how I undress before her with a smile on my face.
It's not what you think. It's not fake.
I'm smiling through the pain.
I kiss her through the pain.
I love her through the pain.
I take off her clothes and we glide into bed. I kiss her again, not just on the mouth, but also on her cheeks, her neck, and her ears.
I want to touch every inch of her and then I want to do it all over again. She leans over and presses her lips to mine.
Her mouth feels strong and forceful, assertive. She climbs on top of me and cradles my head with her hands.
Her hair cascades down and with the blanket pulled over us, it feels like we are alone in a cave.
She kisses me again on my lips and then slides down to my stomach. When she puts her mouth around my cock, I tilt my head back slightly and close my eyes.
Her tongue feels rough, but in a good way. She wraps her hand tightly around, moving it up and down along with her mouth.
“I can't take it anymore,” I say after a little while. “I want to be inside of you.”
Giving me a wink, she gets up. Before she climbs on top, I pull out and put on a condom.
We have been using one and right now is not the time.
She opens her legs up and slowly descends upon me. I can feel myself filling her up and I reach up to touch her breasts as she tilts her head and lets her hair fall down her back.
Moving up and down, I lose myself in her.
It doesn't take either of us very long to get there. I watch her get closer and closer, moaning out little sounds here and there.
I can see the pleasure wash over her face and then the avalanche that rushes through her body.
As her body starts to relax, mine takes over and I thrust myself harder and deeper within her.
She folds in half and breathes into my ear as an explosion bursts out of me.
12
Isabelle
After, we lie in bed together, holding onto one another, whatever tension that existed before seems to have vanished.
I remember what it's like to be with someone who I care about deeply and who cares deeply about me.
I listen to him breathe, inhaling then exhaling. His heart beats very slowly, but at a steady rate. I press my ear to his chest and lose myself in the drumbeat.
Neither of us knew that a new identity, let alone an American one, would be so… affordable.
I wonder why it's so cheap. Is this actually something that people do all the time? That would be the only reason, I guess.
The price must be driven down by the big black market for authentic passports, birth certificates, bank accounts, and security numbers.
I also wonder if Tyler was right after all.
Maybe after all of this, he could actually live a normal life. Maybe he could go out into the world and just be this other person and no one would ever know.
How many of these people are walking among us right now?
Think about it. You meet a person, they tell you their name, you shake hands, and that's the end of it.
You assume that they are who they say they are, but is that even true?
Goose bumps make the hair on the back of my arms stand up.
I still don't know what this means when it comes to me. We haven't talked about it yet, we argued about it a little bit, but I know that the decision is mine alone.
I also know that if I were to accompany him in this new life, then I could never be Isabelle Nesbit again.
Isabelle would have to disappear.
That would be a terrible thing to do to my coworkers and my students.
I don't have many friends, a few acquaintances, but I could just leave work and never come back, right?
Perhaps the way to deal with it delicately is to just say that I got a new opportunity elsewhere and that I'm moving.
We can say our goodbyes and then we can promise to stay in touch over social media but never follow through.
Yes, that would be a better way to do it. That would be a more humane way.
I definitely wouldn’t want anyone looking for me, especially the cops, wasting resources on trying to find someone who doesn't want to be found.
Am I even willing to go that far?
As I lie here in Tyler's arms, I think about