Chapter One: Sage
This is the first chapter in my next book, "50 Lovers". I think this is the style I'm going with, with all names changed to protect those I'm talking about, including myself.
It was the first summer after I turned 21. The past three years that I dedicated to getting the ladies resulted in absolutely nothing but embarrassment and pain. My adventures in attempted dating were just as clumsy as my first attempt, and I was ready to give up. But, although it wasn’t a brand new invention, I had just received my first personal computer. With giddy expectations, I quickly purchased an America Online Account, and began chatting with people from all around the world. I had a friend who I talked to in Russia, and he told me that women are the same no matter what part of the world you are in, and that their sole existence is to make life as complicated as possible. We’d laugh about it, but each would sign off with the same hopes that one of us would eventually get a chance to sign off because we were about to go on a date.
But, that’s how I met Sage. On the homepage when I signed in ran a small little ad about the nightlife around Dallas, and so I clicked the button. There was a place for personal ads, and I began to sift through, looking mostly at the pictures, but reading a few of the descriptions as well. I didn’t take most of them seriously, they were the same thing that newspapers ran, hopelessly romantic women looking for real men who enjoy poetry. Of course, it was hard for me to rationalize a real man, a John Wayne type, sitting around in black on black reading poetry that doesn’t rhyme. Not to say the men can’t enjoy poetry, but the term ‘real man’ always implied the Marlboro Man type of guy. Of course, the opposite ads were always prevalent as well, women tired of jerks, but looking for a guy who enjoys sports and barbecues, events that are notoriously married to alcohol, which tends to lead to jerk like behavior.
Sage’s ad was different. She explained that she was looking for someone to help her learn to live, and that she just wanted some fun in her life, to try new things, but she wasn’t looking to be wild and outrageous. It was like reading the perfect description of what I wanted. I was ready to go out and have fun, but not ready to jump out of planes yet. I read on about her description of herself, and found that she and I had a few things in common. Shy at first, but with a good sense of humor, she liked to read, but could quote more movies than books, and she was tall. Since my growth spurt had hit, and I joined the above average in height crowd, I’ve had a weakness for tall women. I’d like to say I’ve developed different tastes over the years, but I still have a weakness for tall women.
I responded to her ad, and I was eager to hear back from her, but I committed one sin that I didn’t think I ever would. I lied a little bit about my situation. Instead of confessing that I had never had a girlfriend, and only been on one date in my life, I told her that I was in an unhappy relationship, and looking for something different, but discretion would have to be a must.
Surprisingly, in two days, she responded. She told me that she felt discretion would also be very necessary, but that I sounded like a decent guy. We exchanged a few e-mails, learning the finer details of ourselves, and I felt more comfortable with her, because in those instances, I didn’t have to lie. I told her about the music I liked, she told me about the concerts she’s attended. I told her about my favorite food, she told me that she loves to cook. And a few e-mails turned into Instant Messages. I don’t know who thought of the idea, but the man is a genius. We talked on a nearly daily basis, and learned secrets about each other that I wouldn’t ever consider telling anyone. Finally, the conversation arose about our meeting. I proposed the idea, and there was no response from her side. I waited anxiously, staring at the computer screen, listening to the seconds tick away. Finally, she typed back, “Sure…when?”
I nearly yelled out, but managed to maintain my composure. Of course, it wouldn’t have mattered anyway, sitting at a computer desk alone in my room, but still, poise was a necessity in life. I posed the idea of meeting that weekend, and she said sure. But, she was worried about where to meet. We agreed to meet at a nearby high school. She was coming from a few towns away, and felt a restaurant would be too crowded, but was more uncomfortable with going to my house, and didn’t want me to come to hers. So, the high school was chosen.
The week went by painfully slow, and each day I grew a bit more excited about meeting Sage. I had seen a few pictures of her, and she had seen a picture of me, and we both agreed that we were attractive people. A part of me wondered if everyone said the same thing when talking to someone online. But, it didn’t matter. I was finally going to have a second date.
