* And now for something completely different... I've recently been studying the effect
of first person narrative on the reader at university, and I thought I might apply this to
a D/C story. The angle is taken from Doug's perspective and of course, I'm aware that
Doug would never write his thoughts down in this manner, but that is irrelevant, it's
only the meandering of imagination.
* These are not my characters and I have no affiliation with ER. No profit is gained
from this work.
* Many thanks to Ruth and Jordan for giving their time to read this. Your opinions are
really appreciated.
* All feedback is appreciated.
By Jo
dynamojo26@hotmail.com
~~~
It's been two weeks now and I've not stopped thinking about her. She's even
been in my dreams, and I'm the first person to admit that I've never before been
caught with nothing but love on my mind. Sex is a staple part of everyone's diet, but
most people can live without love, and I've done so quite well for the most of my life.
I'd never understood in the past, but now I realise that there are many different levels
to that feeling. Fifteen days ago, I had the best sex of my life. No, she wasn't a dead
ringer for Liz Hurley, and she didn't have a degree in the Karma Sutra. It's just that
after months of lingering glances and coyly brushing shoulders in corridors, when we
finally got it together, it blew my mind. I felt so close to her, so completely in
love, it was like I'd unzipped my skin and slipped inside hers. Finally I understood what all
the movies I'd seen were going on about.
In my thirty-five years, well the past fifteen anyway, I've done most types
of sex - the one night stand, the heady first flush, the secret affair, even the comfort
variety. Some of it hasn't been ideal, but a lot of it has been great, and I thought that,
for me, sex couldn't get much better. But now I know that until that night two weeks
ago, I'd missed the Real Thing by a mile. I'd never known what it was like to make
love in a state of semi-conscious bliss. I didn't think it was possible. Yes, I'd had
plenty of Lust Sex, but never once experienced Love Sex. What's the difference? Let
me explain...
The One Night Stand:
The first time she touched me, (she placed her hand, gently and suggestively,
on my upper arm) my whole body shivered with anticipation. I'd smiled at her across
the bar and she had grinned back - and now I was sitting next to her. I'd used the same
old line. The one that had worked in the past and had just worked right now, 'Please
don't leave tonight... I know we'd be great together.'
She had responded with a widening smile and then run her hand down to the crotch of my pants. I didn't care that the bar was still half full and that people standing nearby were watching us; my hormones had kicked in and I couldn't care if my mother walked into the room at that moment. We talked briefly, but two things were obvious - one, we had absolutely nothing in common, and two, our minds were both fixed very definitely on something else. So, we left the bar and I took her back to my place, purely because it was the closer destination.
The build-up to the wild thing was pretty quick - well, if you call ripping each other's clothes off the instant the door closed a build-up at all. I can't remember clearly because of the haze of alcohol, but I think she even kept her knee-high boots on.
That's the thing about the one night stand. If you're sure it's just for one night and you're unlikely ever to see your partner again, you're free to be as bad and kinky as you like - say and do things that you wouldn't think of doing in a real relationship. It's sex without emotion or commitment. It's animalistic. It's primal. The buzz is 110% excitement; the thrill is doing it fast and furious with someone who turns you on only because there is no-one better to have at that moment.
Unfortunately, it's also a potent narcotic. If you have enough of the one night
sex, and not enough of the good stuff, then you begin to think that you actually enjoy
it. And in some ways you're right. If you're looking for an adrenaline fix, then it will
be satiating, if you're not, then the conclusion will only be disappointment and
depression.
Cheating Sex:
I'd thought I'd be able to stop myself after one kiss... I know, famous last
words... but that's the way it is with the illicit affair. You think you're in control, that
you can enjoy the flirty drink while her back is turned, even stretching to the
clandestine dinner, even perhaps the hands-everywhere, wildly passionate kiss in the
back of the taxi without it going any further. Wrong. I know for a fact that you can
never stop yourself. It always ends in sex.
Cheating sex is most explosive when you're in a steady relationship, when
you're trusted, and when you know your partner is in love with you. To cheat on
someone is to kid yourself that you don't need them, that the feelings aren't
reciprocated. Guilt never comes into the picture, or at least, not until after the deed
has been done.
My most memorable experience of cheating sex happened under these
circumstances. On a whim, I'd gone out for a drink with a nurse I knew from
pediatrics. She was confident, talkative and oh, so beautiful. It was a disastrous
combination. Three whiskies' and a bottle of wine at her place later and she was
unbuttoning my shirt. I knew I shouldn't be doing it and I tried to resist, but when an
attractive woman tells you she's desperate for you, I find it about as difficult to resist
as the last chocolate in the box.
We ended up doing it on her living room floor simply because we couldn't
wait. Secret sex is a turn-on for lots of complicated reasons, some of which I still
don't understand. It's wrong, it's risky, and it's carnal. It's also the excitement of
something new and undiscovered. I got a kick when I looked down and saw a
different face, with different hair, and different eyes. Everything about her was
opposite - the skinny shape of her body, the feel of her skin, the smell of cigarettes
and alcohol on a woman so alien, but so enticing it made my toes tingle. It was
uncharted territory and I just wanted to go on exploring.
But, cheating sex can never hold anyone's interest for long. There are only so
many times you can lie, so many excuses you can find, before the whole thing
becomes dull. Once the game has been played, the moves made, the thrill is gone, and
before you know it, your secret relationship crumbles at your feet. And as it crumbles,
it releases a scent, one that reeks of guilt so powerfully that your long-term partner
can always smell it on you. It's a hideous repercussion, but it always happens, and it
always makes the whole experience seem a dreadful shadow.
