The work week began. I had to get up early for my job at the gym, arriving there at 5AM. I continued with my schedule of cleaning the showers and dressing rooms, watching Davis swim and then cleaning the offices. After work, I dressed and hurried to University to attend my classes and work on my dissertation. Sometimes, I would be in the library until late, researching and laboriously writing, anxious now that the end was near.
Through it all, there was Davis. Smiling at the pool, bringing me a picnic lunch at the library, driving me home in the evenings. His car became our refuge. We spent hours holding each other, kissing, touching, driving each other crazy with desire and need. But, his plan seemed to include waiting. So I waited.
Most nights, after he walked me, and my wobbly legs, to my door, I would take my bath and wrap in his sweater, so soft against my naked body, smelling like him, feeling I was in his arms. I dreamed of him, thought of him, saw him everywhere. I knew that something would have to happen soon. I knew I had to be with him or go crazy.
Sue didn't have such problems. She and Mark had hit it off the first day and had progressed to sleepovers. She was deliriously enamored with him, her conversations full of little comments about what he said or did. I felt backward, having nothing to say about my love life except some heavy necking sessions.
Then, just when I despaired of ever being with Davis, things did change.
It was the Saturday night before Easter and the gym was going to be closed the next day. Davis and I had spent the entire day together at a Cary Grant film festival. We both loved his films and quoted entire scenes to each other. We also ate great junk food, sipped wine and kissed extravagantly. The man drove me crazy. There was never a person who looked as good in jeans and a knit shirt as Davis Scott. He had a beautiful mind and body, a killer combination. He was the perfect gentleman, yet knew when to take control. The festival was in a huge old ballroom, and everyone brought quilts and pillows and stretched out on the floor while watching. There were trivia contests throughout the day, and we handily won several. I loved the fact that he was as much a geek as me! Supplementing the snack bar food, we brought a basket full of our favorites, plus several bottles of a light white wine that was delicious.
When the final film ended, we gathered our stuff and started out the door. I was giggly and light-headed and Davis held my arm to guide me to the car. As usual, he assisted me in, carefully closing the door behind me and walked around the car. Sliding into the car, he pulled me close and kissed me. I generally melt into his kisses and I did this time too. My body pressed against him, my hands slid around his neck, holding him close. Our mouths molded together, his tongue entered me, swirling, making me ache for him.
Pausing, he sighed. "Alex, tonight would be the perfect night, but I don't want to take advantage of your slightly....um, inebriated condition. I shouldn't have let you drink so much, my baby."
His words nearly sobered me. Tonight? Tonight and I was going to miss it because of some wine? Oh, no! No way! I had been waiting too long, wanted this too much to wait any longer.
I struggled to sit up straighter, gain control of this situation. "Davis, I am fine. I am perfectly alert and aware. I want you so much, please, Davis, please, tonight?
Davis smiled at me, not really inclined to refuse me. "We'll go to my house and see how you are doing, baby. Understand, Mouse, I want our memories clear and wonderful."
On the drive home, I gathered my wits about me, the poster child for sobriety. I was doing a fine job, talking about the festival as Davis maneuvered the streets home. In the parking garage, I was able to walk alone to the elevator.
We held hands, but I was clearly capable of making the distance.
When he opened the door and turned on the lights, I was immediately grateful I had never invited him into my hovel. His apartment was lovely. The large living room was well-decorated with warmth and charm. The furniture was masculine, but not forbidding. He had a huge fireplace against one side, a wall of windows leading to a balcony on the other. I settled into a leather chair, feeling secure and comfortable, as he moved around the room, starting the fire, opening the drapes, clicking on the CDs. I loved watching him move. He had a grace about him, a confidence that whatever he did was well done. Then he reached for my hand and led me through the apartment. It was all arranged in the same charming style. The kitchen was large, neat and obviously well-used. The bedroom did not look like it belonged to a swinger, rather to a man secure in himself. Here the wall of windows continued, the balcony outfitted with comfortable furniture and lovely blooming plants. It looked like Davis. He had made his mark on every room, every feature of this space.
We walked back into the living room in time to hear the theme to "Charade". He opened his arms to me, pulling me close. We danced. Now, I was completely sober, intoxicated only by the proximity of this man. I rested my head on his chest, listening to his heart, feeling his warmth, the indescribable heat of his hand on my back. The now-familiar ache between my legs began again, and I sighed.
He placed his finger under my chin, lifting my face, looking intently at me, before leaning in for a kiss. Our mouths fitted together, our tongues sought and found, and our breath mingled. I felt his hands sliding up and down my spine, as I leaned into him, molding to him, becoming one with him.
The only light in the room came from the blazing fire and the skyline. But it was enough. I could see the reflected desire in his eyes and was grateful we had waited this long. This was not just coupling from lust, this was a joining of two people who truly cared for each other.