Friday night finally arrived, and I put on one of my favorite shirts. I drove to the high school, parked, and pulled down the tailgate of my truck to sit on. I watched a few people walking along the sidewalks across the way, their little dog sniffing every telephone pole and parts of grass. I watched some cars pull into the parking lot on the far end, and then pull out again. One of them was a purple Chevy Camaro. Sitting on the tailgate of a truck, not listening to anything, I watched the Camaro drive past on one street, and then come back by on another. It circled the school twice. Something told me that Sage might be in that car, but I wasn’t sure, it could easily have been high school kids driving around with nothing better to do on a summer Friday night.
The time ticked away slowly, and the warm day slightly chilled as the sun began to sink. I began to feel stood up, and wondered why I had been so foolish as to agree to meeting someone from the internet, but a small black car finally pulled up, and out stepped a tall, brunette woman. I recognized her, but seeing someone in person after only seeing their picture is always a little different. It was a pleasant discovery, none the less.
“Are you Chris?” she asked, her voice was soft, and gentle. She had a shy quality about her, and I liked that. It gave me courage for some reason. I hopped off the tailgate and held out my hand, unsure that a hug to a nearly complete stranger would be appropriate.
“You must be Sage,” I said, shaking her hand. She had a firm grip, which wasn’t what I expected, but I immediately preferred to the limp shake most girls offer. I understand that girls are delicate, but there is a difference between delicate and dead. Just like there is a difference between firm, and death grip. Firm is always best for handshakes, for men and for women. The handshake tells a lot about what type of person you are, after all.
We sat back down on the tailgate of my truck, and we talked as though we were online. She confessed that the purple Camaro was her friend, driving by to scope out the scene first, making sure that everything was fine, and that I wasn’t some creepy guy. She also wanted to make sure that I was even here, and that I wouldn’t stand her up. When they saw me sitting here alone each time they drove by, they new I was the guy. I never thought about how a guy sitting in a parking lot alone would look from an outsider’s point of view before, but it makes sense to me now. This would be the only time I agreed to sitting in a parking lot waiting for anyone. Our conversation was short, and we both agreed that an actual date might be okay in the future. I watched her climb back into her car and waved again as she pulled away. I raced home and signed on. A short time later, she signed on and we spoke some more.
We decided that I would drive to her town for the second meeting, since she had driven to mine on the first. However, over the week in between, we took to talking on the phone as opposed to online. The conversation became a bit more personal, and the topic of sex had begun to come up more and more often. My nerves were being built as well, because I felt that I had to lie. Something told me that I would chase her off if I confessed to my virginity, and that I didn’t actually have a girlfriend, but I did tell her that part of my ‘relationship’ problem was not enough sex. Since I wasn’t having any sex, I guess that wasn’t technically a lie.
The time for our second meeting had come, and I made the drive over to a high school in her town. It didn’t take me long to find it, and I saw her car sitting in the parking lot. This time, there was no purple Camaro. My nerves were racing though, and I had high expectations for the date. Perhaps, this was the night it finally happened, I thought.
Instead, we got in her car to talk, and she decided she was hungry. We drove to a restaurant that wasn’t in my town, and wasn’t in her town, and I realized that this was the better part of discretion. This way, my girlfriend wouldn’t see us together. After eating, we saw that a movie theater was just across the street. So, we walked over to see what was playing. Our conversation never hit any lags, and sitting in the movie theater was the only time that we didn’t have something to say to each other. Instead, we held hands, and she even let me feel on her legs a bit. They were glorious, incredibly long, and toned. My mind was racing with the ideas of things to come, however, after the movie, she drove us back to my car, and we talked for a few more minutes, before she gave me a kiss on the cheek, and I made my way home.
Over the next few phone calls, our intimacy grew. She opened up to me a bit more about her past, and confessed that she had slept with another woman once. A part of me found that to be a hot idea, but I preferred that she was into men, otherwise, my problem of not enough sex would surely continue. We agreed to meet a third time, but still, in a park, this one also in her neck of the woods. Our date at the park was also a quick one, and we spent it walking along a bike path, weaving in and out of trees and creeks. We held hands, but Sage confessed that she was feeling nervous about how things were going. That I was a great guy, and she enjoyed talking to me, but wasn’t sure about how she felt.
