First Time Again

A long, slow drag at a cigarette right after that first taste of freshly brewed coffee and eyes lost on the black lines of ink of a book is not what most people would define as Saturday Night Fun, and yet I felt in paradise. I guess it was mostly about being able to enjoy again those small pleasures without thinking, without that dreaded heavy emptiness I had carried for so long.

I was mesmerised at my newly re-discover ability of just be, float above nothing, be nothing, feel nothing and this nothingness was solid, warm, complete.

For someone who over-thinks as a hobby and whose brain cells are forever overloaded with thoughts chasing each other at vertiginous speeds, incapable of staying still for a nanosecond until my consciousness can grasp them or make sense of them, sitting around like this felt like a luscious pleasure.

The ring of the phone made me choke. My first reaction after recovering was to let the machine pick it up, while looking at my watch and try to guess who might me calling at 9 p.m. on a Saturday night. It had to be a call from overseas but couldn’t be family since I had spoken to them only a couple of days ago. But who else could it be?

Brent’s voice surprised me only because I would have expected to be out or something. I rushed to the phone and picked it up. To my relief, there was nothing wrong; he was getting ready to go to a party and didn’t feel like going alone, although he knew well the hosts. The party was a couple of neighbourhoods away from my own, beyond the invisible line that separate barely-making-a-living from old money neighbourhoods.

For a minute I uhm’ed and err’ed, while looking at the worn-out pair of jeans and T-shirt I had on, thinking a party would require another shower, possibly even some make up. Part of me was stuck on this pride issue: how can you be available and accept an invitation to go out at this time of a Saturday night? Luckily, there was no need for games with Brad. In fact, I somehow took pride on my life amongst books and music, my undying and unwavering devotion to my studies and my commitment to my job. He knew that meeting my good friends once of twice a week and maintaining in touch via email in between was enough (not that I had time for more, anyway)

Somehow I heard my lips letting out a yes. Half an hour later, he came by to pick me up. I picked up a decent shirt, a newer pair of jeans and a light jacket on while mumbling something about this being the closest to defining women’s lib; that is, cutting down the time to get ready for a party to that of a man’s, minus the after-shave bit.

As soon as we drove into the parking lot –for this mansion had a parking area the size of the parking in a shopping centre- I knew why Brad didn’t want to rock up alone. This was the biggest affair I had seen in a long time.

There must have been over 100 people scattered inside the house and all over the lawn, which extended down a slope. I could have perfectly well headed back home; the task of mingling in such an unfamiliar crowd was daunting. It tried not to form a stereotypical idea of the people I was about to face just, but by looking at the overwhelming German-made-car presence I conceded defeat. This was a crowd with lots of money. I just hoped that there would be others like me too.

I let Brad guide me through the shapeless and unidentifiable groups of good-smelling people holding glasses, laughing courteously and occasionally letting a hand rest in some arm, until he found the host –one of the closest clients of the law firm he worked for. I had assumed that his unhappiness at work prevented him from associating voluntary with colleagues and clients after hours, but my assumption was wrong. In fact, he felt just as uncomfortable as I would have expected him to be, but his friendship with the host and the potential networking was worth the trouble.

So there was I, far from my elusive bliss alone at home with a book, in a three-story lawyer’s den, clutching to a tall glass of cold-drink, mostly using it as a shield hiding away a grimace of unpleasantness which I presumed splashed all over my face.

I let my way-too-casually-dressed persona follow Brad around, trying not to feel too self-conscious. For an hour I was incessantly introduced to the most intriguing display of quasi-holographic clones. We finally engaged in some interesting conversation about travelling with some friends of his and I got a chance to sit down and look around, now more daringly and determined to make the most of the evening.

My inner-talk didn’t carry me far, though. I lost interest as soon as the conversation steered towards name-dropping of five-start hotels in some exclusive ski resorts in Switzerland. With the excuse of getting a drink I split from the group, which by now had moved onto the drops in stock earnings.

