I was standing by the window, looking at the sunny streets outside, when I felt the touch of warm lips on my left ear. I turned around and was welcomed by the sweetest and naughtiest smile I have ever seen and a pair of big green eyes which were - then - playing around with mine.
Thinking we were alone, I looked at those gorgeous and perfect lips and could not help but kissing them. Someone, somehow, saw me doing it and shouted at us indignantly. Other people joined and came after the two of us, who were already rushing off the place and laughing at the same time. We never stopped and although we knew no one would catch us, we just kept running away down the streets and laughing.
We were not really worried, once the only crime we made was letting our emotions run wild, just like our feet were doing at that moment.
When we turned a left corner, after a deep down slope - I woke up.
I opened my eyes feeling completely lost in time and it took me some seconds to realize where I was. There was a fine line of light coming from behind the curtain, not bright enough to tell me the time. I checked the clock at the bedside table. It was still too early in the morning, so I turned around and closed my eyes, but could not sleep again.
I reckon I did not have a good rest that night. I went to bed too late and was still tired. I was too scared for letting my heart and emotion decide over my mind and reason and I was too concerned about the hours to come, so being incapable of relaxing was not the only thing I was uncomfortable with. My mind was not at ease and any unusual noise made me jump up the small hotel bed I was lying in. From the other side of the room I could hear the sound of a light snoring coming every now and then. It was not that awful, I thought, in the end, once it made me feel – at least - safe.
When the alarm clock finally rang, I was already wide awake. In half an hour we were both ready to go downstairs. A few reticent words were exchanged between us – far from what I anticipated this first morning to be like. We left the room like siblings who slept in the same bedroom and did not have much to talk about. I kept my eyesight away from his face for the time being, just for precaution, when we entered the lift on the way down to the hotel restaurant.
Breakfast was almost formal. A good coffee would have to wait until we left the place, as the only available choice was the soluble one from the automatic machine – the option he avoided resolutely. We decided to have a fine and decent cup of coffee down at the city square, under a parasol, out in the dry and fresh air of springtime. That nice dose of proper caffeine made me feel a lot better.
Then we walked… A guide to the city was the present I was given. The main subject was always the place, the history, the past. His favorite spots were just what I expected them to be. I was not surprised at all by the fact that we had so much in common in our preferences. With time, I also noticed we had a lot in common in other terms…
When I felt a bit more comfortable, I started talking about myself as well. For some unknown reason, the place looked familiar to me and I made a comment about that. We both laughed over my nonsense, although I had a light impression of being back home, while walking the city streets.
Preferred sites, sunny lanes and boulevards, shady parks, the architecture of the buildings, his memories coming to illustrate our conversation – it was all kind of novelty to me, with a flavor of impracticality and weird melancholy, both still unsettling my mind. I felt like I was out of time and space, in spite of the apparent resemblance with places I have been or seen before.
At lunch we talked business - seriously. That man had his homework well done, but I realized it was not business I was really interested in - at all. Then we strolled around out in the sun again for hours, through more familiar streets and places of interest.
“…And do you still want that?”
I could not look directly to the eyes of the person who brought that issue up to the conversation, after my mentioning we had done two out or three things we proposed ourselves to do when I left home for that peculiar meeting. The main topic, for me, had been avoided all day long up to the minute he asked me the question.
I said ‘yes’, although I was feeling disturbingly sad and tired. I was led to what I believed to be a waste and was not quite pleased with that. A highly expensive cup of coffee – that’s what I thought it was. My mind and my body were entirely and unquestionably worn out.
When we got back to the room I felt a desperate need of a fresh shower, as I was feeling hot and weary and knew it was not only for having walked out in the sun for hours. It worked out fine though to calm me down a bit. There is nothing better than a good shower to feel alive again, I thought.
My heart was telling me my expectations were not solid enough to make anything I anticipated in my mind to happen anyway, so I put the TV on the music channel and started creaming my sore feet up, while he had himself taken his turn in the shower. It was then that I remembered I was walking almost non-stop for two whole days… and with the same pair of sneakers… They were kinda filthy, so I put them away from me. Fortunately I brought my new comfortable flip flops, the only real soothing I was about to feel – or so thought I.
I tried to remain cool and impassive when he lied on the bed next to mine. Pretending I was still watching TV, while he browsed through channels, I was attracted by the sight of his feet - the most beautiful pair I had seen in ages. I could not take my eyes off of them. I sat down and asked if he wanted some foot gel to refresh. Although the answer was ‘no’, I decided to apply the ointment myself, anyway, finding no resistance by any means from his part. I took some time giving myself the pleasure of providing him with some satisfaction with that massage. His skin was extraordinarily soft and I acted as if applying the soothing gel on his tired feet was the most natural thing to do.
I noticed those bright green eyes were set upon my seriousness with a mix of curiosity and fun. When I finished both feet, I glanced at his disguised smile and felt like a beginner – inexperienced, insecure and awkward at the same time.
