Seeing Stars

It took me a minute to compose my thoughts. Once I did, I asked a few simple questions—whether she was a student, how long she'd lived in the city, if she lived alone and she answered each just as simply, interrupting herself a few times to give me directions toward her neighborhood.

"What do you really want to ask me, Eliot?" She turned her body slightly so her torso was facing me and I felt her looking at me carefully. "I mean really ask me."

An understatement. I had so many questions, I wasn't sure where to start.

"Surely you have a boyfriend?" I blurted out.

She laughed and shook her head.

"No, not really," she said. "I have a lover, though."

"A lover?" I couldn't help my curious interest.

"Yeah, he's someone I've known forever. We're not a couple or anything, just, you know, lovers."

She said it casually, but I could see her watching my reaction.

"Ira's older—maybe a little younger than you are—and he lives in California, so he's not around much, but when he is, he stays for a week or two. He has family around here."

A hundred new questions popped into my head, but I was quiet for a second, letting the words soak into my brain. She had a lover. An older lover. Younger than me, but that made him at least in his 40's.

"We see other people, though. Neither of us wants a relationship. And it just wouldn't work out anyway, with the distance, so we're not really a couple. Actually, he encouraged me to approach you."

"He did?" I looked at her with surprise.

She nodded. "I told him about you."

"About me?" My body reacted immediately. I felt myself go hot and the ache in my lap intensified.

She nodded again. "Mmhmm."

I wasn't sure what she could have told him, but decided I didn't want to ask. I turned my attention back to the road.

"I told him you hadn't asked me out, even though I'd been super obvious about being interested in you. Jesus, I practically draped myself all over you, Eliot. How'd you miss that?" She laughed to herself, and her teasing only made me grow harder. "Anyway, Ira told me I should just ask you out. So I did."

I shifted in my seat, wishing I could adjust myself to make room for my aching erection.

"Anything else you want to know?"

Only a hundred things. Only everything. Who was this guy—her mysterious older lover who wanted her to ask me out? What kind of relationship did they have that he'd actually encourage her to date? Who did that?

"He's really OK with you dating other men?"

"Sure. We don't have a normal relationship. I mean, it's...well, it's complex, you know? The age thing, and the fact that it's long distance, and...well, it just wouldn't make sense for us to be a couple. We're really close, though. It's not just about the sex."

The word seemed to hang in the air for a few seconds, lingering between us, tainting the air the way the sweet strawberry scent of Stella did when she was nearby.

"But there are too many things about it that would make it weird as a relationship. So..."

It seemed like she was holding something back, but I wasn't sure what. I didn't want to press her, but my curiosity about this man had been stirred up.

"What does he do?"

"Ira? Oh, he's a personal trainer in LA. He helps people work out." She laughed. "And they pay him ridiculous amounts of money. I think some of his clients are celebrities or something, I don't know." She waved her hand in the air dismissively, her silver bracelets jingling musically. "I don't care about celebrities, all I know is he works out for a living, so it's pretty much his dream come true."

An image popped into my head, unbidden, of a good looking, muscular middle-aged man with a California tan and a gleaming smile. Why, if she had that guy, was she interested in me? And where did this sudden feeling of insecurity come from?

"Is it too weird?" She looked at me carefully. "Are you freaked out?"

"No," I said quickly. "It's just..."

She reached out and her hand touched mine for just a second, her fingers light and hot on my skin. "Because I like you, Eliot. I know I'm really forward and probably making you uncomfortable, but I've been wanting to get to know you for so long. I think you're really sweet..."

I stared ahead blankly, my pulse growing faster, my thickening penis so constricted by the layers of fabric it was beginning to hurt.

"And now that I've gotten to talk to you a little, I want to know you even better. I want you to come back to my apartment, Eliot. Tonight."

I didn't look at her, but there could be no mistaking her intentions at that moment; the car was full of an electric desire.

"I don't know, Stella," I said, half alarmed, half dazed. I wanted to say yes, but I wasn't sure I could handle her, and that was the truth. "I think...I think you're out of my league."

I spared a quick glance and saw her face transform into exaggerated excitement. "You're in a league? Cool! What one? The League of Sexy Civil Servants?"