Comfort Sex:
I was feeling utterly damned and unloved. It was shortly after a relationship
with someone whom I had actually begun to care about had collapsed and I was
feeling in need of a little TLC. I craved two arms to hold me and caress me and to
make me feel good about myself, because I felt too lousy to make it better on my
own. I needed a woman I felt comfortable with - so I called up Linda.
We had been
together before and both of us knew that we only wanted each other for one thing, so
there was no pressure, no fear of commitment or messy aftermaths, and no chance of
getting dragged down. We sat in a hotel bar and worked our way through two bottles
of red wine, chatting aimlessly about things that meant absolutely nothing and to be
honest, I cared very little about.
We escaped up to one of the hotel rooms some time after midnight. There
wasn't much kissing - there never is with this type of sex. Kissing implies one of two
things, either that there is big-time lust present, or you genuinely care for the person
you're with. We both felt neither. This is because comfort sex isn't about sex at all. It's
skin therapy for a broken soul. There is much touching and holding, and the sex,
when it finally happens, is relaxing but unsurprising and really quite bland. No effort
required. At this particular moment, all I wanted was someone to bury my demons in,
a face I could replace with another's, and Linda fitted the bill perfectly.
She knew
what I liked, and there was no need to impress each other with fancy techniques, it
was just a chance to lie down and try to forget my hurt.
And, to some extent, it works. Even if the relationship, of sorts, lasts only a
few hours, it acts as a distancing tool, it aids forgetfulness and brings on the sort of
unconscious sleep that begins to heal emotional wounds. It may not be ultimately
satisfying, but it's the equivalent to putting a Band-Aid on a bleeding wound - when
the comforter is removed, the wound it still present, but the healing process has
begun.
First-Flush Sex:
Whenever Diane came into view, my stomach felt like a cage of butterflies
and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I thought about her all the time (in
only one sense, though - in love, you think about the most ridiculous minute details of
your partner, her perfume, her voice, the way she reads your moods).
Luckily, she
responded to my flirting and we ended up making a date. Once we got to the
restaurant, I was so tense I could barely eat. I didn't know how I was going to make it
through the evening without dragging her off to the bathroom to ravish her in there.
The eye contact across the table was brief but electric; she had a strange sparkle in
her eyes that I had not noticed before. As soon as we'd paid for the bill, we almost ran
out to my car and drove out to a secluded spot where we proceeded to have what I
thought was the best sex I would ever have in my life. It was fantastic. We explored each other with eyes, lips, tongues and fingers. I loved
the feel of her body and the sensation of her hands on my skin; it felt amazingly right.
The sex was an incredibly physical experience. From then on we didn't seem to need
anything else in our lives. We barely talked, and when we did, our conversations were
brief, unengaging and usually about mundane things. Somehow, all the other
important things you are meant to talk about seemed irrelevant. I kidded myself that I
was in love, but it soon turned out to merely an excuse to add some additional
excitement to the physical gratification. These sorts of relationships are great while they last,
they're energetic, entertaining,
and satisfying. But, like any flame that burns bright can only burn so long, the
excitement soon vanishes and you are left with the same sort of pain as when a truly
meaningful relationship dissolves. Often, the lust disappears because one party is customarily more keen
than the other. This was what happened with Diane and me. As soon as things started to take a turn
for the serious, a warning light began flashing in my brain and I subconsciously
reacted in the only way I knew how. At first I was torn up about leaving her, but it
took less than twenty-four hours to realise that we had had nothing in common and I
had done the right thing. I didn't love her, and she didn't love me.
The connection, albeit intense, had been purely physical. Short, but very sweet whilst it lasted.
In Love Sex:
Whenever Carol came into view my stomach felt like a cage of butterflies and
the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I couldn't stop thinking about her, I
wanted her every second of the day. Sound familiar? Well, we'd been spending a lot
of time in each other's company and one night, I decided to run the gauntlet and go
over to her house. We kissed on the porch and it was like static passing between us. I
had never contemplated that a simple kiss could feel so wonderful and so satisfying.
Our first few dates were indiscernible from a bad case of 'waited-too-long lust'. We
couldn't stop kissing, making out like heady teenagers whenever we had the
opportunity and touching each other's arms and sides unnecessarily. On the night she
asked me round to her house for dinner, the invitation to stay the night was implicit.
At the end of the meal, she took my hand and led me through to her bedroom.
There
were candles flickering in the corner and the bed was laid with fresh sheets, as if she
had spent hours planning this moment. My legs were so weak with desire I could
hardly stand.
Once the main event arrived, I just wanted to breathe her in. It was more than
just excitement, the feeling was deeper, all-consuming. She began by running her
hands through my hair, very gently, like I was the most important person in the world
to her.
Once you've made love with someone who is destined to be your soul-mate,
you'll never think 'Is this it?' again. For years I had been supremely cynical of all the
Real Thing hype, believing it was something that only happened in movies or maybe
to a few couples across the world, and that the majority simply had to settle for
whatever they could find. But now I know exactly what all the fuss is about.
When I lay in her arms, I thought of every cliché ever invented. In knew we'd
been put on the Earth to be together, like two halves making a whole, and even after
all that we'd been through together, that it had all worked out perfectly in the end.
And instead of the animalistic urgency of first-flush sex, a feeling of incredible calm
swept over me.
Every bit of my body was slowly sucked into hers, and although each nerve
ending in my body was screaming for her touch, her feel, there was absolutely no
hurry. We had all the time in the world. I had never remembered how our bodies
slotted together so perfectly. When she moved her body over mine, I felt a warm
sense of security pass through me. I knew that she would always take care of me and
that I was safe as long as she was near.
For someone who had always been a doubter of true love, it was a
mind-blowing experience, a feeling so intense that words cannot do it justice. It gave
me an immense flush of positivity, and I am still, to this day, glowing with happiness.
And, if after all I've experienced, if it can happen to me, it can happen to anyone...
The End.