Artichoke Heart

He held out his arms and we hugged. A tight hug, maybe a longer hug than most friends might exchange in the same situation, but a platonic hug. I took the steps down and resisted the urge to look back over my shoulder to see if he was watching. It was hard, though.

//

The wedding was in Midtown and we'd made arrangements to meet at the 28th Street station. It was a gorgeous day, chilly, but with a bright blue, cloudless sky. I was waiting for him up on the street. As soon as I spotted him heading up the stairs—his auburn hair gleaming once he stepped into the late morning sun—my heart started to beat faster.

The previous night, after I got home, I'd been full of energy and determination like never before. I called up my brother Mark and told him I was going to divorce Steven. I'd thought it a million times, but saying it out loud had been so exciting, so empowering. His reaction of unwavering support and encouragement fortified my decision. I went to sleep feeling happy, truly happy and hopeful for the first time in years.

I woke early, for once without the blaring beep of my alarm, and drank my morning coffee by the window, my thoughts turning back to the previous night. I owed Danny so much for his kindness and understanding, and for drawing out my unpleasant truths. He'd unknowingly led me to make a decision I'd been unable to make for a long time.

I kept thinking about what he'd said, that I needed to remember who I was and that I was worth better, and I determined I would do just that; I'd remember, and I'd actively pursue what I felt I deserved. Only the best, from now on.

Danny's smile was so wide as he approached me. I felt its radiance like a sun, warming me all the way through. He greeted me in French and kissed my cheek. I caught just a hint of fragrance as he drew back.

"I have some news," I said once we'd said our hellos and headed down the street.

"Good news?"

I nodded and told him about my long conversation with my brother.

He stopped walking and looked at me. "C'est pas vrai," he breathed. "You've decided?"

"I don't want to become one of those horrible couples who fight all the time, who openly hate each other, but never split up. Like my parents. Married and miserable."

"Oh Ella. I am so happy for you." He hugged me, pressing a kiss on my cheek. He smiled at me for a second and then took my arm and we started to walk on. "This is the best news. I'm so proud of you."

"I have you to thank. Last night—I know I left the bar a little tipsy, but when I got home, I felt so clear-headed. So, thanks for listening. It helped more than I can tell you."

"We have to celebrate. We have to celebrate the start of your new life, of your something fantastic. Maybe we can skip out of the reception, go do something more fun. Anything you want."

"I don't want you to miss seeing your friends, Danny. Maybe we can go out for a drink after. Anyway, if I'm starting a new life, I can make every single day a celebration, right?"

He smiled, his blue eyes the same color as the sky. "Absolutely."

The wedding was lovely. Bigger than I expected, with more flowers than I'd ever seen in one place at one time before. I didn't even know either man, but I was moved by how sweet their vows were, and how clearly deeply in love they were. It set something inside me alight and I realized how much I missed that feeling, of loving and being loved. As I watched the newlyweds kiss, I silently hoped they wouldn't lose what they had, that they wouldn't fall out of love, or forget why they fell in love in the first place.

The reception was in the same venue, downstairs, in a beautiful ballroom. Over cocktails I had a chance to meet all Danny's old high school friends. They were all friendly, all gay, and though nobody asked, I could tell they were all curious who exactly I was. Danny had only introduced me by name, with no further clarification as to how we knew each other. Maybe he just wanted to leave them guessing, or maybe it hadn't been anything more than an accident, but it gave me a little bit of a thrill to think others were assuming we were a couple.

After we'd done a circuit of the room, Danny leaned close to me to be heard over the music.

"Do you want to leave? We could go somewhere else. I don't want you to be bored."

"I'm not. This is lovely. I know I don't know them, but I love seeing Brian and Matteo together, they look so happy."

We drifted to an empty table near the dance floor and sat. Across the room, the newlyweds were surrounded by friends and family, everyone smiling and laughing.

"They do, don't they?" He said, watching them for a moment before turning his attention back to me. "I didn't know you were such a romantic."

"You didn't? I'm embarrassingly romantic," I said. "You're not the only one who gets impossible crushes."

I thought of all the afternoons I spent with him as a kid, and how much his presence had affected me. It had been an intense feeling then, especially when I was just starting to understand why I was having the feelings in the first place. Now I knew why, and they were even more intense.

