HOME | DD

Description
When they met five hours later outside her work, he was wearing a suit and had a wide box in his arms. He handed it to her with a euphoric grin that she knew very well.
“I bought you a dress. For tonight. You need a proper costume to play pretend, right?”
It was perfect. Black and satiny, tight in all the right places and exactly her size. He'd thought of everything – or the shopkeeper had – and included nylons, shoes, and a necklace that looked suspiciously expensive. Alex put it all on, but could not contain her astonishment.
“You didn't have to-” she started, but he cut her off.
“Please, I wanted to. If you don't like it, though, we can go back-”
“No, Jesus, Logan,” she laughed. “It's perfect. Thank you.”
“You look perfect too,” he said with a sloppy grin. “I got us reservations for 6:30. Shall we?”
“I didn't get you anything,” she said, suddenly mortified.
“No, shh,” he said, calming her nervous protests. “It is literally impossible for you to have brought anything better than yourself. That you've agreed to this is the most amazing thing anyone has ever done for me.”
“That bar must have been set terribly low,” she muttered. Logan laughed.
“No. You've just – God, Alex, I don't even have the words. You've made me very happy.”
Indeed, he was smiling so widely Alex thought his face might split, and he had a euphoric twinkle in his eye. Gone, completely, were the nerves and self-doubt of this afternoon. She thought he was pretending very, very well. She hoped her own ability to forget reality was as complete.
She was, eventually, relieved that he had bought her a new outfit, for the restaurant he had booked was more lovely than any place she had ever eaten. His childlike exuberance was cushioned by an elegant confidence she hadn't seen earlier, and it brought out her own. Seated at a lonely table by a window overlooking the harbourlands, she actually felt like they belonged there.
They ordered a bottle of wine and stared at their menus a while. This is awkward, Alex realized. She looked up and saw Logan looking back at her with the same sheepish expression.
“So, what are you getting?” she asked, trying to sound casual. It was anything but a casual question, and she peeked at him over her menu to catch his reaction. He fiddled with the stem of his wine glass.
“So, ah, it's funny you should ask that,” he started awkwardly. “I'm starving.”
“Are you now?” she replied with a mischievous grin. He caught her look and smiled wider.
“So, in my dreams... uh...”
“Mmm?” she prompted him. She wanted this to be real so badly, her bones ached. But this part had to be a fantasy. It had to be.
“I – we – I mean, I really like to eat,” he said mysteriously. Alex giggled despite herself.
“It doesn't look like it to me,” she said frankly. “You're one skinny dude.” As she'd expected, he grinned a challenge back at her.
“That's because -” he started, then cut off. “Anyway, it wasn't my idea. Left to my own devices... I mean, with a little encouragement...”
“Funny choice of word,” she said mysteriously.
“And the wrong choice, really,” he confessed. “I don't need much encouragement. I merely prefer to indulge with fair company.”
“In my dreams,” Alex said. “Indulgence is something I find very alluring.”
Logan's eyes fit up with an inner fire. “Oh God, Alex. Say the word, and I will order everything on this menu. I swear to God. I have dreamed-”
Alex laughed. “Okay, you're not allowed to die here. In reality, people aren't black holes.”
“In reality, I'll have you know I have a hollow leg,” he insisted. “Seriously. I can really pack it away. Watch me.”
“I will,” Alex said, raising an eyebrow. “I doubt I'll be able to look away.” She licked her lips unconsciously, and the blood drained from Logan's face. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Sorry,” she apologized, “I didn't mean to embarrass -”
“No, no,” Logan added in a hurry. “Not embarrassed. Uh, aroused.”
Alex laughed, a long peal that released the tension between them. “Good,” she said huskily. “These are my favourite dreams.”
“Mine too,” Logan replied, and drained his wine. “What are you getting?”
“Whatever you don't,” she answered.
#
In the end, Alex had to almost carry him out. It was glorious, she thought. They were both over-the-top drunk, giggling like teenagers and all over each other. Logan was so full of steak and frites, oysters and bruchetta, salmon penne and booze that his newly-bought shirt hardly fit him anymore. His belly was swollen round and bursting at the seams. She couldn't keep her hands off of him, running her hands all over his front, toying with his unbuckled belt and teasing the taught buttons of his shirt. He glowed with arousal, pressing his overfed body into hers and nibbling her all over every time they stopped to reorient themselves.
