Surprised by Love

In 1995 I began a new job at an insurance company. I worked with a team that was responsible for moving the main office of a Baltimore-based insurance company to South Carolina. I worked in South Carolina with about half the team. The other half was in Baltimore and had been there for months. The company flew the team members home every other weekend if they chose, or they flew spouses to Baltimore for a weekend. They paid for a furnished one-bedroom apartment, a car to about every fourth person and spending money for each employee in Baltimore. I had no desire to go to Maryland.

For one thing, I was a homebody. I’m not a risk-taker, I’m not adventurous. For another, I had a boyfriend. I met Mike a year before, and we began dating immediately. Well, we started having sex anyway. Our relationship was complicated by the fact that Mike was married and had one child, and one on the way. When I met him, his wife had just found out she was pregnant. She threw him out of the house and he moved into my apartment. The sex was good. Face it, I was fairly new to this and any physical contact would have been “good.” I had no idea that there was a world of sensation that included not just my pussy or my breasts, but my mind. Mike never seemed to notice that I had a mind. I was just an object, I was just sex to him.

In 1995 he moved back in with his wife just as the second baby was born. I was devastated, but I tried to bury myself in work. I stopped really caring about myself, though. I stopped wearing make-up, or dressing nicely, just for the fun of it. I stopped being me. I was simply this mass of sorrow, grieving for what I had lost, though I didn’t realize how much I had lost. Somewhere in the equation of Mike and Ruth, I lost myself. I lived only for those stolen moments on the phone, or that furtive note in my mailbox, scribbled on the back of an Ingles receipt.

So when in February of 1996, my boss asked me if I would be willing to spend the last two weeks of the office conversion in Baltimore, I agreed to go. I needed a change. I needed to be able to look out a window without hoping to see him. I needed to breathe air that was new and untouched by him. So I got on a plane and cried for a couple of hours, flying away from the only man I believed would ever love me, or desire me. I was 22 at the time.

I have never thought I was pretty. I am different, exotic maybe, but not pretty. I have dark hair, olive skin and green/brown eyes. My eyes have a slight slant to them; almond, I believe it’s called. My nose is…distinctive. My mouth is full, my upper lip has a perfect “Cupid’s Bow.” I have always liked my mouth. My voice is low and scratchy; and my teeth are perfectly straight, thanks to my orthodontist. These features separately sound alright, but together, I have never liked them. Mike was the first man to ever tell me I was pretty.

I went to work that first day with every intention of being miserable. I alternately cried, and stared out a window. I worked with a girl named Robin, who I had met Greenville. I clung to her like a life-line. I had never been this far from home and I missed Mike desperately.

Every night after work, all the employees would gather in one room and have a short meeting, discussing the day, planning new strategies and socializing. I was so lonely that first night. I only knew one person, and she was busy with other people. Everyone knew everyone. Except me. Robin said that she would drive me back to our apartment building. Everyone from our group had an apartment there. I was on the ninth floor.

As we stood in that meeting, I looked around the room scanning faces, hoping to see a friendly expression, wanting to make friends. I saw a man across the room, and to my horror, he was watching me intently. He appeared to be in his late twenties. He had dark, almost black hair, cropped short. He had an arresting face, but his nose looked as if it had been broken several times. He had dark eyes and an intelligent, interesting expression. He wore dress pants and a dark sport coat, so I couldn’t tell much about his body. But it looked like he had fairly broad shoulders. I was musing on his body when suddenly, he smiled. I almost gasped. That smile! It was like the sun had risen for the second time that day, right there in that room. I looked around quickly to see if anyone else noticed, but no one did. I was amazed at how blind these people were. I was a little bit frightened, (remember how naïve I was,) so I smiled a shy smile in return, and quickly looked away. I kept glancing back at him and he wore a sly expression, as if he knew something that I didn’t.

The meeting ended and Robin made as if to leave. I walked with her to the door and found myself right next to him. He winked at me! The sheer audacity had me laughing inside, but I gave him my best “ice princess” look. He laughed and asked Robin if she would drive him home. She agreed and that is when my heart began to pound. I don’t think it stopped pounding until I came home two weeks later.

We got in the car and introductions were made. He told me his name was Paul, and asked me if I was married. I was so stunned by the forwardness of that question, that I actually answered him, “No. But I have a boyfriend.” He answered, “Damn. Do you love him?” At that point I began to get annoyed. I said yes as coolly as I could. I assumed the conversation was over because he turned around and talked to Robin.

I groaned when we pulled into a grocery store. I was so tired I was ready to drop, but Robin needed a few things, so we went inside. I got a cart and pretended to shop but all I did was wander the aisles and wonder what Mike was up to. That is until I noticed Paul was pacing me with his shopping cart. I ignored him and continued down the aisles, but he kept up a steady pace, and chattered to me as though we were having a conversation, even though I wasn’t saying a word. He began saying the silliest, most ridiculous things, and I found myself smiling. All that did was encourage him, so I sped up. He did the same, and I laughed at him, amused by his persistence. We played this game all over the store and by the time we got back in the car, I felt like I had made a friend. We parked the car under the apartment building and rode the elevator to our floors. Robin got off on five, and that left Paul and me alone until we reached nine. “Well, this is my floor…” I was preparing to say have a nice night, I enjoyed the grocery store, when he smiled that sly smile again.

