Heights of Desire by Mara White

intercom.
    I’m greeted with silence at first and then the buzzer sounds and I push the heavy door open into the foyer. My heart is in my throat just from the sound of his voice. I hope I’m not making a huge mistake. The building smells of sazón and fabric softener. It’s relatively clean and light. The paint is thick from years of coats and it makes the ornate molding look like it’s cocooned. I walk up to the fourth floor and as I come around the corner I see Jaylee, naked except for a pair of jeans, standing in the doorway to his apartment. His arms are extended above his head, holding onto the door’s frame, as if he’s about to do a pull-up.
    “Hey,” he says. “How’d you find me?”
    “Stephani,” is all I reply. I want to say ‘I hope you don’t mind,’ or ‘sorry I didn’t call first,’ or anything to make the mood lighter, but as I often find, words fail me with Jaylee. Instead, I wait for him to do something.
    “Well, come on in,” he says and I think I can hear annoyance in his voice.
    Maybe I shouldn’t have come here. If he can leave it alone, I should be able to as well. I look around and it seems like he’s the only one home.
    “Is your family here?” I ask.
    “Nope,” is all he says.
    He is annoyed and suddenly I feel awkward and ashamed. Apparently I’ve crossed the line by figuring out where he lives and coming over unannounced. Now he’ll think I’m a stalker. I’m an idiot for chasing after a man twenty years my junior. I’m hit by the familiar wave of grief I feel when I think about no longer having him in my life.
    Jaylee grabs my hand and leads me into his family’s kitchen. His touch reassures me and quickly wipes out all of the insecurity and doubting. The familiar electricity between us is still there.
    “Sit,” he commands when we reach the kitchen table.
    I feel like I’m being scolded. Instead of finding it insulting, I feel relieved. A part of me wants to be punished for my indiscretions. I have been using this man to ignite my sex life with my husband. That’s the nasty truth. It’s not fair to anyone but it’s easier to take his affections than it is to cheat on my husband. The other truth is that my feelings for him are beyond sexual. If the attraction were only about sex, I could take it and walk away, but losing the connection I have with him is just as threatening to me now as losing my family. I’m stuck and I’m miserable. I realize that I came here to make him push me in either one direction or another. I want him to at least help me make the decision or maybe even make the decision for me. I’m the immature one in this relationship. I put my forehead down on the Formica table. I can’t even bring myself to look at him.
    “I needed to see you. I don’t think I can live my life anymore without you, I say. I keep trying but it’s not working.“ What if he doesn’t feel the same way about me? I’ve spilled my guts and now it’s too late. He knows I’m obsessed with him.
    Jaylee walks over to the sink and pulls what looks like a machete out of the kitchen drawer. I wonder momentarily if he’s going to kill me and the thought doesn’t scare me anywhere near as much as it should. Instead of chopping into me he smiles and grabs a pineapple off the table, puts it onto a chopping block and hacks off the top and bottom of the fruit. He’s seems unaffected by what I just told him. His smile steals me away from my serious thoughts and I watch with awe as he slices away the sides, rotating the fruit and following the contoured edge with the ease of street fruit vendor. He cuts with easy flourishes of the machete and fills a plate with large, bite-sized squares. My misery has dissipated completely and I’m grinning, enjoying his game.
    “Did you come here to make drama?” Jaylee asks me.
    “No,” I respond.
    “Why’d you come here then?”
    “To see you,“ I whisper trying to calm my overactive nervous system.
    “Kate,” Jaylee says,