This Is How You Know

A few weeks after we returned, she took on a new project. A cigarette company needed help with their marketing strategy, now that the noose of legislation was cutting off the last advertising space they had on their very own packets. Alice jumped at the chance. Tom asked me if I'd like to come along, but even though it would mean working beside her every day, that was a little far even for me. While I was happy drawing a salary contributing nothing of value to the world, I thought it might be an idea not to actively makes things worse.

(I found out some years later that the bank I consulted for spent most of their time figuring out how to charge dead people and the infirm fees for things they didn't need, and a construction company I worked with did so many corrupt lands deals in Asia that some of their executives came up on Interpol watch lists. I find it a little more difficult to be high-minded now than my younger self did then.)

She was away from the office much more, and many Fridays wouldn't come in at all. I started noticing larger and larger lags in her responses to my emails. The reason quickly became apparent after she introduced me to her new teammate, Jacub, a rather insipid looking Pole from the London office. After seeing them together a few times, seeing their body language and easy looks, it was clear that they were sleeping together.

It's not easy to convey how much that galled me. Rationally, I could see what she was thinking. She knew I had a girlfriend, and saw little chance of anything serious happening between us, so why bother? Far better to invest in someone available. Someone who could take her out on dates, and share chocolate with her; someone who could lie beside her till 3 a.m. talking about Bach and the Bachelor. It made sense.

And yet, it was like all the air had left my lungs. Over the following few weeks I became listless, depressed, and prone to sudden rages and outbursts. Everyone in my life noticed the change, and kept inquiring what had gone wrong. Of course, I didn't tell anyone that I had had a road to the stars snatched from me moments after being revealed. I had to conclude that she hadn't felt what I had on the island, and that this tempest whirling inside me had no counterpart in her.

So how did I handle this? With grace, wisdom, and humility? Did I, perhaps, bless my good fortune that I had only gone so far, and could continue with Clara as if nothing had happened?

Of course not. I drove myself off a cliff instead.

Stephanie worked in HR, and was good friends with both Alice and I. Tall, curvy, and with startlingly green eyes, she was around our age, and while not a consultant had been part of our little circle at the firm right from the beginning. She worked to organize all of the internal trainings and courses at Bain (including the trip to the island), a job which she never particularly seemed to relish. It was obvious that she keenly felt an inadequacy in being surrounded by the intellects of the incoming consultants, and in working to propel women like Alice up the corporate ladder. That said, there was a sweetness and a gentleness to her that made her a joy to confide in. It was also obvious that she wanted to fuck me.

One particular Friday night in September, I had been at the office drinks with her and a few others: brilliant, sarcastic men like Jordan Abbot and Mark Crew. Alice was spending the night with Jacub on a date, and hadn't answered any of the emails I'd sent her. This had not left me in a good mood, and I'd taken to the drinks with more than my usual relish. I didn't object when Jordan suggested we go out and trawl the ritzier bars along Circular Quay. I was keen to try and forget about this maelstrom in my head, to put Alice away for even one night.

Once we got to the bar, Jordan and Mark immediately hit the dancefloor with the confidence unique to out gay men, leaving Stephanie and I to take care of drinks. I leaned over the bar, caught Stephanie' eye and without a word, ordered a round of shots. She grinned, and brushed deliberately against my arm. My hairs immediately stood up on end, and I drew a breath at the unexpected contact. It felt good. It felt really fucking good. To be wanted this brazenly, after my slow rejection by Alice, felt like the antidote to my creeping despair.

I turned to her, gave her my most cocksure smile, before asking,

"So do you want to go make out?"

If she was surprised, she didn't show it. She just grinned, and said simply,

"Yes. Office?"

We hurried back to the Bain office after a quick goodbye to the boys, professing that we just weren't feeling it that night. They waved us away impatiently, and so free from suspicion we arrived back at the elevator within around 10 minutes of leaving the bar. As soon as the elevator doors shut, we threw ourselves against one another. She kissed like my high school girlfriend, all sweet enthusiasm, and I found myself grasping her tightly.

