Shadow of Desires

The Tampa sun, unusually fierce for a Thursday morning, cast a shimmering haze over the cityscape outside John’s window. From his 20th-floor office, he could see the highway ribboning out, cars inching along like ants on a march.

Inside, his world mirrored the bustle below – a relentless stream of emails, calls, and proposals vying for his attention. It had been one of those weeks where Friday seemed like a mirage, a distant oasis he wasn’t sure he’d ever reach.

The office buzzed with activity, a symphony of ringing phones and clicking keyboards. As an executive, John was in his element, deftly handling emails, reviewing reports, and making decisive calls.

His phone buzzed, snapping him out of the spreadsheet he’d been staring at.

“Hello?”

“Hey, John! It’s Ryan! Ryan Baxter. From college, remember?”

John paused, the name dredging up a hazy memory of beer-soaked parties and late-night study sessions. Ryan… right, they’d shared a dorm room freshman year of college, hadn’t they? Years since they’d last spoken.

“Ryan! Wow? It’s been a while.”

“Tell me about it. Time flies, huh? Listen, I got your number from Mark - we were just catching up, and your name came up.”

“Mark? Mark Johnson? Didn’t know you two knew each other.”

“Yeah, met at a conference a while back. Small world, right?”

“Damn, right. So how have you been?”

“I’ve been good, dude! Just thought I’d reach out and see what’s been going on in your world. It’s been ages since we caught up.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. Got way too many things on my plate, you know? But I’m glad you called. So, what’s new with you?”

“No worries, man. Life happens. Well, I’ve been working in finance, doing the 9-to-5 grind and all. But enough about me. How’s work treating you? Still slaying it in the office?”

“Trying my best. Work’s been busy, but you know how it is. Gotta pay the bills. How about you? Any crazy adventures or exciting stories?”

“I’ve actually been traveling a bit. Went to Europe last month.”

“That sounds great! I need a vacation myself. Anyway, how’s everything else going? Family, relationships?”

“Ah, the usual. Still single and mingling. You know me, never one to settle down. But I’ve gotta ask, how’s married life treating you? How’s Sia?”

John leaned back, a practiced smile easing onto his face. “It’s great, Ryan, couldn’t be better. Sia’s good, yeah, she’s really good. She keeps me on my toes, that’s for sure. We’re both keeping busy, you know how it is.”

“That’s awesome, man. I’m glad to hear it. By the way, why weren’t you guys at Wesley’s wedding?”

“Wesley’s wedding? Oh, man, I wish we could’ve made it. You see, something unexpected came up, and we couldn’t attend.”

“Ah, I understand, work can be a real pain sometimes. But we all really missed you there. It just wasn’t the same without you. And guess who showed up? Calvin! Can you believe it?”

John’s hand tightened around the phone. Calvin. The name alone was enough to send a ripple through his brain.

“Calvin… was there? That’s… surprising. How’s he been? I haven’t seen or heard from him in years.”

“He’s changed a lot, man. Still has that charm though. He’s doing well. He’s got his own thing going on, and it was great to catch up.”

A flash of Calvin’s grin – the one he always flashed before they did something reckless – filled John’s mind, followed by the sharp scent of chlorine and cheap beer. His chest tightened, a familiar ache settling in his gut.

John’s mind races with memories and a mix of emotions. He tried to maintain his composure.

“By the way, do you have his contact information?”

“You know what? I think I do. Let me check.” John hears some things moving around. “Ah, here it is! I’ve got it. Want me to text it to you?”

There was a pause, filled only by the distant buzz of office life. His heart thudded oddly in his chest, a mix of excitement and apprehension swirling within.

“Yeah, uh..-I….I think I do. It’d be great to see him again.”

“I’ll pass you the number. Let’s get the gang back together, relive some of those crazy memories. It’ll be a blast!”

“Sure,” John echoed, his mind already elsewhere. “Sounds good, Ryan. Look, I gotta run, but let’s talk soon.”

“You got it, John. Talk soon, man. And give my best to Sia.”

John slumped back in his leather office chair, the plush cushion offering no comfort to the sudden turmoil in his gut. His phone lay face down on the glass desktop, ignored. Ryan’s call, so casual and unexpected, had torn through the carefully constructed facade of his life. He hadn’t let himself think about those days in years – the parties, the recklessness, the three of them together.

He’d built a good life, a safe one, but the memories of those nights surged back with a **** that left him breathless.

A buzz from his phone cut through the silence. His head snapped up, heart pounding. A new message notification. It had to be from that number. His hand trembled as he reached for the phone, a mix of dread and thrilling excitement coursing through him.