‘What a shame!’ - I thought to myself, a little embarrassed and looking away from his face… - ‘He is making fun of me’.
“Do you still want it?” I raised my eyes back to his. “Look at me… I’m ready”…, he said.
But how?, I asked, smiling shyly, a bit surprised and a bit lost by the evidence he showed me.
“I don’t know… I just am”… He made a pause, whilst studying my clumsy behavior.
“What do you want to do?”
He was defying me. His eyes were still laid down on my face. I, for that one time, did not know exactly what to do and he noticed my uneasiness. For a moment I had forgotten it was his irresistible teasing that attracted me to that adventure… and he was doing that - to me - again. A first timer – that’s what I thought I was.
“What do you want me to do?” - I asked almost inaudibly.
“Touch me”, he whispered.
“How would you like me to touch you”…?
"Just touch me”, he answered in an even lower tone of voice.
And I did. I touched light-handedly his small and beautiful face, his muscled torso, his strong legs - feeling the soft hair in between my trembling fingers and - then and again - his perfect feet. He closed his eyes and moaned lightly. I turned his body around and started massaging his back, his legs - his whole body - slowly and tenderly.
I just wanted to feel him and wished all the gods of time would make those seconds last forever. They would not, however, hear my prayer…
I kissed the soft skin of his neck, then his back and his neck again and again and again… He just heaved a loud sigh when I whispered behind his ear how much I liked him. He was ready for me long before I started touching him, but that was more evident when I turned his amazing body around again. It was then that I decided to give myself in to the moment, entirely inebriated by the sweet-salty taste and flavor of that man. I felt as if he was yielding himself to my lust, opening his heart and letting me explore his senses and his perfect and lean body without any restraint.
When his muscles tensed, ready to surrender to what that single moment in time was taking out of him, he let a louder groan come out and I knew it was the right time for me to provide him with what I would like to be a cherished reminder of that meeting. He let himself go like a boat sailing freely through warm and unknown waters. He submitted his entire being to my caresses, to the touch of my hands and lips, as if there was no tomorrow, nor yesterday – just that brief present in the – now - past.
His low moan transformed into a louder wail, when he lost grip of his control and finally gave in to the sensation of pleasure he said he had never had previously in his life.
When he took his turn, I decided not to fight against the unavoidable…
“Are you still looking at me?” He asked through closed eyes and with a naughty smile decorating his sweet and now relaxed face.
‘Uhum’, I groaned, smiling tenderly, without turning my eyes away from him. In fact I was not only looking at him… I was quietly admiring his astonishing beauty, while a song was playing non-stop in my head and saying everything, although he could not hear it from where he was:
“I can’t take my eyes off of you; I can’t take my eyes off of you; I can’t take my eyes off of you; I can´t take my eyes”…
And how could I, after the declaration that he had never felt that “horny” anytime before?
That song was still playing in my head and went on indefinitely:
“I can’t take my mind off of you; I can’t take my mind off of you; I can’t take my mind off of you; I can´t take my mind”… (The Blower’s Daughter)
Hours before I was fighting against myself for having made that choice. We had avoided the main subject for too long and he knew I was being extra careful, when I surrendered to his plea and answered the question I was refraining from responding not for the first time that day. He was trying me to see how far I would go.
Not too long afterwards I was rendering myself to his beauty and the perfection of his body. That small man had me all wrapped up in his web, like a fly caught inadvertently by the patient and clever spider.
I kept on staring at his wonderful features until I fell asleep, exhausted… but glad to be there.
“You’re always thinking so much and saying so little”. He said that from the other side of the table where we were having breakfast the morning after.
How could I possibly say anything, if my heart was so discomforted, as if an immense rock was afflicting my chest, like a difficult burden to carry? How could I say that what I wanted was being in the arms of someone who did not feel the same for me? At least that was what I assumed, from the silence and slight distance that followed the happenings of the night before. Somehow he was mysteriously quiet - sometimes facing me with a funny look, sometimes avoiding my eyes. He was not anymore the fun-teasing man I thought to meet and who amazed me some hours before.
Then, as if moved by some strange reason only he knew, he started talking, almost casually. He spoke little, but surprised me with things I was neither expecting nor comforted to hear. That young man, sitting opposite to me, was bitter, distressed, disappointed in life. His sadness dumbfounded me and broke my heart into more pieces. I was asking myself, while looking at him in nearly complete awe: where is the man, who surrendered himself to boundless pleasure last night? Where is the man who made me fall head over heels for him and now is refraining from allowing me go back there again, by saying those sad things to me? Is he afraid of having his heart broken? Does he know how many times can a heart be broken or will he give up and lock himself up before finding out? I could just keep myself quiet, paying careful attention to him, feeling my soul going deep in sorrow for that young man, who seemed to have had his hope lost by circumstances he could not have much power over… Listening was the best I could do that time. He wanted to talk and I was there - to hear. In a way, he was opening those secrets to my ears, showing some trust to the one person sitting at the breakfast table with him.
