I decided to buy myself some time. I was seeing my friend Katharine and her children that afternoon and wasn’t sure when they were going to leave. I told Tony I would text him later in the day and let him know if I was able to see him.
Did I want to? Yes?
Did I think I should? Ummmmm…
Ultimately I decided to go for it. He suggested a beer on a patio which I figured would be innocuous. It wasn’t drinks at my place; I knew where that would end up. Or more precisely, where we would end up.
And what if we had sex? Did it change anything about where his head was at? No. I was NOT fooling myself. Not at any level.
I texted him to tell him I would be free. He was delighted.
And then in typical Tony fashion, this:
6:30pm I text to ask where he wants to meet and when. He says he has to work for a bit. No problem. I’m used to that.
7:30pm he texts to ask if 8:30 at my place is okay. I say sure – so much for the safe plan of a beer on a patio.
8:15pm he texts to say he is running late and 9pm is more realistic. I don’t have the heart to tell him I’d already assumed he’d be late.
8:45pm he calls me to tell me he is having bad stomach pain and is in the fetal position. He’s going to give himself 15 minutes to feel better and will advise me shortly what he’s going to do.
I sigh. This all feels so normal. Not in a good way.
8:55pm he says he’s jumping in the shower and will see me soon.
By 9:30pm he’s knocking on my door. He no longer felt comfortable enough to just come in. I was strangely comforted and saddened.
He greeted me with a quick kiss on the mouth and a long hug. We went to our default positions in the kitchen and I started making him a cup of herbal tea. He explained he wasn’t feeling 100% but knew if he cancelled on me, since I had called him after a month and allowed him to come over, he’d be in huge trouble. He was right.
Then he grabbed my hand and pulled me to him. Sitting on my kitchen stool, he rested his head on my collarbone and gave me a long, tight hug.
And my insides went all mushy.
And I knew in that moment I would have him in my bed later, and it would be amazing.
We moved to my couch and talked.
At some point, he kissed me, and then it was all over.
If sex with Tony and Lewis was a pairs skating competition, Lewis might get the technical marks. But Tony is all artistry. From that first bite on my shoulder as he grabbed me hard, Lewis’s big black cock was forgotten. I would take Tony every day over Lewis. Love makes all the difference.
The man knows how to move. He knows what I like. He is keenly dedicated to bringing me pleasure. He listens to me. And every time I open my eyes, there he is, his big beautiful brown eyes staring down at me, intently looking. When he takes my finger in his mouth (and in writing this, I don’t even have to close my eyes to picture what his face and mouth look like when he does it) I feel the electricity everywhere.
Earlier that day on the phone, Tony told me I was the only person who truly understood him. I was the only one he could fall asleep with and be comfortable.
It’s tempting to fall back on these words. To get sucked in to the comfort of the connection we share. But even in the throes of passion, I told myself this wasn’t going to last. Nothing had really changed. I had to remember that.
I may have said this before, but a couple of my dating stories have been published in a newspaper. I submitted one about Tony’s and my first date which will also be published, and I decided to tell him. I told him I’d been writing (he said “oh you’re just like Carrie on Sex and the City!” – little does he know) and had printed off the first date piece for him to read.
You might think I’m crazy, but I also gave him a second piece…the words from my heart. I was incredibly nervous to show him, and relieved when I could see from his expressions just how much he loved it. I wanted him to understand.
I fell asleep like I always do with him, connected.
The alarm went off at 5:45. We’ve learned to have a built-in sex time buffer before he has to leave. We used it all. I almost didn’t want to have sex with him again because I knew I had to distance myself. But because I knew it, I figured it was half the battle.
When we were done, lying side by side, I inquired what was next for us. I said “oh Tony, what on earth am I going to do with you?” Reiterating he didn’t want me to go back to no-contact, he asked whether we could go for dinner and talk, and try to find a way forward. I said I would do that if he would actually talk to me and tell me what was in his head.
He left and I found myself once again laying in bed, pondering the previous night and morning’s activities.
What the fuck was I going to do now? I knew nothing had changed for him other than he seemed to really miss me. But he wasn’t declaring some big change. He hadn’t even gone on a date yet.
But that siren song of promise and intention…I knew it would be the death of me. I needed to know what he had to say. I had to see him again.