At the end of our walk, feeling that my opportunity was slipping away, I made a bold move and kissed her on the lips. It was brief, and she pulled away much sooner than I would have liked, but inside, I rejoiced that I could finally lock away my first kiss. It took 21 years and 3 months, but I had finally broken down the first barrier. With an awkward hug, our date at the park ended, and I drove home unsure of where things were going to end up. However, I rejoiced in the feel of a kiss, and I decided right there that I would enjoy kissing, from then to now, I still enjoy kissing. There is no feel quite like it in the world, and even a bad kiss is better than no kiss.
Sage didn’t respond to me for the next few days, but I didn’t push the matter. I had a feeling that our time had come to a close, and it bothered me not knowing exactly why. I replayed all our conversations and time together, and felt that I had done some horrible thing wrong. I only didn’t know what it was. Unaware of what I had done wrong, I became angry, but not at Sage, at myself, for the simple fact that what most people learned in the sixth and seventh grade, I had been passed over. And all because some prank in middle school labeled me as the kid with my pants around my ankles.
It was the last day in June and Sage sent an e-mail, asking if I was interested in getting together that weekend, July 4th weekend. I eagerly agreed, forgetting all my anger at whatever miscue I had taken, or that she left me in the dark for so long. I felt this was a second chance, and they don’t come along very often. We had planned to meet at a hotel near our movie theater. I was curious about why a hotel, but she sent a message, saying she planned to thank me for being so patient with her. Within the reading of that message, my mind raced with possibilities, and I hadn’t been so excited over any single day since I was a child waiting for Christmas morning. During the week, I began to work out, feeling that I needed to be in the best shape possible for our meeting. Of course, three days of working out doesn’t over ride nine years of average activity, and my body barely changed an ounce.
As I walked into the hotel, I saw her sitting in the lobby. She greeted me with a warm hug, and we walked back to the room that she had gotten. Her friend, the one with the purple Camaro, was inside, with a man that she had been talking to online as well. I was familiar with the story, Sage had told me about them during our conversations, and this night was to be a special night for them, as well. The drama with her friend was that the man she was speaking with was married, as was she, and this was their first affair. I felt that putting a number to it indicated that there were others to follow, but to each their own. I was supposedly cheating on my girlfriend, after all. The only solace I took was that I didn’t actually have a girlfriend, so instead of being a cheater, I was only a liar. But, that left a very sour taste in my mouth just the same.
We did a round of Tarot card reading, something I knew nothing about, but Sage’s friend was heavily into the cosmos, and I discovered that I was a Pisces. I’ve since read some horoscopes from time to time, and I agree that some of the descriptions are accurate, but for the most part, I feel it was far to general to base my life on. Of course, reading the Tarot was interesting in its own right. Especially when the cards read that I was a pure heart. Sage blushed and smiled at me, sipping from her wine, and guilt seeped into my soul as I smiled back.
After the Tarot reading, Sage’s friend made an excuse for them to part, and they exited the hotel room. Nearly as soon as the door closed, Sage was in my arms, and my body was being overloaded with the racing hormones every person feels upon their first make-out session. Her tongue danced with mine, and my hands journeyed anywhere she’d let them. We pushed and pulled on each other, and tumbled to the bed. I pulled her dress down, she ripped my shirt up, and soon we lay in the bed, feeling all over each other. My excitement was seen on every inch of my body, and I looked at hers, drinking in the flavor of the first naked woman I had ever seen in my life. Every ounce of her was perfection, the smooth curves of her hips, the tender porcelain of her skin, and the parts I had only seen in magazines were revealed to be so much more beautiful than anything I had ever seen in my life. The female body was miraculous. Trying to slow the moment down, I began to kiss her body as softly as I could, barely grazing my lips against her silky body. I felt the goosebumps rise on her body, and I kissed them, too. When I finally returned my lips to hers, I felt like a changed man. I kissed her as a changed man. I was no longer the kid with my pants around my ankles, although, looking back, that’s exactly where they were when the change had occurred.
