Unquenched (13 page)

"I'm not sure how much longer I can look at you like this,"
I finally whispered out loud to him. 

He stared deeper into my eyes.  I felt weak.  I was no longer in
control of myself.  Like a child, I was totally at his mercy.  And at that
moment I felt his warm breath, and his lips surround my own.  His urgency was
clear as he grasped my hair tightly and pushed his body against mine.

I remember thinking then, about the magic that occurred when two people
were intimate and close.  About the obvious differences that displayed
themselves regularly, but suddenly seemed to disappear.  The accents and clothing
or ethnic appearances that were no longer present or relevant.  There was no
judgment.  Not during passion.  It struck me more clearly when his voice was
silent and I could not hear his foreign sound.  So as he kissed me tenderly,
our differences went unnoticed as our given identities were diffused.  I wasn't
even certain of why those thoughts surfaced, but I think it was related to
simplicity.  It was about people just being people.  About everyone having the
same needs.  About human beings and how beneath the surface everyone shared the
same core.  Or maybe it was just about wanting it to be that way.  But no
matter how much I wanted to believe it, my instincts told me something else. 
Something that told me that whatever was happening, was not quite the way it
seemed.  Yet at that moment I felt him surrender to me and I too, could not go
back.

Tristan controlled himself out of respect for me but he revealed
his desire despite it.  As his fingers found their way through my dark tousled
hair, my body arched forcefully towards his.  He played with my hair and its
untamed nature as he created a more seductive look.  He pulled on it knowingly
and as he did, my head followed his strong coercing hand.  As I resisted him, I
yearned for him more and his technique which I found new and exciting.  While I
explored him, I heard him groan as I uncovered his secrets and desires.  His
ears were sensitive as I used my tongue to bring him the utmost pleasure.  I
moved slowly down his neck which increased his need as he took my mouth into
his.  His hair was made of silk but was thick with body as I ran my hands
gently through it.  I looked at his face, this time knowing that I could touch
it.  His face felt strong.  The way I envisioned it would.  But it conveyed
strength and softness all at once.  As I touched it I could think of nothing
else.  The draw of another person.  I had finally felt what I dreamt I could
feel and the power of it was incredible.  I was attracted to his person both
inside and out and as he looked at me his eyes told me that he felt the same. 
His fingers examined the length of my arms, my waist, my hips, then my legs.  I
squirmed as he journeyed around my body and I fantasized about not holding
back.  But I respected him for respecting me.  And I felt good about the
limitations that I had obviously conveyed to him as well.  My hands continued
to investigate his personal territory, his body that anxiously awaited me.  His
lips were full and wonderfully creative as he teethed on my fingers gently.  He
licked them and sucked on them and brought me to the point where I had no
choice but to join his mouth with mine.  I enveloped his tongue and tasted his
lips and felt his body grow with desire. 

"You are making me crazy," he whispered. 

As his need grew, mine did the same but for more reasons than my
own physical needs.  I wanted to make him happy and I took pride in knowing
that I could so easily do so.  My fingers drew a line from his lips to his neck
and down his chest with interest.  His muscular torso in no way surprised me
but the confirmation of it only aroused me further.  His body responded to my
probing touches and his lamenting told me that I had made new discoveries.

Our bodies were relaxed and moist with sweat, as we lay in each
other's arms on the couch.  My head rested contentedly on his firm chest as he
stroked my forehead and hair.  Through unspoken words we had kept our promises,
to each other and to ourselves.  Our passion had erupted, but still, the
mystery remained.  Our lips had met but that had been enough, and in time, I
knew there would be more.

It was late and it was as good a time as any to break the flow of
the night, if in fact we were planning on doing so.  And I would see to it that
we would.  Despite all that I felt for him, there was still Jordan, and more
than that, there was my pride.  He could have all of me when the time came, but
until then, I had to keep a part of me for me.  He had touched me in a way that
no other had and I felt confident I had done the same to him, but something,
something was gnawing at me. 

The words of my loved ones raced through my head, "German,
flight attendant, doesn't live here, fling, Jordan."  I wasn't sure myself
if what they were saying was bothering me or if there was really something
more.

We had been snuggled together for almost an hour after the heat of
the moment had calmed.  We were still sitting cozily, me between his legs
facing him, and his arms affectionately coddling mine.  We wore painted-like
smiles on both of our faces, energized by all that had consumed us.  It had
been a physical high that I had never quite imagined and as we sat there, the
feeling progressed.  It was a feeling of having been taken over, out of control
but safe.  It was the sudden realization of being alive or rush of adrenaline
that was intoxicating.  And it was happening again. 

He turned to me and held me facing him and asked, "Do you
feel it?  Do you feel what I feel right now?" 

I looked back at him and wanted to cry out loud to release all the
emotion I had been feeling. 

"Yes." I blurted out.  "I can feel it in the air
between us."  I put my hand in the space between us and said, "It's
right here, it's so strong, I feel like I can touch it." 

We were locked once again in a world of our own where neither of
us as individuals were capable of entering. 

I looked at him then, and openly admitted, "I don't want to
ever accept feeling less for anyone than what I feel for you right now." 

He smiled back at me with a look of intensity and said, "I
know, neither do I."

Through our eyes and through our words we had somehow given a part
of ourselves to each other.  It was all so outrageous, given the short period
of time that we had known each other.  Yet he was leaving to go back to Cologne,
Germany, his home, the following day.  Ironically enough, as we sat there
embraced, it was difficult to look towards the future.  At that moment despite
our declaration of feelings for each other, I didn't think either of us had any
expectations.  It was easier to just live for the moment.  So we both proceeded
as if there were no tomorrow and life consisted of the next twelve hours.

"I think it's probably time for us to get some sleep if we
want to do anything tomorrow," I said. 

