The path to my first trip to Key West was an unexpected fluke--a surprise monetary bonus for Dan and some spare frequent flyer miles for me and--poof!--we were there. The unexpected surprises continued at our first and second trips to Fantasy Fest, including last year’s clothing optional cruise. Like most of my gender, I have been programmed since childhood on what a woman should look like, and anything outside of that narrow Hollywood interpretation either needed to get to a gym or a good plastic surgeon. Instead I saw a rainbow of women, and for the first time realized that I looked just fine. That I was actually attractive. And that (gulp, BIG gulp here) Dan wasn’t the only person who might put up with me.
This blog has become more than a fun way to spend some time or communicate with friends. It has become a way to help me think through issues. To reread my own thoughts, and to ask myself why I thought them. This “body” realization made me wonder why I’d always thought that Dan was the only person who would ever love me. Would ever kiss me. Would ever lay with me. But as my horizons expanded with diving and exercise, and as I enjoyed the freedom of public near-nakedness in Key West, I had to acknowledge...her.
For many years she has been a friend and confidant. I have cried on her shoulder when work things went sour. I have whispered naughty secrets after an especially good weekend. Dan has teased me that she checks out my cleavage when I’ve worn low-cut party tops, and I laughed it off. But now I saw everything from a new perspective. How she’d reach out and hold my hand when I’d cried. How she reached up and touched my face when we laughed. Those deep hazel eyes.
I know, no, I knew that she had been attracted to me for a long time, but I only understood it last fall. I wanted to talk to her, to explain that this wasn’t right, and--more deeply--why me?
Dan had an all day meeting in Iron Mountain, followed by a social event with his peers. He’d be gone Friday night, would stop at the cottage on the way home and work on the pontoon boat, and be back late Saturday afternoon. I invited her over for dinner.
Over a glass of wine we talked about the boys. She’s a dog person. Ripley and Otto cleaned out the toy box trying to impress her. In hindsight, I realize I’d done the same. I’d worn my black mesh party bra that Dan loves, and a somewhat sheer cream silk blouse Dan bought me a year ago. I’d made Dan’s Caesar salad, and we ate and talked. After dinner we went back to the living room with another glass of wine. Gradually the small talk seemed to run out. I laughed too long at the end of her little funny story. For a second there was silence. Thunderous silence. And then she kissed me.
Dan shaves and showers every night before bed--he’s a fanatic about it. But I have never felt lips so smooth. Her perfume, always enjoyed from a distance, now pressed to my face. Hands without calluses touching my skin. I get a shiver just thinking about it.
I had never even considered how the passion of a woman might be expressed. While he has become better over the years, sex with Dan depends on how long the foreplay lasts. While lately that can go on for a wonderfully long time, once love making starts it’s 12 minutes--give or take. This was completely different--like comparing a controlled explosion and a long, sustained rolling flame. To be touched exactly as I wanted to be touched. To be kissed exactly where I wanted to be kissed. Our hands, mouths and bodies were as if in a mirror--each doing what the other was doing at the same moment. To have lived this long without knowing how something so slow and gentle could leave me so warm and breathless. And to know that I could give that same pleasure, over and over, left me trembling.
I awoke to the sound of pouring rain, dogs barking, and the whine of Dan’s car backing into the driveway. It took a moment for the events of last night to sink in, and a moment to smell--coffee? I threw on a nightgown and my robe, and picked up my clothes, looking around quickly for hers--they were gone. As I headed down the stairs I heard the back door open--and her voice saying good morning. My heart froze. I walked into the kitchen to see her fully dressed with a cup of coffee in her hand. The mess we’d left in the kitchen was gone, and I heard her say to Dan that after the second bottle of wine she’d decided to just sleep on the couch. “Good plan” Dan said, and he commented that with the rain there had been no point to stopping at the cottage.
As he poured himself a cup of coffee I walked past him and lit the stove for tea. Dan patted my butt and said he was glad I wasn’t alone last night. I will never forget the way she glanced at me as she said “Me too.”
Music that resonates:
I kissed a girl - Katy Perry
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