How To Loose The Rest Of Your LifeShe arrived dressed much better than I figured she would given that it was already 2am. For a moment I thought to myself it was going to be a pretty cut and dry hook up, but then she opened her mouth and out came the most enchanting young woman. And not in that sweet, practiced way you might think but rather in a witty, sarcastic, self assured way. Unlike the kind of women I try to connect with, she and I didn’t seem to have much in common. We just clicked, that’s the only way I can put it.
What I had originally thought might be a debaucherous evening turned into a couple hours of talking, smiling and reveling. When we realized it was going on 5am, I jokingly kicked her out since I had to be at work in a few hours. I made her promise she would come back the next night. I walked her to the door and in the most natural way we embraced and kissed. It wasn’t that awkward first kiss we’re all used to, the one where you can’t figure out how much to open your mouth or where to put your hands. We instantly knew how to put together our two-piece human puzzle.
She cooed softly and the hair on my neck stood up. I slipped my fingers into her hair and ran my nails over her scalp, feeling her breath stop as I did. There was a sweetness on her lips that wasn’t from the wine. After trying several times unsuccessfully to pull myself away, we finally took pause, pressing our foreheads together and looking down at our feet. Our hands were at our sides, fingers woven together. I put my mouth close to her ear and remarked that I wouldn’t be able to make it past hello the next time I saw her before I’d need her lips on mine. She smiled, brought her eyes to mine for a moment then turned for the door. Our hands still locked, she just about dragged me out the door with her.
The next night it was worse than I anticipated.
I was peering through the peephole in the door waiting for her to come down the hall. When she did, I opened the door to let her in and I never heard it latch behind her. The music I had playing in the room suddenly went mute. All I could hear was her breath and her quiet “hi” as we were drawn into each other. For the next hour there wasn’t a whispered sentence more than three words long (“yes, please,” “oh christ,” “softly, slowly”).
When the rest of the world finally started to rematerialize around us I felt like someone had surgically removed all the bones from my body. I laid on my side next to her, one arm under my head, she laid the same and my captive hand held hers, thumb tracing the lines in her palm. My other hand ran up and down between her neck and the valley formed where her hip met her waist. Each time I kissed her forehead she raised her lips to meet mine. She took great pleasure in catching my lower lip in her teeth so she could hear me whimper as she held it there and ran her tongue lightly over it. At one point our eyes met and I said “hi” realizing I never responded to her salutation when she arrived. I was at that moment treated with the most beautifully satisfied smile, the kind that softens your eyes blurring everything in your peripheral vision. We embraced again and our bodies decided for us that just being pressed together wasn’t close enough. Each of us took turns pushing or pulling the other into different positions, the whole time staying cheek to cheek so we could hear every little sound the other made.
We again found ourselves spent and lying close; slow, gentile sparks jumping between our bodies. I wished I could think of something to say but the quiet seemed somehow appropriate.
After a while, she left. With our parting kiss we both tried to steal what little the other had left to give. She made me swear I wouldn’t come within a hundred miles without seeing her. I said I’d make the trip all the way from home just to kiss her goodnight if that’s what she wanted. Another knowing smile chased across her lips and then she turned and was gone.
As promised, when I found out I was going to Denver again, I dropped Bella a line. She jumped at the chance to see me, insisting it had to be on the night I got there even though my plane didn’t land until 10pm. I couldn’t say no. I made arrangements to have fresh flowers delivered and asked for a room in a quiet part of the hotel.
When she got to my hotel it was like not a single day had passed. We embraced warmly and she stood on her toes to give me a sweet kiss on the cheek. I joined her on the bed and we laid there, staring at the ceiling talking about how we’d been spending our time. I again felt no push to move past conversation to what would come next. Our exchange was natural and warming, just as I remembered it and even when it waned into moments of quiet I just laid there looking at her.
Eventually her hand brushed mine and it ignited the fuse. We quickly fell into a place where time stood still and everything blurred into electric sensations. This time was slightly different though, in a way that’s hard to explain. She made eye contact every time she kissed me. When I pulled away she grabbed me and pulled me closer. She pressed her cheek against mine and whispered in my ear, I wish I could remember what she said.
As before we eventually collapsed next to each other and I pulled her close to rest her head on my chest; to have her near enough that I could run my hand lightly up and down her back. Even after exhausting every bit of energy we had, we couldn’t stop kissing. When she told me she had to be at work in a few hours I started jokingly trying to kick her out but she wouldn’t leave. She stayed another hour in fact, laying with me quietly and pleading with me to not stop touching her.
The next day I got a text to let me know that she wouldn’t be able to meet me for dinner that night. We had planned on meeting again but her car had broken down on her way home the night before. I told her I’d be happy to come to her and see if I could fix it, she made it sound easy enough. She agreed and after work I set off.