She was equally as tender with me, exploring me, but she had a purpose in her movements, a reason for what she was doing. “I don’t think I’m very good at this, do you mind if we try it?” she asked at one point. Did I mind? I was willing to do anything this Goddess wanted to do, I was completely hers for the commanding, and with having moved from boyhood to manhood, officially, I felt that anything was permissible, and on top of that, it was an act of pure joy, anything new was desired, and cherished. Although Sage experimented, I discovered, and together we enjoyed our lives for a few hours.
When we finished, she lay with her head on my chest. I felt euphoric, and a little foolish for having not done this sooner. I reminded myself that it wasn’t as if I hadn’t tried to do this before, though. I kissed the top of Sage’s head. She probably took it as a moment of tenderness, but I meant it in a moment of thanks. She was the first one to ever take a chance on me, and for that, I was grateful. However, as soon as my lips parted from the top of her head, she got out of bed and began to get dressed.
“Where are you going?” I asked, twisting to look at the hotel clock on the night table. It was already 1:30 in the morning, and I felt as though we had been in heaven for the past three hours.
“I have to get home soon” she answered, pulling her pants up along her perfectly shaped legs. A part of me whined inside, wanting to feel those legs against me once more, but they disappeared from view all too quickly. “My husband will start to worry if I’m not home shortly after 2.”
“Your…did you say husband?” I rubbed my eyes, and then a finger in my ear, cleaning it out.
“Yes, you knew I was married,” Sage said, pulling her top over her curly brown hair. She flipped it out of the collar and straightened the top matter-of-factly. Suddenly, as she buttoned the top button on her jeans, it came flooding in to my mind. We couldn’t meet at her house, because her husband was there. We didn’t eat in her town, nor mine, not only so my girlfriend wouldn’t catch us, but so that her husband wouldn’t catch us, either…and the hotel room! God, I felt so stupid, and lied to, and worse than all of that, I felt like a hypocrite. My perfectly euphoric feeling vanished in a heartbeat, and was replaced by pain, anguish, and heartache like none I’ve ever felt before.
The door to the hotel room closed with a soft click, but my heart slammed into my stomach with a thunderous crash. Slowly, I began to get dressed myself, but I didn’t leave right away. I sat up on the small couch, staring out the hotel sliding doors to the balcony, into the night sky. The air conditioner hummed an “I told you so” song, and I felt foolish, replaying each incident that indicated she was with someone else. And not only was she with someone else, she had just left me, her experimental sex toy, to return to that someone else. I felt used. And there wasn’t anything I could do about it, without confessing that I had lied about my ‘girlfriend’ all along. She felt secure with me, safe with me, because we were both in the same situation, in unhappy relationships, only I wasn’t in any relationship, and her confession let me know that I still wasn’t going to be in one. We weren’t starting something great, we were avoiding an unhappy situation, and now came the time to part ways.
We still e-mailed each other for a few weeks, but the dates stopped. She began to talk to me about her problems with her marriage, and explained that the divorce was on its way. I told her I broke up with my ‘girlfriend’. Looking back, I think she lost the dangerous side of our affair, the ‘what if we get caught’ rush of doing something forbidden, and with it went an interest in being with me. However, at the time, I felt that neither of us could respect the other, knowing that we were both cheaters. Even if I lied about it, that was a part of my character now. As far as she knew, I cheated on my girlfriend.
A few months after our rendezvous, she threw a party at her new house. I was invited, and decided I might as well go. She was still beautiful to me, and a large part of me wanted to be with her, but at the party, I met her roommate, and I also met her freshly divorced ex-husband, who turned out to be a very nice guy. Sage spent more of the party talking to other people, and she tried to introduce me to some of her single friends, but the chemistry between us had been changed, and when I hugged her goodbye at the end of the night, it was the last time I ever saw her. I sometimes lie awake at night, just like with Stacy, wondering where she is, and who she’s with, and if she’s happy. I’d trade almost anything to have that night we spent together all over again. It was sweet, incredible, and passionate. Only now, I can appreciate it for that spectacular act, and let the anguish of what followed disappear from my body.
