I've anticipated this for so long, since the very first time we met in that chat room. You were different, but I didn't know why at the time. I was immediately attracted to you. As our relationship grew, we would chat for hours, about anything. We'd make each other laugh, cry, think. We challenged each other with our conversation, but never alienated each other. We accepted each other, all of each other, talking about difficult personal issues. There was so much trust, which is odd considering we'd never met; all of our stories could have been fabricated, and neither of us would have known. But we accepted that risk, and then almost dismissed it. I kept it in the back of my mind. Way back, tucked behind the stories I'd heard of bad things happening to Internet friends.
We will finally be together. After so many months, we will actually meet. I will feel your arms around me. Touch your skin. Take you in my arms and hold you close. I will be able to hear your heart beating. To smell you…how much we take that sense for granted! But to smell your skin…to take a deep breath and smell your essence! My heart skips a beat when I just think of it!
I've shared so much of my intimate life with you. My husband has enjoyed that too, in an egotistical sort of way. I love my husband very much. He is such a special, wonderful person. But I suspect the reason he gets such a charge out of sharing me over the Internet is because it makes him feel better about himself. It's an ego thing. He is an amazing, generous lover, but this ego thing…
You've seen my husband make love to me, and I've seen you stroking yourself as you watched us. Did you imagine it was you with me as we did this? As he entered me, I'd glance over at the camera to look at you, as if I were looking right into your eyes. Did you see me doing this? When his mouth was on my pussy, licking me and making me cum as I pulled his head into me, did you see me looking at you? While he was on top of me, cumming inside me, I grasped the sheets below me, and looked right at you. You were with me all those times.
And now, we are about to meet. My husband gave me the plane ticket for my birthday. I couldn't believe my eyes. It was the most generous, unbelievably dear thing he's ever done for me. This is how much he loves me. The only string attached to this trip is that, when we are together, we must be online with him. I agreed to this. It's only fair.
I need the vacation, after the past few years. It's been difficult, and I've juggled so many things. Too many things. To have a vacation—one week—all to myself (well, and you!), is heavenly. I don't mind solitude—I relish it. It's what I need to rejuvenate my soul. And that's exactly why my husband has done this. That is the kind of person he is. He knows that, even though he cannot empathize my need to be alone, he respects it, and has acted to help me get that time.
My eagerness to be with you consumes me as I board the plane. I cannot believe this is happening. Am I dreaming? I must be. But no, I'm not. I find my seat, and it feels real. The seatbelt clasp is cold and hard. The sun streaming through the window onto my face is warm. My heart beats so hard, I fear every passenger can hear it. This is real.
I open my book and try to lose myself in it to avoid losing my mind on this cross-country trip. It is torture, knowing that the next person to embrace me will be you, but that I must wait the 3+ hours until I get there. I am reading Walden, and it's no use. It reminds me of you, when you quoted it to me during one of our first chats. I am hopelessly lost in thoughts of you. I close my eyes, and I see your sweet face, and beautiful eyes. This is how I've shared my days with you since our first chat. You are with me so often during my day. I take you everywhere with me, close to my heart. I cherish our friendship more than I could ever express in words. You are so dear to me.
The plane takes off, and I feel so free. When the flight attendant comes by, I get a glass of merlot, and sip it slowly. I am no connoisseur of wine, so it tastes good to me. I look forward to sharing wine. and many other things, with you.
About an hour after takeoff, I fall asleep, Walden open on my lap. It was worth a try, I suppose. Sleep is good, though, because I don't believe I'll be getting much of it during this week. When I wake up, my book is closed and has been placed on the empty seat beside me, and someone has draped a small blanket over me. When I realize where I am, my heart starts beating wildly again, and I feel energized. I feel my cheeks flush with anxiety and desire for you. I am so nervous to meet you. I know the PC cam doesn't show an accurate representation. I know you haven't seen all my freckles, wrinkles, stretch marks, or flab. And I fear that you will be disappointed when you see me.
I grab my purse and head for the bathroom. It's occupied, and so, I have to wait. Waiting, waiting, waiting! This waiting is driving me crazy! But I suppose I'm getting good at it, what with all the practice. After a moment, another passenger steps out of the bathroom, and it's my turn. I freshen up, as they say, brushing my teeth and fixing my hair. After touching up the little bit of makeup I have on, I go back to my seat. The pilot's voice then announces that we will be landing in the next 20 minutes, and I am sick with nerves. Every muscle feels like jelly, and my heart is in my throat. I feel as if I could cry. My face must be beet red. This is not how I pictured myself looking when we first met! I imagined myself sauntering over to you seductively, looking perfectly gorgeous. Now I'll have to crawl to you, my face red and tear stained. I laugh to myself at that thought, and start to feel better.