Drink replenished in hand, I ventured into the immense garden. It extended far beyond the view, not only because of the size, but because it was covered with the forest-like vegetation. A cobble-stoned path took me beyond the well-tendered flower garden and neat lawn and into a pond which was almost the real thing: the waterfall was so big that almost looked natural. I would have expected benches but obviously the intention was to make it look as natural as possible. But nevertheless there were some rocks to the side, a perfect size and shape to sit on.

The effect was uncanny; the noise from the party was almost completely muffled by the trees, and after a few minutes of sitting down next to the waterfall I was transported to another world. It was almost sacrilegious to light up a cigarette in such pure air (although we were in the middle of town after all) but breaking such small inconsequential rules was too tempting.

I didn’t hear the ruffling of leaves or saw the figure approaching me until it was almost standing next to me.

‘May I?’ she said, pointing at the rock I was sitting on. I looked up, slowly focussing on the figure and saw a woman I had not seen at the party. I would have definitely have seen her -if only because she stood out in her denims and Chinese-like shirt. I mentally slapped myself for letting dress code rule my impressions of people but in this environment the difference was so stark that was almost unavoidable.

I shifted to one side, and we sat in silence for a while, listening to the waterfall. Somehow, the water no longer had the effect it had when alone. I was shocked to realise that I had to make a conscious effort not to turn around and stare at her. I didn’t have a chance to see her features well, but the overall impression had disturbed me. It could have been the way she looked at me, or her voice, or her eyes, or her hair.

I took out another cigarette and offered one to her. I wanted badly to engage in conversation; my curiosity had been awakened and I loved the old forgotten familiar feeling. A cigarette wasn’t exactly what I called an icebreaker but it was better than my numb tongue.

‘Oh, thank god another smoker! I thought I was gonna die in there… what a bunch!’ she smiled. Her foreign accent was very sensual.

‘Yeah… So, how did you wind up here, at the party I mean? Do you live in the country or just visiting?

She turned out to be a photographer and journalist named Allison who had been living in the country for about six months, dragged along by her brother pretty much like I had been.

The conversation started flowing easily after that. Actually, we didn’t stop talking for a second. I can’t remember all we talked about, for the subjects ranged so widely. The wide range of similar tastes we shared pleasantly captivated me, just as our differences did, and they all added to the outward attraction I felt.

Suddenly almost two hours had gone by and I realised I didn’t have any more cigarettes, my glass was empty, my mouth was stiff dry and my bladder full. Strangely enough, I was afraid that I might get up and the moment would vanish forever. And I wanted it to last forever. Or, at least, all night… It turned out to be that she was pretty much in the same situation that I was so we giggled out way to the ‘guest’s toilet’, a two-cubicle, two-basin room big as half my apartment.

As we were washing our hands, I wondered out loud where could I get cigarettes at this time of night. ‘Gawd I’m sorry, I’ve smoked all your cigarettes… hey, what do you say if I steal my brother’s car and go out, get some cigarettes and get a cup of decent coffee somewhere? Well, that is, if you’re not too tired…

Her spontaneity and nervousness disarmed me completely, as did my own enthusiastic response – a yes let out too easily for the cool exterior I would have like to have kept. But this woman was something special, and I just couldn’t let go. In the bright lights of the bathroom I realised it was not only her eyes, but also her smile, her lips; everything and nothing in particular was so incredibly attractive.

I shivered with this strange, forgotten physical and mental explosive combination of attraction and ease with someone. My gaydar was seldom, if ever, wrong but it tends to breakdown when the attraction element starts working. She had tomboyish gestures, but at the same time, a rather commanding and stylish presence combined with a charming softness that exuded with every smile. I didn’t know but the road seemed pretty clear. And hey, if it wasn’t, I was having an amazing time and I was going to make the best of it. Anyway, why speculate? My luck was such that she would probably not be a lesbian but in the verge of marrying some guy.

I went to look for Brad who had met an old girlfriend of his and was completely oblivious to my absence. Allison had begged me to wait for her with Brad while she found her brother and got the car keys. During the wait my brain started spinning again. It had been so damn long since I had felt this way that I didn’t have a clue anymore what to do or think.