Men who don't know anything about sex will go on and on about tits and ass. These are important of course, but the appeal of other aspects shouldn't be discounted. Stephanie, for example, had gorgeous rounded hips that exuded femininity. I placed my hands on these hips and drew her body against mine. I felt my balls tighten with excitement as our groins touched, and she moaned softly into my mouth.

The elevator doors slid open onto our floor, and half-entangled we made our way into the open plan space. Looking around, there didn't seem to be anywhere obvious to make out. Inspiration struck when I remembered Tom had a couch in his corner office, the only one of the partners who did. We quickly made our way there.

Now, it's probably obvious how stupid this was. While it was late, around 11 p.m., and no-one worked at that hour on Friday night in consulting, the proximity of the office to the many bars around Circular Quay meant that there would often be people coming and going into the wee hours of the morning. The partners' offices were all fronted with clear glass, and so anyone passing by would have a clear view of whatever we were up to.

I laid her down on the couch, and started kissing her neck, running my hands all over her body. We wasted little time, and I soon found myself slipping off a lacy black G-string. Grinning at her, I kissed my way up her inner thigh, before lightly brushing her pussy with my lips. I noticed a little love heart tattoo at the top of her pubic line, and traced my fingers in circles around it. This caused her to shudder and arch her back, and in response I flicked out my tongue to taste her.

"Woah, what the fuck?!". The startled oath sent us scrambling for our clothes before we even registered who was there. Jordan had burst into the room, followed closely by Mark, and was looking from one of us to the other with an expression of utter bewilderment. Stephanie scrambled upright, and brushed past him brusquely, running to the toilets. Mark went after her, and Jordan sat down on the couch, shaking his head.

"You are such a fucking idiot, you know that, right? Why are you such a fucking idiot?" he repeated, regarding me with pity. I shook my head wordlessly, pulling on my socks and shoes. We walked towards the elevators together, and he laughed a little, recognizing the funnier side of my shock. But when we saw Stephanie and Mark standing by the elevator doors, he turned serious again.

"Guys, I'm not one to judge, but you both have partners. Are you sure you know what you're doing?" he asked.

I stared glumly at Stephanie. I'd forgotten completely, but she was dating someone too, and had been for a long time. Michael, an accountant who worked at one of the Big Four. She chewed her lip, and looked at the floor. What she had been thinking, why she wanted me, I never asked her. When our eyes met though, there was a shared recognition, a wild willingness to burn everything down just to see the ashes spread.

I went home then, and falling into bed I cried and cried and cried.

*****

"It's so good to see you again."

"I've really missed you, you know that?"

"We'd better start heading to dinner."

*****

Shame can be very erotic. Ask the Japanese. Their whole pornographic culture is concerned solely with exploring the depths a person will sink to, how losing control can bring out our basest selves. Shame can wrap around a person, sink into them until it consumes their waking thoughts and they writhe for more. So of course, we had to have sex after that.

The next Friday Stephanie and I went out again. Where doesn't really matter, and that's as well for I can't remember. What matters is that midnight found us in the back of a taxi, heading home together, with Stephanie' lips wrapped around my cock. We were drunk, and quite likely committing public indecency, but none of us, including the taxi driver, seemed to care.

Stephanie couldn't spend the night with me since she lived with Michael, and he was bound to notice her absence in the morning. As such, we headed in the general direction of her house, but stopped at a deserted public park. We stumbled together into the shadow of a copse of trees, and ripped off each other's clothes.

If with Alice I'd felt like a god, with Stephanie I felt like a beast, all rough edges and naked desire. I still shiver thinking about it. It's the closest I've come to being out of my mind, in the Greek sense of the phrase, of rolling eyes and flashing lightning and blood-rimmed vessels. We drowned in each other, our outlines blurry, trying to erase ourselves. When I came inside her, all howls and sweat, my consciousness cracked, splintering into a thousand pieces. It was an experience that shook my soul, leaving me elated and deeply disturbed at the same time.

Once we were done, we looked around like two people waking from a trip, unsure of where we were. With a rising sense of panic, I realized I had finally crossed a line that could not be walked back. If I could do this, for so little reason, I was capable of anything. I felt weirdly alien.

