From the "Kissing All The Frogs" series.
“Hey, hot date tonight?!” Her co-worker asked her in the mirror, as she washed her hands in the office bathroom sink, while Goli finished putting on her makeup at 5:30. “Heeh, no, not really. He’s just a friend.” She said. Her co-worker asked “Anyone special?” She said “Well, yes.” checking her reflection in the mirror. “I think he’s very special. He is a guy I have known for a while. He is a friend I met through a group of my sister’s friends. Later I started working with him on some volunteer projects having to do with ‘No War On Iran.’ I have been really attracted to him for a while and we have so much in common, but I’m not sure he’s interested in me. He has never said or done anything, always friendly and polite. I’m going out to dinner with him tonight, not our first time out together.” Her officemate made some supportive noises, wishing her a good evening and a good time.
They sat at the popular restaurant, talking and eating and drinking, trying hard to hear each other over the building noise of the restaurant which was full of excited and celebrating people. She was happy as always to see him. When they finished their dinner, they went for a walk. As she started to make good-bye gestures, he asked if she wanted to go for a drive, holding her arm as they crossed the street. Did she imagine his arm brushing against her breast for a second? Liking the idea of prolonging her visit with him, she agreed. As much as she had wanted this and for the number of times she had thought about getting closer to him, when he reached over in the car and kissed her, she was dumbfounded. She had really wished for a closer relationship with him for months and here she was paralyzed with excitement and confusion. “He wants me, too? He likes me, too?” She was so happy, so excited. No words were exchanged, just hands fumbling in the flickering glow of the streetlights. She couldn’t remember how they got to his place.
A man and a woman were hanging on to each other, arriving the flat holding hands and kissing. In no time at all, they had fumbled in the dark to undress each other and themselves, the whole hallway strewn with various items of clothing. Hands discovered, lips burnt, eyes half closed but seeing everything, all senses awake and ready for the discoveries to come. Kisses, kisses, and kisses landing everywhere, and fingers finding each other. Ears hearing whispers and moans and words of wanting, interest, excitement, and arousal. Noses smelling each other's crooks of necks, chests, and arms. Some huge climax lurked in the back, prolonged as long as humanly possible, pulsating through sweating bodies, nostalgic of other times in the past the bodies had been in such dire and excited state, but never like this.
Embraces were held tight, arms raised, lowered, fumbling in the dark, reaching, touching, scratching, and holding. Limbs performing maneuvers perhaps long forgotten or less practiced, all the time looking for the other person's touch, not wanting to let go. Sweat poured, hair was tussled, and soft moans turned into groans and pleas and desperate requests of attention and release. Every touch and every kiss felt like another sure thing to unleash the climax which was avoided as long as it could through long moments of holding back, back, back, until release became inevitable, climaxes were reached in rapid succession, and bodies crumbled next to one another, exhausted, released, satisfied, and waiting around the corner, promising to get going at it again. Sex, free, joyous, releasing, and comforting.
She woke up sore and happy. She had had such a good time with a guy she really liked, and was happy as a child to finally know that he liked her, too. With all the things they had in common, she thought, this felt so good, so right. As the morning turned into noon and afternoon and evening, she started feeling a little strange. He didn’t call. He didn’t write. She called. He was his polite and kind self, talking about their project, but there was no mention of what had happened the night before. She played along, uttered some niceties, and when she was sure there was nothing there, she hung up. She cried herself into oblivion for days. No calls came. No acknowledgement. Nothing. She saw him again in the circle of friends. He was kind and polite again. There was no look, no glance, no recognition of her as the woman who had been in his arms. After several weeks, she finally accepted he had no interest in her. There was nothing, only what had happened in her head and in her heart for months, she thought. What went wrong? Was she that bad in bed? She certainly didn’t remember it that way. Was she too fat? Too ugly? Too old? Did she do something wrong? She never got a chance to ask those questions. For all the days, weeks, and months she cried and thought, the realization finally set, complete, sobering, and painful. She had been a one-night stand.
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