The Meeting Ch. 01

As I lifted my head after stowing my carry-on under my seat I met the eyes of a seasoned traveler. He'd obviously been a veteran businessman, hopping flights for meetings and presentations. My throat constricted at the thought of sharing a seat with this man who appeared hungry for human contact and conversation. I didn't want to talk with stranger, making casual conversation while jetting my way across the country to meet you for the first time. I wanted no distractions. I needed to be centered, focused. I needed you.

I met his smile with one that approached a pained grimace and bent at the waist again, fumbling in my bag for a lifesaver. I could feel the coolness of the forced air from the plane as it hit the small of my back which was exposed an inch or so as my top rose while reaching for my headphones. When I straightened I saw a disappointed flicker on my seatmate's dace as I slipped on my headphones and tuned out the drone of the plane's warming engines as well as any possibility of hours of strained conversation with an overzealous stranger. I relaxed back into my seat, unconsciously tightened my seatbelt, and closed my eyes as the strains of U2 filled my ears.

Flying to a strange place to meet someone who qualified for "stranger status"...yet I knew full well that you were deeply ingrained inside of me; more closely linked than others I'd known for years. So why couldn't I stop my knee from nervously bouncing, calm my tapping fingers on my CD player, or soothe the knot in my stomach?

The flight went quickly, and as the plane descended on LAX I realized that there was no turning back. Within two hours, I'd be able to touch you, breathe in your scent, taste the hollow at the base of your neck. I recalled with a grin how we'd bargained back and forth through emails, IM's, and phone calls: You'd wanted to meet me at the airport, but I'd argued that I'd rather be able to get settled at the hotel by myself. In reality I hadn't wanted to face you for the first time with an audience of strangers at busy airport. I recalled the moment you relented, saying that you couldn't bear to hear my voice crack again. I hadn't wanted to explain that I felt so vulnerable already and that it would be compounded if I had to share you with a crowd of strangers in an airport terminal. We'd planned for you to come to the hotel two hours after my plane was supposed to land so that I'd have time to gather my luggage, grab a taxi, and check into the hotel. You'd call from the lobby to let me know you were in the building.

I can't recall the events clearly as I gathered my things from under my seat, found myself jostled off the plane by the other travelers, and jockeyed for position at the baggage claim. The only thing that kept me centered was the sound of "In a Little While" played over and over through my headphones. Bono's raspy voice promising me that I'd see you...in a little while.

"I can do this," I thought as I heard the phone call from the predictable bedside table in the hotel room. My hand slid across the receiver on ring three as I drew in a shaky breath. My voice, usually so calm and self-assured, betrayed me as it wavered, "Hello?" A brief moment of silence followed as we both realized this was no longer an east coast-west coast thing. You were in the lobby of the hotel. I'd flown hours across the country. The physical chasm had been breached and only seven floors and an elevator separated us now.

"Emma." The one word, spoken strongly, calmly, in your smooth-toned voice snapped me from my reverie. "Emma...I'm here." I giggled nervously trying to focus my brain, force myself to say something half-intelligent. It seemed that the playful wit on which I normally had such a grip was gone for the moment.

"Indeed, you are," I said, immediately cursing my flippant response.

You replied, "You're biting your lip, baby. Stop, I'm here now." Again, you knew what to say, and I let go of my bottom lip, knowing it was already swollen from my unconscious habit of gnawing on it when nervous. I felt that familiar calm envelope me, that feeling you could elicit so easily. I merely listened to your breathing through the phone.

"Camden? You're coming up," I said simply, knowing we'd no longer need to lament about the three hour time difference or wonder if we'd be able to talk. A grin broke out on my face as the truth of the moment hit me. "Tell me the room number...please," you uttered, and I could sense a boyish quality to your voice.

"748."

"I'm coming. Hang up. Wait for me," and the line went dead. I furtively glanced around the room making sure I hadn't left clothes hanging about, ran to the bathroom for a last-minute check on my hair and a quick swipe of lip gloss, and paced quickly to the door wondering if I'd hear your footsteps as you approached. I casually ran on finger down the door toward the handle watching how my cream-colored nail contrasted with the dark hue of the door. A soft rap on the wood caused my neck to tighten in anticipation. You knew I was standing there waiting for you, only inches separating us. "Baby love, open the door." Your voice seemed almost halcyon although I knew you well enough to sense the underlying edgy tone.