*****

"So I'm going to show you the best of Berlin. We'll start off with a drink at my favorite rooftop bar, where you can see the whole city and there's only locals drinking".

"Good start."

"Then, we traipse through Neukölln for pizza, maybe stopping along the way. We'll have to see what takes our fancy".

*****

I'm not sure where all this might've led if the game had not taken an unexpected turn towards the end of the year. Jacub, bless his Polish heart, left for London, and left Alice behind in the leaving. Her attention returned like a warm breeze. I started getting emails, lunch dates, and Friday morning smiles again. It was like being given a reprieve from a prison sentence. I didn't know what to make of my good fortune.

As summer arrived, it became clear we were heading for another collision. One night we went out with Jordan and few others to the Oxford Arts Factory, an avant-garde venue that played live music to cooler clientele than we. I grabbed her hand at an opportune moment and we disappeared into the crowd, leaving the others to search for us. With my stolen minute, I cupped her chin and kissed her grinning face. She kissed me back, and then hugged me to her. Another night I took her for dinner at the Rocks, and we made out like teenagers under the shadow of the Sydney Harbour Bridge. I felt lighter than air.

Every life is given a small number of perfect days. Everyone can remember theirs; a trip to Disneyland, a bright Christmas morning, a summer barbeque after high school. The world turns to silver glass, and you can see straight through to the joy at the heart of everything. Think of when Harry drinks the Felix Felicis, or when Che reaches Machu Picchu, or when Dantes finds the treasure on Monte Cristo. One of mine came with her that December.

Up until this point in the year, it had always been I making the move pushing us together. This all changed one day in early December, when Alice mentioned casually that she was housesitting in a mansion in Vaucluse. She asked me if I'd like to hang out with her for the weekend. The world seemed to still as I looked at her. I knew what she was asking. Her cautious, sweet smile told me she did too.

She picked me up from Edgecliff station on Saturday morning wearing a light summery dress. We drove to the mansion from there, me with one hand on her bare leg the whole time. I could feel her trembling with excitement. Waldeck's Bei Mir Bist Du Schön was playing softly through the car's speakers, plucking at my nerves with every downbeat, and when we arrived I could hardly speak with anticipation.

We kissed as soon as the door closed behind us. She was so tender, offering up her lips to me, pressing herself against my body. I circled my hands around her waist, and bit her lower lip softly. She let out a surprised little moan, and ran her fingers through my hair, caressing me. Power crackled from her fingertips, lancing through my skull and deep into my brain. My skin prickled. I was lost. Again.

The house flashed by in a blur as she led me to the bedroom. We stopped every two or three meters, unable to take another step without being drawn together. Her scent was so enchanting, a mixture of vanilla, sugar and something I couldn't quite place, but that reminded me of warm afternoons in Buenos Aires drinking Malbec on the pavement. It filled my mind as she pressed one hand to the back of my head, forcing me closer and closer. I could feel my blood pulsing, each heartbeat pounding in my cock and opening my veins.

Suddenly she was on top of me, and I looked around in bewilderment. I was startled to realise I was lying on a crisp white doona, dead in the center of a massive king bed. She ground her hips against my groin, and her dress rode up, revealing tight black cotton underwear. She had tanned since the last time I'd seen her skin this close. The contrast with the white sheets was incredible. I lifted her dress over her head, and deftly slipped my t-shirt off in the same movement. She pressed herself to my chest, rubbing her hard nipples across my skin. I closed my eyes and felt her tug my zipper down, freeing my straining cock. There was a moment when all I knew a hint of warmth, and then she took me inside her.

Everything stopped. I looked up and all I could see was the most luminous pair of blue eyes, swallowing my soul. Galaxies whirled in her depths. She pushed down, and I felt my cock sink into her, to the base. We kissed then, deeply, and I ran my hands up her back. Her muscles were tight along her spine, rippling under her skin. With every pulse she would shiver. Her body was that of an athlete's, perfect in every way. I cupped her ass and squeezed. She moaned in delight and kissed me harder.