“My hotel's not far,” he murmured at her as they necked, tucked into a closed storefront. “Are you coming up?”
“Fuck, yes,” she replied, putting a finger to his chin and kissing him deeply. His legs seemed to buckle and he braced himself against the wall. But she heaved him back up again, and they wobbled slowly and giddily to the Intercontinental, where he had a very nice room. The wine had given the world a drunken glow that blurred the edges of her awareness and made Alex feel as if she were truly in her oldest, most familiar dream. She had her Duncan and he was as perfect as ever.
They tumbled into his room, locked at the lips. Logan guided her back to the bed, lifting her at the last minute and placing her on her back.
“Come here,” she growled, reaching for him with her legs. His sure smile split his face again as he stifled a belch and ran his hands down the side of his distended stomach.
“I want to look at you first,” he said, undoing his tie and pulling it loose. “I can probably restrain myself for about three seconds, so you might want to make it quick.” He winked at her.
Alex lifted the hem of her skirt with one teasing finger and his eyes immediately grew wide. Slowly, she lifted it up to her hip bone, over her stomach, up to her ribs. Logan swayed dizzily and drew a jagged breath, lowering himself down to the bed.
“I don't understand,” he breathed, holding himself over her with shaking arms. “How can you be more perfect than in my dreams? How is it possible that I couldn't even conceive of this? Of you?”
Alex closed her eyes with a happy gasp, then continued drawing her dress up. The thin, silky material lifted over her chest, loosing her naked breasts one, then the other. Logan emitted a guttural growl and his eyes seemed to roll back in his head. He lowered himself onto her, his protuberant belly making contact first. She couldn't help but gasp as he let his full weight rest on her, teasing one hand up her side to stroke her breast, kissing her so slowly and fully that she felt she could swallow him. When he finally pulled back, she pulled her dress over her head and he moaned.
“You okay?” she asked him quietly, stroking the bloated sides of his belly. He responded with another groan.
“Ooooh, God.” He kissed her again just as slowly, and she gently unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt as he did. “I just want to die right now. Nothing will ever be this perfect again. Nothing.”
“But we've barely begun,” Alex whispered. She pushed him back a little, just enough to finish unbuttoning his taut shirt. The final button burst open under the weight of his sagging gut and he groaned again. “You sure you're okay?” Alex asked intimately, stroking his cheek.
“I love you,” he replied, and lowered his body onto hers again. The sensation of all his vast, hot, soft skin against hers was enough to make her forget everything else. She drank deep of him as she wiggled out of her panties and nylons, then tugged in protest at the belt of his pants.
“Show me,” she husked. Logan tugged off his tight pants with some effort and dove into her with gusto. With a long, low moan, he entered her and held her so tight she could barely breathe for a moment. Then they both started thrusting with the perfect, practiced rhythm of lifelong partners.
#

She could not stay the night. His plane left in the morning. But Alex knew one taste had been one taste too many.
She could hardly talk to him when he had called her work from the airport to say goodbye. What could she say? We'll be in touch? We'll be pen-pals: it'll be fun? And yet she couldn't tell him never to contact her again, nor promise she would leave him be. Nothing about pushing him away seemed fair. So she said very little as Logan broke down, re-negging on every promise they'd made the day before.
“I can't do this,” he moaned, an intimate voice in her ear, a million miles away. “I feel like I'm dying.”
I know, Alex thought, but the longer she stood, frozen, with the phone to her ear, the more she realized saying anything encouraging would be counter-productive. “You have to go back to your wife,” she said, like an automaton. It was disingenuous and she knew it.
“I will leave her,” Logan insisted, so forceful he seemed to spit. Of course he would. Alex knew his wife was not the problem. It was she, not he, who was unwilling to leave her life.
“Logan. I love my daughters. They are so wonderful-” She heard a sob on the other end that broke her heart. “I'm sorry.” She felt hollow. Every parent knows they would give up everything for their kids, but they never truly have to make that choice.
“Of course,” Logan said after a pause, clearing his throat. “Of course they are. They are part of you. They must be so lovely.”
Alex remained silent.
“I love you,” he said after another long silence. “I love you so much. I will always love you. I love – oh God, Alex.” She heard him break down crying again.
“I have to go, Logan,” she said softly, as gently as she could. She was at work. She couldn't cry here. “Please go home.” Logan replied with an agonized moan. “Goodbye, Logan.”
Alex hung up.
She did not speak to him again for a year.