Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Deeper

I've been walking around in a daze since Saturday night. Just floating along on a silken cloud of unreality, through a lovely fog of an opium dream.

At least, that's what this feels like. I can't concentrate on the most simple tasks, like folding laundry, or brushing my teeth, or remembering to check the mail. I do all these things, but I'll catch myself almost leaving the house without my car keys, and arriving to work with no memory of getting in the car, starting the car, and driving to work. It's unnerving...

I've gotta snap out of it. Part of the reason for all this is that I have welcomed it. I've flung myself into the welcoming distraction of John with open arms. It's like the fictional river of Lethe; I waded in its blissful dark waters at first, then decided to swim around in it a while.

I was pretty upset when I went to John's on Saturday night. We both had a rare weekend night off from work, and I was nervous as hell. I must have tried on ten different outfits before deciding on a pair of cute denim shorts, a snug tee shirt and a pair of fashionable Converse shoes, and some light makeup. I wanted to look very casual, in case he thought I was pathetic and thought this was a date!

I was worried about the guy who had chased me, plus I had had some strange and unsettling dreams since that night, which I'll disclose another time.

I arrived there hot and sweaty; my air conditioner doesn't work that well, and it was so damn hot that night. He looked delectable in a grayish t-shirt and jeans, and his shaggy light brown hair was freshly-washed and still damp. He hugged me at the door, and I breathed in the clean masculine scent of him: soap and shampoo and a light whiff of his sweat, which smelled good not icky, all which combined to make quite an aphrodisiac. I thought I was going to swoon!

His apartment was nice, and it was in an expensive building, so he or his family must have money. I marveled at how neat it was for a bachelor apartment. He came back with two beers, and then he popped in a movie.

We started talking, and eventually lost interest in the movie. After another beer, he moved closer to me on the couch, and I propped my legs up in his lap. I kept wondering why I was there, and if he just wanted an easy piece of ass while his girlfriend was away. But I knew better; it's almost impossible for people to fool me, and I could feel his guilt over his feelings for me, which ran deeper that just physical attraction.

We started to kiss, and I lay back on the couch, wrapping my arms around him, and blotting out any more thoughts of boyfriends, girlfriends, guilt, and dead bodies.

He was a great kisser; they were the kind of kisses that you feel way down in the pit of your stomach. I rubbed my hands through his hair, and boldly raised my hips into the hardness that I could feel pressing against me.

He pulled away, and sat up. I knew what he was feeling, and what he was going to say. He told me he was going to break up with his girlfriend, and he didn't think it was right to start something with me until he had taken care of that; he didn't want things to begin under any sleazy circumstances, because he liked me a lot. I was warmed by his declaration, but I was also a little disappointed. I was fiercely turned on, and I knew I would have let things go further.

A twinge of anger coursed through me, and I asked him why he even asked me over here if that was the case. I was mad, and worked up, and the events of the past couple of weeks had come to a head, so I grabbed my purse to storm out. He held my arms so I wouldn't leave, and then he hugged me to him. I could feel hot tears threatening to pour out my eyes, but held back; I hate to cry, especially in front of people. He said he was sorry, that he just wanted to see me. I couldn't be angry with him, after all I knew the situation too, and why had I come if not for the same reasons. Suddenly, he grabbed the rest of the beer, "Follow me."

It was dark outside, but still hot as six shades of hell. We walked to his building's pool, and seeing that no one was around, stripped down to our underwear and dove into the inviting blue water. It was deliciously cool; the moonlight glittered on the dark blue water as he peeled off my panties, my legs wrapped snugly around his hips. When he touched me between my legs, I felt the heat radiate out; hot against the deep cool water. We kissed and touched and rubbed and licked until our skin started to prune, and then we heard drunken laughter as people made their way to the pool for a night swim.

Covering up with towels, we quickly relinquished our pool to the intruders. Back in the apartment, I just took off the wet bra and panties, dried off and got dressed, stowing my undies in my purse. Before I left, he made arrangements to take me on a "real date" when he got back into town (some family-related trip or something).

I drove home elated, feeling naughty at the thought of my bra and panties in my purse. My body was still tingling from pleasure and excitement. I had never felt this way about anyone, and I'd do anything to keep the high going.

I can feel myself getting in deeper every second, like wading into the deep cold end of the pool without knowing it, and remembering that you're not the best swimmer.

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