There it was, stark and real on the screen: Calvin Anderson. A simple string of digits that held the power to unravel everything. Images he’d spent years trying to bury. God, it had been so intense back then.

What was he thinking? This was insane. He had a good life with Sia, a life built on trust and shared dreams. And yet…

A bold, reckless idea sparked in his mind, fueled by a longing he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying for so long. He could just… picture it again. He toyed with it for some time.

With a trembling finger, he pressed the call button, the room suddenly too small, the air too thick. The ringing tone pierced the silence, each one dragging on like an eternity.

Then, a voice, deep and smooth as ever.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Calvin, it’s me, John.”

---

A few days had passed since John’s phone call with Ryan. During that time, he had managed to reconnect with Calvin.

They’d fallen into an easy rhythm, catching up, sharing snippets of their lives – surface stuff, really. But even those brief conversations were enough to reawaken something dormant inside John, something he’d convinced himself he’d buried long ago.

Calvin mentioned he’d be in Tampa for business soon and, without even thinking, John suggested they meet up.

They were meeting at ‘The Rusty Anchor’, John’s local haunt. He’d suggested it, a familiar space, that had been a favorite of John’s ever since they moved here.

John pushed open the heavy wooden door, the familiar scents of beer, old wood, and something spicy cooking in the kitchen washing over him. It was a Friday night, the place buzzing with the easy camaraderie of regulars. His gaze swept across the room, landing on a figure seated in a dimly lit corner booth.

Even after all these years, Calvin was impossible to miss. He hadn’t shrunk, not one bit. His powerful build and dark skin, coupled with an air of enigmatic confidence, made him a beacon in any crowd. He was lounging casually in his seat, a beer in hand, seemingly absorbed in the baseball game playing on the pub’s TV.

There was always an air of enigmatic confidence about him, a strength that seemed to roll off him in waves. He had the kind of presence that made it difficult for anyone to feel hostility toward him.

John’s heart pounded a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He took a breath, steeling himself, and headed over. As he approached, Calvin looked up, his face splitting into a wide, genuine grin.

“John!” He rose, the movement fluid and powerful, pulling John into a quick, but surprisingly tight hug. “Damn, it’s good to see you.”

John found himself grinning back. “Calvin, it’s good to see you too.”

The two men settled into their seats, the background noise of the pub fading as they fell into comfortable conversation.

“You look good, Calvin.”

“Right back at you,” Calvin laughed, raising his glass in a toast. “So, how you been, John? It’s been… what, 7 years? 8?”

“Yeah, something like that,” John agreed. “Life’s been good. Moved here to Tampa, got married. You know, the settling down routine. How about you? I heard you’ve been all over the place.”

“Bouncing around, that’s me. Europe, Asia… Trying to experience as much as I can. It’s been wild.”

“That sounds amazing,” John replied. “What brings you back to Tampa?”

“Business mostly,” Calvin said with a shrug. “It’s a nice change of pace though.”

They fell into conversation, their words flowing as smoothly as the beer from the taps. They talked about their lives, what happened after college, meeting old friends…etc…etc.

“Remember the time we stole the Dean’s car?” John chuckled.

“How could I forget? We were lucky we didn’t get expelled.”

They traded stories of their old adventures, reminisced about late-night study sessions that always ended with too much tequila and even more laughter.

They chatted about their careers – Calvin sharing stories of his travels and the cool people he’d met, while John talked about his journey up the corporate ladder. Even though their paths were totally different, it was clear they had a lot of respect and admiration for each other.

Through it all, however, the conversation danced around one name: Sia. It was an unspoken agreement, an elephant in the room that they both chose to ignore, for the time being.

Finally, it was time to say goodbye. They stood on the sidewalk, the humid Tampa night closing around them.

“Let’s do this again soon,” Calvin said, his smile genuine.

“Absolutely.”

He watched Calvin melt into the night, then turned towards home, a strange mix of emotions stirring inside him. It was exhilarating, reconnecting with his old friend, but there was a weight settling over him now.

The first phase of his plan kicked into place. Now, it was time to bring Sia into the picture.

---

Days morphed into a week, that left John feeling equal parts energized and deeply conflicted. Each encounter with his old friend chipped away at the carefully constructed wall he’d built around that part of his past. The easy camaraderie was back as if no time had passed at all.

One evening, he found himself stretched out on their living room couch, the burn of a good scotch a welcome counterpoint to the knot of tension twisting in his gut.

He was playing mental reruns of all his meetings with Calvin, Sia’s name a silent siren song at the edge of his thoughts. Telling her felt like stepping onto a landmine – one wrong move, and everything could just explode.

