Written by theMasterBaiter.
Edited by the 'Erotic Confectioners.' Many thanks to Onyx03, Jasmine27, and Luxx.
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It was New Year's and I was at a party I didn't want to be at. It was cold, grey, dead, and I was alone. Again. The breakup had happened a month before, it was messy and had left me scrambled. At the start, I was sure he was the one, and I'd held onto that idea well past the point that I should have let it go; past the end even. But by the time my friends dragged me to this boring, plastic party, I was mostly over him and was starting to see why it didn't work.
There were a lot of issues that I hadn't been willing to see. It was not, as he put it "sexual incompatibility" which would have been fine if he had stopped there, 'different strokes for different folks' right? But no, he went on to say "I like sex and you don't." Which is bullshit. I like sex as much as any other chick with a clit and two fingers; and a genuine Hitachi Magic Wand. A well used one, I might add. I'm no prude.
The truth that neither of us wanted to admit was that I no longer liked sex with him. I didn't like the way he manipulated me. If he had manipulated my clit as skillfully has he fucked with my head, I think it might have been even harder for me. But he could talk me into doing anything in the sheets. Including things I didn't like, and didn't really want to do.
There were lots of things I wanted to do in bed. My things. Things that pushed my buttons, or rather, pushed my button in the way I liked it pushed. But no, our communication was always one way. He ordered, I complied. If I tried to speak up, he ignored it or just argued me into the ground. I've always been a little submissive, so eventually it was easier to just go along.
And that is how I found myself, alone, alternately glaring and mooning at the couples in the living room at a very large fancy house with muzak playing in the background and a white wine in my hand; a perfect match to the whining in my head. I was lonely, horny and a complete mess inside while appearing to be a picture of classy / sexy perfection on the outside.
I'm not sure how long he was staring at me before I noticed. When I met his eyes across the room, he didn't quickly look away. He also didn't smile, nod or seem to notice that I had acknowledged him in any way.
He just looked at me.
I mean, really looked at me. I don't think you can express it unless it's happened to you. Words like "focused" or "intent" or even tropes like "deep" start to approach it. If I read more romance novels I would say something about my soul being laid bare. Gag. I'm not that kind of girl. Don't get me wrong, I like the bodice and the ripping, just not a fan of the sticky romance. And far to aware that the real world doesn't do forever love.
I guess I could have found it creepy, but I didn't. He wasn't leering. And he didn't look creepy. In fact, he didn't look like anything. Just a guy. Slightly older. Salt and pepper. Glasses. Dress shirt, slacks. Not handsome. Not ugly. His gaze was piercing, but his face was completely calm; almost detached. He looked like the kind of guy who always has an answer for any question but doesn't really care if you believe him or not.
Yeah, I flinched. I looked down, and then back up, suddenly afraid that he would look away. Nope. Still watching. I could feel my blush creeping up my neck and over my face. But I didn't look away again. You could say that I was desperate. Fuck you. This was beyond that. Maybe I was beyond desperate. But no, it was... christ, I can't find another word: This was deep.
When I settled into staring back, I could see his face change. Nothing that I can describe, but I could tell he could see that I was seeing him. That I had assessed him and wasn't creeped out or panicked.
My focus on his face was so tight that I almost didn't see him put down his drink, but then he was walking toward me. Calmly and quietly making his way across the room, between the people, past the chairs, walking right up to me.
Standing right in front of me.
And he didn't say a word. Not "Hello" not "Hi" not any one of a thousand standard pickup lines. We just calmly looked at each other. Well, he calmly looked at me, and I probably looked at him like a deer in the headlights. Although, I have to say I wasn't as freaked out as I could have been. My heart was racing, but my mind was blank. Something about him was calming and exciting all at the same time.
He reached out and took my hand. Just picked it up from my side, and held it. Warm in his own hand, gently feeling my fingers, holding me. I mean, my hand. And then he took my drink from my other hand, set it aside, and held that hand as well.
Just holding hands.
Part of my mind started totally freaking out. I was at a party, alone, hurt, lonely, horney and vulnerable, face to face with a total stranger; holding hands and looking deep into his eyes. Another part of my mind was having little summersault orgasms of happiness. I felt like I was being lifted up, noticed, appreciated. Although his eyes never left my face. It was like I was really being seen for the first time in my life.
Validated.
He let go of one hand, and took a step to the side, still holding my other hand, pulling my arm out a bit. And he stopped there, still looking back at me. Not pulling me, but obviously directing me to follow him.
Suddenly we were walking, together, hand in hand. Me following him to who knows where without having made any decision to go with him. Of course, once I realized that, part of me screamed 'what the fuck are you doing? Where are you going, and with who, and what is going to happen?!' and the rest of me answered 'don't know, don't care, I want this.'
He led me past the entrance and up the stairs, to the second floor which was completely empty, past the bedrooms and to the door of the upstairs bathroom. He turned and stopped, motioning for me to go in.
That was another turning point. I wanted to go in and also to run away at the same time. We stood there for what seemed like hours. He just watched me. There was no attempt to push or influence me. He didn't move, didn't nod towards the bathroom... and he didn't speak. He didn't raise an eyebrow, or tilt his head. His face was relaxed, calm, open. He just waited. He gave me all the time I needed to decide.
I pulled him into the bathroom, and then as soon as he had closed the door, I pulled him into my arms. We held each other, our faces fractionally apart, my eyes turned up to his as he still watched me. He smelled so good and his arms around me felt like heaven after a month of not being held.
My body melted.
I closed my eyes and turned my head just a bit to the side, and he kissed me. Exactly when I was ready. Exactly when I wanted to be kissed. Exactly the way I wanted to be kissed. It was the most perfect kiss I've ever experienced. The screaming part of my mind said 'oh...' and that was all. I fully trusted this man.
He held me just as he had, no moving one hand to my ass, or between us to grope my tits. One arm around the small of my back, the other around my shoulder and neck. Ready to catch me if I fainted. I might have, honestly I don't remember much about that point in time. I know we kissed for a long, long time.
