I followed Todd up the stairs to my bedroom.
The combination of weed and alcohol eliminated what verbal filter I usually have. I wish I could have recorded the shit that came out of my mouth that night but will have to rely on my faulty and sex-addled memory.
I told him I was wearing a great bra and panties. La Perla.
He took his time admiring and then quickly relieved me of both.
I told him I could kiss him for hours.
He concurred, and we did.
I told him most men were intimidated by me either because I was smart or sexual or professionally successful (yes, insert eye roll here).
I don’t recall what he said in response, but he humored me. He may have even appreciated it but I don’t want to assume what I wanted to hear and feel was the reality.
I told him I thought we had instant and insane intellectual and physical chemistry. I told him I liked him right away. I said I knew I shouldn’t tell him that but I wasn’t crazy in thinking it was mutual, was it?
He said absolutely not. He agreed.
I asked him if he was single.
He said, “sadly, no.”
He told me 100 times how beautiful he thought I was.
He told me he was so glad he met me.
And even in my slightly altered state, I thought telling me that was a bit ridiculous. Why be so happy to meet someone you like that much but who lives in a different city and – oh, let’s not forget – when you aren’t available to date them? Sheesh.
I won’t deny it was nice to hear, from the perspective of validating I wasn’t crazy in my assessment of our connection. But c’mon.
I wish I could say the sex was mind blowing.
It was sensual and lovely, but he didn’t stay in one position long enough for me to orgasm. He also didn’t ever thrust hard enough. I wished for Lewis. I got the sense he was perhaps used to someone who couldn’t take all of his length, so he was used to holding back.
I didn’t say anything because I also wondered if we would come too soon if that’s what he did. At one point I got on top of him and he stopped me after about 30 seconds, telling me it felt too good and he wasn’t ready to cum yet.
So I was keenly aware asking him for something that would limit his ability to continue may not be received well. I kept my mouth shut.
Well, not exactly shut, but you know what I mean.
We fell asleep wrapped up together, tangled in the sheets.
At 4am he woke me up again for morning sex. It made me think of Tony. Except it wasn’t 4am, it was 6 on a rainy morning.
My head hurt. Too much alcohol, not enough water, and not enough sleep. I wanted the orgasms which had eluded me. I wanted to not feel this was about a man who not only lives in another city but who could be married – a situation I take pains to avoid – and it was a work day.
Todd told me how much he was looking forward to seeing me again. My mental process of pulling away to preserve future hurt had already begun.
I’m lucky I can work from home sometimes. I managed to get through conference calls, getting my eyelashes tinted, and a brief grocery shopping run, before landing on my couch to watch sports.
I didn’t move for hours.
Until Tony called.