"I had such a huge crush on you, when you worked for us."

I don't know why I said it. Maybe the romance of the day had affected me. Or maybe I was feeling impulsive and reckless in my new life. Or maybe I'd lost my mind. I don't know, but I said it shyly, unable to meet his eyes.

"You did?Quoi!"

"Tell me you didn't notice." I was prepared to be mortified on behalf of my middle-school self. He shook his head, his face registering genuine disbelief. "Oh, thank God. I'd die if you told me you'd noticed."

He smiled then, a big grin. "That's so cute, Ella."

"I'm so embarrassed. Why did I tell you that?"

"How bad was it? Come on, feed my ego, Ella.Dîs-le-moi! Did you doodle my name on your folders? With hearts and stuff?"

I laughed. "Probably. I don't remember. It was really bad, though. I know I looked like I was doing homework, but I was just sneaking peeks at you."

He laughed, too. "Incredible. I had no idea."

"Thank God for that."

"Do you still like older men," he teased. "Or did you see any boy toys you might like to take home?" He was looking at me from above the rim of his glass. His expression was playful. "There are some cuties over there by the bar. They might not be too gay."

"Well, maybe you should go flirt with them," I said, happy to be moving away from my embarrassing confession. "This is your kind of crowd."

"Gay?"

"Well, yeah," I said laughing. "But that's not what I meant. I meant you could fall in love with anyone in this room and there'd be no danger of having to deal with the consequences, since you know it'll be over in a few days when you leave for France. You could safely spend a whole night with anyone and walk away without complications."

He considered, his eyes not leaving mine. "Huh. Are you saying, if I wanted to be with someone tonight, I could pick anyone in this room? Anyone at all?"

"Um..." The look on his face went straight through me like a wave, moving me as it passed. Parts of my body responded immediately, but my mouth took a second longer. "Ah..." I stared at him, suddenly full of an ache that had been there a long time, but I'd only just noticed. I had to swallow hard to get my reply out. "Yes. Anyone."

He didn't look away, and I felt trapped by his gaze. My heart went bump bump bump in my chest, not fast, but hard, like it was trying to get my attention.

He sipped his drink and then set it down. "That's something to think about," he said softly.

Finally his eyes shifted from mine and I felt myself exhale a breath I hadn't known I'd been holding.

He turned his head and I watched his eyes as he followed the action on the dance floor. "Do you dance? I know you used to do ballet. What about...?"

"I used to love to go to clubs in college, but it's been a while," I admitted. "I'm afraid I'll look like an ass."

"Well, there's something undeniably pathetic about a 45 year old white man on the dance floor. So, even if you look like an ass, I'm still gonna look worse." His eyes shifted, and he raised an eyebrow. "What do you think?"

I finished my drink first, draining my glass, thinking the alcohol might help with the nervousness I suddenly felt that had nothing to do with making an ass of myself, and everything to do with the way he'd looked at me a moment before.

I stood first and put my hand out. Danny took it and let me lead him to the dance floor.

Immediately I was transported back to college, to the nights my girlfriends and I had spent at the clubs. I felt the freedom I'd felt then, the life inside me. Back then, I hadn't doubted my ability to move, or my physical appeal; on the dance floor I'd always felt powerful and sexy. I felt it now, thumping inside me in time with the bass. And just like back then, I felt the possibility that something might happen with the cute boy dancing in front of me. When I searched his eyes as we danced, a crackling foot of electric attraction separating us, I saw that possibility mirrored back. I didn't care that this cute boy was a 45 year old man.

We went three songs, and then the DJ put something slow on. Couples merged all around us, but Danny and I stood there for a few seconds, just looking at each other. He reached for me first, and I moved uncertainly toward him. If it had happened yesterday, I wouldn't have hesitated. I would have let him hold me and never doubted he loved me, but loved me like family. It might have excited me, but I wouldn't have wondered if he was thinking what I was thinking, or if all the places where our bodies touched were sending pulsing waves of pleasure through his body, too.

We swayed together, very nearly eye-to-eye, wearing matching expressions of uncertain desire on our faces.