I expected memories of Sabrine to rush back but they didn’t; but there still was fear, questions, excitement, and above all, adolescent nervousness. I was busy trying to stop the rollercoaster before it caught full speed when I felt a hand in my arm and her voice, softly apologising for having taken so long. Her brother was quite drunk and had refused to give her the keys but eventually a friend convinced him that he would have driven him home anyway. I liked to see her intense facial expressions, so different to her disarming smile but just as appealing. My arm was tingling from her touch and my brain kept on churning out questions. What if she wasn’t? What if she was? Then what… I shook my head and got into the car.

We eventually found a shop open at a petrol station where we got cigarettes but after half an hour of driving we still couldn’t find a coffee shop that wasn’t either closed or bursting with drunken people and way too loud music.

‘Hey’ she said ‘you know, I live close by. If you want I can brew some coffee at home, if you like… I don’t know, you must be tired... I can drop you off at your place if you want instead’. ‘No no, I’m not tired’ deep breath control yourself ‘home-brewed coffee sounds fine to me’

She lived in an apartment similar to mine, although she had a small separate kitchen, which had enough space for a small table and two folding chairs. I had expected to find an almost empty apartment since she had been in the country for such a short while, but it was incredibly inviting.

She had a homemade bookshelf overflowing with books, files and papers, a small hi-fi on the floor and a pile of CDs next to it On the opposite wall, there was a futon bed-couch and a very short table on the side with a lamp on it, and next to it, some more books and papers.

I smiled at the spontaneous mess: clothes on the couch (she must have had trouble deciding what to wear, as I saw no dirty underwear lying around), two dirty cups, a couple of ashtrays with stubs in them. A clean mess that made me feel at home.

She disappeared into the kitchen while I looked at her CDs and books. I was delighted to see that I knew most of the music she had, and that the variety of her (small) collection matched my own, and the books were very interesting.

She walked back, smiling, holding two cups of coffee. ‘Can’t you find anything you like?’ ‘On the contrary… Can’t make up my mind. What are in the mood to listen to?’ I said, holding a brand new copy of Massive Attack’s 100th Window and a copy of Moby’s latest album.

She knelt next to me and we traded my cup for the Massive Attack CD. I went to the couch and sat down, breathing deeply with content and nervousness. She came over as the music softly filled the room, and soon I relaxed again as we got lost in conversation, this time discovering our pasts, our families, places we’ve been to, experiences we had..

It was 7 am when we realised that it was light outside. Just as earlier, I didn’t want this moment to end and although it was Sunday morning, I felt I had to go. I didn’t want her to feel I was imposing.

And it wasn’t like I could stay; she only had this small double bed to sleep on, and we had just met. But she had other ideas.

‘What’s the rush? Got plans? Or have I exhausted you completely? Her disarming smile dissipated all my departure plans. ‘I am hungry. Let’s have breakfast’ she said, and got up without waiting for an answer.

We were having breakfast when I couldn’t stop the yawn coming out. She laughed and said ‘Well, maybe I did exhaust you. Help me to open the futon. Let’s have a sleep and then you are free to go if you want… And I don’t want to hear a No. You are not doing the public transport system thing so tired after such a wonderful evening, and I am certainly too tired to drive.’

She gave me a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, and put on her PJs. My mind raced with all kind of fantasies about us sleeping in the same bed, but my body and mind collapsed. It didn’t take me more than a minute to fall asleep.

When I woke up, she wasn’t in the bed. I rubbed my eyes, and realised it was late afternoon, to judge by the sun streaming in. I heard the shower. I dressed and went to the kitchen, where I saw the pot of coffee brewing. I washed my face on the basin, and sat at the table waiting for her.

She came out of the bathroom five minutes later, already dressed. As she walked past me, she put a hand on my shoulder and smiled. ‘Did you sleep well?’ she said, and turned to make breakfast

I smiled, but I could have purred. The moment hadn’t ended, and I couldn’t remember feeling this content, at ease and close to someone. She sat drinking her coffee, lost in thought. ‘Where have you gone to?’ I asked after a while.

She smiled, and shook her head. ‘No, it’s nothing… I was thinking that usually I hate sleeping through the day on a Sunday, feels like a waste of precious free time off, but…’

‘But?’

She shook her head again. ‘It’s silly’

My heart began to pound hard.