He was lying in his bed with his back turned to me, pretending he was not aware I was looking at him again. We did not speak much after leaving the hotel restaurant. I was still trying to digest the breakfast and the conversation we had during it. I knew no similar opportunities would be repeated and I felt there was an uneasy and heavy atmosphere set between us… Oh, God, how I wished to be in his arms again, but he never gave any signal he would let me… Giving myself finally up, I kissed the top of his head and asked, in a whisper, ‘why do things have to be this way?’
“I don’t know”, he said.
Nothing else was said… It was time to go back to our lives and we knew it.
“I did not expect you to like me that much. You know when you’re being touched by someone who cares so much about you. And that makes a big difference”…
Did I detect a slight faltering in his voice or was it my impression? I could not say for sure, as I was too affected by the moment to distinguish any foolish or unwelcome emotional reaction coming from his lips. Maybe he was fighting against feeling poignant or showing any weaknesses to me. He was always so full of himself - so strong and self assured - that it was probably just my imagination, I assumed.
He said that as if he was reporting a fact, pretending it was just a normal statement, trying to hide any emotion away from that moment, with his low and gloomy voice. I have to confess I was surprised by his words. Then he looked so very serious, not looking at my eyes with his big green ones – the eyes I could not ever read properly.
I was busy fighting the knot which was tying slowly around my throat and the tears which were jumping from my eyes uncontrollably. I did not look at his face either. I could not say anything, just kept eyeing the photo of a paradisiacal beach on the panel decorating the almost empty waiting room where we were sitting in.
The silence weighted heavily on both of us for what it seemed like centuries. I was torn, insecure, tired, distressed… the only thing I could do was trying to smile, sadly – an enormous effort to control the frayed emotions which were ripping my soul apart that warm and sunny afternoon.
“What is it you’re thinking about now? You never tell me what goes on your mind. You just look at me, as if you are going to say something, but you never do”…
His statement was true. I had so many things to say, so many questions to ask, so many declarations to make… I was not ready – however - to talk about them, so I said: “But you don’t either, my friend”…
He smiled – defeated - and we closed the issue with no further unnecessary comment. We have spent two days being economical in the words related to what we felt. Acting as if exposure was dangerous to our sanity or image, we both knew, deep inside, that we were being too cautious to express what was going on in our minds and senses.
Was it fear of showing weakness or was it panic that we could make one run away from another in absolute fright? I could never know how to explain that…
I was sure that it was more a “goodbye” than a “see you soon”, when he departed without looking back. I did not look back either. When I got inside the airport building again, I took the small mp3 player out of the pocket and tried not to think about anything else, although I knew that would be impossible for many reasons.
A song started playing as soon as I entered the waiting room and I had to hide my face on my chest, so no one could see my eyes watering again. Life was cruelly playing with my heart, making me burst inside, breaking me into painful pieces, while the singer kept on and on, with his harsh voice, shattering my soul into small portions, which could never be put together one more time… little by little, making me want to disappear, struggling to pull me through back again:
*…”Silence is a heavy stone.
I fight the world and take all they can give
There are times my heart hangs low
Born to walk against the wind
Born to hear my name
No matter where I stand I'm alone.
Stand and fight
Live by your heart
Always one more try
I'm not afraid to die
Stand and fight
Say what you feel
Born with a Heart of Steel”…
*(Heart of Steel – Manowar)
Weeks of silence followed. Was he scared or disappointed? My mind let my reason overcome my feelings and I decided to accept the circumstances I was left with. It was a mistake… a big mistake, I said to myself. There would never be another chance. There would never be another anything… Left on my own, with the memories of a unique and only encounter, allied to my solitude, I cried - in profound sorrow - alone in the darkness of the bedroom. We never got in contact again…
I now ask myself if I wanted more from that - and thinking coolly, I come to the conclusion that I certainly did. Maybe he was not ready to give me anything further than he did or perhaps I was just expecting too much, when I left home on that sunny Friday morning to a chancy adventure with a cute stranger.
There is one thing now I can say for sure, however. He left me with something no one will ever take away from me: the sweet and live reminiscences of those two days, which will be in my mind… forever… and I will be grateful to him for those ‘mementos’ for as long as I may live…
Smiling sadly to myself, I bring the recollections back from those beautiful hours together, when I felt as if my soul was an immense ocean and his river soul came winding down through stony and curvy paths, merging into my waters, making him lose himself for a while, becoming one with me, for at least one brief and sweet moment – the one when I felt special like no one else has ever been.
Our special meeting lasted just that one short and delightful instant in time. It was so right and for such so right a time… My heart has certainly turned into a better place, thanks to that charming and lovely man… but - oh, Christ - I still miss him so much…