I laughed nervously. Had she just called me sexy?

"What are you worried about? Is it the age difference?"

"No," I said. "Well, yes, a little, but not really. What I mean to say is, I think I'm not...I don't have..."

I could feel her still looking at me, even as she directed me up residential streets toward her apartment. I had no idea what I was worried about, but I knew I felt in over my head. This girl was wild, impulsive, and highly sexual. She was the kind of girl my mother would have warned me about if we'd ever had such conversations.

And while her advance was exciting beyond belief, and I felt better at this moment than I'd felt in decades, I wasn't sure I could hold my own, so to speak. She had far more experience than I did, and the idea was thrilling, but terrifying at the same time. I was twice her age. Could I keep up with her? Could I compare with Ira?

"It's been a long time..." I said finally, recognizing that the statement didn't even begin to scratch the surface of what I was feeling at that moment.

"How long?"

I tried to remember the last time my wife and I had had sex. I couldn't.

"Too long to remember," I admitted.

She put her hand on my arm and leaned closer.

"Then you definitely need to come in," she said, not looking out the windshield. "I'm all the way at the end of this street. 236. On the right. You can pull up in front of the house and park on the street."

My heart surged and for a half a minute neither of us spoke as I pulled up in front of a dark, two-story brick building.

"What are you worried about?" She asked again.

I turned off the motor and looked at her. She seemed so much closer than before. Her expressive brown eyes showed curiosity and concern; she was taking me very seriously. I could smell her perfume or shampoo, something soft and girly with an edge of sweetness to it.

"I'm not that scary am I?"

I didn't answer. In part because I was scared and it seemed ludicrous, but also because she was leaning toward me, coming closer. Her hand touched my knee and I jumped, the contact reverberating through my whole body, cranking up my arousal.

I have heard that in times of intense stress or emotion a person can dissociate from the actual events and view them as if from afar, disconnected and protected to a degree from the sensory experiences. Maybe that's what happened to me as Stella leaned close. I calmly observed the fullness of her pink lips, noticed the brief glimpse of her tongue as she wet them, and felt the slow movement of her hand as it crept higher and higher up my thigh. I'd never thought a kiss could be traumatic, but the closer Stella's mouth got to mine, the more I knew without a doubt she was about to turn my whole world upside down; nothing would be the same again.

She didn't close her eyes at first. She pressed her lips to mine and kissed me softly. She watched me for a second and I could feel her testing me, waiting to see if I'd object. When I didn't, she closed her eyes and kissed me again, her lips unbelievably soft against mine. Meanwhile, her hand crept higher still and I caught myself gripping my seat in tense anticipation. My head felt heavy and thick as I began to feel the pleasure, my rational brain no longer holding me back, and when I finally kissed her back she reacted with a tiny hum of excitement.

I was hard and aching and her hand still moved upward, stroking my thigh, intensifying the discomfort I was feeling. It was almost impossible to not shift in my seat and adjust myself to give my erection room to grow, but at the same time I felt frozen in place, afraid to do anything that might break the spell.

Stella's tongue split my lips and she turned her head slightly, angling the kiss, dragging her tongue along my bottom lip. I groaned and then groaned again as she sucked my lip between her teeth briefly. The heat and the pressure made my distressed erection throb painfully, and then her hand slid across it and I groaned a third time, louder and with more than a little desperation.

She drew back and I could see the excitement in her expression. She looked down, her hand just teasingly running along the length of my penis. When she looked back up at me she smiled, pleased.

"Stella..." I thought I should assert myself, slow things down, or stop them somehow. I had no idea how.

"Come inside, Eliot," she said softly. "We can do anything. Anything you want...and we can go slow...and if all you want to do is talk, we can do that..."

I was turned on and thrilled by the situation, but I was afraid too. I was afraid of my own inexperience, and a little afraid of her. I knew it was ridiculous, but nothing I'd ever done in my life had prepared me for this—for a headstrong woman's sexual appetite.

"Stella, I don't think—"

"Just come inside," she said. "I won't make you do anything you don't want to do. OK? I won't hurt you, silly."

I managed a nervous laugh.

