Friday

"Quite a winter this year," I said. I hate people who talk about the weather. "We haven't had this much snow in years."

He nodded.

"Though it is nice. Better than rain and mud, anyway, isn't it?"

He nodded again.

"Still, I can't wait till spring. I think this year I will try to go to the outskirts more often. Enjoy nature and all that. There are supposed to be some really nice lakes that you can still reach with the city transport."

Yet again, he nodded. I started getting angry. Was this some kind of trick? He was the one who had always been eager for a conversation, hadn't he? Why didn't he say anything?

"When I first moved here, I used to go swimming at this big lake out East," I rambled on. "Forgot the name now, but it is a really popular place in summer, it seems. Was fun though. I don't really know why I stopped..."

The people at the bar all seemed to have their drinks by now, and the bartender was walking around, checking if anyone at the tables needed something, thus saving me from the need to cover the silence between us. After I had got my beer, I at least had something to do, looking into the glass, and taking one big sip after another.

"The Green lake, you mean?" he suddenly broke the silence.

Now it was my turn to nod. He didn't continue talking right away, but finally he spoke again.

"I like going there. I like walking around in the forests there too. I used to hike a lot back home..."

"Where are you from?" I asked.

He named a town whose name ran vaguely familiar, some small town in the South. "I had it very close to the mountains... Used to go there a lot."

Mountains. There weren't any anywhere near here, or the small town nearby in which I had grown up. But my parents took me there on every family vacation when I was little, and until this moment I hadn't realized how much I missed them now that vacation just meant a few weeks without work at home, or extending the Sunday visit to my mom for a few days. I hadn't traveled in forever, I realized. Nor had I been anywhere that could really be called nature.

And suddenly we were in the middle of a conversation, and even though we weren't bad mouthing anyone I had more fun than I had had on any other Friday of the year so far. Or the year before, probably. I don't remember how many beers I had, nor do I remember when we left the pub, actually. It must have been quite late, I remember it being a lot emptier already when we had moved on to the topic of jokes we had liked when we were children, and were giggling and laughing so loudly the bartender felt obligated to turn up the music. By that time, we decided to continue with vodka, instead of beer. After that, my memories get blurry.

***

I hate waking up. One moment everything is warm and comfortable, and my mind is blank, and then, slowly, first thoughts of reality come creeping in, nagging. I try to push them away, but the thoughts come back, they bring their friends who remind me of what I should do today, what I really shouldn't forget to get done, what other things I have to worry about, there are more and more of them, they come crashing over me, and eventually I can't fight them anymore, and I have to open my eyes and admit that I am awake.

This time, when I opened my eyes, I didn't see my own bleak walls that had been in need of a fresh painting for years now. Instead, I looked at something resembling a jungle. On closer look, it was a collection of plants in various sizes that were standing along the walls and around a balcony door and window. Outside the window, there was the usual dirty-looking winter sky; thick grey clouds prevented me from estimating what time it was.

I was lying on a couch, covered with a thick blanket in freshly washed linen. It smelled strange, different than the washing powder I use at home, but nice and comfortable. Looking around, I could see my jeans and pullover lying crumpled up over a chair.

As the memory of the last evening slowly came back -- though never further than to the first few drinks -- my heart started beating wildly. I was sure I was in Alex's apartment. Did this mean we...? Even drunk I couldn't have... I mean, this was my annoying neighbor! The one I couldn't stand! The one that always had this cheesy grin and big need for conversation...

With relief, I suddenly realized that I was still wearing my underwear and T-shirt, which made it unlikely anything in that direction had happened. And a moment after realizing this, a new, strange emotion crept up. Almost like... disappointment?

Before I could linger on this thought, the door opened and Alex carefully looked into the room.

"Ah, you are awake." He pushed the door further open. "How do you feel? I made some coffee, and I could give you some headache pills."

Only now I realized that indeed, I would probably need some headache pills. A few minutes later I was dressed and sat at his kitchen table, in front of me a big mug of coffee. He offered to make some scrambled eggs, too, but the thought alone made me feel horribly sick. Instead I chewed some dry toast, but even a little bit of toast was too much, my stomach protested. I pushed the plate aside, and instead turned to Alex.

