I cannot tell you for sure who he was. And a part of me doesn’t want to. I wish to claim him, although I can’t. He’s an idea mostly, for I did not know him long.
How shall I describe him. Thick black hair and clay toned skin with a hint of red from the sun. A sultry voice that is masculine and soft. Foreign. Broad shoulders and solid core. Yet, he is so much more. His image is truly beautiful. Uniquely so. But it is something deeper that nudges me awake. A soul masked in superficial confidence that is seeking meaning and love. Home. But I can sense the seeker got lost in the seeking. His beauty and body have been passed around for some time now. Such looks are a strong currency for men who spend much of their time lusting and longing. I stare into his black eyes and see myself looking back.
When does it end? How many is enough?
Within minutes of walking in, he reaches out for me. His hand brush my side, but my body moves away. Already my defenses are up. Be careful with this one, my mind says. I had been celibate for a month and this is to be my first sexual experience since my visit to the emergency room. We chat for a while, sizing each other up. Determining the risks. And decided to quickly go out for supplies for this would be a long night. I grab my bike and we leave to get his locked on the street.
I tend to ride alone. I do most things alone. Tonight is different. The warm air is light and fresh. Signs of autumn already creeping in. We ride and talk and laugh. The streets are quiet as we make our way to a local bodega where he knows we can score quality dick pills. Dick pills he’s bought with someone else, I try to bring to consciousness, but won’t. No, tonight we’re going to need dick pills. Swirving my bike back and forth through the street as if in a movie, I smile. I’m happy.
We return and grow silent. Perhaps for the first time. Knowing the role I need to play, I take a breath and center myself. I move towards him and step into character. Our eyes close as we allow our hands to explore the curvature of each other’s bodies. Clothes drop to the floor. Our tongues take their turn. Lips. Noses. Bellies. My senses quickly tell me I’m not the first one tonight. There is a touch of pain in knowing, but who am I to judge? Our bodies entwine as we take advantage of each other and forge a bond of pain and want. Candles lit and incense burning, the room grows hot and humid with sweat. A fan is turned on, a window opened. Heat tempering not only our flesh but something much deeper and forbidden, our hearts. Pounding in my chest, begging to be free, I find love slipping through my lips and can not hold it back. “Love.”
Did he hear? I clench my teeth, but the word keeps knocking at the back of my throat, begging to be released. “Love. Love. I Love. I love you.” Airy whispers escape as our position changes and his hands lock with mine.
God, let me love.
I give in. My body now pressed to the bed, he climbs on top and takes possession for the first time. With that, an inner alchemist begins to methodically dissolve fears and melt locks. Creating the living from the dead. Dawning a new soul.
Had I been smart, I would have had hellhounds and sentinels at full attention, protecting me as the inner gates were opened and my soul lifted. I would have stopped and demanded to know what was happening and what it all meant. What were his intentions? What did he want? What did I? But that is not the priority of the soul. The soul, my soul, was reunited with my body and I became a full person again. Vulnerable and loving, which I can only pray will prove to be my greatest strength. But in this moment as orgasms peaked and he became a part of me, love is all I care about. When I look into his eyes again, a voice within says:
“This was worth the wait. I will do whatever I need to make you happy.”
This type of devotion has never crossed my mind with past lovers or boyfriends. No one has ever made me want to evolve before. To wish to give my life and self over to love in order to become more.
We rise in the afternoon and he is quickly aware that something is wrong. He cautions me to not think too much. To not ruin the moment with doubts and fears. He dresses and gets ready to leave. I stay in bed, pretending to be cool, but my heart is alive and I can feel so much more than I wanted.
Would I see him again? Was this a mistake? I decide to not ask him for anything. No second encounter. Nothing. I need to want nothing from this man. As he walks to the door, I stand to let him out. “Are you okay?” he asks. With a smile, I tell him I am. We say goodbye and the door closes behind him. As it does, the core of my being shakes and tears stream as I bark, “God, help me! I can’t do this! I can’t! Help me!” The pain is unbearable. The love and fear of loss is too much. I am afraid of dying all over again.
Photo Credit: Collin Marrero
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