The Second First Time

This was her first time in an airport. She -- a timid wallflower, an anxious, lanky introvert, a girl with emotional hang-ups & hypersensitivity -- was meeting someone.

The way they met made her cringe, for she believed that dating websites were only for pathetic people looking for a quick fix for their broken hearts. Perhaps sub-consciously that's what she was looking for -- a quick fix for her own broken heart -- though her initial reason for joining wasn't to find a companion, but to entertain the idea of one. She found great intrigue in signing up for dating websites just to browse through endless profiles of strangers' faces, silently hoping to come across somebody that struck her fancy. It was sort of a voyeuristic hobby, & for as long as she's indulged in it she's never once found what she was looking for, if she was looking for anything at all. So it was purely serendipitous that he found her.

Within moments of their first e-conversation, he became instantly smitten without knowing much about her at all. He was quick to establish an intimate connection, regardless of how she felt about him. He said he felt they knew each other in their previous lives, which explained why he was so drawn to her initially. (She doesn't believe in reincarnation.) He even sent her flowers once, how he got her home address he would never tell. His forwardness made her wary of him, yet she found herself enjoying the fact that she was getting attention & affection; albeit, through a computer screen. She never intended for things to become so serious; serious in the sense that he started putting money aside for a plane ticket to come see her. & now, she finds herself sitting alone on a bench in an airport, waiting for him to arrive.

Her heart was fluttering as though it was filled with a thousand baby butterflies. She was nervous & in terrible suspense; it didn't help at all that his flight was said to be 20 minutes late. She suddenly began to question what she had gotten herself into.

She really didn't know much about him, other than the fact that he was single, lived in New York City, & traveled a lot for business. She didn't know his mannerisms; she didn't know his last name; she didn't even really know what he looked like. The picture that was shown in his only profile photo was of a strong, shadowy silhouette with unbelievably dark eyes. (His photography skills, he explained, involved only pressing a button with the hopes he captured a picture; nevermind the flash, the lighting, the poses.) The fact that she knew so little about him, yet he was practically sticking to her like white on rice, was enough to make her call the whole thing off. She could make up an excuse; she was really good at those. They could always do it again some other time, when it was more convenient for her nerves. Maybe the timing was all wrong.

Just as she was starting to stand up to walk to her car, she caught a glimpse of him. Or perhaps it wasn't him, she didn't really know. But his profile resembled that of the out of focus photograph of the man she was getting to know through her computer screen. When she allowed herself to accept that it just might be him, she was able to focus on what he really looked like. The first thing she noticed was his height; he was overwhelmingly tall in the sense that she would be lucky if she reached above his belly button. His facial features were strong, but his face showed a softness she wasn't familiar with. He was dressed in comfortable clothes, perfect for a 3 hour flight from New York but not so much for going out to dinner, which was the plan after they got him settled in his hotel room. & he was carrying a giant teddy bear holding a heart. She assumed it was for her.

He obviously hadn't seen her yet.

Knowing this, & watching as he anxiously searched for her face in the busy crowd of travelers, made her even more compelled to leave him there. For one, she wasn't quite sure if she was attracted to him; if she was going strictly by her previous history with men, he wasn't her type. & then of course there was his size. His lengthy stature intimidated her. She then caught herself wondering how it might be to fuck him, their difference in height might makes things a little tricky. But she promptly pushed that thought away, appalled that she allowed her mind to venture in that direction.

Her conscience ended up getting the best of her as she realized that she couldn't just leave him stranded at the airport. He told her a few days prior that he had no friends or family in California, so she was really & truly his only reason for being there. Against her better judgment, she found herself walking towards him, slowly & cautiously, trying to smile through her nervousness.

He eventually turned in her direction & finally caught sight of her, flashing a smile that practically lit up the entire building. He reached out his arms to embrace her, telling her how happy he was to finally meet her. & just like she presumed, she wasn't much taller than the placement of his belly button.

They drove to his hotel in silence, though his luminous smile still played lightly on his lips. Every so often she could see in her peripheral vision that he was looking at her. This made her feel awkward.

