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PART 3: Happily Ever After?


So far Saya’s birthday weekend was running perfectly. Saya had adored the decorations to her room Thursday. Friday was relaxing and peaceful. Saturday with Lauren was a joyous pleasure-fest. I only hoped we could continue the momentum.

Saturday’s dinner was heavenly, and after a soak in the jacuzzi, we let our loins rest and just went to sleep. I dreamed nothing but sweet dreams, and Saya was in every one of them.

When we awoke, breakfast was room service on our balcony. We were naked under our bathrobes, casually chatting with our orange juice and croissants. It was during this peaceful moment when I saw real worry on Saya’s face for the first time. Not just a momentary anger or shame, but serious worry.

I turned and took her hands in mine. “What’s wrong?”

“There is something you must know.” She paused then. I just waited patiently, Saya was always direct and when she wanted to say something she always came out and said it.

She looked at me, tears in her eyes. “I must leave you soon.”

My mind immediately flashed back to the apartment complex and the two week move out date. But the hope in me shoved that thought away. “Uh, you have plans for this afternoon?”

Saya smiled, a bittersweet smile I will never forget. “No. I must truly leave you. I am going back to Japan.”

“In two weeks,” I blurted.

She looked at me oddly. “Yes, how did you know?”

I explained what happened with the apartment complex. And then I asked the question that ultimately doomed me. “When will you be back?”

“I don’t know. It is possible that I will not come back.”

Her answer hit me like a ton of bricks. Wait, when she means leaving, she really means LEAVING. That simple thought shattered me, and immediately I felt the pain of a dagger through my heart. “I… I don’t understand. Why?”

“I was here on a one-year work visa. That is all I was allowed. That one year is almost over. I knew this when I came.”

“You knew? How come you never told me?”

“Because if you knew, you would have been thinking about it every day for six months. I have told you before, you always worry about tomorrow. And it does not let you enjoy today.”

My mind was whirling, my eyes twitching back and forth as I tried to comprehend. This was impossible. I couldn’t lose her. But the signs were always there. The warnings that I needed to have my own life outside of her. How she redirected the conversation every time I asked about our future. She had known all along that ours was to be a short-lived affair.

“I chose to wait until today to tell you. To let you be happy during the time we had. Also, it would be unfair to surprise you on the very last day. So this was the compromise between letting you enjoy each day and still give time for you to adjust.”

“But, what about us? How can you leave?”

Saya reached her hand out to my face, wiping away the tears, smiling bravely. “I would be nice if I could stay. But my visa expires, and that is that. I enjoyed my time here, my time with you. But this is not my country.”

I suddenly seized her hands in mine. A reckless thought came to mind. The morning sun was beautiful, the cliffs and the ocean and the waves. But she was more beautiful than them all. “Saya, marry me! Please, will you marry me?”

Surprised, she pulled back and I lost my grip on her hands. She blinked several times, the shock evident on her face.

I knew my eyes were a little crazed. “Please, then you can stay! You wouldn’t need a visa!”

I saw her eyes flickering, her mind racing as fast as mine for a moment. Finally, she decided, then leaned in to kiss me fiercely; it was a kiss so strong and so hard that my teeth hurt. When she pulled back, there were tears in her eyes as well. But her tone was anything but comforting.

“You are sweet, and kind. But we have talked about this before. I am not ready to settle down and be married. I am young, and there are many other things I want to experience. I am sorry, but my answer is ‘no’.”

She got up then, and went to the doorway. She turned back to look at me and my crushed body. “It is not our karma. Perhaps I was here to help you realize that you CAN find love again. That there are other ways of being happy after your ex-wife. But I was only here for precious moments, to lift you up again. Now there must be someone else for your future.”


The work week was the usual miserableness of treating Saya like a professional co-worker. Oddly enough, that practice of being emotionally detached from her served me well. I realized then that I would still be alive; I could handle being apart from her without it ruining my life.

I still missed her, and she was right. Even if I did not spiral down into suicidal depression, I still could not enjoy each day knowing she would be leaving soon. Six months of doing this would have killed me.

The five work days gave me time to think apart from her, to let my analytical brain earn its keep in the war eryaman escort bayan with my heart. She was my girlfriend, not my wife. We had never talked about our future, of kids or homes or anything like that. She had kept me grounded in the moment, enjoying each day and getting the most happiness from my life. It hurt to think of losing her, but she had reminded me to live again.