Let me know what you think.
It was the first summer after I turned 21. The past three years that I dedicated to getting the ladies resulted in absolutely nothing but embarrassment and pain. My adventures in attempted dating were just as clumsy as my first attempt, and I was ready to give up. But, although it wasn’t a brand new invention, I had just received my first personal computer. With giddy expectations, I quickly purchased an America Online Account, and began chatting with people from all around the world. I had a friend who I talked to in Russia, and he told me that women are the same no matter what part of the world you are in, and that their sole existence is to make life as complicated as possible. We’d laugh about it, but each would sign off with the same hopes that one of us would eventually get a chance to sign off because we were about to go on a date.
But, that’s how I met Sage. On the homepage when I signed in ran a small little ad about the nightlife around Dallas, and so I clicked the button. There was a place for personal ads, and I began to sift through, looking mostly at the pictures, but reading a few of the descriptions as well. I didn’t take most of them seriously, they were the same thing that newspapers ran, hopelessly romantic women looking for real men who enjoy poetry. Of course, it was hard for me to rationalize a real man, a John Wayne type, sitting around in black on black reading poetry that doesn’t rhyme. Not to say the men can’t enjoy poetry, but the term ‘real man’ always implied the Marlboro Man type of guy. Of course, the opposite ads were always prevalent as well, women tired of jerks, but looking for a guy who enjoys sports and barbecues, events that are notoriously married to alcohol, which tends to lead to jerk like behavior.
Sage’s ad was different. She explained that she was looking for someone to help her learn to live, and that she just wanted some fun in her life, to try new things, but she wasn’t looking to be wild and outrageous. It was like reading the perfect description of what I wanted. I was ready to go out and have fun, but not ready to jump out of planes yet. I read on about her description of herself, and found that she and I had a few things in common. Shy at first, but with a good sense of humor, she liked to read, but could quote more movies than books, and she was tall. Since my growth spurt had hit, and I joined the above average in height crowd, I’ve had a weakness for tall women. I’d like to say I’ve developed different tastes over the years, but I still have a weakness for tall women.
I responded to her ad, and I was eager to hear back from her, but I committed one sin that I didn’t think I ever would. I lied a little bit about my situation. Instead of confessing that I had never had a girlfriend, and only been on one date in my life, I told her that I was in an unhappy relationship, and looking for something different, but discretion would have to be a must.
Surprisingly, in two days, she responded. She told me that she felt discretion would also be very necessary, but that I sounded like a decent guy. We exchanged a few e-mails, learning the finer details of ourselves, and I felt more comfortable with her, because in those instances, I didn’t have to lie. I told her about the music I liked, she told me about the concerts she’s attended. I told her about my favorite food, she told me that she loves to cook. And a few e-mails turned into Instant Messages. I don’t know who thought of the idea, but the man is a genius. We talked on a nearly daily basis, and learned secrets about each other that I wouldn’t ever consider telling anyone. Finally, the conversation arose about our meeting. I proposed the idea, and there was no response from her side. I waited anxiously, staring at the computer screen, listening to the seconds tick away. Finally, she typed back, “Sure…when?”
I nearly yelled out, but managed to maintain my composure. Of course, it wouldn’t have mattered anyway, sitting at a computer desk alone in my room, but still, poise was a necessity in life. I posed the idea of meeting that weekend, and she said sure. But, she was worried about where to meet. We agreed to meet at a nearby high school. She was coming from a few towns away, and felt a restaurant would be too crowded, but was more uncomfortable with going to my house, and didn’t want me to come to hers. So, the high school was chosen.
The week went by painfully slow, and each day I grew a bit more excited about meeting Sage. I had seen a few pictures of her, and she had seen a picture of me, and we both agreed that we were attractive people. A part of me wondered if everyone said the same thing when talking to someone online. But, it didn’t matter. I was finally going to have a second date.
