I had not seen him in over 20 years. We were to meet in the city for three precious hours. Enough time to let the other’s presence sink in, but not enough time to really get into trouble. You see, I am married. And committed to that marriage.
It was hard to speak at first, hard to do anything but smile. We hugged, letting social conventions limit it to a normal duration. I physically ached when we pulled away from each other, wondering when I would get the excuse to touch him again, feel the size of him, that solid warmth pressing against me again.
There was no template to follow here. I had already crossed the line by making my continued attraction to him clear. My wish was to get as close and feel him as much as possible without crossing a further line. I wanted him to know how I felt about him even though I would not, could not act on it. I wanted to know if he felt the same, even though I felt ashamed of this—did I really want him to want something he cannot have? Did any of that matter when, after 20 years, the pull was still there and had miraculously been joined by a very satisfying online friendship?
We walked aimlessly through the streets, talking of things we used to like to eat, places we liked to go when we both lived there. He was funny, as always, with his unexpected answers, giving me access to his unique perspective. I wanted to hear more about everything he said. And he listened with his whole body, I could feel my ideas and words being taken in by him. We looked at each other seldom during that first wandering walk, in the same way that you don’t look at the sun.
After about an hour we arrived at a park. We sat quietly side by side on a bench, taking in the sunshine and breeze. He was over 50 now, and was even better for the extra years. Sure, maybe he had lost that head-turning, youthful charm. But what remained was a distilled, stripped-down version of the man that had fascinated me from the first moment we met. His seriousness, honesty and masculinity made him feel powerful, whereas his previous youth now seemed frivolous. He bore wounds, but he was strong. I wanted to soothe him. This must have been why my reservations softened. I wanted to increase that production of oxytocin in him. I stood up to face him while he remained seated. It was the perfect difference in height. I rested my arms on the top of his shoulders and wrapped my hands around his neck. He looked at me with some wariness, but I chose to see only desire. I leaned in and embraced him finally. His cheek rested innocently but so warmly on the flat plane of my upper chest. I shivered from the skin on skin contact with him and from feeling his rough beard on the sensitive skin at the top of my breasts. We held still in this position, not wanting it to end. Then I felt his lips on my chest as he turned his face into me. His hands moved gently over my arms and back. The sweetness and gentleness of the action broke my reverie and without thinking I angled his face up toward mine and gave a series of quick, soft kisses on his forehead, eyes, and the space below his eyes. I was intoxicated by the feel of his face, the smell of his skin.
As if the soft kisses had unearthed something within him, he transformed. He was no longer tentative and careful. He crushed his lips into mine. I froze at the shock of this breach. He pulled me down onto his lap, so that I straddled him and took my face in his hands, kissing me deeply. I had not known how badly I wanted to kiss him until that moment. He felt my transformation as I leaned into him and my breathing became erratic. With complete authority now, he put his hands on my hips and shifted me where he wanted me. I could have torn through all the layers of clothing that separated us. I wrapped my arms and legs tightly around him and arched to feel as close to all parts of his body as possible. He cupped my ass with his hands and rocked me back and forth, showing me exactly how it would go. If we could.
The alarm on my phone went off, reminding me it was time to get in an Uber for the airport. No alarm was as ever hated as that one. Finding the ground under my feet, I began to stand and pull away from him. He caught my lip gently between his teeth. I licked his bottom lip one more time before disengaging completely.
It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough, but I had my life to return to.