The sharp click of their front door snapping shut jolted him back to reality.

Sia.

She walked in with that effortless grace he’d always admired, shedding her work blazer onto a nearby armchair. Her dark hair, a silken waterfall cascading down her back, framed high cheekbones and full lips.

Her dress, a simple black number that clung to her like a second skin, showcased every delicious curve. His gaze snagged, as it always did, on the way the fabric skimmed over her hips, those full, round hips that had been the site of so many pleasurable sins… Fuck, he was in trouble.

“You look beat,” he managed, dragging his gaze away from her body and up to her face.

“Tell me about it,” Her voice was soft, almost melodic.

He poured himself another finger of scotch, hoping she wouldn’t notice the tremor in his hand. “Drink?”

“Just water, please,” she said, absently twirling a strand of her dark hair around her finger. He found the gesture unconsciously alluring.

He handed her the glass, trying to focus on the normalcy of it, the comfortable rhythm of their evening routine, but all he could see was the ghost of another woman, feel the phantom heat of another body pressed against his. It was insane, the way his body, his mind, betrayed him so easily.

“You okay?” Sia’s voice, laced with concern, snapped him out of his thoughts. “You seem… off.”

“Work,” he muttered, taking a long pull from his glass. “Miller’s got this new marketing campaign – it’s insane. You know how he gets.”

He wasn’t lying, not entirely at least.

“Don’t tell me,” Sia laughed, rolling her eyes. “Miller cornered you again with another one of his ‘brilliant’ marketing schemes?”

John chuckled, leaning back into the familiar rhythm of their banter. “Something like that. The man’s obsessed.”

“One of these days, that man is going to give himself an ulcer,” she said, shaking her head.

“That’s not even the worst of it. We’re working on this deal, an overseas client, and it’s a mess. Miller’s in way over his head.”

“International? What kind of client?”

“Some bigwig tech company. Europe somewhere. He’s throwing a fit because the negotiations haven’t exactly gone his way.”

“Well, have you considered bringing in someone who has experience with international clients? Maybe someone from my department could help.”

“Exactly what I said,”

“If he wants things done right…” Sia muttered, but the sharp edge had left her voice, replaced with a playful glint in her eye. “But enough shop talk.”

She set her water glass on the coffee table and slid gracefully off the table, settling onto his lap with a familiarity that is reassuring and comforting.

“How about we forget about work for a bit?” She leaned closer, her fingers tracing a light path down his arm. “Just you and me?”

“Sure,” he replied, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer to him. The scent of her perfume, a delicate blend of vanilla and jasmine, filled his nostrils.

They talked, as they always did - the new Italian restaurant they wanted to try down the street, the vacation they’d been promising themselves, a ridiculous anecdote from the office that had them both laughing until their sides ached.

They fell into the easy cadence of their shared life, talking about the ridiculous new dress Sia had seen online, the awkward encounter John had had with their overly chatty colleague…

One minute they were joking about their neighbor’s yappy chihuahua, the next John’s hand was on Sia’s breast, his fingers kneading her through the thin fabric of her dress like he couldn’t fucking help himself.

She sighed a low, throaty sound that sent a jolt straight to his groin. Her eyes, dark and heavy-lidded, spoke volumes. She was ready.

Their mouths met a clash of teeth and tongues, a hunger he hadn’t felt in years. One hand tangled in her hair, the other roving possessively over the curve of her hip, down her thigh., needing to feel every inch of her, to erase… something… with the sheer **** of his touch.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, urging him on.

Clothes, already a forgotten nuisance, were discarded in a rush. Soon, they were sprawled on their bed, sheets tangled around their limbs. Sia’s legs parted willingly, welcoming him as he moved between them, her ankles locking behind his back, pulling him deeper.

Her breath hitched in a gasp as he entered her, the heat of her pulling him in like a riptide.

“Yes…”

He moved with a ferocity that surprised even himself, lost in the feel of her, the scent of her, the taste of her. Her name, a prayer on his lips, mingled with a pleasure that was bordering on pain.

He pounded into her, harder than usual, lost in the feel of her body clenching around him. And that’s when the images slammed into him- Sia, her back arched, those same whispered pleas escaping her lips, but above her, a dark hand holding her wrists against the pillows, those same pale breasts, but this time, the contrast, her creamy skin against a darker hand… fuck. The perspective was off. He was both a participant but mostly an observer, the scene both familiar and jarringly different.

He’d tried to bury those memories, or at least that is what he thought.