"How was your flight?" she asked, her voice breaking the silence with a quick swipe.

"Oh, it was great!" he exclaimed, his voice exuding too much excitement. "Can't beat those free peanuts they give you."

She forced herself to chuckle but continued to keep her eyes on the road.

When they arrived at his hotel, she stayed in the lobby, not daring to even know what his hotel room number was. She didn't want to give him any leeway to assume the way this visit would start or end. Fifteen minutes later, the elevator doors near the front entrance opened, & there he stood. He had changed into a long sleeved, button-up shirt (internally, she breathed a sigh of relief that he at least had good taste in clothing), tucked into a pair of nicely worn jeans. He walked up to her & took a bow, hoping to make her smile. She did. He then took her arm into his -- his height made her reach up a little ways to get a good grip on the crook of his forearm -- & they walked this way until they reached an Italian restaurant close by.

Sitting at their table, looking through the wine menu, she fidgeted with her dress. She wished she had worn the blue one instead, because the collar wasn't as low. But the black one showed off her curves nicely; especially her breasts, as the neckline plunged low near the small birthmark close to her sternum. She silently wished she could go change.

They eventually chose a red wine. He ordered seafood fettuccine for himself & she, chicken parmesan, even though she knew she wouldn't finish it. As the waitress left their table to fill their order, she hiked up her neckline again. She was starting to form a bad habit.

"I like your dress," he said sincerely. She felt embarrassed for having brought attention to herself & her breasts. She didn't like being the center of attention.

"Thank you," she said, smiling kindly. "I usually don't wear them on dates..." She trailed off after she misused the word "date." That wasn't what this was.

"Oh, is that what we're calling it then?" He laughed before taking a small sip of pinot noir. "I thought this was a business dinner." His teasing made her uncomfortable. She took a long swig of her own wine glass before asking, "Is this your first time in California?"

"It sure is," he said, his voice much louder than it needed to be. "I don't usually come out to the west coast because most of my family lives on the east. But then I saw your profile picture & was mesmorized. I just knew I had to come meet you face to face."

She took another long swig. "How was your flight?" she asked, dabbing her lips with a cloth napkin. He grinned widely, flashing his brilliant white smile again. "You asked me that already, remember? In the car?" How could she forget; it was the only bit conversation they had during the drive to his hotel. She felt her face get hot in embarrassment. Or maybe it was the wine.

Their food came shortly after. He talked most of the time, which made for less than polite table manners, but took the pressure off of her to keep the conversation going. He talked about his cubicle job, his impromptu trip to St. Lucia last year, his twin brother, his modest apartment in the city.

"But enough about me," he said suddenly, mid-story. "Tell me more about you."

She giggled, feeling the wine a little now. "What would you like to know?"

"I want to know everything about you." He stopped to gaze at her, & instead of looking away, she stared back at him with interest, a tiny smile playing on her lips. It was then she noticed that he had green eyes, not brown. Just like his.

Breaking their tipsy reverie, he said, "Well, I guess the first place to start is how long you've lived in the area?"

She twirled pasta on her fork delicately as she said, "I've lived here all my life. Born & raised. It's all I know."

"Wow," he exclaimed, sitting back in his chair. "Aren't you bored? I mean, if I live in one place too long I get restless. I like the thrill of getting acquainted with a new town, a new house, a new lifestyle. I couldn't imagine staying in one place for all of my life."

"I like familiarity," she said defensively. "I find comfort in it."

"Hey, as long as you're happy here, I'm happy for you." He signaled the waitress with his long arm & asked for more wine. The waitress began to pour her another glass, but she declined. She was his chauffer tonight & three glasses was her limit.

"So I bet it must be weird to see all of your ex-boyfriends around here all the time..."

"Ex-boyfriend," she said softly.

"What?"

"Ex-boyfriend. It's singular. I've only had one." She finished off the last sip of wine in her glass.

"Are you kidding? I don't believe that. You, only one boyfriend? You're a little hottie! Any guy would be a fool not to want you." His compliment was kind, but she questioned his choice of the word 'hottie' to describe her. She had hoped that she was more than that. Intelligent, sophisticated, good company...