"How did I end up sleeping here anyway? It's not that my place is very far away..."

He grinned. "You don't remember much of last evening, do you?"

I shook my head.

"Well, you just didn't seem so well, and I was a bit worried about leaving you alone, so I thought it is a better idea to have you sleep here."

Somehow I wasn't sure that was the whole explanation, but I left it at that. I was still tired and felt the need for a hot bath, and my bed and bath tub were only two flights of stairs away. Yes, a hot bath would be a good idea. I needed to think. Or better, to switch off all thought. Suddenly I was in a hurry.

Alex looked a bit disappointed when I said I had to go.

"See you around," he called after me, as I walked up the stairs to my place. I turned around for a moment and smiled. Standing in his door, his cup of coffee still in his hand and his hair obviously not brushed yet, he suddenly didn't look quite as annoying as usual.

***

I was strangely busy the next week. On Saturday I had spent most of the day in the bath tub, and on Sunday I visited my mom, like every Sunday. During the week, though, all kinds of tasks seemed to constantly send me up and down the stairs of my building.

I was late for work almost every day, because when I was about half way to the train station I suddenly realized I had forgotten my gloves or my hat upstairs. I brought down the garbage far more often than I usually do, and I left the house again on three days to go shopping.

However, I only met Alex again on Thursday. I had been thinking that now it would be rude if I wouldn't spend a few minutes talking to him -- but this time I was really in a hurry. I was on my way to choir practice, and as I had been late for every single practice in the last three months, our conductor had threatened to throw me out of the choir. I had to be in time this time. Running down the stairs, I almost bumped into him as he was carrying his bicycle up to his apartment, the helmet still on his head.

He just grinned. "In a hurry again?"

"Yeah, I am really sorry, can't talk just now... let's meet up sometime."

I wasn't sure why I said that -- just to not be rude, I assumed. After all, he had taken care of me when I apparently had had more than just one drink to many. I had to be nice to him now. Of course, why else?

"How about tomorrow then?"

"Tomorrow? Hm, well, tomorrow is Friday and..." suddenly I remembered last Friday, Julia's phone call, my anger at her and Sean for breaking our string of I-don't-know-how-many years of constant Friday meetings. "... Friday is great. Yeah."

I wasn't quite happy with how I had finished that sentence, but there it was, and Alex didn't seem to see any problem with it. His smile just got bigger.

"Great. Pick you up at nine, then?"

I nodded and then sprinted on down the stairs, out of the house, and made it to choir just in time.

***

I hadn't expected to be that excited about a date to which I had, after all, just agreed in order to spite Julia and Sean. And Rubén, I suppose, though I did not much care about spiting him or not -- after all, it hadn't been his fault. I got home from work at about six, and after a long shower, some time in front of the mirror, which must have had the shock of its life to see me actually looking inside it, and the realization that all my clothes looked the same and it thus didn't much matter what I wear, I still had to pass two more hours before Alex would come to pick me up, as he had said.

My phone rang, and made me hope for a distraction, but a short look onto the caller ID revealed that it was Julia calling my home for the second time in all her life, and I decided to refrain from answering her. What, after all, should I say?

I had called her earlier that day, from work, when I knew she was not going to be at home either, to leave a message on her machine explaining that I would not be there tonight because I had a date. This was all I wanted to tell her, I felt no wish to give any additional explanation. After all, she was likely to ask just who I had a date with, which would have forced me to lie. Alex was one of the people I had been talking about occasionally on our Friday meetings.

He had been a good topic -- the way he always smiled and wanted to talk. How religiously he seemed to cycle everywhere, and always wear a helmet with it. Someone who behaves like that can't be normal, can they? I had known very little about him, so I made things up to keep the conversation interesting. I am sure the others realized that, but still, my made up stories would have formed their opinion of him, and they even had influenced the way I myself thought about Alex.

