Just this once

I stood in the airport security line with my laptop bag clutched in my hands as though I was going to lose it. The TSA agent handling the family ahead of me was eyeing me like I was a criminal.

Sure, I was fidgeting from foot to foot trying not to lose my nerve, but I definitely wasn't doing anything wrong.

It was the fact that I had never done something like this before.

I haven't even done it yet!

He knows. With his judgy TSA eyes, he knows.

He finally cleared the family ahead of me, motioning for me to step up to him and present my identification.

Flying out of JFK was never fun, but recently it was absolutely awful. You could just tell these people hated their jobs.

I handed Mr. Judgy my phone and ID, immediately moving to stand where he had directed everyone before me to stand as well, so that facial recognition software could ensure I wasn't traveling nefariously.

"Traveling to Las Vegas?"

"Yes, sir."

"Where is your luggage, Ms. Maloney?"

"Honestly, mister..." I checked the tag on his shirt, "Havers, this is the most spontaneous I have ever been. I work from home and decided an hour ago that Vegas sounded like fun. It's not like I'm traveling to a third world country. There's definitely a Target and a Victoria's Secret there. I'll survive."

It was only a slight lie.

Mr. Havers raised his eyebrow at me skeptically. He gave me a slight nod before checking his equipment, "Chin up, Ms. Maloney."

His equipment turned green before he handed me my documents back, "Safe flight. Have fun on your trip," he said with a smile.

He definitely knows.

The amount of people standing around was ridiculous. There were lines converging from everywhere so we could all be violated by TSA agents.

It took nearly thirty minutes for me to get to the station where I pulled off my shoes, placed them along with my laptop and laptop bag into a bin, before an angry little man directed me to stand in the giant X-ray machine so they could see I wasn't carrying a weapon or paraphernalia onto the plane.

It was forty-five minutes to boarding time and I needed breakfast and maybe a bit of courage. I couldn't believe I was doing this.

My ego took a hit a year ago when my, now ex-boyfriend of two years let me know that he no longer found me attractive. Heavy sigh.

When we started dating, I was a gym rat. I was in the gym six days a week and my only off day was the day that I spent time with my parents and helped them run their errands. That was a workout day in itself and I couldn't possibly generate the energy to do more.

I had weighed 160 pounds at five feet two inches, and I was all ass with good boobs. Like a large C, or small D on a swollen day. All he liked to do was go out to eat fried food. As a result, I gained over 50 pounds.

When I began going to the gym again he accused me of cheating. When I exercised in our apartment, he gave me dirty looks. When he was out, picking up dinner and I asked for a healthy choice option, he bought me the fried meal anyway.

I felt he was doing it to spite me.

I made it work, removing all of the bread, peeling off the breading that was deep fried and only eating whatever vegetable or protein presented to me. To which he accused me of cheating on him some more.

He would drive me to and from work, and I lost all of my friends when I started dating him. Clearly, they saw the real him early on, unlike myself. He controlled every part of my life that wasn't work.

It wasn't until after he left me that I realized what had happened. I had lost myself.

I spent the next two months reconnecting with my parents, living in the gym again, though now I am finding it difficult to slim down. I'm still unable to get under 180 pounds.

My mom has been calling me 'voluptuous' whenever I wear anything tight fitting. Called me...past tense.

My life fully imploded eight months ago. Eight months, three days, one hour, and twelve minutes ago.

It's odd how your brain focuses on things you don't want it to. Like the exact time you learned you no longer had parents and were alone in the world. A drunk driver struck them as my father drove my mother to work in the morning.

I was an only child, and all of my family was now gone.

I spent a month closing out my parents things. I donated, sold, gifted, and disposed of anything I didn't intend to keep forever. Since I was already handling it for my parents, I just kept going. I minimized more than half of my belongings.

I spent a few months in a bad depression, my weight flip flopping with my mood swings before I found some balance and acceptance.

I was able to get back to exercising again and trying new things like bring your own beer painting night. Socializing with random people without the pressure of sex helped me along.

I added a few more clients to my portfolio and I was feeling better about myself.

