It was a weird feeling, not wanting sex but responding to it anyway. It had been such a long time, but that wasn’t the reason. Well, maybe part of the reason. But in the main, Chris just knew how to play the instrument. I touched his head with my fingertips and he looked up. “Tell me when.”

I fell back on the pillow and just waited for the outcome. When it happened, I pulled him toward me to let him finish us both. He said, “Tell me when you’re done.”

“Keep going.”

About a minute passed. “Soon?”

“Keep going.”

“I don’t think I can.”

“Go ahead then.”

He climaxed with three quick shoves. When he was done, he rolled off my body. “God … I forgot how long your orgasms are.”

“I need to sleep,” I told him. “Come to bed.”

He checked his watch. “I’ve got to get back to work.”

“Whatever.” I turned over and pulled the covers over my head.

The next time I was awakened, he was crawling into bed. He crept up behind me and pulled my back into his chest. We had always slept like this, him cradling me. It was so weird. I hadn’t been with him in over a decade. The truth was I hadn’t been with a man in over two years. He reeked of masculinity, and despite myself, I felt sparks shoot through my body.

“What time is it?” I asked.

“Four-fifteen.”

“I can’t move. I’m depleted.”

“So am I.” He was still holding me. “Go back to sleep.”

I closed my eyes. I was in that fuzzy stage between awake and asleep, when he rolled me on my back. “I’m sorry, babe, but I really need you.”

Code words for sex. He didn’t wait for consent, but I didn’t stop him because it felt comforting. It didn’t take more than a few minutes. When he had finished, I was a bit nauseated but awake. I said, “I need to shower. Help me.”

“Of course.”

I looked at him in the light of the moon outside the picture window. His lids were droopy and his face looked worn. The stubble across his cheeks gave his complexion a tinge of swarthiness. He helped me up, and with the handheld showerhead, I washed off a day’s worth of sweat and sex. Water was truly miraculous. We went back to bed, resuming the same sleeping position, except instead of being merely awake, I was now wide-awake.

I said, “You liked it, didn’t you?”

He hugged me tighter. “What do you think?”

“No, not this time,” I told him. “Before … when you hurt me. You liked it.”

A beat. “No, I didn’t like it. I felt terrible.”

“Then why didn’t you stop?”

“Why didn’t I stop …” He exhaled. “Honestly, I was so in my own head, your voice barely registered.”

I didn’t say anything.