For our last weekend together, she made sure that we went out and about, keeping ourselves busy. We went dancing and hiking. We had picnics and visited all the tourist spots she had missed. She said goodbye to Lauren, and made Lauren promise to keep an eye on me. “I’m leaving you in good hands. She loves you more than you realize,” Saya told me. “A woman’s intuition.”

I filed that away, not really listening. I was too consumed by my grief over losing Saya. We never were apart for more than a few minutes that weekend. When we weren’t out and about, we holed up in my condo and made love every chance we got, as if it was the last time we would ever be that intimate again.

Monday and Tuesday were the hardest days of my life. Knowing that I had such little time left, but locked into the professional routine, was driving me mad. I had to tough it out. I took Wednesday off from work so I could take Saya to the airport. I waited in the security line with her, and just before she went through, we kissed for the last time. I poured my heart into that kiss, filling it with everything I had. She kissed me back firmly, but pulled away far too soon.

“Sayonara.” It had such a ring of finality to it.

And then Saya was gone.

I stood there in the terminal, just soaking in the emotions flooding through me. I willed myself not to leave until I was sure I could move on.

I had lost my wife, and then I tried to turn Saya into a new wife. It was all I knew, but it was the wrong choice. She had been patient. She had been kind. And she had been very giving to me. I truly loved her, and maybe she even loved me. But I had nothing else to offer her. Money, affection, and clinginess were not enough to make her settle down with me. A thousand other men could offer the same. She was young and wanted to experience the world; to see new things. All I wanted to do was force her to settle and take that away.

Saya wasn’t the one for me. I had a concept of what I wanted in life: Home, car, financial security, wife and 2.5 kids, golf club membership. I had everything but the family, and my “wife” was a cardboard cutout with a big hole where the face belonged. And I had tried to just paste Saya’s face into that hole, to wedge her into a set role in my life. But people don’t work that way.

I waited, and thought, and waited some more. I waited until my brain physically hurt from the overuse, until deep down I knew that Saya was truly gone, and I was alone. I must have stood in that spot for over an hour, long enough to see that her flight had taken off. Finally, I accepted it.

I turned and strode from the terminal with a purpose. There was more to life than my ‘perfect concept’. My life after this love would begin again.


Thursday I was back in the office, running on autopilot. Everyday existence was boring and mundane. I had been totally dependent upon the one light in my life, and Saya was gone. My car, my home, all the rest brought me no relief.

I had to start over. But this time there would be no mourning period. I would find my own hobbies and ambitions. I would take control of my life, and emerge stronger than ever before! At least, that was the plan.

Thursday night I found myself miserable, and alone. I was sitting in my recliner, watching Cinemax on the plasma TV. One day gone, knowing Saya was a million miles away, and I was stuck in my rut already.

Friday night I was doing the same thing until Lauren saved me. She showed up at my door at 10pm, wearing a thick overcoat to ward out the cold. Her dark hair was nicely done in an up-do, with dangling earrings as if she was going out on the town.

“Somehow I knew you’d been at home pouting,” she remarked as I let her in. Then her blue eyes flashed. “So, I figured I’d come and cheer you up a bit.”

With that, the overcoat hit the floor, revealing that she was clad only in revealing red lingerie and high heels. Her boobs had seemingly only gotten bigger, pushed up in the most advanced technology horny guys could design in a bra. Her ass was perfect in the thong. She evaluated me coolly as I gawked at her gorgeous body. “Just so we’re clear: you can’t fall in love with me.”

“No problem,” I answered, my eyes locked into a spot about a foot below her eyes. We fell into a comfortable embrace, and I let the pleasure carry me far away from all my troubles.

When we were both finished, I lifted my head off of her naked bosom and looked into Lauren’s eyes. She blinked once, then reached a hand up to stroke my cheek.

I leaned down and kissed her gently. “Thank you, for everything.”

She smiled. elvankent escort bayan “You don’t have to thank me. It was my pleasure.”

“Uh, my pleasure too.”

She giggled. Her face was softer than I ever remembered, and for a brief moment I saw through her carefree exterior to a vulnerable girl who just wanted to be loved. She whispered to me, “For you, anytime.”