One hand on the handle, pulling it downward, my other hand wrapped around my waist, I stood there prolonging the moment. I closed my eyes at the last moment, wanted to drink you in with all of my senses. I wanted to inhale the aroma of you before laying eyes on you for the first time in person. I was met with the sound of a quick intake of breath and a sweet, lovely scent. Confused, I slowly opened my eyes. Flowers. You'd brought flowers. Some think flowers to be mundane and simple. You'd remembered that I wasn't bunched in with those people and brought along stunning bouquet of blush and butter flowers.

I merely leaned on the door jam while staring past the blossoms into your azure eyes. Sure, I'd seen your handsome face in pictures, but they'd done nothing to prepare me for the depth of your eyes as they contrasted with your almost ebony hair. Speechless, I stood there staring, unabashedly, a pink hue coloring my cheeks while you reached out and gently cupped one cheek in your hand, leaned forward, and whispered, "Life should be fragrant." I giggled, breaking the moment, and tugged on your hand to bring you into the room.

You closed the door behind you, followed me into the room, and set the flowers down on a small table. I turned to look at you, my hands awkward in the moment. You said gently, "Relax, it's just me," and lifted a thumb to gently coax my battered bottom lip from between my teeth. Again, my unconscious nature had betrayed me and shown you that I was nervous. Your thumb didn't leave my mouth. Rather, it played with the shape if it, tracing, lightly pulling my bottom lip out a bit, and my mouth opened slowly, allowing my tongue to taste the pad of your thumb, salty and warm Closing my eyes, I savored the first taste of you. Upon opening my eyes, I saw your face closer to mine, the expression of tenderness almost tangible, and I could hear you murmur, "I need you. I need your everything," to which I nodded in response, knowing that you were going to kiss me. I needed all my faculties about me. I didn't want to miss a single nuance of that moment.

Our eyes didn't close until that last moment when we were too close to truly focus. You'd remembered how important eye contact is for me and made sure that I saw the cobalt of your eyes when I felt your breath on my mouth. I felt a small chill of breath on my lips, sensing that you'd popped the obligatory mint before coming upstairs. I fought to stifle a giggle that refused to be held down in my belly. You jerked back suddenly unsure of my reaction to your kiss. Your look was almost wounded, and I struggled to gain control of my giggles. "No...no...Camden. Listen to me," I said as my hands drew you closer to me again, one on the nape of your neck, the other curved around your left shoulder. "You know I giggle and act silly when I'm nervous. It's not you; it's the moment. I just need to calm down."

"But....what was it? I barely touched your mouth, Emma."

"I felt the coolness of your breath...felt the mint on it. And I realized that while I'd made sure to brush my teeth after checking in, you'd thrown a mint in your mouth..." My voice trailed off as I realized how silly my explanation sounded. I labored to get passed this uncomfortable moment. "I guess it just struck me funny...that we're both concerned...worried almost. Maybe we should just..." and I pulled at your neck, dragging your face to my level, opening my mouth slightly to suck your bottom lip between mine, tasting the warm softness of it with the tip of my tongue. I could feel the palm of your hand at the small of my back pulling me closer toward your hips, and I stood on tiptoes, attempting to get closer to you.

The feel of your tongue as it slowly inched into my mouth caused a moan to crawl from my tummy. You pulled back just a bit, smiled at me, and said, "You like this," while openly grinning at me. I bit my lip in response; my pink cheeks betrayed any false bravado I'd ever used with you. Both of you hands traveled up to my shoulder blades then back down again until they cupped my ass, curving inward around the bottom of my cheeks. You lifted slightly, and I stumbled against you, my breasts flattening against your chest, my hands steadying myself on your shoulders. I felt your thighs press harder against mine as your mouth fell to mine again, and you walked me backward toward the bed. The back of my knees accepted the pressure from the mattress and I sat down on it, my mouth suddenly bereft for yours.

My neck craned up to look at you as your index finger traced my bottom lip. I could feel the familiar foot on top of the other feeling as I felt my anxiety increase a little as my toes gently squeezed against each other. I'd left my feet bare even though I'd known you were coming up. My soles could feel the texture of the carpeting as I listened intently to your breath. I was ultra-conscious of my every sense. Your scent lingered in my lungs. The heat of your skin warmed mine. The cadence of your breathing urged mine to match your beat.

Without planning, I reached up and hooked my index fingers into your waistband while watching your face.

