his way into her heart. Oblivious to anything, everything, except this man’s kiss, his strong arms around her, the scent of his cologne embracing her, the feelings that echoed inside of her
The man called Miranda often, and stopped by to visit. She soon learned that his name was Richard. Rich worked doing construction and was staying at his dad’s house because it was closer to his work site. He worked late into the evening, conveniently getting off of work after Miranda’s mom would send John home.
Miranda didn’t realize what she was doing. It didn’t bother her that she was talking to Rich while still dating John. She didn’t see anything wrong, because it didn’t feel wrong. Her conversations with Rich didn’t impact the way she thought of John. In fact, Rich and John were no more than accessories that accented her life, still so far from her central focus.
She went to work and she came home. She hung out with her friends and she hung out with John, and she hung out with Rich. Within a few short days, a chain of events that occurred between John and Miranda long before Rich entered the picture, pushed Miranda to her breaking point.
Miranda knew their relationship had ended. Sitting on the couch, twirling that engagement ring around her finger, she would watch John. Watch him doing nothing. Thinking nothing. Becoming, nothing. He felt less and less like the man that supported every dream she ever had. John was becoming the man that would sail on her wings, never spreading his own. Miranda saw it clearer as each day passed.
She knew it would hurt John. He didn’t see things the way she did. He didn’t feel the way he was pulling her down. He was a giant cinder block chained to her leg. She needed to cut him lose if she were to ever fly.
Miranda sat on her bed with John, slowly sliding the ring off of her finger. With tears in her eyes she told John it was over. He tried to refuse taking the ring back, but Miranda placed it in his hand and told him to go. She didn’t cry because it hurt her to let him go. Letting John go was as easy as tossing away a pair of earrings. Tossing away another accessory. He was just another boy, but he was her friend too. He had been her friend since she was thirteen. She teared up for a moment, knowing that he was hurting because of her.
But Miranda’s tears dried quickly. She continued on as she always had, with work, with friends, with Rich. She continued on… jumping head first into the very depth of pain that John left her house that night in.
~TO BE CONTINUED~