Noah's River (manxman)✅

Epilogue

River
Ten Years Later—2020

Seven years ago, I proposed to Noah on Castle Island by the tree where we sat during our real first date. I turned my mother's diamond earrings into wedding bands. Noah replied yes without hesitation.

Noah basically supported me through college and graduate school. I worked part-time in a nursing home so I could at least contribute to the rent. After we got married, Noah and I bought a house in the outskirts of the city.

With a year and a half of high school left, Aiden continued to live with our grandparents. Joy, too, chose to live in Canada. An investigative reporter, Melody lived in Washington, DC with her investigative reporter husband. Last year Olivia graduated from St. Francis Xavier University in Nova Scotia, but she now lived with me and Noah in the guest room. She always wanted to come "home," she said. To her, I was home. She didn't know what she wanted to do with her life, and she always enjoyed baking with our grandmother, so Noah offered her a job. He needed all the help he could get.

Three years ago, Noah bought the bakery from the Blanchettes. Before COVID struck, he was making a killing with wedding cakes. He made some of the best cakes around.

Right now he relied on catering and take out, although things had been picking up until he caught the virus himself.

Stuck in bed for three weeks, Noah just started to feel better. Sex deprived for weeks, he was now making up for it.

"Come back here," he shouted as I left him tied up on the bed. I had to get ready for a client. "Come back, baby, untie me."

Noah enjoyed being tied up. He enjoyed a lot of things. We had lot of fun together.

"Come back," he laughed. "Don't leave me like this. I want a divorce!"

With my shirt half-buttoned, still naked from the waist down, I returned to him and plopped down on his lap. I rubbed my cock against his.

"Stop teasing me and untie me before you get too submerged in your work and forget about me."

"How could I forget about you?"

"You can."

I dragged my tongue down the center of his chest. I ran my hands all the way up his sides, up to his armpits, tickling him as I licked his dick. He laughed and moaned, pulling at the straps that held his wrists to the bed.

I turned around so he could suck me off while I did the same to him. My alarm went off, telling me I had five minutes until my next client. He bit down on his bottom lip, muffling his cries as his body jerked and squirmed. I licked him clean before untying him.

"I can't play with you anymore," I said as he rolled on top of me. He bit my neck, then got off me. "You're such a freak."

"What can I say? You bring out the freak in me," he said as I got dressed. "Do you know how annoying it is for a baker not to be able to smell?"

Because Noah had the virus, I got it, too, but I was asymptotic for the most part. Noah couldn't recall how he contracted it, but I was convinced his sister, Leah, and/or her kids gave it to him after he visited them.

Since the beginning of the shutdown, I'd been working from home, counseling via telehealth, which was less than ideal. I thought I'd get used to it, but I never did. Nothing beat in-person counseling.

I put my noise-cancelling headphones on, preparing for my next client. I recognized the name because he'd made an appointment previously and didn't show up. He wouldn't be the first no show. It came with the territory of being a licensed mental health therapist. I, too, blew off my first sessions. I'd tell Noah, 'I'm fine. I chose to do what I did.' Let's face it, I was a prostitute. If it weren't for Leo Napilitano, I may not even have thought of taking up that profession in the first place.