When he noticed her silence, he added, "So are you still friends with your ex?"

"Why does that matter?" she snapped.

"Sorry, I was just trying to make conversation."

She felt crazy for allowing that question to get the best of her. She promptly apologized & willed herself to focus on her dinner.

The rest of the meal was eaten in awkward silence, & she preferred it that way. The more he talked, the less she liked him. He was brash, corny, & loud; not to mention, he talked with his mouth open. The only thing keeping her from using one of her excuses to get away from him was the fact that she couldn't deny that being with him was better than being alone at her apartment, watching shitty television. & despite her indifference to him, she really wanted to try to like him, or to at least have a good time. This was her opportunity to come out of her shell, to do something out of the ordinary. So what if he wasn't her type? They could still be friends.

& with that, she ordered another glass of wine.

***

She really couldn't remember how she ended up in his hotel room, room #612. Not that she was that far gone with the wine; she just didn't remember there ever being a conversation that indicated that's what was happening next. She was obviously comfortable enough to follow him eagerly to his room, though she didn't know why. Why did she have to drink so much wine?

"Hey, did you hear me?" His deep voiced bellowed into her thoughts.

"What? I'm sorry..."

"You're certainly a lightweight." He smiled fondly at her, as though this god-forsaken curse of alcohol hitting her too quickly was attractive. "I had asked you if you'd like some more wine, but I'm thinking it might be best that you not have another drop." He was corking a bottle of white wine that he'd brought with him in his suitcase. He had poured two glasses, even though she had neither accepted nor declined his offer.

"Oh, no... I'm okay. I just have a lot on my mind. I'll take another." He handed her a glass & she sipped it gingerly.

"I'd ask what you are thinking about," he started, "but I think some things are better left private. Especially your thoughts." He winked at her as he downed his wine. He poured another glass, his tall frame leaning up against the ledge at the mini-bar. When his glass was filled, he walked towards her sitting on the bed. She almost started to stand, not wanting to get too close to him on a bed of all places, but the wine was making her head spin a little & she felt more comfortable sitting.

As he sat on the bed, he began unbuttoning his shirt.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," she said, finding enough willpower to stand, though she almost backed into the bathroom door. "This is not where we're taking this."

He laughed his good natured laugh, more at her rather than to himself. "Relax, sweetheart. I'm only loosening up a bit. Like you said at dinner that you don't usually wear dresses on a date, I don't usually wear button-up shirts." There was that word again: date.

"I think I should go." She turned toward the door, but stumbled over her own feet. She would've fallen over if he weren't quick to catch her. The whole time, he was chuckling softly. "I don't think you should be going anywhere, missy," he said teasingly. "You've obviously had a bit too much to drink tonight." He helped her back to a sitting position on the bed, where she contemplated resting her head on the fluffy white pillows.

"No, no, no. I'm fine." She smoothed her hair & her dress, trying to gain her composure. "I just need some air." But it wasn't air she needed. What she needed was to sober up. She really didn't want to stay here tonight.

"Listen," he started, kneeling beside her. "How about I make you a cup of coffee, complimentary of the hotel. It's a generic brand & it's going to taste like shit, but it'll help sober you up." She then realized that his hand was resting on her knee, stroking it lightly. She couldn't deny that the warmth of his hand & the smell of his cologne made her taken care of. She held his gaze as she studied his face. She hadn't actually looked at it with great detail since she first saw him in the airport, & she was sorry she hadn't paid much attention to his handsome features. He had tiny little freckles around his nose & she could see that he had missed a few hairs on his upper lip while shaving. & his lips... his lips were deliciously plump. She wondered what it might be like to press hers against them, & that thought made her woozy. She started to slump over a bit.

"Whoa, easy there," he said, grabbing her arms firmly but with a kind of softness that rocked babies to sleep. "Here, why don't you lay down for a minute, okay? I'll make you that coffee."