I was sitting in my living room earlier this month with nothing but my couch, television, laptop and cellphone, when I started to parade the internet. Social media to be specific.

Instagram was easy with all of that scrolling. I ended up scrolling to someone I hadn't seen in sixteen years. Vincent Romano.

I last saw him when we were thirteen years old, right before he moved to Las Vegas with his family. I had liked him for most of junior high school and was lucky enough that he asked me to attended a dance with him. After, he asked me to attend our 8th grade prom with him, and he even invited me to his graduation party for junior high school. We kissed and made out several times, but we were in 8th grade. We never even got to feel each other up.

It was a selfie of him with his four year old daughter. The caption read 'Light of my life. La mia principessa, Samantha.'

I liked the photo. She was adorable, and damn it, if he didn't look sexy in a tight fitting black t-shirt, with his glasses and that smile.

I checked his profile, noticing there were a ton of photos of him alone or with his daughter, but none of anyone else. I liked a few more of his photos and went back to my day.

It didn't take long. Maybe a few hours before I checked my phone again and I suddenly had fifteen notifications. Vincent was liking my photos, had commented on three of them, and had sent me a message.

I remember being excited to open it, thinking, what harm could it do.

That was how we started talking. We started on Instagram, and I ended up giving him my cell phone number where we proceeded to text, a lot.

It was innocent at first. We caught up on life and our struggles. He offered his condolences for my parents and I offered mine for his. They had passed away three and four years ago, each from cancer.

His wife had left him when he started becoming depressed, about a year after his daughter was born. He'd worked hard to be a good father to his Sammy.

He was in construction and his body showed it. His shoulders were broad, he had thick arms, and his hands were large.

Last week, I may have...instigated the change from innocent text messaging to something...heated.

He sent me a picture as he was getting out of his truck, heading to work. He was smiling with a black hat on backwards. I knew without paying close attention it was a Yankee hat. His favorite baseball team had never changed. An easy smile on freshly shaven face.

One of his hands was visible as he held his tall coffee. Two of his fingers weren't holding the cup, they were pointed towards me, as if he was saying hi. His hands had visible callouses. They were large and very strong looking.

I could picture them grabbing my ass possessively. Callouses and soft skin together running themselves over my skin before kneading handfuls. I felt a familiar tingle in my core before shaking myself out of it.

I liked the photo in our chat, and then with more courage than I've ever had before, replied back to the photo.

Nora: Please, try not to send me photos of your hands.

Vinny: ?? Why not?

Nora: Because I am now imagining them touching me. I was better off without those thoughts.

I saw when he kept attempting to type. Those three little dots taunted me over and over again, intermittently over the next hour.

Finally, I noticed my battery beginning to die from not having turned the screen off. I grabbed it, placing it on the charger and walked away.

I argued with myself. Maybe I should text him back saying I was joking. But I wasn't. And I didn't want to take it back. Ugh!

As I began to gather my laundry to get started on some chores, my phone beeped once then again for another incoming text message.

Do I check it? Do I let it sit? What do I do!?

I stood there for two minutes. I knew it was that long because I received the secondary notification for the text.

Fuck. Why did I have to send that?

I walked to my phone, the dark screen making my fingers tremble with my nerves.

I swiped the screen, the light immediately illuminating our text conversation and his responses.

Vinny: You can't text me things like that before I go into work.

Vinny: How am I supposed to install a bathroom floor now? All I'll be able to think about is what I can do to you with my hands.

I've read our text conversation at least twenty times over. Each time I read his messages, my heart rate picked up.

I wanted him thinking about touching me. I wanted him thinking about what he could do to me.

Nora: Does that mean I can text you things like that when you're getting out of work?

I hit send as soon as I knew my spelling was good to go. I was a habitual over thinker. I had to send it fast, or I wasn't ever going to.

I shut off the screen on my phone and walked away leaving it to charge again.

He's going to be busy. He's not going to be able to pay attention to his phone.

He usually only sends like one or two, when he can. I knew not to be expecting a response quickly. It shocked me when my phone beeped again before I sorted the second article of clothing.

Vinny: Much better than distracting me before work. After is different.