Saturday morning Lauren swept out of there so fast I almost forgot she had been there. But she also commented on a trophy I had in the corner. I’d been a decent golfer a few years ago, just amateur stuff. But it at least gave me the idea to get up and leave my condo. So I set up a tee time, went out, and shot a horrible round. That’s what happens when you get rusty I told myself.

But at least I’d left my condo and gotten some fresh air. And for a few brief hours, I forgot about Saya.

Of course, the instant I got home and looked at my couch, memories of kissing Saya there came rushing back to me.

I spent the rest of Saturday night crying. Really, the whole night crying. Hours and hours of crying. I hadn’t cried like this since I’d found out my wife cheated on me. But it was a cathartic evening.


Sunday I started looking for a new dream. Something to build my life around. I toyed with the idea of quitting my job and starting a new company. Maybe I’d become a hermit and try to invent the latest wonder gizmo. Should I get into politics? (Uh, no.) Take up activism? (Double no.) Become a professional golfer? Join the Peace Corps.? Just start running across the country like Forrest Gump?

Okay, I was insane. Saya’s leaving had driven me insane.


Monday I marched into the office with reckless confidence. I shook up my routine, shifted some responsibilities around my staff, and I never looked back. I knew I was smart and capable, and I stopped second-guessing myself. I was assertive in every meeting, and surprisingly never quite stuck my foot in my mouth.

My boss slapped me on the back and was very pleased with an idea I’d stormed into. “You’re doing well,” he told me. I thanked him, then strutted off in a whirlwind to bark out some other orders and get things done.

Tiffany stopped by my office with a steaming cup of coffee in her hands. I looked up, pausing for only a few moments on the exposed cleavage in her low cut top before welcoming her in.

“You’ve been so busy this morning, I noticed you never got your usual coffee.”

Startled, I reached my hand out. “Uh, thank you.”

“Cream, two sugars, right?”

She was two for two on the surprise list. “Right. Thank you.”

“No problem.” Tiffany smiled, then turned to the door. She paused long enough to let my gaze drop to a perfectly heart-shaped ass, and then she was out the door.

How long had Tiffany been noticing me? For a long time I would imagine. How long had I been trying not to notice her? From the day she arrived. She was beautiful and had huge tits, but I was already married. Tiffany was the young, pretty girl that almost every company has. The sunny personality, the perfect hair, the bright eyes with long eyelashes. The aerobics-toned body, the slightly sluttish attire, the one girl everyone wants to bang and everyone knows it. That was Tiffany.

I did my best to put her flirting out of my mind. I wasn’t very successful.


Tuesday morning (very early morning, more like middle of the night), I thrust once, twice, three more times and then my balls were squeezing and my pecker spurting its load into the receptive chasm. Almost immediately, I was asleep.

When I awoke, the sun was just barely over the horizon. The light coming through the window was just enough for me to see Tiffany’s sweet face, still asleep on the pillow next to me.

Damn, I’m such a stupid cad.

I tried to remember what had happened last night. But my only dim memory, beyond all the alcohol clouding, was that of passing out on top of Tiffany’s huge tits: round, perfectly soft but firm melons of joy to pillow on.

I didn’t know what to say to her, but she gave me a morning blowjob and then it was off to work. She flirted with me more than usual Tuesday, but it was such a common occurrence I don’t think anyone paid any special attention.

Back in my office, I wasn’t worried about Tiffany. I got drunk and I’d used her; nothing more than that. In the end I was thinking how strange it was: I couldn’t remember the last time I’d gotten laid on a Monday night.


Wednesday I was my usual hard-charging self. I had been a workaholic when I first graduated, and I knew how to do it once again. Around 9pm I went home. I lay in bed imagining Saya was on the pillow next to me.

Thursday was the same. I cried again for a few hours, rubbing the pillow where Saya used to rest her head.

Friday afternoon Tiffany finally came to talk to me in my office. I had barely spoken to her since we slept together. She wanted to go out that evening, and I emek escort bayan couldn’t find the right way of saying “You were a one-night stand rebound lay”, so I ended up agreeing to go out with her.