But even considering how much I had said about him wasn't true, why did I even want to go out with this guy? Why was I sitting here like a teenage girl waiting for her first ever date, heart beating wildly? And when the doorbell finally rang, why did I jump up so quickly I knocked over the beer I was drinking to calm myself down?

***

We chose a different pub that day, for varieties sake. One that was further away from our house, crowded as all of them were on a Friday night, but we had found a small quiet corner where the music blasting through the place didn't reach a level at which it would completely prevent conversation.

They had armchairs and sofas here, instead of the normal uncomfortable pub chairs, so we sat slumped into our corner, turned toward each other, and the wine I was drinking this time helped me to forget my excitement and feel more at home.

Alex was more talkative this day, and I just let him talk. After a while I found myself staring at his mouth, barely listening to his words. He had nice lips. Had I noticed those before? I couldn't remember. I wondered if he would try to kiss me. What would I do then? After all this was the guy I couldn't stand... But he would be too shy to kiss me anyway, he looked like the type who was too shy to do that. Oh how I hated guys that are too shy...

And suddenly I wondered if this even was a date? Of course, I had only agreed to meet up to spite Julia and Sean. But he was supposed to mean it as a date. What if he didn't? Maybe to him, this was just two neighbors meeting up for a few drinks and some conversation.

He asked something and I just smiled and nodded -- I hadn't heard his question. He looked confused. Whatever he had asked, nodding quite obviously wasn't the appropriate response. I hesitated. And then, without quite knowing myself why I did it, I was suddenly kissing him.

For one scary moment, as my lips touched his, I feared he might not respond to my kiss. But then I felt his lips open slightly, tasted his mouth, entered it with my tongue, to retreat again right away, trying to coax his tongue into my mouth... It became a surprisingly long kiss.

When finally we let go of each other, he still looked confused, but to my relief also quite pleased. We both turned back to our drinks. I was wondering if I should say something, when he finally spoke:

"Strange, I had somehow thought you don't particularly like me."

I didn't quite know what to answer, and he saved me the embarrassment by kissing me again.

***

The evening was over much too fast, somehow. Suddenly we stood in front of our house, still in the middle of conversation, interrupted by kisses every now and then. Neither of us wanted to say good bye just yet.

"My place or your place?"

Stupid thing to say, but Alex grinned. Of course.

"Mine is two flights of stairs less up."

That was a strong argument -- I had drunk far less than the Friday before, but walking up five flights of stairs was still not my idea of fun just now. Thus, a few minutes later, I sat on the same couch I had slept on a week earlier, looking at the jungle of plants that decorated the room, while Alex was in the kitchen making coffee. I had wanted a beer, in fact, but he had none in his house.

Once again I wondered what I was doing here. I stared at the green growth coming from the assembly of pots by the window. What man kept plants in his house, instead of beer? I thought of the way he had spoken of his hikes in the mountains -- what did I want with a nature person like him? I was quite obviously a city girl. Even if I was one that never went to bars or clubs or used much of the possibilities this city offers. For a moment I considered to just leave, go upstairs, to my apartment. Turn on the computer, like every evening. The evening out with him had been nice -- but wasn't this all bound to lead to a failure?

Before I could make up my mind, he was back from the kitchen, sitting back down on the sofa, next to me. It would be rude to leave just now, of course. And the cup of coffee he handed me gave me something to do, at least.

Once again, we talked. It was strange, actually, how much we could talk about -- without ever resorting to similar conversations as those I had with Sean and Julia and Rubén. We spoke about our childhood and we spoke about the places we would like to travel to and we spoke about future plans I hadn't even realized before I had.

I can't say how long we sat there, just talking. I don't think I talked that much with anyone, in all my life. Only when the sky outside the window slowly started turning from black to a very dark gray, did we grow quiet. We were still sitting on the sofa, my head leaned against his chest now, I could feel his heartbeat and slow, even breaths. It wondered a bit whether this position wasn't uncomfortable for him, but he didn't say anything. For me it was nice, warm, and somehow much warmer than my own cold bed in my own cold apartment. I closed my eyes, and slowly felt myself drifting off to sleep.

