The first time that Jim asked me out, we went to an Italian restaurant, then to a movie. All pretty standard (though very nice), except that he did not try to kiss me when he left me at my front door. I was almost disappointed, but I found it kind of pleasant and old-fashioned to find someone who was willing to go slow. I liked Jim, but I liked him even more after that evening. I remember thinking that a first date that didn't end with a casual kiss at least had the potential to turn into something less casual.
That was on Saturday. On Tuesday, Jim came by my desk and asked me about going to an outdoor pop concert on Friday night. The singer was a fairly obscure woman whose work I had always liked, and I gladly said yes.
On Wednesday, Jim told me that the Friday concert had been sold out, but he'd gotten tickets for the Saturday performance, if I was available. And he offered another movie for Friday, if I didn't think that he was pushing too hard. I said yes again; I was happy that he would worry about "pushing too hard", but I was quite willing to date him two nights in a row. And I was more available lately than I really liked. I was only two months beyond breaking off a long-standing affair, though I certainly wouldn't have told Jim that.
That Friday evening went very well, and this time Jim did kiss me at my door. That also went very well. I was tempted to invite him in for a while, but I didn't. If he was willing to build a relationship slowly and cautiously, I was also very willing, as long as it stayed as nice as this.
I sort of expected Jim, on the third date, to begin to try to maneuver me into bed. It's a common pattern these days. I expected to say no, but to take my time about saying no. I enjoy being tempted that way by a man and I enjoy thinking about yielding to his temptations. If the man is one whom I am not sure that I would ever say yes to, well, it's a harmless compliment to hesitate. If I am sure I wouldn't, it's a good time to act insulted and break it off right there. That night was so wonderful and the songs and the music left me feeling so romantic that I really think I might have said yes right away. Certainly I would not have taken much persuading. But he didn't try. When he took me home I invited him in for coffee to give him more opportunity, but nothing came of it except a more intense kiss -- with many ordinary ones preceding it that night, so there was some progress.
The next Saturday I was going to be in his neighborhood in the late afternoon, so I met him at his apartment before we went out together to dinner and a museum slide-lecture. We ended the evening back at his apartment where his hands on my face and shoulders and back gave me a nice glow on my drive home alone. But still he made no serious moves.
I started having erotic dreams about Jim, and not all of them while I was asleep, if you follow me. I was actually getting hot for his body without him doing anything much to make me so. About then I started trying to think of a way to bring it up (so to speak) without seeming like a tramp. This was something new to me.
The next weekend we dated on both Friday and Saturday again. The Friday dinner-theater trip was not very enjoyable, but for reasons unrelated to Jim; the players were not very good. This time we stood for a long time at my door, our hips pressed together and with his hand on my rear.
I was having trouble not climbing all over him, but I sure as hell didn't want to scare him off by doing so -- certainly not until I had gotten well and thoroughly laid.
The Saturday movie was better, and we spent an hour talking in my apartment afterward. What turned the tide, I learned later, was a comment that I made just before we said goodnight. He mentioned a man's name, a computer analyst who was now at another company, and when I recognized the name, he asked if I had known the man long. I answered that I had known him very well for a while and that two years ago I was almost on the point of moving in with him. Jim raised his eyebrows and sort of relaxed.
I found out later that he thought I might be, let's call it inexperienced, and therefore he was going slower than he wanted to!
The seventh date was an all-day thing, starting when he met me at my apartment at ten.
When he first saw me on that Saturday morning, I saw his eyes run down my body and the blue dress I wore. I thought about his hands following the path of his eyes, from my face to my breasts and down between my legs.
We started with brunch at a restaurant. If you are in the right state of mind, music is not the food of love, food is. Everything that was long made me wonder if he was. Everything that was soft made me think of his touch. Everything that was hard... Well, you can guess. Everything that was sweet made me think of his kisses. Tasting something salty made me think of swallowing his semen -- my subconscious was getting pretty bad.
We went from there to a movie matinee. When we held hands in the theatre, our hands were in his lap and I felt his interest in me. There were very few people in the theatre that noon, but there were enough that I had to control my impulse to do something drastic and obscene right there. Being there with him made it difficult to pay much attention to the movie, but the love scenes made things worse anyway.
Then we went walking and talking until dinner. First we window-shopped and I discovered that we agreed about what sort of things looked good on me. (And my mind said, I want you to admire my clothes as you take them off me and to see me wear nothing for you.) I noted a skirt to pick up next week.
We spent some time outside a travel agency, discussing places we had been. (And my mind said, I want to have you in a private place of my own, to go in and out until we reach paradise.)
We sat in the park and talked and watched the children play, and, yes, I wondered how he would be as a father. We ate dinner in a diner in his neighborhood and we went back to his apartment. And I was very glad to get there.
Everything, all day, from the food in the morning to the love scenes in the movie, to, well, the trees... All I had been able to think of was having him make love to me. And this time I was sure that he wanted the same.
When he put his key in the lock and twisted it to open the door so that we could enter his apartment, I wanted to have him enter me, to open me up, put it in and screw.
He had me sit down while he brought me a glass of wine. When I put up a hand to take it, he gave it to me and kissed the back of my hand. I set the glass down and reached for his hand to kiss his palm.
He seemed amused by this. Whether to tease me, or for some other reason, he stepped back and I rose from my chair, holding out my arms to him.
He kissed my lips and I responded so passionately that his own glass of wine nearly spilled on the floor. He said: "There are depths in you that I had not suspected."
What I said to him was, "I want you to know them."
What I thought was, "I want to have you in me, deep in me!"
"I begin to think that you are as attracted to me as I am to you," he said.
What I said to him was, "You are very attractive. I am very charmed by the way you talk and act."
What I did not say was, "I'd like even more some action of another sort."
"I hope that you would not be offended if I say that I think very highly of you, and I think that our relationship could stand to be taken a step further," he said.