Friday night finally arrived, and I put on one of my favorite shirts. I drove to the high school, parked, and pulled down the tailgate of my truck to sit on. I watched a few people walking along the sidewalks across the way, their little dog sniffing every telephone pole and parts of grass. I watched some cars pull into the parking lot on the far end, and then pull out again. One of them was a purple Chevy Camaro. Sitting on the tailgate of a truck, not listening to anything, I watched the Camaro drive past on one street, and then come back by on another. It circled the school twice. Something told me that Sage might be in that car, but I wasn’t sure, it could easily have been high school kids driving around with nothing better to do on a summer Friday night.
The time ticked away slowly, and the warm day slightly chilled as the sun began to sink. I began to feel stood up, and wondered why I had been so foolish as to agree to meeting someone from the internet, but a small black car finally pulled up, and out stepped a tall, brunette woman. I recognized her, but seeing someone in person after only seeing their picture is always a little different. It was a pleasant discovery, none the less.
“Are you Chris?” she asked, her voice was soft, and gentle. She had a shy quality about her, and I liked that. It gave me courage for some reason. I hopped off the tailgate and held out my hand, unsure that a hug to a nearly complete stranger would be appropriate.
“You must be Sage,” I said, shaking her hand. She had a firm grip, which wasn’t what I expected, but I immediately preferred to the limp shake most girls offer. I understand that girls are delicate, but there is a difference between delicate and dead. Just like there is a difference between firm, and death grip. Firm is always best for handshakes, for men and for women. The handshake tells a lot about what type of person you are, after all.
We sat back down on the tailgate of my truck, and we talked as though we were online. She confessed that the purple Camaro was her friend, driving by to scope out the scene first, making sure that everything was fine, and that I wasn’t some creepy guy. She also wanted to make sure that I was even here, and that I wouldn’t stand her up. When they saw me sitting here alone each time they drove by, they new I was the guy. I never thought about how a guy sitting in a parking lot alone would look from an outsider’s point of view before, but it makes sense to me now. This would be the only time I agreed to sitting in a parking lot waiting for anyone. Our conversation was short, and we both agreed that an actual date might be okay in the future. I watched her climb back into her car and waved again as she pulled away. I raced home and signed on. A short time later, she signed on and we spoke some more.
We decided that I would drive to her town for the second meeting, since she had driven to mine on the first. However, over the week in between, we took to talking on the phone as opposed to online. The conversation became a bit more personal, and the topic of sex had begun to come up more and more often. My nerves were being built as well, because I felt that I had to lie. Something told me that I would chase her off if I confessed to my virginity, and that I didn’t actually have a girlfriend, but I did tell her that part of my ‘relationship’ problem was not enough sex. Since I wasn’t having any sex, I guess that wasn’t technically a lie.
The time for our second meeting had come, and I made the drive over to a high school in her town. It didn’t take me long to find it, and I saw her car sitting in the parking lot. This time, there was no purple Camaro. My nerves were racing though, and I had high expectations for the date. Perhaps, this was the night it finally happened, I thought.
Instead, we got in her car to talk, and she decided she was hungry. We drove to a restaurant that wasn’t in my town, and wasn’t in her town, and I realized that this was the better part of discretion. This way, my girlfriend wouldn’t see us together. After eating, we saw that a movie theater was just across the street. So, we walked over to see what was playing. Our conversation never hit any lags, and sitting in the movie theater was the only time that we didn’t have something to say to each other. Instead, we held hands, and she even let me feel on her legs a bit. They were glorious, incredibly long, and toned. My mind was racing with the ideas of things to come, however, after the movie, she drove us back to my car, and we talked for a few more minutes, before she gave me a kiss on the cheek, and I made my way home.
Over the next few phone calls, our intimacy grew. She opened up to me a bit more about her past, and confessed that she had slept with another woman once. A part of me found that to be a hot idea, but I preferred that she was into men, otherwise, my problem of not enough sex would surely continue. We agreed to meet a third time, but still, in a park, this one also in her neck of the woods. Our date at the park was also a quick one, and we spent it walking along a bike path, weaving in and out of trees and creeks. We held hands, but Sage confessed that she was feeling nervous about how things were going. That I was a great guy, and she enjoyed talking to me, but wasn’t sure about how she felt.
