The first time he'd invited me over to his apartment it was under the amusingly flimsy, universally clichéd pretext of watching a DVD.
We both knew what it really meant and his lack of originality drew from me a sardonic smile, but acquiesence. (Much later when I brought up his modus operandi he defended himself: "At least that way we both really knew what was being suggested, which is infinitely better than a nasty surprise at the movies when you suddenly realize, "OMG! He's got his hand up my skirt!")
So I went. And we did watch a DVD - to his credit, one that was actually worth watching and not a B-grade horror film he could pretend to be so bored by that he'd fall asleep and "accidentally" have his head lolling over to rest on my tits - and had tea. It was fairly awkward. I remember sitting in his living room - sparsely upholstered with black leather and glass and white walls, all minimalist and masculine. And I, 5 feet nothing, a hundred pounds, felt terribly conspicuous.
We discussed the movie, all polite inquisivity and chaste intellect, sitting side by side on his sofa (whose rips I noticed with another sardonic quirk of the lips), knees barely touching in the dark while I stole sidelong glances at his slim, denim-clad frame and wondered, what's going to happen, and how?
The suspense was deliciously wracking. I wondered if he was going to make a move at all - certainly he hadn't displayed any sign of physical attraction - not even an intentionally casual arm around my shoulder - and in fact seemed much like a perfectly honorable gentleman who simply wasn't interested in how I looked. The movie stretched on and we watched in perfunctory, uncomfortable silence, keeping to our boundaries like the well-disciplined, socially-groomed creatures we strained to be -- while mentally (though I speak only for myself) we were engaged in delightful debauchery, shredding decency and the damned inhibitions and being finally able to just, you know, chill.
It's so much easier to hang out with someone you're seeing after you've both seen each other naked - thoroughly liberating, really. When it finally happened - not that night, as it turned out - I murmured into his chest, "You know, it's the intimacy that I've missed most." Just being close to someone. It felt so right. And he knew what I meant, and agreed.
6 comments:
Your account is too cynical.
That film was a litmus test. It was carefully chosen to determine how smart and interesting you were. (As if I couldn't already tell).
The entire situation was designed to get to know you better in a comfortable, highly formulaic setting. I thought you were somewhat nervous, so I just wanted to chill us both out as much as possible.
However, my gentlemanly intentions were discarded as soon as you smiled your sweet smile and looked up at me with those almond eyes. You looked like you were begging for something. I couldn't stop imagining you stripped bare and performing the most base acts.
Thankfully, I won the struggle to maintain my innocent facade. I knew it wouldn't be long before you were snared, helpless, in my web of sin. Strand after strand of debauchery and delicious desire binding you to me.
But yeah, the intimacy. :P
The litmus test was obvious after the first ten minutes, you bloody intellectual. Evidently one that I passed though, and even the next one on culture appreciation (lovely Lizzie and dashing Mr. Darcy).
I have bigger doubts about tit-freezing in Middle Earth.
Note to self: stop renting B-grade horror movies.
You love intellectuals.
Explain your doubts re: Middle Earth. Summer is quite a different story. Nipples remain quite supple, I can assure you.
I MISS YOU! wanna go for steve aoki at zouk on the 17th? we havent all had a proper night out in ages :( well i havent anyway.
and i'm happy for you, that you've fallen in love again.
great to see you that day- though by chance, le raine. oh and germaine is awfully friendly.
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