"But I warn you: I have a few tricks, and I'm not afraid to use them."

There was a note of seriousness in her teasing, and I had no doubt she had at her disposal many tricks. I also had no doubt I'd fold, that it wouldn't take much to convince me to stay. She certainly didn't have to convince me to follow her, and soon she was turning a key in a dark doorway at the back of the house. She led me through into complete darkness and as the door clicked shut behind me I felt my heart jump.

She flicked on the light and I found myself standing at the bottom of a narrow, wooden staircase. The floor was littered with discarded shoes and behind me I found Stella shrugging her way out of her coat at the same time she was adding her shoes to the pile. I paused, staring for a second at her bare feet and the glitter of her toenails, noticing it matched her fingers.

"No shoes upstairs," she said, and I almost took a step back when she knelt in front of me and began to untie them. "If you don't mind."

With her face level with my crotch and the strange, intimate sensation as she untied each of my shoes and held them as I stepped out, I felt my whole body go hot. My erection had waned a little since we'd left the car, but the close proximity to Stella's mouth perked it right back up. She put my shoes to the side and paused for a half a second, looking up at me with eyes full of suggestive desires.

The whole scene was surreal to me. Nothing, I mean nothing in my life had been half this exciting. I tried to reach back into my memory to find something to compare it to, but nothing came close. My first kiss? The first time I'd had sex? I wondered if I'd even been alive all those years.

When she stood she trailed her hand up my body letting it stop on my growing erection at the same time she stood up on her tip toes, offering her mouth for a kiss. I didn't hesitate to meet her and she let her hand continue up my body, traveling up my chest to curl around my neck and pull me closer, more deeply into the kiss. At the same time she pressed herself against me, trapping my erection between us and making my mind go temporarily blank from the pleasure. Oh, she knew some tricks, alright.

She drew back, letting go of me and turned, making her way up the stairs. I followed without needing an invitation and enjoyed the view I had of her backside twitching beneath the silky fabric of her skirt as she climbed the stairs. She unlocked the door at the top of the stairs and stepped through into darkness. I trailed behind and waited until she turned on the light.

The room we entered was a riot of color and for a moment I was struck by how familiar it seemed until I realized it looked like Stella—exactly the way I would have imagined her apartment to be decorated. It was tiny, a kitchen and dining area on the far wall, two doors to our right I assumed were a bathroom and a bedroom, and the living room in which we stood.

She grabbed my hand and pulled me into the apartment, closing the door behind me, and twirled around excitedly, her skirt flaring as she did, the hem rising on her thighs.

"Oh my God, this is so exciting," she squealed. "You have no idea."

I would have been incredulous, but she didn't give me time. She backed away from me, her expression pure delight. "Just give me one minute, OK?"

I was stunned and for a second just stared as she retreated and entered one of the rooms to our right, closing the door softly behind her. Then I took in my surroundings, still in a daze. There were bookcases crammed with books and CD's, a long couch covered with bright, patterned pillows. On the walls were hung large pieces of printed fabric in rich, earthy reds and golds, giving the room a warm, cozy feeling.

My eye was drawn to a bulletin board near the kitchen—or more specifically, to the photos pinned there. I scanned them, smiling each time I recognized Stella in one of her many incarnations. One showed her with a group of older men and women and I guessed they were her family—they had the exact same mischievous smile. Another showed her with some people who looked to be her age, friends I assumed, and then my eyes were drawn to one of her and a man with dark hair. I judged him to be a few years younger than me, in his 40's, with wavy hair to his shoulders and a wide smile. He had his arm around Stella's shoulder and she was laughing, open-mouthed, looking beautiful. They looked totally at ease, and completely happy. He was very good looking, and I was surprised to find my spirits sinking as I compared myself to him, certain this was her lover, Ira.

He seemed virile and strong, although it was hard to tell his physique by what little showed in the photo, but the arm around her shoulder had muscles mine never had. I remembered her saying he worked out for a living and felt my heart sink; I'd never lifted a weight in my life.

I knew I wasn't an ugly man, but I was no prize catch either. My blonde hair was thinning, my face was lined, and my body was undeniably the body of a man who had done nothing more strenuous in his life than run to catch the bus. I hadn't gained weight in middle age the way some of my friends had, if anything I felt thinner and bonier than ever, but I felt each and every one of my 47 years weighing me down.