“John…”

Sia’s voice, a breathless plea laced with desire, snapped him out of the dark, delicious memory.

He looked down at her, really looked at her – her head thrown back, flushed cheeks, lips parted, a sheen of sweat on her skin making her even more impossibly beautiful. This woman, his wife, the one person who knew him, truly knew him, and yet…

And yet… he couldn’t stop.

Their mouths collided again, this time softer, ****. Her nails dug into his back, her body arching into his as a shudder ripped through her. The raw intensity of her release snapped the last threads of his control. He drove into her one last time, a guttural cry escaping him as his own release ripped through him, fierce and consuming.

He collapsed against her, panting, his face buried in the crook of her neck. Her fingers traced soothing circles on his back, her touch grounding him in the present. Slowly, reluctantly, he pulled away, rolling onto his side, their bodies still touching, a tangle of sweat-slicked limbs.

John felt drained, wrung out, but a strange exhilaration pulsed through his veins.

“Damn, baby,” Sia murmured, her voice husky with satisfaction, “ you were really feeling it tonight huh…”

Her fingers combed through his hair, soothing the tightness that had taken root somewhere between his shoulder blades.

“Just been… a crazy few weeks at work, you know? Sorry if I, uh… went a little rough there.”

Sia giggled. “Don’t apologize. I’m not complaining.” She leaned up, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “I’m gonna grab a quick shower.”

She stretched languidly, the sheet slipping down to expose the curve of her breast. “God, I needed that.”

He watched her go, the way her hips swayed, the curve of her ass… God she is so damn sexy…

She disappeared into the bathroom, the scent of her perfume lingering in the air like a silent accusation. He ran a hand through his hair, his chest tight. What the fuck had that been?

It was nothing like their usual routine – controlled, almost clinical sex they’d been having lately.

Tonight had been… different. Raw. Unhinged.

The click of the bathroom door startled him back to the present. Sia had changed into that black silk nightgown he loved… the one that clung to her curves and left little to the imagination.

Heat pooled low in his belly, a familiar ache that had nothing to do with their earlier encounter and everything to do with the way the silk clung to her, hinting at the warmth beneath.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, fine.” He **** a smile, pushing himself off the bed and grabbing a t-shirt from the floor. “I also need a shower.”

He took his time in the bathroom, letting the hot water wash away the sweat and… something else he couldn’t quite name. By the time he came back to the bedroom, the sheets were changed, the room smelling faintly of lavender and clean linen.

Sia was sitting on the edge of the bed, her back to him, her shoulders bare above the low neckline of her nightgown. She looked so goddamn good he almost forgot he needed to talk to her. Almost.

“Hey,” he said, perching on the edge of the mattress. “Are you… still in touch with any of the old gang from college?”

She glanced at him over her shoulder, a curious frown on her face. “Not really. Vicky and Jess, every now and then. Why do you ask?”

“Just… I got a call from Ryan Baxter the other day. Remember him?”

Her brow furrowed. “Ryan… Oh, right! From your dorm. How is he?”

“He’s good, good. He was actually asking about why we missed Wesley’s wedding.”

“What did you tell him?”

“Work stuff, obviously,” John replied with a shrug.

“Oh.”

“He, uh… mentioned that Calvin was there.”

Her hand stilled, the small jar of night cream in her hand forgotten. She turned to look at him, her green eyes wide with surprise.

“Calvin?”

He nodded.

“Wow,” she breathed. “Really? After all these years… I wonder what’s he up to?”

He watched her for a moment, gauging her reaction. The air thrummed with an intensity that had nothing to do with their earlier encounter and everything to do with the name hanging between them.

“Actually, I… I’ve actually been talking to him.”

Sia’s eyes widened, her perfectly arched eyebrows shooting up towards her hairline. “You’re… what? When did this happen?”

“We’ve been in touch. Ryan gave me his number. We’ve hung out a couple times actually.”

“And you didn’t think to… mention this?” She was looking at him now, her head cocked to one side, her tone more curious than accusing.

“I…I wasn’t sure how you’d react. It’s been so long, and our…history with him is…complicated.”

A small shy smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “Complicated is one way to put it.”

Silence fell again, heavier this time, the air thick with unspoken memories. John held his breath, bracing for what might come next – rejection, anger, he wasn’t sure.

He watched as a range of emotions flickered across his wife’s face – surprise, curiosity, and something else he couldn’t quite pinpoint.

“I’m glad you’re reconnecting with old friends,” Sia said finally, her gaze drifting back to her reflection in the vanity mirror. She picked up the jar of night cream, her fingers tracing the lid as if lost in thought. “And Calvin… well, he was a big part of our lives for a while. It’s good to know he’s doing well.”