At the end of our walk, feeling that my opportunity was slipping away, I made a bold move and kissed her on the lips. It was brief, and she pulled away much sooner than I would have liked, but inside, I rejoiced that I could finally lock away my first kiss. It took 21 years and 3 months, but I had finally broken down the first barrier. With an awkward hug, our date at the park ended, and I drove home unsure of where things were going to end up. However, I rejoiced in the feel of a kiss, and I decided right there that I would enjoy kissing, from then to now, I still enjoy kissing. There is no feel quite like it in the world, and even a bad kiss is better than no kiss.
Sage didn’t respond to me for the next few days, but I didn’t push the matter. I had a feeling that our time had come to a close, and it bothered me not knowing exactly why. I replayed all our conversations and time together, and felt that I had done some horrible thing wrong. I only didn’t know what it was. Unaware of what I had done wrong, I became angry, but not at Sage, at myself, for the simple fact that what most people learned in the sixth and seventh grade, I had been passed over. And all because some prank in middle school labeled me as the kid with my pants around my ankles.
It was the last day in June and Sage sent an e-mail, asking if I was interested in getting together that weekend, July 4th weekend. I eagerly agreed, forgetting all my anger at whatever miscue I had taken, or that she left me in the dark for so long. I felt this was a second chance, and they don’t come along very often. We had planned to meet at a hotel near our movie theater. I was curious about why a hotel, but she sent a message, saying she planned to thank me for being so patient with her. Within the reading of that message, my mind raced with possibilities, and I hadn’t been so excited over any single day since I was a child waiting for Christmas morning. During the week, I began to work out, feeling that I needed to be in the best shape possible for our meeting. Of course, three days of working out doesn’t over ride nine years of average activity, and my body barely changed an ounce.
As I walked into the hotel, I saw her sitting in the lobby. She greeted me with a warm hug, and we walked back to the room that she had gotten. Her friend, the one with the purple Camaro, was inside, with a man that she had been talking to online as well. I was familiar with the story, Sage had told me about them during our conversations, and this night was to be a special night for them, as well. The drama with her friend was that the man she was speaking with was married, as was she, and this was their first affair. I felt that putting a number to it indicated that there were others to follow, but to each their own. I was supposedly cheating on my girlfriend, after all. The only solace I took was that I didn’t actually have a girlfriend, so instead of being a cheater, I was only a liar. But, that left a very sour taste in my mouth just the same.
We did a round of Tarot card reading, something I knew nothing about, but Sage’s friend was heavily into the cosmos, and I discovered that I was a Pisces. I’ve since read some horoscopes from time to time, and I agree that some of the descriptions are accurate, but for the most part, I feel it was far to general to base my life on. Of course, reading the Tarot was interesting in its own right. Especially when the cards read that I was a pure heart. Sage blushed and smiled at me, sipping from her wine, and guilt seeped into my soul as I smiled back.
After the Tarot reading, Sage’s friend made an excuse for them to part, and they exited the hotel room. Nearly as soon as the door closed, Sage was in my arms, and my body was being overloaded with the racing hormones every person feels upon their first make-out session. Her tongue danced with mine, and my hands journeyed anywhere she’d let them. We pushed and pulled on each other, and tumbled to the bed. I pulled her dress down, she ripped my shirt up, and soon we lay in the bed, feeling all over each other. My excitement was seen on every inch of my body, and I looked at hers, drinking in the flavor of the first naked woman I had ever seen in my life. Every ounce of her was perfection, the smooth curves of her hips, the tender porcelain of her skin, and the parts I had only seen in magazines were revealed to be so much more beautiful than anything I had ever seen in my life. The female body was miraculous. Trying to slow the moment down, I began to kiss her body as softly as I could, barely grazing my lips against her silky body. I felt the goosebumps rise on her body, and I kissed them, too. When I finally returned my lips to hers, I felt like a changed man. I kissed her as a changed man. I was no longer the kid with my pants around my ankles, although, looking back, that’s exactly where they were when the change had occurred.