‘Oh, come on…’

She smiled again. ‘Well, I was trying to remember having such a nice Sunday like this one, but couldn’t’.

I felt fire melting my face. I smiled, trying to avoid her eyes. When I felt the fire subsiding, I looked up and I met her eyes and smile. I nodded, unable to speak.

I felt the urge to go away, and let the intensity of the moment settle in. The morning light hadn’t changed how good I had felt the night before, and now I wanted to get to know this woman better. I wanted to discover her entirely –mind and body, but her character was what I needed to see. And for that, I needed time.

I finished the cup of coffee, and I told her I would leave. I saw a look of disappointment cover her face.

‘Well, I said I would release you after some sleep…You may go, ma’am, but on one condition: you must come over sometime again’.

I curtsied mockingly ‘Well of course I shall’. The laughter, which had abounded these hours together, rang warm in the room.

‘Can I ask you something before you go? It may sound strange, but I meant to ask you last night and…’

‘Sure.’ I said, while I put on my shoes.

‘Well… how come that someone as intelligent, interesting, witty and attractive as you is not involved?’

I thanked my luck to be sitting down. I looked at her while still holding the laces of my shoes, and she was smiling softly, her eyebrows slightly arched with the most innocent look ever. I laughed.

‘Well… I’m not so sure I’m all that…. But thank you. And besides, I don’t see why you may be surprised. You are definitely all of that, and not involved either…’

I grinned and raised my eyebrows in a ‘gotcha’ expression, and we laughed. She opened the door, and I bent slightly forward for the customary two kisses but ended up –not knowing how- hugging her. I loved the way she smelled and felt in my arms, and had to force myself not to extend the hug too much, although I didn’t feel her backing away either. She took a deep breath, and as I felt her breasts press onto mine, I felt the familiar but almost forgotten heart pounding between my legs, and had to control a gasp.

I broke off the embrace before plunging into her. I felt I wouldn’t be rejected if I did, but I needed to be sure. This woman felt special, and it wasn’t just physical. I wouldn’t allow myself to be trapped and blinded by lust, when I felt there could be so much more…

The ride back home, usually dead time spent sleeping and which dragged to what seemed an eternity, was the shortest ever. As I got home, my mind was still replaying every little word, every gesture, every laughter...

I headed straight for the shower, and as I took off my underwear, I realised how wet I was. Without thinking about it, my hands flew downward to give me the fastest, leg-wobbling orgasm I had had lately.

In view of the sheer intensity of emotions and physical reactions, I forced myself to stop thinking about her for a while, and turned on the computer and started answering emails.

Monday went by quickly, stumbling from one crisis to the next at work. After work I had made plans to meet some friends, so I got home after midnight. Tuesday was pretty much the same, but decided to leave 6 o’clock and head straight home, maybe take a walk on the beach while the sun was still nice and warm.

I was desperate to see her again, but needed to calm down before. I didn’t want to rush into anything, and I was too on edge about her to be cautious.

After a long walk on the beach, I sat down in my favourite spot between the rocks looking at the sunset over the ocean. By 9 p.m. I felt peaceful and collected enough to call.

She recognised my voice immediately, and sounded really glad to hear me. My heart started pounding again, and I gave up. Whatever it was that attracted me, it was stronger than my will. We made plans to catch a movie and dinner on Friday night. She warned me to bring an overnight bag, so I didn’t have to worry about the long trip home in the middle of the night.

The rest of the week crawled by. I didn’t call again or hear from her, until Friday afternoon, when she sent an SMS asking if we were still on track.

I left the office as early as I could, and took a slow walk downtown, enjoying the warm weather and trying to relax before seeing her. It didn’t help much, though…

As I approached our meeting point, my blood started racing. She was standing by the ticket office, looking every bit as adorable as I had remembered her. When she saw me, she flashed a big smiled and walked towards me.

She leaned over to kiss me, her lips landing softly but firmly on my cheek while her arm went around my waist. It was too short, and still my heart jumped in my chest and between my legs again.

The movie was about to start, so we rushed in after getting a big box of popcorn and drinks. I was holding the popcorn box, so she kept leaning towards me to get some. Eventually, we stayed still, arms touching.