When he kissed me, everything seemed to stop around me. The music was muffled in my ears, and the lights bled and dimmed above us. If there were other people still on the dance floor, I didn't know it. All I felt was his hands on my waist, one pressing harder than the other, holding me close, and the heat of his skin where I'd linked my arms behind his neck. And his mouth—his mouth on mine. So warm and soft and exciting.

It was only one kiss, and then he drew back enough to move his mouth to my ear. I could feel his warm breath as we swayed together under the slowly pulsing lights.

"I know who I want to be with," he whispered into my ear. "Three hundred people in this room, but I only want one. I only want you. I want to be yoursomething fantastic, if only for tonight."

I could feel my pulse in my palms and my neck. I could feel it between my legs, too, urgent and suddenly more alive than I could ever remember.

"I understand if that's not what you want, but I needed to tell you. I needed to say it:Je suis amoureuse de toi." He drew back enough to look at me and said, "That translates roughly to: I am an idiot."

I laughed, but I knew what he'd said—that he'd admitted to being in love with me—and while it shouldn't have surprised me, given how he described his approach to love, his tendency to fall in love easily, it did thrill me and I felt my knees go a little weak. So many thoughts tumbled through my mind, but as I thought how to answer, I knew I'd already made my choice.

"I want to be with you, too."

"You're sure?"

I nodded, and we finished the slow dance in silence, eyes never moving from each others' faces.

We caught a taxi and spent the whole drive to my apartment kissing: soft, slow, sensuous kisses that made my whole body feel like I still had a bass line from the dance floor inside me, throbbing away. When I grew so turned on I had to lift my mouth from his to breathe, pressed his mouth to my ear and whispered softly how he wanted me, and what he wanted to do.

By the time we got to my building, I was in such a state of arousal I felt my knees buckle slightly as I stepped onto the sidewalk. Seeing him there in the elevator up to my apartment was surreal; he looked so attractive, so sexy, so out of place. I might have convinced myself I was dreaming except for his hand in mine.

I fumbled with my keys in my agitated state, but eventually got us inside. It was dark and chilly and empty and I breathed a sigh of relief out of habit.

I thought of showing Danny around, and I thought of offering him a drink, but I also thought of how his mouth had felt on mine in the taxi, and of all the things he'd whispered into my ear, and how much I wanted them to happen.

I can't remember how we got our coats off, or our shoes. I don't remember taking them off, or leading him down the short hallway to my room. But I remember the sight of him when I turned on the lamp by the bed, elegant and handsome in his suit jacket and vest, tall and lean with legs that went on forever, watching me with undisguised desire.

"Will you do something for me?" He was unbuttoning his vest buttons with one hand and tugging at the knot of his tie with the other. "Let me take charge," he said. He slid his tie from the collar of his shirt and tucked it into his jacket pocket, which he also removed. I watched his hand move to finish the buttons on his vest. "Just this first time. Let me make love to you, Ella. You don't have to do a thing, just relax."

"First time?"

He smiled. He dropped his jacket on a chair beside the door and added his vest and belt to the pile. He was undoing the buttons on his shirt cuff as he stepped toward me. Once he was close enough, he leaned forward and pressed his mouth to mine. He kissed me softly then lifted his mouth and said, "I want you." He kissed me again, allowing his tongue to slip between my lips before he drew back and repeated, "I want you. I want to make you feel so good. Better than you've ever felt. Better than you've ever dreamed you could feel." He kissed me a third time, drawing my lower lip gently between his. He sucked lightly. I moaned.

"Mmm I like that sound.Je te veux, ma chérie. My God, I want you in so many ways. But first, I want you to relax; you're so tense."

He drew back and held my gaze as he finished rolling up his sleeves. Once he had, he lifted my hands to his shoulders and put his on my waist. He pulled me toward him, close so our bodies met, and slid his hands up my back and down again, his fingers moving in waves all along my spine. I moaned unexpectedly, it felt so good.

"You hold everything in. Years and years of tension, no doubt. I can see it in your posture. Your gorgeous body is under so much stress."

I didn't deny it. I just sighed, my arms around his warm neck, as he kneaded the muscles on either side of my spine.

"Turn," he said softly, moving his hands back to my waist and urging me gently around. A moment later his hands moved up my back and landed at my neck, flexing gently. I felt immediate relief from a tension I no longer even noticed, with pleasure following closely behind. I couldn't remember the last time a man touched me with so much tenderness. I could feel the longing in my body for more.