“It’s my floor, too.” He got off the elevator and waited for me to collect myself. I had the feeling that he was amused by my sudden nervousness. We walked all the way to my room, and I somehow just knew that his was next door. But it wasn’t. It was two doors down and on the end of the hall. He waited until I got into my room and then said goodnight. I peeked back out the door and saw him looking back at me. Now I was really embarrassed. But I told myself that it was nothing. That he was just amusing himself with a lonely, sad girl.

I changed into a pair of navy sweat pants and a heather grey sweatshirt. I didn’t wear a bra, but I did have a white cropped tank top on under the sweatshirt. I fixed a bowl of soup and settled down to watch the news, when I heard knocking on my door. I thought maybe it was Robin and I really needed company so I opened the door and almost fell over at what I saw. Paul stood there, but I didn’t even recognize him at first. He wore a tank top and workout shorts, with what looked to be black spandex biker shorts underneath. I had never seen a body like that in my whole life. I’ve read books, seen pictures, I knew what the ideal male looked like, I had just never seen him in person before. He had the most perfect body, just the right size muscles, perfectly shaped arms, and legs that looked like a weight-lifter’s. He looked so strong, so MALE, that it seemed like I shrunk before him. I felt small and delicate and feminine, which was a first. He had thick, black hair on his chest that curled out from beneath his shirt. I have never had my mouth go so dry, so quickly. I wanted to drag him to my bed, I wanted to tear into him with my hands, mouth, teeth. I was scared by the things that I felt in those seconds, but I let him in anyway. He said that he was bored, could we watch TV together, and I said why not? I was not a woman who let strange men into her apartment, and flirted with them. I had a boyfriend for God’s sake! But I realized right then that I hadn’t thought about Mike since the grocery store. I realized that I was not fretting about where he was and what he was doing. I was thinking about me and why I was having vivid sexual thoughts about a near-stranger. So I let him in, and after a few awkward minutes the TV went completely unnoticed. We talked. And we talked. He is intelligent, funny, insightful. After a few minutes he was drawing out of me secrets and dreams and thoughts that until then were completely my own. It was a heady feeling. We talked of deep things; spirituality, the world, places that I wanted to go, dreams I had. He wanted to know what I thought. It was amazing.

He told me of his own dissatisfaction with his life. He told me that he was married, but had had a series of affairs that were totally unsatisfying. I think that he was looking for something. A connection of more than just bodies. A connection of minds. Of souls. He told me that he would see a woman he was attracted to, he would sleep with her, and the next day his own disgust with himself and with her would drive him to never even acknowledge her again. I filed that bit of information away.

I knew that he wanted to sleep with me. I knew it as surely as I knew that I wanted, no, craved him. But I also knew that he was a man that I could be friends with. Did I want to sacrifice that for a night of sex? I must have looked so tense as I decided.

He offered me a backrub and I almost laughed out loud at the obviousness of that come-on. But when I said Yes, I knew that my decision was made. It felt so good. How long had it been since a man touched me? How long had it been since a man wanted to give me pleasure? I relaxed and began to experience the feeling of being aroused by someone other than Mike. I felt him pull at the hem of my sweatshirt and I raised my arms over my head so he could pull it off. The cool air of the room made me shiver and I felt my nipples tighten up almost painfully. I knew that they were visible in that tank top, but I didn’t care. I felt so good, cherished almost. When his fingers began to move from my back to my sides, I started shaking and I leaned forward until my forehead rested on the arm of the couch. He grazed the sides of my breasts with his hands and I know I moaned out loud. I had never in my life felt anything so erotic. I felt him lift my hair and he lightly kissed the back of my neck. To this day, I can come just recalling the sensation of his mouth on my neck. I turned around so quickly I almost knocked us off the couch and in two seconds flat we were kissing like we had only an hour to live. He kissed me with his whole body, not just his mouth. His lips, tongue, teeth, arms, hands, even his legs were involved. Wrapping me up closer and closer to him. I thought that he would crush me, but instead he picked me up and I wrapped my legs around his waist. He held me like that for a minute or two, then gently lowered me to the floor. I was breathing so hard, I was scared, I was exhilarated. I felt like I was going to fly or burst into flames. Has anyone ever actually spontaneously combusted during sex?

I don’t know how it happened, but suddenly I was naked. He kissed a line down my chest, my stomach and all the way to my pussy. I waited, as frightened as I have ever been that it would end up like Mike’s half-hearted attempts at oral sex. A few licks, and then wham bam, etc. How wrong I was, how gloriously wrong I was. He treated my pussy like it was the most marvelous feast he had ever had. He reveled in it, licking and sucking and dear god, biting until I screamed out loud. Not words, just screaming. I don’t remember how we got into the bedroom. I guess he carried me. I know I couldn’t have walked. I remember the sight of his bare chest and that perfect ripple of muscle that was his stomach. I couldn’t touch it enough. I licked his nipples until he flipped me over on my back and shoved his cock in. I didn’t see stars; I saw whole galaxies. The room spun and I screamed again. That’s when I got the idea that I needed to pull up my knees to my ears. I have always been flexible but this was a stretch even for me. I jerked up my knees and he slid even deeper into me. His eyes opened wide and he called upon Jesus and slammed me over and over again. I think I screamed myself hoarse. I begged him not to stop and he laughed out loud. I thought that was odd until I discovered that he is capable of fucking literally for hours without coming. And it was all mine. At least for that night.

