Losing It Again - Sex Stories

Losing It Again

... hidden under the shower gel and shampoo. Talk about being prepared. I leave the bathroom before settling on the edge of the bed to flick through the film channel. My mother treated me a couple of nights in a nice hotel in the city so that I can find little coffee shops, obscure record stores and second-hand book shops in-between orientation sessions. Lucky for me, she knew me so well. I am about to order some dinner when there is a knock on the door. Puzzled, I walk up to it and look through the peep hole. All I see is differentiating shades of white. “Yes?” I ask, without opening the door. “Miss Cheung, these have just been delivered for you.” Intrigued, I open the door to see a young porter holding a small bouquet of white roses. “Thank you,” I smile, as he hands them to me. I take a moment to smell them. Oh, they are heavenly. As I close the door and walk back into the room, I examine the bouquet. The flowers are lovely, a personal favourite of mine. Sarah knows I am a sucker for white roses, so they must be from her. Settling them on the dresser, I spot a card and open the small envelope. ' Beth, there are so many things I want to tell you. But you don’t deserve a text, email or call. You deserve to be told them… I then see the ‘PTO’ in the corner. I turn the card around and my eyes widen. '…. in person .' As the words float in front of my eyes, I hear a knock on the door that startles me, dropping the card on the floor. Without thinking, I hurriedly rush over to fling ...

... it open. My eyes are wide in shock as Mark stands in front of me. But he doesn’t look carefree and relaxed like he normally does. Instead, he looks tired and worn-out. His eyes are slightly red, his skin is noticeably paler and there is a light stubble adorning his chin. Part of me is elated that he is still alive and in front of me but another part of me is seriously pissed off. I imagine slapping him really hard around the face but then his eyes instantly meet mine and slightly brighten up, like he is thrilled to see me. But he doesn’t do or say anything and I am grateful. He is waiting for me to make the first move. “Hey,” I finally say. “Hey, Beth,” he murmurs. “You look awful,” I mutter. “I feel it. It is so good to see you,” he says, a sad smile crossing his face. “How…how did you find me?” I ask, leaning against the edge of the door. “Before I tell you, I owe you an explanation. It is the least I can give you,” he says briskly, his hand fiddling on the shoulder strap of his rucksack. “If you want me to leave, I have an open train ticket so you can throw me out when I am done.” Sighing, I allow him to come in and watch him walk with an unfamiliar sense of unease. This is the guy who can make me blush with a smile but now, he can’t seem to look at me. I follow him back into the room and he takes off his rucksack, resting it on the navy blue carpet. I look at him, still standing, with my arms crossed. Turning to face me, he rubs the side of his face and I realise he is ...