Its on a thorny hill, sandwiched between a dream I’m about to have and a sigh that escapes the cat lying at our feet, a small application for us to meet again. What began as an honest dance between friends on a familiar dance floor is become a secret living in the creases of linen I am not to wash a while.
“I want to kiss you, I’ve wanted to kiss you all night.” He leans over, holds my shoulder and flicks my lips apart with the tip of his tongue. His hands grope my back and find their way to my breast. I let him, I’m startled by the plea in his eyes and a slight tremor in his voice shortly before he does. I’m startled by the heat rising at the base of my spine, the grease in my joints. It’s a quiet kiss, it needs to be.
When he stops I laugh, tilt my head back and say,”That was you kissing me. This is me kissing you.”
I lean over to give him my lips and like that foreplay is being played… I’m kissing this friend I’ve never fantasied I’d kiss, he’s kissing me back and that’s all there is. We’ll have sex, we are in my house, in my bedroom, on my bed. The every Monday leads to a Friday predictability of it all should put me off, it should have me looking for a way to say gently, “No, really we shouldn’t. I don’t know why we are here. Please leave and forget about all of this.” I don’t. Instead, I scoop his bottom lip with my tongue and suck on it. I trace his lips and sneak my tongue into his mouth and run it slowly side to side against his palate. He sighs, his grip on my breast softening, my hand on his hair roughening.
I stop and laugh placing my hands on his and say,”This is us, kissing.” I surrender, the kiss takes on a rhythm of it’s own. I lead him into a kiss and follow him into another. I lose my blouse, I strip him off his shirt. I ditch his lips for his collarbone, for his nipples. I don’t know how he smells, I can’t tell how he tastes. All my senses are monitoring my now rapid heart beat, I am sweating and my throat is parched. My legs are tied spaghetti like around his neck, my head is trapped between the gaps of the bed frame and I am screaming like a sheep at slaughter.
This is my dance partner, I’ve gyrated with him in public spaces. I’ve felt his warm breath against my neck as we’ve whispered jokes and screamed into each others ears in loud clubs. I hug him for a full minute every time I see him and right now I am pressed against my mattress and his pelvis. My finger nails are digging into his back and he crushes his mouth against mine to silence me, the kisses are no longer quiet. They no longer need to be.
The rest of the night is a marathon ‘when-the-ufck-is-this-guy-gonna-lose-steam?’ toss me this way, turn me over, harder, faster, ‘please-lets-stop-for-water’ mission. I am spent, he hasn’t come and I’m ready to purr like a kitten on a hot water bottle. I forget to wonder how this turns out, you know, after all of this? When we wake up and he goes back to his life partner and I get on with the business of being single. we don’t talk about it. We wake up to have a full day of conversation, laughs and more sex.
I walk him out, we hug. The goodbye is awkward, the hello a few days later slightly less so. His girlfriend squeezes my hand, we talk about fashion, laugh at a me-ish Malaprop. I should feel guilty a friend tells me later. I should have some degree of shame walking about with me as I socialize with this fantastic couple. I don’t, I wish only that both parties understand the difference between naked animal lust and love, that all parties involved remember that there is one relationship and I am not a part of it.
I wish only that he advises others of the trespass fee.
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