07/14/00
Today, a quote from Miss Marie is appropriate:
"ohmyfuckingGAWD"
Hmmm...it bears repeating.
"OHMYFUCKINGGAWD" (emphasis added).
In a very Stephen King-like manner, I will spoil this entire entry by first spewing out what happened and then going into detail about how it happened. (The primary reason I stopped reading King, by the way.)
It happened. We had sex.
*Ta-da!*
Okay...so here's the story. As you know from yesterday's entry, I have been sweating bullets over this whole thing. "What if he really is just some ignorant fuck I've built up in my head to be some sort of saint, and I'm going to be horribly disappointed or, even better, raped and killed and fed to his dog." I spent yesterday afternoon eating and trying to quell the butterflies (hell, Giant Killer Moths) that had overtaken my stomach. I had also pondered what a shame it was that I looked incredibly cute in an unkempt kind of way (braless and with my hair all piled up on my head with several clips and bits and pieces of it just falling everywhichway, no makeup...but still damned cute) and there was no one there to appreciate it. Just after China Beach was over (Christ, I love that show) I decided to check my e-mail. I had no sooner gotten into my room when the dogs started raising hell. I looked out the window and some strange truck with a stranger man at the wheel was parked in my driveway. I pushed my face to the glass so I could make out the front door and it was Zak, having been delivered by one of the other workers at his present job. He wanted to know if I could take him to the shop to pick up his truck in a couple of hours. I said no problem. "Give me your phone number so I can call you when it's ready." A-ha. Now he has not only seen me in all my incredibly cute glory but he's also got my phone number.
So when the call came I picked him up at his house and drove him to da hood (gunshots were fired across the street from the garage while we were standing there--fuck me) where his piece-o-shit truck was experiencing a strange and mysterious brake situation (pressure but air in the line, for you gear heads out there). I was hotter than hell and about to pass out (too much AC--I can't tolerate heat anymore). I was sitting on the ground in the doorway of the garage, remembering how my dad used to take me and my sister with him when he worked at Kerns' garage on weekends when we were kids. It was coming up on 5:00 and the garage was closed, so the mechanic asked us if we wanted to come inside where the air was. I said "hell yes" and held out my hand for Zak to help me up.
Those things that just happen, that you can't adequately express in words? He helped me up, but he didn't quite let go of my hand, and I didn't, either. Our fingers mingled as I walked past him and towards the garage office...I squeezed them for just a second and then let them trail away...as I said there's no good way to describe it but that exchange just melted me even more than the oppressive heat.
So in the garage office, it becomes apparent that the truck isn't going to be street-ready today. So we get back in my car and he asks me, "what's for dinner? I mean, I probably owe you dinner since you've been driving me around all day, you think?" I asked him if that would mean I had to put out. He said of course. So I laughed and said, sure, you can buy me dinner. I dropped him off at his house and then went home to shower.
I got home around 6:00. Megan was already gone to school, so I left her a note that said I was meeting "C" at "the bar" and would be home late. Gee, could I be any more vague? I don't know why I feel the need to keep this from her. Maybe because I know it's going to be infinitely more friendly in my house if she isn't aware of my every move. And because she's become a raging bitch and I don't necessarily want to invite her wrath. Anyway, I picked him up around 6:45 and we went to the Chinese place down the street that I consider too expensive to patronize. And of course, I couldn't fucking eat. I tried. I ordered chicken fried rice and had barely eaten any when a bunch of renegade grains tried to escape down my trachea. I turned six shades of purple and for a minute thought I was going to have to give the International Choking Signal, but the rice finally camped out somewhere other than my windpipe. God, I'm a fucking idiot. Dinner was otherwise very nice. We talked a lot. I'm always afraid that we're going to have not word one to say to each other but that has never been the case. Even when neither of us has much to say, the silences aren't awkward.
So after dinner we went back to his place. This time he sat next to me. We watched wrestling for the comedic value and talked some more. I put my bare feet on his leg because they were cold and he held a pillow over them to warm them up, only occasionally and ever-so-discreetly stroking my calf. About two hours after we got there, he finally had his arm around me. He told me his real name (which I will do him the honor of not repeating here because he was right, it's godawful). I had about 2 glasses of wine, he smoked, he drank a Pepsi.
And then he took my face in one hand, drew it slowly to his, and kissed me.
I'll say it again--ohmyfuckinggawd.
In the years prior to my marriage, and my subsequent affair, and my subsequent marriage to Megan, I was far from innocent. I've lost count of the number of people I've had sex with because of names and faces I can't always remember, but the number hovers somewhere between 30 and 35. All but one of them were men. And in my entire lifetime, of all the men AND women I've had sex with, none was as passionate, as intense, as giving as Zak.
Ohmyfuckinggawd.
The way he held me, sometimes as if afraid to crush me, others as if in attempt to become me...the way he kissed me, long and hard and soft...the way he made acquaintance with every single inch of my skin...the way he spent so much time just being there, rather than just "mount'n'go"... sweet Jesus. It all lasted around 2 hours, after which we had the obligatory cigarette and talked some more.
He asked me, "so we're a secret, huh?" I told him I never said that. I don't give a damn who knows about this. What floored me about that statement was that I hadn't known there was even going to be a "we" to be secretive about. But while we were talking afterward, he just kept touching me and looking at me and I
But wait, there's more...