"I need to feel your skin," I murmured as my fingers fumbled to loosen your shirt where it was tucked into your pants. I tugged gently, then with more force when your shirt wouldn't budge. "Did you vacuum seal this thing in here before you left?" I said giggling, feeling the anxiety leave my body. I smiled a knowing grin while staring up at you. You'd worn a dress shirt that complimented the tint of your eyes. I knew you loved wearing dress shirts which only made me love them as well. Although a slight blush betrayed your calm demeanor, you stood your ground and made no move to help me. I craned my neck to keep eye contact with you as my fingers walked up your chest, counting buttons from your waist to the hollow of your throat. Slowly, I unbuttoned each one with a single hand. Somehow all of the buttons cooperated, sliding easily from their holes. I didn't want to let go of you with my other hand. I needed to feel your fingers...palm...against mine. Even as I struggled slightly with the last button, I could feel the pad of your thumb gently massaging the back of my hand, easing my nervousness.

I finally released your hand and stood up while pulling your shirt from your body. Skin. Yours. Warm. Smooth. Camden. Breaking eye contact I slid my view down to your nipples and saw the small nipple rings. Without a word, I leaned forward and firmly licked each nipple with my tongue, flicking the rings a bit. My hands could feel your belly flinch when I drew your left nipple between my lips. I raised my head to see your face while saying, "See? I told you I needed you. You are wanted. Never doubt that. Not to mention," I said while smirking, "you taste quite delicious as well."

I suddenly felt the air rush from my body as you pushed me back onto the bed. Flat. Prone. My eyes were wide, searching your face. "Camden...what?"

"No worries, baby," you replied, urging my shoulders down onto the mattress while slowing straddling my hips, settling yourself firmly on top of me. You felt me tense and leaned down, whispering, "Hey, it's me. Breathe..." I followed your directive and watched as your face came closer, its planes much more distinct when you were this close. "Emma, I'm going to touch and taste every inch of you. I've waited...now it's time." And with that I closed my eyes, felt your mouth open on mine, grasped your strong thighs that kept me pinned flat to the bed. Again, a slight moan escaped from my throat telling you I wanted more. Your tongue and lips left mine as you sat up, staring down at me. I squinted at you, wondering at your plan until I felt more than saw your fingers sliding my top. I didn't have buttons and consciously sucked in my stomach knowing my top would be gone in a quick second.

"It's only fair," you murmured in a playful tone.

I'd played this moment over in my head more times than I could count. My scars didn't matter. I didn't need a stupid six-pack of abs for you to bounce a quarter on. I knew all of this yet felt more than an ounce of trepidation.

"Emma," you spoke softly yet had a grin on your face. I met your gaze. "You're not breathing again. One fell swoop, ok? It's coming off. I want you." I silently nodded my head as your hands grasped the hem of my top and began to pull it upward. Suddenly, I grabbed the fabric, frantically pulling in the other direction. "Emma...what...?""

In a rush, I replied, "Camden, I'm not perfect. The scars are ugly. They're big. They're not going away." I felt stupidity and embarrassment wash over me in a heavy tide.

You slid your palms over mine, trailing them up my arms, cupping my jaw, forcing me to look you in the eye, "I don't want perfect. I want you. The scars are part of you. They're not going away, huh? Neither am I. This is going to be painless. May I?" I saw the question in your eyes and heard the honesty in your voice. I slowly released the fabric from my hands and nodded my head while feeling your fingertips graze across my belly as you quickly pulled my top upward and over my head. I raised one hand to brush my hair from my eyes only to see you studying my torso.

Falteringly, I said, "Am I...ok?"

In the silence that followed I could hear your breathing, the rustle of your jeans as you adjusted your position on top of me, and my incessant heartbeat rushing in my ears. You were completely focused on my skin. I watched almost like a bystander, as you traced the scars with the index finger on your right hand. You lingered on the large spot near the top where one of the infections had left its mark. I felt the calluses from your work as they followed the line to my jeans where the pink scar extended past my waist. Still silent you leaned forward, placing both hands on either side of my ribs. I felt the mattress give with the weight of your body coming down and finally felt your tongue as it mimicked the path of my scar. The wet line causing goose bumps to appear on my pink-toned skin. My belly continued to jump on its own accord as you laid waste to my scars with your mouth. You finally ended your exploration at my waist; my jeans making further travels impossible. Raising your head you finally answered, "You, my baby, are ok." I knew what you meant...literally and figuratively, I was ok. "Now, you DO realize THESE," tugging at my jeans, "and this," barely tracing one bra-covered breast, "are going the way of our tops." Your boyish grin made me crack a smile and giggle.

"Truly, Camden, I'm sorry. I know I'm not making this easy for-"

"Stop. Now. It doesn't have to be easy. It just has to be us."