There was desperation in our kisses, as if somehow pressing lips against each other and then breaking apart, gasping for air, would bring us to a place of ultimate pleasure, or change the person we were kissing (each other) into different people.
But we go back in, gasping for air, the alcohol buzzing through our blood and brains, controlling our actions, wrapping our arms around each other, hands reaching for places kept hidden away from eyes.
It somehow doesn't matter we met just a few hours before and don't know each other's last names. It's just bodies seeking escape, release from reality, who we are, and getting lost in the moments of exploration and gratification.
My stomach jumps around as I calmly sit here and review the situation in my mind's eye.
It may as well not be Marcia. I should be another person, with my confidence pouring out of me, letting his hands pull off clothes, go further than ever before, bringing me up up up to the highest point, and tumbling down in a release of pressure and gratitude.
But it was me who kissed him with such urgency, as if compelling myself to believe I am at last beautiful. Yet, I am not desirable when the sun rises and we pretend that nothing happened. It was a meaningless evening of pleasure for him, but for me it was a turning.
A realization that I am desirable for this body, not for my vibrant personality. Not for my heart that seems to feel everything so intensely. Not for my gift of listening and being a friend. Not for my talent of writing and expressing myself. I am desirable for my above average breasts.
I'm not sure how the realization makes me feel. Perhaps a little more powerful, a lot more aware of my sexuality, and much more critical of those around me, specifically males.
Now I know for myself the truth of life--want is simple. Sexual want is even simpler. You find potential or immediate attraction and you take it. There is no label, there is no under tone. It's just there. It's what it is.
I only wish life could always be so easy and uncomplicated.
All that remains to be seen is what my next choice will be: treat the fleeting encounters as casually as they have been or hold out for one that could potentially mean more.
He probably won't be seen again, and I feel a bit undecided. Part of me wants more, more, MORE from him, to go bravely where I have not gone before. Part of me is relieved it was just a casual encounter that won't sour a long term relationship. And part of me is nervous about a possible stumbling across each other through mutual.
How do you look casually in the eyes of someone who has covered your mouth with their hand to muffle your noises of pleasure? Will conversation be awkward? Or will we look at each other with understanding and lust and inevitably end up tangled in each other, as natural as breathing?
There is a huge piece of me hoping for that, that he will somehow find me as sexually attractive as before. And of course, I'm afraid he won't. So many feelings jumbled up within me from a few hours with an almost stranger.
No wonder sex is best reserved for long term/permanent relationships.