She was equally as tender with me, exploring me, but she had a purpose in her movements, a reason for what she was doing. “I don’t think I’m very good at this, do you mind if we try it?” she asked at one point. Did I mind? I was willing to do anything this Goddess wanted to do, I was completely hers for the commanding, and with having moved from boyhood to manhood, officially, I felt that anything was permissible, and on top of that, it was an act of pure joy, anything new was desired, and cherished. Although Sage experimented, I discovered, and together we enjoyed our lives for a few hours.
When we finished, she lay with her head on my chest. I felt euphoric, and a little foolish for having not done this sooner. I reminded myself that it wasn’t as if I hadn’t tried to do this before, though. I kissed the top of Sage’s head. She probably took it as a moment of tenderness, but I meant it in a moment of thanks. She was the first one to ever take a chance on me, and for that, I was grateful. However, as soon as my lips parted from the top of her head, she got out of bed and began to get dressed.
“Where are you going?” I asked, twisting to look at the hotel clock on the night table. It was already 1:30 in the morning, and I felt as though we had been in heaven for the past three hours.
“I have to get home soon” she answered, pulling her pants up along her perfectly shaped legs. A part of me whined inside, wanting to feel those legs against me once more, but they disappeared from view all too quickly. “My husband will start to worry if I’m not home shortly after 2.”
“Your…did you say husband?” I rubbed my eyes, and then a finger in my ear, cleaning it out.
“Yes, you knew I was married,” Sage said, pulling her top over her curly brown hair. She flipped it out of the collar and straightened the top matter-of-factly. Suddenly, as she buttoned the top button on her jeans, it came flooding in to my mind. We couldn’t meet at her house, because her husband was there. We didn’t eat in her town, nor mine, not only so my girlfriend wouldn’t catch us, but so that her husband wouldn’t catch us, either…and the hotel room! God, I felt so stupid, and lied to, and worse than all of that, I felt like a hypocrite. My perfectly euphoric feeling vanished in a heartbeat, and was replaced by pain, anguish, and heartache like none I’ve ever felt before.
The door to the hotel room closed with a soft click, but my heart slammed into my stomach with a thunderous crash. Slowly, I began to get dressed myself, but I didn’t leave right away. I sat up on the small couch, staring out the hotel sliding doors to the balcony, into the night sky. The air conditioner hummed an “I told you so” song, and I felt foolish, replaying each incident that indicated she was with someone else. And not only was she with someone else, she had just left me, her experimental sex toy, to return to that someone else. I felt used. And there wasn’t anything I could do about it, without confessing that I had lied about my ‘girlfriend’ all along. She felt secure with me, safe with me, because we were both in the same situation, in unhappy relationships, only I wasn’t in any relationship, and her confession let me know that I still wasn’t going to be in one. We weren’t starting something great, we were avoiding an unhappy situation, and now came the time to part ways.
We still e-mailed each other for a few weeks, but the dates stopped. She began to talk to me about her problems with her marriage, and explained that the divorce was on its way. I told her I broke up with my ‘girlfriend’. Looking back, I think she lost the dangerous side of our affair, the ‘what if we get caught’ rush of doing something forbidden, and with it went an interest in being with me. However, at the time, I felt that neither of us could respect the other, knowing that we were both cheaters. Even if I lied about it, that was a part of my character now. As far as she knew, I cheated on my girlfriend.
A few months after our rendezvous, she threw a party at her new house. I was invited, and decided I might as well go. She was still beautiful to me, and a large part of me wanted to be with her, but at the party, I met her roommate, and I also met her freshly divorced ex-husband, who turned out to be a very nice guy. Sage spent more of the party talking to other people, and she tried to introduce me to some of her single friends, but the chemistry between us had been changed, and when I hugged her goodbye at the end of the night, it was the last time I ever saw her. I sometimes lie awake at night, just like with Stacy, wondering where she is, and who she’s with, and if she’s happy. I’d trade almost anything to have that night we spent together all over again. It was sweet, incredible, and passionate. Only now, I can appreciate it for that spectacular act, and let the anguish of what followed disappear from my body.
Let me know what you think.