I lay in bed continuing to think about my beloved Lila as she slept peacefully.
When I met her, she was a virgin, a status that just did not fit a vivacious, beautiful, intelligent and talented young woman of 22. After a passionate encounter in which I gave her as much pleasurable motivation as she would allow, I asked her to think about allowing me to change that status. She did give it some thought, and on a dinner date the following weekend, looked me directly in the eyes and told me she was open to pursuit of that educational advancement.
We went back to my apartment, and engaged in a long passionate embrace with tongue interplay. After getting some of our breath back, she quoted something ancient-sounding.
"His speech is most sweet, and he is altogether desirable. This is my beloved and this is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem," She looked tenderly at me. I needed interpretation. "That's the king's lover who became his queen, describing him after she moved into the palace with his other concubines. It's from the Song of Solomon."
"Does that mean we have the go-ahead from the Bible?"
She smiled. "Ecclesiastical interpretation differs. I think many in the church are embarrassed and discomfited by many biblical passages. There's another of her verses that I like too. 'A bundle of myrrh is my well beloved unto me; he shall lie all night betwixt my breasts.' "
"I like the way that chick sings to Solomon," I said. "How about your own interpretation. You're not made uncomfortable by it, are you?"
She shook her head, those deep brown eyes wide open and so inviting.
I took her hand and led her into the bedroom, and we shed our clothing for preliminaries similar to our genesis of the week before. I then positioned myself between her legs and entered her gently. Her beautiful face took on a new look of wonder, tinged perhaps with a hint of pain as her hymen stretched in an extreme, unfamiliar manner. I took my time, apologizing for the discomfort, kissing her brow and murmuring words of love that may not have been as eloquent as Solomon's but as sincere as any I ever mouthed before with any woman. Before long, she was playing through the pain, getting into the rhythm, making soft exclamations of pleasure as her respiration rate grew, until she finally exclaimed something very unbiblical as her vaginal muscles contracted. I managed to hold it through her second orgasm before joining her in praise of the heavenly experience. It had lasted the better part of a half hour. When it was over she acknowledged it as a sublime experience.
And it became even better over time, without the initial pain and with the advanced pleasure that education brought. She was an apt pupil, her long legs wrapped around me, hips gyrating in new ways, learning all the postures and movements to increase the sublimity of physical love, just as Solomon's lover had long before. At the end of the semester, she graduated, left the dorm and moved into my apartment. We lived together the next two years, as she took courses toward her teaching credentials.
Then came the problem. I developed an attachment to a young woman at work, a new hire with a sparkling smile, ready laugh and independent views, not to mention a very well-proportioned body. After leaving the office evenings, Kim and I sometimes visited a nearby bar, swapping stories about our reporter beats and issues of the day over beer and sandwiches. She was fun to be with and very accessible, hungry for male companionship after recovering from an emotional breakup with a longtime boy friend. We liked each other, and it was almost inevitable that a strong attraction would grow into something more. We went to her apartment one night, smoked a little weed and wound up having passionate sex on a floor rug between two giant speakers blaring out
A Question of Balance
by the Moody Blues. It was not just a one night stand. Other assignations followed, once on a desk in the office after hours.
I felt a little guilty about stepping out on Lila, but rationalized that at this point in my relationships career I was still young and not ready to cease "sewing wild oats." I had never yet formed an exclusive relationship, and considered love life a two way street. Many of the women I had gone with did not seem upset if I dallied with other people, and when they fucked someone else I conceded they also had that right, and suppressed any alpha male inclinations to gore or trample the other bucks. Some of my paramours were less amenable when I felt the inevitable attraction to someone new, but my attitude was they could either cut me some slack or move on, as they wished.
Lila and I had never discussed these points. There had been no need to, as she was occupying the center of my universe to an extent no woman had before. Since meeting her, I had set a new personal best in monogamy, and knew that she was also focused just on me. Because of that, when I did get the old itch it came with a new sensation of guilt, and I was not forthcoming about it. I did not want to hurt Lila, or jeopardize the great thing we had going.
Lila sensed something. She did not ask directly but did remark a couple of times about my "extended work hours." My half-truth excuses included "a late night meeting" or "grabbing a beer at a bar with co-workers," etc.
When I came back to the apartment late one night, she approached me with a sad look of foreboding and said she had been "missing" me. I was dreading a direct question, but instead she undid my belt and knelt before me to do what I usually welcomed, but this time I was nervous. I had not showered at Kim's apartment following our assignation just an hour or so before, and was sure that Lila would taste her love juices on me. I also wondered if I could even get it up. And considering where it had been was it right to just let her take it in her mouth without saying anything.
Libertine coward that I was, the last concern went unaddressed, and the others were unnecessary. I did rise to the occasion as Lila worked her magic, and she did not seem to detect any seasoning. She soon released me from the oral embrace and said she wanted to make love. Again, I felt a momentary unease. Was this a test? Would I be able to perform after such a short interval. As it turned out, my recovery ability was as good as usual, and I was able to play through the pain. Lila seemed well satisfied as I performed for an extended time. She seemed happy and tender after her second climax. If it was a test, I had passed.
Chauvinist pig that I was, guilt was displaced by a tremendous boost in ego. Next day I even confided in my best friend Eli that I not only had two mistresses but had succeeded in satisfying both within the space of a couple hours.
"You may be superman or you may be lucky," was his response. "What's that saying about pride going before a fall?"
That may have helped bring me down from my high. It was time to give Lila an explanation about my increased absences, and talk about the ground rules of our relationship. That night, as we sat on the sofa watching TV, I brought it up. It did not go well, and later led me to seriously re-evaluate my vaunted way with words.