She relented & laid her heavy head on the bed. She inhaled deeply & smelled the familiar scent of fabric softener she used at home. It made her relax a bit more; it reminded her of the clothesline at his place in the valley, the one they almost moved in together. She remembered that look he used to get in his eyes right before he kissed her; the way his eyes would undress her as his lips lingered near her own; the way he was so easily turned on by her, even if he was just watching her brush her hair. She remembered all those times where they made love in backyard, using their freshly clean clothes as padding underneath them. In that moment, she missed him more than she had allowed herself to in the last 6 months.

"Why did you leave me, you bastard?" she whispered softly into the hotel room.

"I'm sorry?" He broke her thoughts with his deep, booming voice, approaching the bed with a fresh cup of black coffee in a complimentary paper cup.

"I didn't say anything," she lied. She propped herself on her elbow, grasping the paper cup in both hands. She took a few cautious sips of the hot beverage -- which tasted like coffee-flavored water -- & tried to shake her previous thoughts. She set down the coffee cup on the nightstand beside her & relaxed back onto the bed once more. It felt good to lie down.

Seconds later, she could feel the weight of his lean body as he laid down with her from behind, putting his arm around her, spooning her as if they had done this several times before. She allowed herself to melt into his body as she felt the rhythm of his breathing. In this moment, she contemplated sleeping there after all. Their bodies fit perfectly together.

She was starting to drift off to sleep when she felt his lips on the back of her neck, kissing gently, breathing softly. She tensed up a little, nearly moving herself away from him... but she just lied there, enjoying the feel of his soft lips on her neck. She closed her eyes & parted her lips, letting out a small sound of arousal, unable to keep it within her. He continued kissing her neck just as softly as he started; the only thing that changed was the rhythm of his breathing. It was a bit faster now. As his breathing increased, so did his movements, as he started to lightly lick the back of her neck, his kisses becoming more intense, more passionate. This made her entire body tingle with a kind of sensation you feel when you're being tickled, & it brought on a pleasure so deep that it began to harness itself in between her legs.

Her breathing became more rapid as she could feel him growing hard on the small of her back. His hands were on her breasts, stroking, gripping; his lips & tongue never ceasing to tease her. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore; she faced him in an instant & pressed her lips against his, wanting a taste of what he left on the back of her neck. He parted his mouth & thrust his tongue in her mouth in lust.

They fumbled at each other's clothes, feverishly undressing each other, their lips still fondling each other. As she helped him undo the button on his jeans, her hand grazed his hard cock. He wasn't wearing underwear.

"Take them off," she breathed, coming up for air from a kiss that seemed endless. He gracelessly took off his jeans while she undid the hooks of her bra. She, sitting up with her knees on the bed, he standing up in front of her, his erection pointing straight at her face, tantalizing her. It was the largest cock she'd ever seen -- then again, she had only seen one.

Without even thinking about it, she put him in her mouth, licking, sucking, making his cock slippery with her spit. She moved her hands up & down his erect shaft in sync with her swirling tongue, putting all her efforts in pleasing him. A deep groan escaped his lips as she continued pleasuring him with her hot mouth. She was becoming wet at the mere sounds of his enjoyment.

"God damn," he moaned, playing with his balls. "Fuck, that feels good."

As she continued to suck him, his breathing became sporadic, his face grimacing in ecstasy. Right before he was about to lose control, he put his hands overs hers, which was gripping his cock, stopping her, telling her to slow down. "I want this to last," he said hoarsely.

She looked up from his cock & into his green eyes & said, "I want you." She laid on her back & lifted her legs in the air to take off her panties. She closed her eyes & spread her legs wide, inviting him to explore her with his own mouth. He kneeled in front of her & put his stubbly face in between her legs, teasing her clit with his tongue, alternating between fast flicks & slow, deep licks.

"You taste divine," he said suddenly, glancing at her from her pussy. "Like pumpkin pie." He inserted his ring finger into her hot pussy, moving it in & out as he kissed her clit, making her writhe in delight.

"Mmm, just like that. Oh, god..."

Seconds later, unable to hold back any longer, she climaxed hard, her body convulsed with electrifying aftershocks.