As I walked to the bus, my steps were unsteady and my hands were shaking nervously. I just had to keep thinking to myselfâŠleft and right and left and right. I boarded the bus and threw my book bag into the seat next to me. I leaned against the window and let out a deep breath. I closed my eyes and concentrated. I very slowly drew up my heavy lids; it was after all, 7:30 in the morning. I bit down on my bottom lip and stared at the door. This was going to be my only chance. The only chance I have to run is now. Here is your decision baby, these next 30 seconds the most critical. Silently, the argument between reason and hopeless romanticism started in my head.
RunâŠstayâŠâŠrunâŠâŠstayâŠâŠ hurry, you have but secondsâŠ.
By the time I reached my decision, the door had closed anyway and we were about a mile down the street. So I settled back and did my best to relax.
Over and over in my head, the scene playedâŠ..each with a different ending. I get off the bus, and He hugs me, or kisses me, or runs his fingers through my hair, or I puke on Him. The worst-case scenarioâŠI puke on Him. I started to fidget over myself, fixing my hair 10 times, readjusting my makeup, pulling at my bra straps, and applying lotion. To be quite honest, I was looking really good, and still, I felt it wasnât enough. I must have fussed over my hair at least 10 times. The only thing is, my hair is long and dark and very, very straightâŠso no matter what I did to it, it always fell into the same style. I was going to curl it⊠but again, it was 7:30 in the morning, and I wasnât thinking much past coffee.
The trip wasnât long, and before I knew it, the empire state building was showing itself. The tips of my mouth slightly dipped as I noticed the absence of the twin towers. But I was not going to let that get to me. No, not today. Not on my day. Not on O/our day. As the bus crept closer, the city seemed to swallow us up. The lights danced on the tall buildings and people rushed by in their fur coats and hats. I couldnât help but find amusement in the ones that dressed their dogs up to match themselves. The city whirred by, and yellow cabs dominated the streets. They seemed to be the alpha-male of this pack. There was so much to look at, and so little time. The romance of the city swooned me.
My legs were shaking under me as I stood up and the bus pulled into the terminal. My heartbeat was fluttering out of control and I was sure the other passengers could hear it. My hands were unsteady as I picked up my bag and slung it over my shoulder. I stood up in front of the seat and looked around. My stomach was doing flip-flops and my heart was pounding so hard it hurt. Slowly, I eased my way into the aisle and again the chant began in my head.
LeftâŠrightâŠleftâŠrightâŠ.
Before long I was walking off the bus and there He was. To anyone elseâŠjust another person, someone whom you wouldnât look twice at. I must say, I was impressed that I didnât trip and fall on my face, as I made my way to Him. I leaned in close and threw my arms around Him, placing a kiss on His cheek.
My memory got blurry for a little while as I walked beside Him. He rambled on about what to do. I needed coffee and I wanted to sit down and have some. My stomach was screaming for toast, anything to calm it down. Not too far away, W/we came upon a greasy spoon; a quiet little mom and pop diner and I climbed the steps and found a table. He sat down across from me and took my hand. He leaned over the table, and I found myself drawing closer, pressing my lips against His, slowly acquainting myself with the taste of Him and the feel of His breath mixed with mine. Quick and efficient is what it was. In one wordâŠExquisite. O/our lips seemed like old friends, getting to know each other again. It was perfect, until the waiter interrupted. I leaned back against the chair and turned to the waiter, ordering an english muffin, coffee and orange juice.
W/e talked about music and other odds and ends to break the ice. God, He just tasted so good. I couldnât drink my coffee; there was something floating in it. So, W/we set out for Starbucks. He very rarely didnât have His fingers laced with mine. It was nice, to be wanted. The simple act of holding someoneâs hand, seems so insignificant, but to feel His grip on me, at all times, was enough to make my blood boil.
To be completely honest, I canât remember half of what He said, I was too interested in the way His lips moved or the way His fingers gripped mine every time He stepped from the curb to pulled me back from jay-walking in NYC. W/we found a cozy spot in Starbucks and settled back. W/we sipped O/our coffee and He traced His thumb over my hand. O/our lips met many more times this time around. Mine, full of hunger, wanted to be kissed the way a woman is kissed before a man slips between her thighs. But He had a lot of patience, and I hated Him for it. He was so soft, steady, and calm. It irritated me. I wanted His lips on my neck, on my breasts and between my thighs. I wanted His fingers to grip more than my hand.
W/we needed to find a hotel room. W/we went down to the subway and waited for the train to arrive. He pressed me up against the support beam and kissed me hungrily for the first time. He forcefully grabbed a fistful of my hair and brought His lips to my neck, pressing His body hard up against mine. I felt Him growing hard against my waist and kissed back, needing to taste Him. His hand trailed up under my shirt, so slowly and cautious that no one could see what He was doing. As quickly as He pressed against me and kissed me, He halted, stepping back.