Yes, I took him home. Yes, we had sex; a few times. Yes, it was amazing. Yes, he slept over, we woke up together, had more sex. I got lost in the warm of his furry and strong chest.
But there was no talk of what it meant, of what it changed, if anything. No questions about my status with Fox. It just was what it was.
Later that day as I slung a heavy bag onto my shoulder, I was reminded of the bruise there, left by his teeth. I like that feeling, and I told him. Otherwise, we didn’t communicate the rest of the day or night.
I wanted more of him. I wanted to lose myself in his sensuality and our connection and just be with him. I wasn’t thinking about what it meant; if anything, I knew it meant nothing other than we wanted to spend some time together.
I told myself and my friends I knew nothing had changed. There was no promise of more, or an expectation. I had no hope.
I invited him over for a drink and he accepted. Twice in one weekend was pretty rare – and my gut made a note of that somewhere in its ledger.
I sent him a picture of the cheese plate I’d put together – almost as attractive as boobs, I figured, and he was roughly on time.
We talked and sat near each other on my couch and it didn’t take too long before we couldn’t keep our hands off one another. The sexual details escape me but they aren’t actually critical to the story. He slept over but had to wake up early to get to his ex’s; he still takes his son to school every day. No morning sex for us.
He told me he’d thought about writing me a letter back (I shared my “from my heart” writing with him”), so that he could share what was in his heart and his head. I said I’d like that very much – delivered verbally or in writing.
I so badly wanted him to share with me, but I knew I couldn’t force it. He would open up on his own schedule.
After he left, I didn’t text him. I wasn’t about to fall down that rabbit hole again. No, I didn’t know exactly what I was doing, but I knew I didn’t want to add any hurt or confusion to my life.
He texted me that afternoon. He was preparing for a job the next day but we established we were both pretty tired but it was worth it. He said “Thank you as well. Hope you’re not too busy to do it again sometime soon.”
Huh? Who is this man, and what did you do with Tony?
I said: “Not at all. You’re usually the one with more time constraints than I. I was serious about you meeting my friend Hy so perhaps we can find an hour for a drink on Friday or Saturday afternoon? Also, I do want to hear what you wanted to write. As you know I have some decisions to make and while I’m not thinking you will tell me anything that changes what you can / cannot be available for at this point, I would like to have all the information available to me :)”
He said: “Having a drink Friday afternoon sounds amazing. Too early to confirm unfortunately, I may have another job coming up :). I will definitely write my piece for you. I hope it will explain me; but please don’t let me keep you from anything else.”
I told him I just wanted to hear what he had to say, but my decision was on my own timeline, and any decision about him was separate from decisions about anyone else. I know some of you don’t believe this, but it’s true. I knew I needed to decide about Fox based on his own merits, without influence of Tony coming back around. And vice versa.
I didn’t text him for 24 hours; and it was just to check in how his job was going. We had a brief text exchange.
I succumbed to flirting the next day; telling him I couldn’t get the thought of his mouth and hands out of my brain. Didn’t help that I was staring at a bruise on my forearm he left with his thumb.
The flirting continued and later, after I was plenty tipsy from too much wine at a work event, I invited him over that night. He agreed but then had to cancel but asked if he could come over the next morning. The next morning, he had to cancel as he got called into work. I was fine with it – I ended up having far too much work to spend a couple hours not working – but it surprised me that he would consider coming over yet again.
I picked up Hy from the airport and our fun weekend began.
Later that evening, Tony joined Hy and I at a fancy hotel bar – one of the things she said she’d like to do – and we laughed and chatted over drinks for an hour. Hy and I had already split two bottles of wine over the last several hours at my place and were on our third. Tony sat next to me and was wonderfully affectionate. He’d gone out of his way – literally – to come see us, and had to go back to a dinner later. But it felt like he was making an effort.
We flirted over the possibility of him coming by later; I knew Hy wouldn’t mind.
I realized I was maybe more than just testing the Tony ride, but I kinda liked it.
Welcome to the big top show; I know Josh has made popcorn, Taraka has wine, and Sharn has tequila.