A while ago, I went out on a date with a tall, handsome rower (broad shoulders, hello!) He brought me a CD of music I had admired when we met, which was an unexpected sweet touch. After six hours of banter, a few bites of food and a few too many shots of tequila, he invited me back to his place. I said yes...I was feeling reckless. And he was really tall. And I had a lot of tequila.
He put on the CD and we made no pretenses about watching a movie. I climbed onto his bed and waited for him to make a move. I just wanted to have fun. Finally he started to undress me, and as I pulled my sweaterdress over my head I felt the seam split in the side. I threw it on the floor in a tidy pile with the rest of my clothes (the better to make a swift exit, my dear) and he started to kiss me, lower & lower. He went down on me for like 45 minutes, to the rhythm of the songs that were playing. It was nothing less than totally awesome. It had been so long since I’d had that kind of attention (for some reason, it’s kind of a rare find, which strikes me as unfair considering the number of men who expect head). I totally relaxed and enjoyed it, guilt-free. That was also a great feeling. When he finished he asked if he should get a condom. I declined, saying I wasn’t ready yet. After I reciprocated (I have manners, after all!) we fell asleep.
I tossed and turned most of the night – I hate sleeping in a new bed and I just wanted the experience to be over already. To me, even though he was tall and charming and smart and great in bed there was something missing. We had moved too fast and taken too much time between date 1 and date 2. I had lost interest, without even meaning to – he was too much & too little at the same time.
When the sun came I got up and donned my layers. Halfway through the process, he rolled over and said, “You know, you can use our shower – we have those facilities.” I half turned my head and lied, “We have showers at work, in the gym area” and bolted. I could feel the draft in the side of my dress- it had split near the ribcage- as I trekked to the subway.
I took what can only be called a whore’s bath in our office bathroom (sans shower, obvi) and attempted to fix the rip with bobby pins. Thank god I keep an arsenal of beauty products at my office. I sat down at my desk to begin the day feeling dirtier than ever, in more ways than one. I had a date right after work that night with no time to go home and change. I covered the bobby pins with my fur vest and hoped he wouldn’t be able to sense my sexploit.
When I finally got home that night, after hours of being charming and effervescent...I felt lost. I took the ruined dress off and looked at myself in the mirror. And then, the phone rang. It was Jason, asking me to be exclusive. It couldn’t have come at a better time.
I need someone to save me from myself.
*scorpio*
No comments:
Post a Comment