I peer out the window as we begin our descent, and so many things rush through my mind. How could I be doing this? How did this all happen? How did I get to this point? I try not to judge myself, but it's difficult not to. My eyes fill with tears—tears of regret, sadness, nerves, and joy. I mop them up as best as I can, and gather my things together. The sun hides behind a veil of clouds. It's there…I can feel its warmth and see a faint glow, but its full brilliance is dimmed. This allows me to see its outline behind the cloud. I feel reassured.
I see the ground coming closer, and a runway in the distance. The landing gear moans in release. We are almost there. I am so close to you! My stomach churns, and my nerves send chills down my spine. I am so nervous. What if I can't find you? What if you've been delayed? Then what do I do? Ugh…my self-doubt could ruin this moment. I won't let it. I resolve to be confident and strong. If you're not there, then I have a week all to myself. That won't be so bad. It'll be good, actually. I need the peace and quiet.
With a thud and a screech, the plane lands smoothly, and I am across the country from my family and husband, about to meet the man who has been my lover for months. How can this be? He's never touched my skin, yet he's reached a place deep within my heart. Our souls know each other.
And the plane stops. The flight attendants give us permission to release our seatbelts and gather our belongings, but I'm already at the exit. I cannot linger here, hesitant to meet you. I must plunge in, and do it. The door opens, and I walk down the narrow hallway to the gate. Many faces greet me, and I search the crowd for the face I love. I pause, scanning the gate, but do not see you. My heart sinks, as I worry that I've been duped—that this has all been the ridiculous fantasy of a bored housewife, and that no one as wonderful as you would find me desirable.
That's when the world stopped turning, and everything stopped. There you are, standing to the side of the crowd. You're leaning your shoulder against the wall, head tilted, just watching me. Your sweet smile tells me everything I've worried about doesn't matter. I run to you, into your arms. We kiss, and I am home. The tears come fast, and I can't stop them. To feel your lips on mine, and your arms pulling me toward you. We are spinning, spinning, spinning. As we kiss, both of us crying now, and oblivious to onlookers who try avert their gaze but can't, we feel a link…a wholeness that up to this point we've never felt. We haven't spoken a word to each other yet, but it's almost as if we don't have to.
I take your face in my hands, and kiss the corners of your mouth. And then I turn your head and kiss your left temple, your scar now visible to me. I hold my lips to it, as if I could heal it. It doesn't scare me. You pull me to you, and we hug, holding each other so tightly, I can hear your heartbeat. I don't know how long we stood there.
I look up at you, smiling, and breathe "Hi." You look down at me and smile, stroking my cheek, and then tracing my lips with your finger. "Hi," you say. I am so hungry for you, but I don't want to ruin this sweet moment. I sense you feel the same way. This is the moment we will remember forever. You place a finger under my chin and turn my face upward. You look into my eyes, and take my breath away. Then you lean in, and kiss me—a passionate, hard kiss. My lips open to give way to your hungry tongue. Your hands cradle my chin, and then push my hair back to caress my shoulders as you kiss my neck. I have my hands on your back, and I stroke large circles all over. My hands drop to your behind, and rest there. And that's when we realize that we need to leave the airport right away, or something's going to happen right then and there. You grab my hand as whisper gruffly, "Let's go, sweetheart."
I am staying at a hotel near your apartment. You bring me there, and carry my bags to my room. You stop at the doorway. "I'll wait for you downstairs. Get yourself settled, and meet me in the lobby. You must be starving, and I've made dinner reservations."
I protest, wanting you to join me in my room immediately. But you want to talk with me first, spend time seeing each other and holding hands. "The anticipation," you say, "is almost as fun as the act itself." How valiant of you. I cannot argue with that, and retreat to unpack.
"Okay, give me 15 minutes, then," I say, and we kiss. I close the door, and sigh. This is too good to be true. When I turn to look at my room, I cannot believe what I see. The bed, sheets turned down, is covered in red rose petals. A vase of pink roses sits on the nightstand. Another vase, filled with lavender roses, rests on the dresser. The table near the window holds another vase, this one filled with yellow roses. And in the bathroom, a large arrangement of purest white roses. You knew they were my favorite flower. I feel like a princess.