He let out a breath, relief washing over him. “He’s changed, Sia,” he found himself saying, the words slipping out before he could stop them. “But… in a lot of ways, he’s still the same.”

He watched her, trying to decipher her reaction, but she’d retreated behind a wall of composure he couldn’t quite penetrate.

“I’d like to see him sometime,” she said after a while, her voice soft but steady. " If that’s… okay with you, of course.”

John smiled, reaching out to take her hand. “Of course, it’s okay,” he said, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “I think he would like that too. Why don’t we go see him this weekend.”

“Weekend?” she repeated surprise etched across her face. “Isn’t that a bit…sudden?”

“Why not?” John countered, trying to ignore the anxious flutter in his chest. “He’s only in town for a few days, and it would be nice… the three of us, catching up after all these years.”

“But… don’t we have work this weekend?”

“We can move things around,” he replied, waving off her concern. “We’ll be done by Friday evening. A nice dinner, maybe catch a late movie afterwards… just like old times, yeah?”

“I don’t know, John. It’s been so long. Things have… we’ve changed.”

He knew she wasn’t just talking about their careers, their move to Tampa, the comfortable routines of their married life. There was a whole other layer, a tangled web of memories and shared experiences that they’d both moved on from.

“But isn’t that the point? We’ve moved on, grown, made a life for ourselves. It’s just… dinner, Sia. With an old friend.”

“But what about…”

“What about what?”

“What if it’s… weird?” she blurted out, her voice barely above a whisper. “What if it’s awkward? What if…”

“Hey,” John cut her off gently, cupping her face in his hands, willing her to meet his gaze. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with, okay? We’ll see how it goes. If you want to leave after five minutes, we’ll leave. No pressure.”

Sia’s eyes searched his, looking for something… reassurance? Honesty?

He hoped he was conveying what was in his heart – a jumble of nerves, yes, but also a strange, unsettling excitement at the prospect of seeing her again, of seeing them together.

After a long moment, she let out a shaky breath, her shoulders slumping a little. “Okay,” she conceded, her voice barely audible. “Okay, let’s meet him.”

“Great,” he smiled, leaning forward to kiss her, the taste of her, the feel of her… everything felt different now, tinged with a thrilling undercurrent of anticipation. “I’ll… give him a call.”

---

The glow from their bedside lamp cast long shadows across the ceiling as John lay awake, staring into the darkness. The dull hum of the city seeped in through the cracks in the window blinds. Sia, snuggled against him, had drifted off quickly, but he was wide awake, the ceiling suddenly fascinating in its blankness.

What the fuck had he gotten them into? The dinner, Calvin, everything felt like one giant leap off a cliff without a parachute.

Was he just bored? Was that it? Ten years with the same company, the same routine. Had it really gotten to him that much? Had he been so starved for… what? Excitement?

He shifted, careful not to wake Sia. It wasn’t just the prospect of revisiting their past; it was this gnawing, unsettling feeling, a sense of standing on the edge of something risky, exhilarating, and terrifyingly uncertain.

He thought he’d buried that part of himself, the part that got off on… well, on everything. And Sia… what the hell was going through her head? She’d agreed to the dinner – a bit hesitantly, sure, but still – and now she was here, beside him, looking as serene and goddamn desirable as ever.

As if sensing his gaze, she stirred, her hand reaching out to rest on his chest, her breath a warm sigh against his skin. He pulled her closer, her warmth a welcome anchor against the tide of his swirling thoughts.

His hand, as if with a mind of its own, reached out to brush a stray strand from her face. He wasn’t bored. Bored wasn’t this knot of anticipation, this… hunger.

She shifted closer, instinctively snuggling into the curve of his body, her head finding its familiar resting place on his chest. He felt the steady rhythm of her breathing, felt the weight of her against him, familiar and grounding.

And just like that, the weight of their history, their secrets, faded away, and he allowed himself to sink into the familiar comfort of her presence. And for a fleeting moment, the anxiety receded, replaced by a wave of something pure and uncomplicated - love.

He loved this woman – the way her laughter lines crinkled around her eyes, the way she always knew how to find the humor even in their most mundane arguments, the way they could make each other laugh after the shittiest of days.

They were good, he and Sia, solid.

That much he was sure of.

He pulled her closer, burying his face in her hair and inhaling her scent, a unique blend of lavender and something distinctly Sia that anchored him to the present, to the life they’d built together.

And as he drifted off to sleep, a nagging doubt lingered. Could their past truly stay buried? And did he even want it to be?