That was all we needed for the longest time. Her on top, her legs fluttering and shaking. I can't tell you when the change came. But come it did. Her breath grew ragged and her pace quickened. I could feel the wetness flooding out of her, sliding over my skin, my groin, my stomach. I slipped my index finger into her ass, and she went wild, bucking her hips and spasming uncontrollably. She came with a drawn-out whimper, rocking back and forth, eyes squeezed shut, her hands clutching at my shoulders. All I could think was that she was the best lover in the world.

She collapsed off me then, and sprawled languidly across the sheets. We caught our breath for a few moments. My hand found hers, and our fingers intertwined. She looked over at me, a feline half-smile teasing her lips, before coming closer. I knew then she wasn't done, which was just as well, for I had a fire that not been quenched.

"Do you want to go take a shower?" she purred, running her fingers through my chest hair.

In response I yanked her to her feet, shepherding her roughly down the corridor, her delighted giggles ringing in my ears. Once in the bathroom, I quickly turned the water on full blast, running it scalding hot. I pushed her in and she gasped. Her skin bloomed with colour as the water hit it. Before she had time to react I slammed her against the wall. Lifting one leg, I placed my still-hard cock at the entrance of her pussy. She raised her hips to meet me, one hand around my neck, the other on my lower back, drawing me in.

Sex standing up doesn't often work. We can all admit that. Either the girl is too short, in which case your cock will be too high and she won't enjoy it at all, or she'll be too tall, and while you can enter her easily, there isn't enough weight bearing down on you to get the right leverage. Alice was the perfect height.

Of course she was.

Each thrust pinned her pelvis to the tiles behind her, and she sighed in my ear every time I pushed forward. Her nails dug into my back, urging me to go faster. I kept hoping she would draw blood, let me flow down the drainpipe with the water, but either from experience or consummate skill she knew just how far to push her fingers in. The cascade of the water blocked out all other sound, and the steam was so dense I felt like I was breathing in a warm ocean. There was fury there, oh my goodness yes. But there was also a current of deep emotion running in her, joining with mine and fusing our souls together.

I didn't last long in that hot embrace. I started pumping in and out of her, harder than I'd ever been, building to a crescendo that might've set the world ablaze. With a final broken gasp, I clasped her to me and came hard. I didn't stop for some time, shooting wave after wave deep into her.

"Good boy," she whispered, a mischievous smile darting across her lips. If she knew she had just given me the best orgasm of my life, she didn't show it.

The rest of the day passed in a haze of joy. We got fish and chips for lunch, and watched Suits for hours, curled up against one another. We had a long and luxurious sixty-nine, her working my cock into her mouth, I working my tongue up and down that gorgeous, tight pussy. We talked and talked and talked, and lay in bed until the sun started to go down.

I went back the next day. We did it all again, exactly the same way.

I have a fleeting image of the end of that second day. We were sitting on the couch downstairs, watching TV. She had on a red t-shirt and no underwear. She was facing away from me, and I was lazily running my fingers down her back. I could see the side of her face, caught in the light, her eyelashes and lips rimmed with gold. I remember thinking I had never seen anyone so beautiful.

*****

"So can I get you a drink? Beer, wine, tea?"

"A beer would do very nicely."

"Excellent. Come, let's sit on the balcony, it's such a perfect afternoon."

*****

We left work for the holidays soon after that weekend. New Year came and went quickly, and we spent it apart with our families. She went off to Morocco then, and I didn't see her again until late January. We wrote to one another sporadically. I think it wasn't clear how we should deal with what had happened between us. And of course, there was the little matter of the girlfriend I already had.

As so often in stories such as this, matters are resolved through an outside force. A bolt from the blue that changes everything, and leaves the characters scrambling to catch up. My bolt came as an email in my inbox one morning in February, while I was working on a project at NAB, just steps from the Bain office. It began,

Dear Mr. Walker,

We are delighted to accept you for doctoral study in the Department of Physics at Princeton University. We believe you show great promise as a scholar, and are looking forward to welcoming you to the United States.

Oh. Did I forget to mention that? I had applied late in the previous year, a combination of a long-held dream and a rising dissatisfaction with the work I was doing at Bain. I never really expected to get in. My background in math was weak compared to the median American applicant, to say nothing of the South Americans or Koreans. Online forums didn't rate my chances particularly highly, and I had almost forgotten about it.