I woke up later, and my nose was in an armpit. My legs were tangled up with two hairy legs and a bedsheet. I kissed him and he woke up. I thought to myself, here it comes. He’s going to make some excuse and get up and leave and that’s the end of that. My heart had spent the last few months breaking, so this would not be new, or unexpected. But instead he kissed me like he loved me. And started all over again.

I woke up in time to shower and fly to work. I spent the whole day in a daze. I saw him a few times, but he never looked at me. I chalked it up to experience and thanked God that I had finally experienced the orgasm (orgasms) of a lifetime and was a little sad for the new friend that I had lost. I think that I missed him already, but I had made up my mind that I would not grieve over this. I had experienced paradise and even if it was only one night, it was worth it. But even without sex, where would I find someone that understood me like that?

After work I went back to the apartment and made some dinner. I heard a knock and opened the door. He flew into the room like a tornado and before I could even say hello, he pinned me to the wall and his tongue was in my mouth. He fucked me up against that wall, and every other way he could think of before that night was over. For four nights we were like animals. We slept for less than an hour every night, and I had to tell my co-workers that I must be getting a cold to explain why I was losing my voice. The truth was I spent my evenings in such ecstasy that my screams echoed all over Baltimore. At least that’s how it seemed to me.

But it went beyond physical. We joined mentally and spiritually every single time. I felt my soul wrapping itself up in his more and more. He made love to my mind with his. And in between, we would lay tangled up together and we talked. I knew him so well, and he knew all there was to know about me. There were no secrets, just complete acceptance. It humbled me that this magnificent man who could have had any woman, chose me. And loved me.

That weekend, he went home SC and I spent Saturday and Sunday with my Dad in Washington D.C. I missed him, but it was different than when I missed Mike. With Mike, I wondered what he was doing and if he was with his wife and where he was. I missed Paul, missed the closeness and the union that we had. But what made it different was I knew that union was still intact. Somehow I knew that I had permanently joined myself with this man and regardless of our physical location, we were still one. That may sound metaphysical, but it’s the truth. I wasn’t jealous of his wife because I knew that she could never touch his soul the way that I had. So I was content to wait for him to come back.

On Monday it was business as usual. We saw each other at work, but never spoke a word to each other. After work, I came home, made dinner and left the door unlocked. And smiled when I heard him running down the hall. He shoved the door open and was in my arms before I could breathe and I realized that I had never seen joy before that moment. I know my own face mirrored his expression. That night, we made love with such urgency and desperation as I have never felt. We couldn’t stand to be apart, even for a second. I needed to take a bath, so he took one with me. We romped in the water like children, delighted to be together again.

Work was the same, passing each other in the halls or walking by the other’s desk. According to our co-workers we didn’t know each other at all, and I refused to start rumors about him by hanging all over his desk and mooning over him. It was so much fun, knowing we had this secret. We would look up from our desks and see the other walk by and lock eyes. I could read his mind. He wouldn’t smile or betray any thoughts with his expression, but I knew. He was telling me that he wanted to push my knees up to my ears again, or crawl under my desk and lick my pussy for the rest of the afternoon. I think that the anticipation, the knowledge that we could not be lovers in public only made us that much more urgent when the day ended. I remember some of the cattier women that we worked with would speculate about him and one girl in particular insisted that she had slept with him years ago. She made herself the office expert on his sex life and I would listen to her and nod periodically and inside, shudder at her stupidity. How foolish she was to think that she knew him at all! If she had really known him, she would never have told strangers those things about him.

We went out on one date. We ate dinner and made love with our eyes from across the table. We drove down the highway and fondled each other and eventually made our way back to his bed which is where we wanted to be all along anyway. That last night before our flights home to SC, we promised each other that we would stay up all night and make it the most memorable night of the whole two weeks. But two weeks of virtually no sleep finally caught up with us and we slept, wrapped up together. I was sad, but I determined not to let it show. I was afraid that I would make him sad if he knew how I felt. I was afraid that if he knew my feelings were as deep as they were, he would become frightened and would withdraw from me, so I acted like it was not that big of a deal. How stupid! I had forgotten that the man could read my mind!

It’s been several years since I’ve seen him. We worked together for about a year. The sex petered off after a while. It was just so difficult to get together. But then, sex was never the point, it was just a wonderful side-effect. He got another job and moved to another town. I folded up my heart and put it away. But he’s still there. I think of him every day and hope that he is happy and well. The reason I am not sad is that I know, as surely as I know my name, I know that he thinks of me every day and hopes the same thing.