I smiled to myself.

Nora: I apologize for the distraction. As long as you refrain from sending tantalizing pictures in the morning, I will refrain from disturbing you before work.

His answer was much faster. He was waiting for my response and it was making my heart race with excitement.

Vinny: Not disturbing. Distracting.

Vinny: Tantalizing? What is that supposed to mean?

I huffed. I didn't know if he was being sarcastic, playful, or serious. Texting is so difficult. I wanted to just talk to him.

Lightbulb.

I ran to the kitchen for some water and coughed to clear any crack in my voice. I hadn't spoken to another person today and I didn't know how my voice would sound.

I pressed the button to record a voice memo and spoke into the microphone in what I sincerely hoped would convey sultriness, "It means that I was perfectly fine with our cheerful mundane conversations. But now, I've seen the size and state of your hands. My imagination is running wild and I am having...thoughts of you teasing my body."

I pressed play, because there was no way I wasn't going to check if I actually sounded sexy.

Thank god I did! I sounded awful! DELETE!

Let's try that again.

I pressed record and spoke normally this time, "Well Vincent, it means that I was fine with our cheerful mundane conversations. Now, I've seen your hands and all I can think about is you touching and teasing my body. It enticed me. That's what I mean by tantalizing."

I pressed play and was fine with my voice. I hit send before I could take it back and walked away.

Laundry, Nora!

I heard the beep for the incoming text. I knew if I checked it now, I wouldn't get anything done. I didn't look at my phone until after I put the laundry into the machines at the laundromat and set my timer.

As soon as I opened the messages, it showed that he saved my voice note.

Vinny: Well now you've gone and done it. I've heard you say my name and the only thing I'll be thinking of today, is you saying it over and over again while I touch you with my hands.

Vinny: If I don't answer, know that it's because I'm trying not to slice my fingers off with the ceramic saw.

Since then, near to the end of his work day, I would send him a photo. I have a full length mirror in my bedroom, so I've been sending him my daily outfits.

Tight pencil skirt suits with mildly revealing blouses, skin tight workout clothes, and two days ago, I even texted a photo of me in my fluffy robe after a shower when he had asked what I was doing. It goes to my knees, so not much skin, not that he seemed to mind.

The only time I didn't, was when I was warned not to. It was last Friday. He let me know he was going to pick up his daughter and that I couldn't send any pictures because he needed to not be distracted while driving his princess.

I told him that Samantha came first and that I understood. The only thing I texted him on Friday night, was that I hoped he enjoyed dinner with Sammy, and that I hope he sleeps well.

He said goodnight to me, and texted a few times on Saturday, even a few pictures of him and Samantha at the zoo, and having dinner together.

I was home, relaxing when he dropped her off with her mother on Sunday afternoon.

He sent me a live-photo of himself with a Yankee hat on, wearing a guinea tee, waving at me one handed with his signature smile that made me want to fondle my own nipples.

I closed my eyes and could practically feel his calloused hands grabbing at my neck and ass. Fuck.

Fourth day in a row that I was going to have to use a vibrator to feel better.

Nora: You're a tease!

His answer was quick and challenging.

Vinny: No, you are!

Oh really, I thought to myself. You want to call me a tease? I'll show you a tease.

I was wearing a maxi dress with a hoodie over it. It was tight on top to the waist, then loose to my mid thigh.

I took off the sweater, pulled my boobs out of my bra just a little, and pulled my dress down slightly.

My cleavage was fabulous, my hair was in a messy bun with random strands falling down and I looked like I had just been tossed around. It was the perfect 'please fuck me' look.

I clicked the camera on to face myself, tilted my head, and arched my back. I licked my lips excessively, and smirked at the phone leaving my lips slightly parted. I knew exactly what I was doing, or I thought I did anyway.

I took a few shots from different angles to make sure I liked them and went back to our chat.

Nora: If you're going to call me a tease, I should at least be worthy of the title.

I sent the text, counted five full seconds and then sent the photo I liked the best.

The three dots popped up and went away repeatedly before my phone shocked me by ringing.

Vinny was video calling me.