It was wrong. Forbidden. It was dirty. Sinful.
It was amazing.
I know why I did it. I wanted it. I needed it. That fire that I'd nearly forgotten about. The intensity of those moments when two bodies burn to touch each other. To feel each other in the most sinful of ways. That's what I wanted. What I needed. That passion. That's what had been lacking in my marriage for far too long.
I started too young, I think. Maybe if I had waited a few more years and not had my first child before I could legally drink, it wouldn't have happened. My wild oats were placed in a plastic baggy and forgotten in storage. Never giving me the chance to sew them myself. To see what they would become.
My marriage, my dull marriage, drove me to it, I believe. A husband who ignores his wife for video games until he goes to bed, who tells her she is in his way when she comes up for something as simple as a kiss, who's idea of foreplay is telling her she has too much clothing on, would drive any woman who isn't dead below the waist to do what I did.
We exchanged emails for some time before I gathered the courage to invite him him over. As I wrote the email telling him he could come by, my hands shook. I could feel the knots in my stomach and throat. For someone who is prone to severe panic attacks, taking a risk like this was a very big thing.
Then I got the reply. "I'll be there in twenty minutes," he wrote back.
I checked to make sure the kids were sleeping, brushed my long, blond hair and dabbed on a little perfume. My hands continued to shake as I flicked on the porchhh light and went to wait for him outside.
I sat near the door, on the brick edge of a small raised garden. It was a warm night. Like any night in June in Las Vegas. As I waited, I wondered. I wondered what would happen. Would he be some psycho killer? Would he look anything like his pictures? Would I be attracted to him? Would he be attracted to me?
My mind went back to it's teenage innocence while I waited. I wondered if he would kiss me. Sex never entered my mind. I wouldn't let him come into the house. I made sure not to clean the mess the kids had made earlier in the day. I wouldn't be talked into anything I didn't want to do.
I remembered the intensity of a first kiss from my teenage days as I lit a cigarette to calm my nerves. I remembered the butterflies one feels just as your lips touch the lips of the other person for the very first time. If I liked this man, I'd want just that. Just a kiss. I'd be disappointed if he left without giving me one.
Half way through my cigarette, a white car turned onto my street. I'd never seen that car before so I knew it had to be him. Especially when that white car parked right in front of my house. No turning back now, I thought.
I rose to my feet as he got out of the car and approached me. As he came into the light, my mouth watered. What a gorgeous Asian man, I thought. I thanked God he was taller than I am. At 5'6" my height is usually even to most Asian men I see.
When he got up to me we wrapped our arms around each other in a hello hug. As I hugged him his scent filled my lungs. Such a wonderful smell. The type of smell that can make a woman swoon, nearly moan.
We sat and talked. He spoke with an accent. That accent native to Korea. I couldn't get enough of it. We talked about marriage, kids, work, his family, my family, the economy, pregnancy, what birth control I was on, even breastfeeding. He was amazed that after three kids, my body snapped back to where it was before children so quickly. I was amazed at how good his English was considering he came to America when he was a boy and didn't speak a lick of English.
At one point the conversation turned to my attraction to Asian men. He asked when I started liking them. I told him it all started when I first saw Lethal Weapon 4. "Jet Li," we both said at the same time. His in the form of a question. He knew from our emails that I had never been with an Asian man. When he asked why, I had to tell him about my family and their beliefs. White with white. Black with black. Mexican with Mexican. It's not their fault. Just how they were brought up.
I looked down at my hands during a moment of silence. They were still shaking. I don't think I was scared anymore. I was excited. I raised my hand to eye level and spoke. "My hands are shaking," I told him with a smile. That smile was on my face from the moment I saw him. I couldn't help it.
"Why are you shaking?" he asked with the same smile. That beautiful smile he had from the moment I saw him.
"I don't know," I told him. I could feel my cheeks heating up. My body's way of telling me I was blushing. "Just nervous, I guess."
"Don't be nervous," he told me as he brought his hand over and placed it over mine.
I looked down at his hand holding onto mine. His skin was so much darker than my own. His hands were bigger than my husbands. Which I liked. I couldn't help but to notice the different contrasts our skin had. I loved it. I soaked up the moment. I'd never had a hand so much darker than my own holding onto mine.
"I can't help it."
"Maybe this will help," he told me.
Before I knew it, he reached up and turned my head towards his. I could sense his confidence as his lips touched mine and his tongue instantly found its way into my mouth. My heart pounded as his smooth tongue explored my own, as his hands began to explore my body.
That beautifully dark hand which held onto mine a moment earlier got no resistance from me as it went under my shirt and cupped my breast. His fingers moved slightly and fondled my hard pink nipple. My breathing quickened as the intensity of his kiss continued. No one had ever kissed me like that before.