The touch of his hand on my hair made me wake up again, and I opened my eyes and turned my face towards his. The light in the room was dim, but I could see his eyes, looking into mine. His lips, so very close to my mouth, approaching it. I could feel his breath, and then the touch of his lips again, like earlier in the bar and on the way home -- but different somehow. This kiss seemed more intimate, softer and yet full of longing... I put my arms around him, leaned backwards until I came to lie on the sofa, pulling him with me, on top of me. I wanted to feel the weight and warmth of his body on mine.

My whole body was aching to be touched -- I had forgotten, that I had wanted to leave many hours ago, that meeting up with Alex was meant to be just to spite my friends, to not have time for them either, as they had not had time for me. I had forgotten his annoying constant smiles and silly bike helmets. All I could think of was that I didn't want this moment to stop. That is, in fact I wasn't thinking at all. I was just feeling his lips, feeling his hands that carefully, through the fabric of my clothing, started exploring my body, felt, how I wanted them to be more daring. And I felt his skin under my own hands which in their turn had started to explore his body, sneaking their way under his shirt...

I moaned in disappointment, when he broke our kiss, but then his mouth searched for my neck instead, started kissing me there, biting me lightly, and the disappointed note in my moan turned into one of pleasure. His hands had now finally found their way under my shirt, too, and he pushed his fingers underneath my bra. When his other hand searched for that place between my legs, started rubbing against it through the fabric of my jeans, my moans grew louder, and inadvertently my hips started moving, I started pushing against his hand -- I wanted to feel more.

Finally though, he stopped and sat up, then first took off his shirt, and I quickly did the same thing. In a way, I would have preferred for him to undress me, but I was impatient suddenly, maybe I was afraid he might stop, or I might come to my senses? He helped me out of my bra and my jeans, though. Then I lay back on the bed again, now wearing nothing except for some black and quite plain underwear -- it had been only today that I realized that I didn't own any really nice ones anymore, the thought that anyone who got to see them would probably just be eager to take them off anyway had always been my argument against spending too much money on them. Now I regretted this choice a bit.

He didn't seem to mind though. He looked at me and smiled again -- but his smile was different this time, like the amazed smile of someone who can't yet fully believe this was really happening.

"You are beautiful," he whispered, and for some reason it didn't sound corny, it just sounded like he really meant it.

We started kissing again, his body pressed against mine. He was still wearing his jeans, but I could feel they were getting tight... I searched for the fly with my hands, and tried to open it. Strangely, my hands seemed to be shaking a bit -- was I nervous? He helped though, and soon he, too, was only wearing his underwear, underneath which I could see a big bulk in the dim light of the room.

I lifted my hand toward that bulk, touched it at first only lightly with my fingers, rubbed against it then a bit stronger, before I slipped my hand inside his underwear and took his manhood into my hand. It felt hard and warm and smooth. In response to my doing, he closed his eyes, and opened his mouth a bit. As I moved my hand slowly up and down, my fingers wrapped around his erection, his breath got faster.

After a little while he opened his eyes again, moved a bit away from me, then came to sit between my legs, and took off my underwear to gaze at my pussy with the same expression of amazed admiration on his face that he had had earlier, when he had looked at my almost naked body. Then he kneeled down, approached it with his face, each of my legs to one side of his head, and at first observed it, carefully touched it with his fingertips, parted the labia, looked at it -- as if to find his way around better.

When he finally touched me with his tongue, circling the area of my most pleasurable spot, a shiver went through my body. I had forgotten just how good that felt. How long ago since last someone had done that to me? My last boyfriend hadn't been very fond of going down, and the few sexual encounters I had had since then hadn't involved any oral sex either...

It took me a little while until I felt I could fully relax; just give in to everything I was feeling. Somehow, at first, I was worried. I wasn't sure even then what I was worried about, but somehow a memory of the last guys I had been with, who had somehow managed giving me a feeling of not being quite adequate, still lingered in my mind. Alex was different though. The way he had looked at me... Also he was quite skilled with his tongue, and I soon forgot everything else, as I felt a strong arousal welling up in me, wanting release. And he was quite willing to help me reach that release.