"Your shoulders are so tight," he said softly. Then, "May I take off your dress? I'll give you a massage."

He waited for me to reply before he began to lower the zipper of my dress. I helped free my arms from the fabric and he held it while I stepped out. I stood for just a second in my bra and panties, turning to look over my shoulder at him as he dropped the dress over his own discarded clothes.

He smiled as he approached me again. He turned me to face him again and ran his hands over my bare arms. He let his eyes drop and they roamed over my body for a few seconds.

"You have such a beautiful body," he said in a voice low and soft, full of the sensual promises he'd made in the taxi. Then he kissed me softly again, his mouth open over mine and he ran his fingers up and down my bare back. When he lifted his mouth, he took a tiny step backward and started to undo the buttons on his shirt.

"I want you to lie down, Ella," he said. "On your stomach, please. Right in the middle of the bed."

I didn't question him, but I did hesitate. I backed up until I felt the bed touch my legs and sat down. He didn't speak, and for the next minute I watched as he undid the buttons on his shirt and slipped it from his arms.

His body was lean, and fit; he'd obviously seen the inside of a gym, but there was nothing sculpted about his torso, it was just nice in all the right ways. His shoulders were freckled, and though he had very little chest hair, it did trail down from his chest to his belly where it disappeared below the waistband of his trousers. My eyes couldn't help following that line, conjuring up images of what might lie beneath.

He repeated his request, and I obliged, though I longed to watch him undress completely. I climbed onto the bed, and took a few seconds to settle into the surface, my arms down along my body. I could hear the soft sounds of Danny continuing to undress behind me, and a thrill ran through me.

I felt the bed dip a few seconds later, then his warm hand on my leg as he moved next to me.

"Now, lie still, and we'll see if we can't relieve some of that tension, hmm?"

His hand moved up my thigh and over my ass, then continued higher until he reached the strap of my bra. He undid it and put both his hands on my back, just below my shoulder blade and began to knead the muscles there. The effect was immediate.

"Oh my God," I said, half into the bed's surface. "Danny that's so good."

"Let yourself relax," he said. "You've got years to let go of."

"Tell me about it." I closed my eyes and tried to enjoy the pleasure he was giving me, but my body was so unaccustomed to relaxing, I could feel my muscles resisting the work he was doing.

"You're doing great," he said, as if he could tell I was struggling. Maybe he could. "Just let it go. Focus on my touch and let yourself relax."

It took conscious effort on my part, but I felt the tension gradually lessen. My body eased into the soft surface of the bed. I couldn't help the moans and sighs that escaped my lips as he worked his way up my shoulder to my neck, but I could tell by the way he responded with soft laughs that he found my vocalizations amusing.

Before he switched sides, he undid the fasteners in my hair and took a few seconds to run his fingers through the whole length. It was as exciting as the massage, as his kisses, and I realized just how pleasure-starved I was.

Then his hands focused on the other side of my back and shoulders, and I resumed my sighing and moaning. I was hot all over. It felt like my blood was rushing through me, heating me up. At different places, I could feel my pulse, slow and strong.

"Can you roll over? I need to get at the back of your neck, but I don't want to suffocate you."

"That's kind of you," I said as I started to shift from my stomach.

As I rolled, he reached for my bra and slid it from my arm, waiting until I was on my back to slip it all the way off. At the same time, he was moving from the bed's surface. I caught sight of his erect cock and his dark red pubic hair, just as he turned away. My stomach tensed with excitement.

He dropped my bra on top of my dress and came around the bed toward my head. I craned my neck as he walked, admiring his body. He had an older man's body. There wasn't anything I could put my finger on, and it didn't matter; I was far from disappointed by what I saw.

"I'm going to pull you closer," he said once he'd reached the other side of the bed. "Just a little."

His hands moved under my shoulders and he slid me toward him, until my head was almost at the edge. "Perfect," he said, smiling down at me. He drew my long hair out from under my neck and combed his fingers through it while I watched him, upside down. Then he slid both hands under my head and I felt the light pressure of his fingers as he worked them along the muscles that ran from my neck to my head.