I stared at the photo, imagining Stella must feel very safe in those strong arms. Ira's expression was so confident, so relaxed, like he had no cares in the world and all the energy to shower Stella with the love and affection she deserved. I sighed, feeling a little defeated.

Stella appeared at my elbow and ran her hand up my arm.

"Ohh," she said as she leaned against me, looking at the photo and then up at my face. I felt her studying me, but couldn't tear my eyes away from the photo. "That's not a happy expression," she observed.

She tugged at my arm I tore my eyes from those grinning faces, giving her my full attention.

"It's freaking you out, isn't it?" she said, looking uncertain. "That I have this other lover."

I shook my head. "No, it's not that." I realized it was true; I didn't mind that she had other lovers. "That doesn't bother me. I'm not jealous either. It's more that I can't understand..." I glanced over at the photo again without thinking. "What you could possibly see in me compared to him?"

"Well, what's so wrong with you?" she asked. She took both my hands and put them on her waist.

I laughed uncomfortably. "I'm not a young man anymore, Stella. I'm not fit or muscular...I'm losing my hair...I'm—"

"Just how shallow do you think I am, Eliot?" She gave me an exaggerated expression of offense. "You think I'm only attracted to one kind of man? Besides, sexy just is, you can't explain it, and I think you're sexy, what else is there to say?"

"You think I'm sexy." I repeated, my voice complete disbelief. "Stella, I'm not sexy."

She laughed, her bright face stretching in a grin and she ran her hands up my chest slowly, following the edges of my jacket lapels.

"That's not what I think," she said smiling a hungry smile.

"But—"

"Oh whatever. Your opinion doesn't matter." She stepped a little closer and continued moving her hands up my chest. "You don't get to tell me what turns me on."

I knew she had a point—that explaining attraction wasn't always straight forward, but still...

"I don't know what it is, Eliot. I know I like talking with you, and you're nice. Nice can be sexy, you know," she added, seeing my expression of disappointment. "I like your smile, and your blue eyes, and the creases around your mouth when you laugh." My hands twitched involuntarily against her waist. I could tell she was being honest, she wasn't just stringing me along or stroking my ego.

"I like that you're so smart, and generous...and sweet. To be honest, I've never been with a guy who was sweet like you are. I don't know...I just wondered what you were like, what it would be like to be with you. I was curious."

I stared at her, not sure what to think. Was I just a sexual lark? And if so, was that a bad thing?

"And the more I thought about you, the more I wondered what you were really like, the more I wanted to know. You're always so polite. You're like...a total gentleman."

"Ira's not a gentleman?" I asked before I could stop myself; it sounded so jealous.

"Oh my God," she laughed. "No! Ira is...oh man, Ira's just Ira." She shook her head. "He's...I don't even know." She laughed again and I wanted to press her for more details but she spoke before I could, and the more serious tone of her voice made me listen instead.

"Eliot," she said softly. "I want you. I mean, I really want you—right now. Just you." She slid her hands higher and began to remove my jacket. There was something persuasive in the gentle tone of her voice and I realized she was trying to reassure me. "You worry too much. I'm turned on by you, isn't that enough? Let's just let it happen. Nothing else matters but right now, right here. You and me."

Reluctantly I let my hands slip from her waist and allowed her to push my jacket from my arms. I watched her drape it carefully over the arm of the couch, understanding what she was saying. I knew I was being a fool to even worry about Ira when she obviously had every intention of seducing me.

"Just let it happen," she said. "Let it feel good."

She stepped backward, leading me toward the room she'd disappeared into a minute earlier, and excitement dulled my insecurity. I let her pull me silently toward the open door.

My heart quickened as we entered and immediately I could feel myself getting hard again when I spotted the bed against one wall and knew that was our destination. I took in the room in one quick scan, barely looking, but my eye pausing on a few things—an overflowing closet displaying an impressive array of color, an untidy bookshelf full of novels, and above the bed a print of what looked like a stained glass window in deep cobalt blue with images of birds and stars rising up.