We did dinner, and I found out a lot about her while she went off in her usual chatterbox way. But the whole ‘date’ was just a prelude until we went back to my place and fucked like rabbits for the whole evening. Tiffany had a gorgeous body; obviously she worked out vigorously to maintain it. She had shaved her pussy completely bare, and it felt velvety soft on the outside. Inside her pussy, she was even softer, and her inner muscles proved that Tiffany was definitely an expert lover.

Some time after that, I took great pleasure in fucking her up the ass, my hands on her huge tits the whole time. That night, I managed to forget about Saya.


Saturday morning I looked in the mirror and realized I didn’t recognize myself. Where was the sweet, sensitive guy who was in love with Saya? Only a week and half without her, and I found myself an emotionally vacant jerk.

This wasn’t being strong and moving on. This was shutting myself in. Not that I knew what to do about it. The only positive thing I could think of was that I wasn’t getting clingy with Tiffany, at least.

I went golfing again. My score was improving…

Perhaps I still could have my ‘perfect concept’. Just paste Tiffany’s face into that hole in my life where the ‘wife’ role belongs. She would be the hot babe trophy wife, just like a hundred other young executives I was acquainted with. Use her for sex and for producing offspring, treat her like an object, give her a credit card and she would be satisfied. Deep down, I believed Tiffany would jump at the chance, and be truly happy for it.

Maybe this was the best I could hope for in my life after true love. I could be married again, and my whole life would be ‘ideal’ again. But for some reason, thinking about all that did not bring me peace. I couldn’t sleep that night.


Sunday afternoon Lauren called me for a booty call. This time, she had brought another guy, and we tag teamed her all over her mansion. I’d fuck her while she blew the other guy, and vice versa. We even double penetrated her lying on a shag carpet in front of the fireplace.

We blew our cum into every orifice and all over her body. Lauren was in ecstasy.

I don’t even remember the other guy’s name. He left shortly after. Once he was gone, I complained, “What? Am I not man enough for you anymore?”

She laughed at me. “Didn’t want you to start thinking I was only yours.”

Lauren and I ended up soaking in her hot tub, naked but not really noticing it. I truly enjoyed how comfortable we felt around each other. She was right, by now we were old friends (without the ‘old’ part). She was a special girl, and I knew I could have fallen in love with her so easily; really I would have fallen for her long before Saya ever entered the picture, but her reminders to stay emotionally detached kept me grounded.

The hot water mixed with a few drinks soon had us light-headed and feeling mellow. Lauren had her head back, lazily rocking it side to side and started humming some pop tune. The melody was familiar, but I couldn’t place it. Then, Lauren really started to talk to me.

“Is this all there is to life?” Her voice was dead serious, the tone she had when we put the flirting and teasing aside, and we were just ordinary people who needed a good friend to talk to.


“Oh, it’s just this song I was thinking of.”

“What song?”

She did a fair impression of the singer. “There’s gotta be more to liiiiife… than chasing down every temporary high, to satisfy me…” I realized it was exactly the way Lauren had been living her life since her boyfriend left.

“Cute song. What do you think?”

“That’s what I was asking YOU.”

“I’m as lost as you are.”

We both stewed on that for a while. Then Lauren stopped and really looked at me, regarding me in the close friend light compared to the superficial fuck- buddies light. “Are we in a rut?”

I was a little confused. “How can we be in a rut? There is no ‘we’.”

“No. You seem to be in a rut. I feel like I’m in a rut. So are we, separately, in ruts?”

“Yes, we’re rutting. Only we’re not rutting right now.” I leered at her. We’d finished fucking not twenty minutes earlier, but Lauren was still a hot babe. And the deep conversation was going somewhere I didn’t want to admit to myself.

She reached over and smacked me upside the head. “I’m being serious. I feel like I’ve spent a lifetime doing absolutely nothing, spinning my wheels. My life is going nowhere.”

“Okay, so you’re in a rut.” My mild annoyance at her constant reminders not to fall in love with her popped into my head. “Abandonment issues, remember? How long are you going to hide behind those? How long will it be before you let yourself get attached to anything? To anyone? Or even get a job! Yeah, you’re in a rut.”

“Hey, you too!” Lauren’s voice wasn’t hurt, just indignant. “Saya, while a sweet girl, only ever wanted to be your girlfriend, to enjoy your time together while you had it. I warned you at least twice! But you had to go out and get attached. So now where are you? Any better off than you were when I first met you?”

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