Number Four

He was at least ten years older than her. He wouldn’t tell her his real age. Neither of them knew why, exactly, that they had first started speaking, but somehow it just clicked.

They did it in secret, but unlike other affairs, neither of them let on in the least via paranoia or obvious guilt that what they had was any more than a casual co-worker acquaintance. It wasn’t like either of them had anything to hide, really; they worked in different departments, were both single, had common interests. But somehow it was better when it was their secret. Perhaps the attraction would not have lasted had they been open about it, made a “real couple” of themselves. Whatever the excitement factor, it was working for them.

They started out slowly, perhps not even realizing what they were building between each other at first; they would go out for coffee, lunch, happy hour, talk about office politics, office gossip.

They talked about movies and music, told jokes, discussed world events. They debated about philosophy, dogma, leanings. They analysed fiction, poetry, dreams. They never confided, instead skirting around the edges of intimacy without actually crossing its borders.

Eventually, she ended it. She had to, in spite of and because of how wrapped up in it she’d become.

It was difficult – where, when would she ever again find someone to sneak into the copy room after six with for “fax” (as they joked)? Who else would fuck her and then go out for a good movie and coffee afterward? How could she justify not wearing underwear to work from now on?

A boyfriend would never agree to such things, at least not after the initial magic wore off and the comfortable familiarity settled in, this she knew. She certainly didn’t want to make a boyfriend out of him – not for typical reasons, though; he was clean, attractive, good in bed, fun to be around, interesting to talk to. It wasn’t quite that she didn’t want to ruin the spontenaiety and excitement of their relationship, either. She just knew that there was some sort of expiry date on such fun, and would rather tear the metaphysical Band-Aid off in one shot than risk discovering his bad side.

She managed to rationalize the situation nearly to death, and was content that she’d had the experience, happy to have known someone like that without letting it get bad or, worse, boring.

He, on the other hand, was devastated.

–

Kathleen Savoy was once a Black Heart staffer. She is a secretive individual, thus we can say no more about her personal activities or current whereabouts. (In other words: we’ve lost her bio and had to make this one up on the spot.)