Upon arriving I found her car in the exact state she described and the necessary parts to fix it laid out, having told her what to pick up. What was missing was any sort of appropriate tools for the job. I scratched my head and decided that I could make due as long as she wasn’t in a rush and I didn’t mind shredding my knuckles. What should have taken an hour or two at the most turned into five and at the end of it all, I realized that the lack of tools foiled any chance I had of completely removing the broken part. There were fasteners I just couldn’t reach with what I had and being in the middle of nowhere there just wasn’t any place we could have gotten them that late at night.
I consulted her and we agreed the best thing to do was put the part back on and she would have to get it fixed the next day by someone with the right equipment. Strangely she wasn’t upset with me (I certainly would have been). She joked that I probably had no idea what to do right from the start and only offered so I could see her again. That was partly right but I couldn’t help feeling very disappointed with myself as I drove home. I had kissed her goodnight and tucked her into bed before I left.
The next day, with her car still busted, she wasn’t able to meet me again. I of course had nothing else to do so I offered to drive down and take her to dinner. She was two hours away so I wasn’t going to bring her back to my hotel just to have to take her back home again; this was to be purely a social visit which she seemed very pleased by. We went through dinner with pleasant conversation, left the restaurant and wanted to hang out some more. Again in the middle of nowhere, there really weren’t many options so we settled on going down the street to a little park where we could enjoy the beautiful weather on the front range.
The park was tiny, really tiny. There was a fountain with some benches where we settled at first, sharing a couple smokes and talking about where she had grown up. After a bit we got up and walked around the park, poorly lit as it was, finally ending up at a small band shell in the back. We had talked earlier about the time she spent performing as a dancer and singer with a traveling Christian ministry group and she joked that she wanted to see me dance. I told her I didn’t dance solo so she kicked off her heels. I put an arm around her waist and she began to beam. We started slowly just swaying from side to side, not able to do much else since being so close made it hard to concentrate. She leaned back slightly to bring her face to mine. We teased each other; slowing down to drawing our lips close but never stopping. I brought my hand up to caress the back of her neck or brush her cheek. She would run her nails over my shaved head.
As the dance came to a finish we just embraced and kissed with abandon. I picked her up and held her against me as she bit down softly on my lip. We lit each other on fire, almost literally. I could feel her skin start to burn even though there was a brisk chill in the air. I finally had to pull away and press my face into her shoulder, taking deep breaths to regain myself. I asked her “why are you doing this to me?” She sounded genuinely surprised when she replied “doing what?”
“This isn’t supposed to happen; I’m not supposed to feel this way about someone I just met.” I said. “I don’t want it to stop, but I can’t see this ending well. Regardless of the fact that we live so far apart, or that our lives are just a little too ****** up right now."
Her response was exactly what I didn’t need to hear.
“I think we moved beyond logistics when I started feeling things for you.” She smiled up at me and put both hands behind my head to pull my lips to hers. She drank deeply, slowly, this time not embracing me with just her body but with something warmer, softer, intangible. It was the thing I was trying to avoid at all costs, yet desperately yearned for. The thing that would break my heart, again.
I didn’t care. I kissed her back with every ounce of my soul, unbarring parts of myself I had sequestered years ago so they could feel the caress of her energy. In that moment I committed to letting her hurt me, as I knew she could. I doubt she wanted to. She knew what it was to be hurt. She knew how it felt to take her heart off the shelf and put it in someone else’s hands.
The next few hours passed much like the ones before it. Embracing, dancing slowly, and conspiring to have her travel to see me and me to see her again in the weeks and months that followed. It was all just as it should have been, except for the specter hanging over me waiting to swoop down and snap me back to reality. As it became very late, I drove her back to where we met and begged her to make a quick goodbye, “like ripping off a Band-Aid,” I told her. We kissed once more and she hopped out of the car. She waved, even blew me another kiss. The whole ride back to my hotel we exchanged text messages that became increasingly bold in expressing our feelings. I was careful to practice some restraint, not wanting to be “that guy” who blurts out “those words” on the “first date.”
It took just one more week for me to loose all restraint and tell her I loved her.
We made plans for a life together, long reaching plans. After just over 16 months, we had to spend about two months apart because work was going to keep me away. That's when I lost the rest of my life.
Out of nowhere, I got an email with a picture of a positive pregnancy test. It was hers, but it wasn't mine. I am sterile, having had a vasectomy. I probed briefly and she confessed it belonged to the guy she used to buy weed from. The guy I thought she hadn't seen in a year, the guy that made her skin crawl every time he flirted with her because he was 25 years older than her, a convicted felon, a convicted felon. I lost the ability to tell up from down, lost the restraint to keep from putting my fist through the nearest wall, but I never called her the thing my brain was screaming out: a *****.
And so I walked away, I knew there was nothing else I could do. Whether she kept the baby or not, it didn't matter. This wasn't just an affair, something I could have forgiven and never thought about again. This was the cruelest betrayal, and I would never be able to look at her again and see that girl I danced with in the moonlight.
chriselemental 31-35, M 1 Response 0 Feb 8, 2013