The Final Arrangement - Sex Stories

The Final Arrangement

... can't... Not any more. It's so awful for him. And he loves me so much." The words catch in my throat, tears welling. "So he suggested that I meet with you. To see if you could... To have a chance to feel..."

I tumble over the edge and tears flow. My chest and throat ache, filled with grief for John. 'In sickness and in health. Forsaking all others...' The words echo in my mind. My craving for fulfilment claws and tugs at my honour and integrity as a shameful betrayal. And yet, John has shown such incredible strength and courage. His solemn understanding and acceptance, of his frailty. His loving gift: the offer to feel complete again, without him.

My thoughts are pulled back to the here and now as this man leans forward and wraps me in his arms, drawing me to him. I weep into his shoulder. He holds me, firmly, silently, allowing my deep sorrow to run its course. I feel him tremor, a splash on my neck, and realise that he's weeping, too.

I lose track of time.

Eventually, there's a strange feeling of hollow emptiness inside and I can cry no more. With monumental effort, I drag myself into some semblance of composure, sitting up and wiping my face on a napkin. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to..."

"No," he interrupts, offering me a tissue. "You have absolutely nothing at all to be sorry about. You're an incredible woman. You're deeply in love with John and you care about him so much." He reaches forward, taking my hands in his. The tenderness of that simple ...

... contact makes me shiver. "Listen. You have no idea how humbled I felt when John explained and asked me to meet with you. And I have absolutely no idea if - or how - this is going to work out. But I do know that you both mean a lot to me. And you, in particular - I've always had a soft spot for you." He hesitates, looking away wistfully for a moment and I sense something, a reluctance. "Look, since my Jenny passed... There has never been another." He sighs deeply and looks into my eyes again, "I'm feeling pretty incomplete, too."

Although his tone is calm and understanding, his words hit home hard. I'm shocked by my crass, selfish focus. Damn my foolish ignorance! Why hadn't I thought of Jenny?

"Oh God! I'm so sorry! I didn't..."

"I know. It's okay," he interrupts, quietly. Those kind, intensely dark eyes smile again, although with a clear sadness. "Listen," he continues, "You know her. You know how close we were with you and John. I think she'd be happy that, whatever happens today, that we tried to help each other."

I lean in to him and kiss, a mere touching of the lips. "For Jenny, then."

"And for John." He returns the kiss. But it's different. His kiss is meaningful, warm, intimate, making little chills chase themselves up and down my back. Inside, guilt and shame shift a little. He pulls back. There is uncertainty, and even fear, in his eyes as though he has shocked himself with the line he has just crossed. That fear fades as he seems to find something in my ...