Like many divorced people I don't have much time for my ex; our divorce was unpleasant, long, expensive; her acrimonious attitude and real desire to cripple me financially seemed to be her primary motivation despite the fact that we had kids to deal with, college to plan for and, like most middle class people, not enough money.
The divorce took several years and was final a few years ago but we still have no relationship or communication beyond what's necessary for the kids. I'm OK with that, I don't want more. It's been getting better but that really just means that we're civil and the anger is subsiding. At least that was the case until last week.
We were discussing something on the phone, logistics for the next weekend if I recall correctly, when she said:
"I want to tell you something."
"Oh." I replied.
"Yes." She said. "The last years have been tough and we've been through a lot, but I still have feelings for you...don't get me wrong, I don't want to be intimate or anything like that, but I want you to know I still care for you."
My reaction was concealed. After what she's done to me, but even recognizing that I'm done with the pissed off anger stuff, I don't trust her, like her or want to have anything to do with her. And any overture of 'niceness' is something I'm skeptical of.
But we kept on talking and she asked whether I'd come over to her house so we could discuss some kid issues. Now this was a big move for both of us. Since the start of the divorce neither of us has been in each other's house. I agreed, and we made plans for the next week while the kids were at school.
Now, despite the real-life situation I do still fantasize about her. She's an attractive woman and very, very good at sex. Coincidentally these fantasies had been increasing lately and I'd conjured up a few scenarios of her coming to my house under the only pretense that made sense - to talk about something to do with the kids. And now I was going to hers to do that very thing.
Fantasies aside, I did not expect anything to happen and half expected her boyfriend to be there when I arrived that morning. He wasn't and she was very pleasant, giving me a polite hug as she invited me in.
I sat at the kitchen island on a bar stool as she made us some coffee and we talked about the matters at hand. It was interesting to watch her in the kitchen we'd once both cooked in as she made coffee and, rather nervously, moved around. Eventually she settled and leaned against the other side of the island as we continued talking.
I have to admit that I was enjoying looking at her and remembering some of the fun we had. She's a slim brunette with shoulder length hair and a great complexion and lovely boobs. They're 36Ds, not firm, but they never got saggy even after the kids and she's as proud of them as I was in love with them.
Today she was wearing one of those summer dresses, very colorful and quite loose below the waist but quite tight above with lots of small buttons up the front. She used to wear clothes like this to turn me on; we'd go out for dinner or even just shopping and she wear no underwear and no bra and it would drive us both crazy. She'd get a thrill from the looks she got if people noticed her boobs moving around in that free and easy way and, with the right outfit, her lovely cleavage on display.
As she leaned on the island I could tell that she was braless and had a nice view of her cleavage. Not so much on show that she was being slutty, no more than she'd consider OK in family company, but enough for me to get distracted and think for minute about having those wonderful tits in my hands again.
She came around to join me on the bar stools and we continued to talk for quite a while until we were interrupted by her office phone. She excused herself and disappeared for a minute or two and then came back apologizing.
"Sorry about that. She said. "It was one of my colleagues who had a quick question."
As she got back on the bar stool I noticed that there was more cleavage on show. Perhaps two inches of those buttons had come undone. Was that on purpose, a tease perhaps, or a simple innocent slip? Who knew?
She then said something strange, strange for our circumstances. She said:
"Can I hug you? I feel like that would signify that all this mess is now over."