The words just escaped me, uncensored with ease, confident that he
wanted to maximize his time with me too.  He read my words right as he got ready
to leave and knew that it was not an invitation. 

"Yes, I should probably get going, although my body doesn't
know whether to wake up or go to sleep," he responded.  It was 4:30 a.m.
which was 10:30 a.m. in the morning for Tristan.  He had been awake for over
twenty-four hours yet his priorities were obvious to both of us. 

"So, is ten o’clock too early for you, we can meet and have
some brunch?" he asked.

"Yeah, that sounds great," I replied, still surprised
that he was willing to exist on so little sleep, knowing that he hadn't had
any, and that he had to work the flight back the next day.

"What time do you have to leave Manhattan for your flight
tomorrow?" I wanted to know.

"Well, the pick-up for the crew at the hotel is at 4:30 p.m.,
so the latest I can get back there is about 4:15 p.m.," he said with a
look of regret.

It was beginning to dawn on me.  The man that had awoken my
sleeping passion, the one that I had been waiting for since I had returned
home, and the person that appeared to share my dreams, was leaving tomorrow for
his home across the Atlantic.  Suddenly, it did not seem possible that we had
disclosed our strong feelings, knowing that the following day we would not be
able to share them together.  And they were not just ordinary feelings.  They
were of a special kind found once in a lifetime, and that was only for those
who were lucky.  It was the affinity we shared, the bond, the attachment, that
seemed absurd to be lost due to the distance we lived from one another.  But I
knew that the distance just provided me with a convenient excuse not to explore
him further.  There were many excuses, yet this one, out of all of them, was
just easier to digest.  So I fought hard to remember the reason that I had
allowed myself to be with Tristan just one more time.  It was a chance to
experience an emotional ecstasy I feared I would never feel again.  At least
not with Jordan.  And maybe never again with anyone else.  I wanted to live out
what felt like a dream, just once, so I could draw from it, and live
vicariously through it, if ever I felt deprived.  By having felt that
titillating sensation, it would give me the strength to move forward and keep
my promise to Jordan.  I would know that I had experienced that unique thrill
of emotion and I could put it away in my memory box.  Forever.  I would feel
complete in knowing that I had truly experienced, the yearned for, storybook
romance, and therefore, it would never be an unsated mystery to me.  I would
not seek it out like so many others because I had had it.  But that was the
problem, I had had it.  I knew in my heart then, that having had one evening of
unforgettable passion was not enough to satiate me forever, but instead, had
only created a sweet irresistible temptation to live the feeling again.  And
maybe even once again after that.  I wanted to bottle it and prolong the
feeling forever.

But even if I did break my promise to Jordan, something inside
told me that my relationship with Tristan could never be completely pure.  It
would be filled with the passion it already had but it would be complicated
with forces that I was not yet aware of.  There was so much we would have to
overcome.  The obvious obstacles played back in my mind, and yet, I sensed that
there would be even more.  Something I could not compete with.  It would be
strong and powerful and I feared in the end that it would take him from me. 
But even Tristan would not be equipped with the tools he needed to protect the
synergy that we shared.  My mind drifted back to specific incidents of the
times that we had already experienced.  Times that I had felt him restrained. 
And times that generated questions in my mind that were suddenly hard for me to
ignore ... on the beach in Menjangan when he seemingly avoided me as I laid on
my towel alone, ... when we were saying good-bye in the restaurant in Bali, he
never even stood from his seat ... and when he entered my apartment only
several hours earlier he hesitated, albeit slightly, when he took me into his
arms to greet me.  It was as if he were afraid to expose himself entirely,
afraid of what he might feel.  And yet, I didn't think he realized his sporadic
vacillation at all.  I had rationalized his hesitancy to display his feelings
blatantly, initially, because of Jordan's presence.  It was understandable.  It
was appropriate.  But Jordan had not been with us tonight.  We had been alone
and any limitations that were put upon us were all but self-imposed.  Yet
still, there was a consistency in his behavior that conveyed an element of confusion,
one that I saw lied deep within him.  It was a subtle indication of
bewilderment that said he was trapped between two worlds; one where he
desperately wanted to give himself to me, and one where he couldn't
wholeheartedly.  My thoughts flashed quickly back to Courtney, and I wondered
if he still felt for her.  Maybe he was not ready to make himself vulnerable if
he had been hurt by her at all.  Maybe he was involved with someone in Germany,
someone we had not yet discussed.  It was possible, there was so much I didn't
know about him.  If that was so, it would explain why he had been torn inside
and seemed to keep a part of him detached.  His affection appeared to come in
spurts.  Almost as if that remote part of him could consistently and willingly respond
to me but was not easily able to initiate.  And yet, he had taken the
initiative when the time was right.  He had kissed me when it seemed like
nothing else would have sufficed, for either of us.  He had been demonstrative,
overtly so, and expressive in many ways.  His hunger for me had been apparent,
his crave was indisputable.  He almost appeared surprised himself, at the
degree to which he longed for me.  One had to look hard to see his caution, and
it was only because I was searching that I saw it.  His restraint was subtle,
almost undetectable, but I sensed it, nonetheless.

His purple jacket was hanging in the closet and I walked toward
the door to get it.  He hadn't even left my apartment yet, but already, I could
feel the excitement rise within me as I anticipated his return in a few hours. 
He looked into my eyes, and again, as I looked up at his face, I was struck by
how handsome he had become to me.  And then I was taken by the rugged beauty of
his defined jaw which I found to be so incredibly sexy.  His eyes commanded all
of my attention and I willingly shared my energy with him. 

"I had a great time with you tonight," he said "And
I am really looking forward to tomorrow.  I don't even want to go to sleep
tonight but I'm afraid that my body is collapsing," he added, with a sweet
soft smile.