Discovery now, experimentation, determining limits and likes. I now know how to kiss him to hear a groan of pleasure. He knows my sensitive spots and can make me melt against him. His mouth and taste are becoming familiar to me. Still, though, we aren't chasing each other around the office like two horny teenagers. We touch now, freely... though still with some shyness on my part. I'm not quite able to fully understand this, to comprehend that I can hold his hand or run my fingers through his hair without there being expectations of more or feelings of guilt.
Where did this man come from? Why was he put on my team and in my office to begin with? How is it that I managed to find someone who is such an incredible friend and then some? He sees me, you know. What the most amazing part about this is that he not only sees but tells. He sees what I keep trying to be but what I never believe comes through. (I guess it must after all.)
When I thought that I was being a pest all those times I stopped in his office last year, before he moved into my space, he thought I was anything but. He saw my visits as a self-possessed "I'll visit when I want, and I'll leave when I want" moments; ones he looked forward to and enjoyed. Essentially, I really was -- really am -- my own person. Even then. I never knew that. My confidence, until only very recently, always left me feeling like a little girl playing dress-up, waiting for someone to come in and call her bluff.
Again, throughout the day, we visited the reasons we're doing this, deciding that we want the attention and the affection. We suppose. He doesn't need me, either, by the way. We're the other's want, nothing more. It's a wonderful, heady sensation to want for the sake of wanting, you know. To simply hold his hand… all because I wanted to. I played my fingers in his hair this afternoon, because I wanted to. When I wanted to touch his face, I did. Marvelous freedom! As always, I felt like a girl with him, someone without a care in the world.
I got to tell him today that I wasn't going to take care of him. There would be no falling into a wifely role for me, like some mistress with impossible expectations. So many others need me to take care of them, which I do because I want to... but to be able to look at a man and say "no, I'm not your keeper"... incredible.
Our moments together were interrupted too often, of course. Clients, co-workers, bosses... all day, in and out of our private world. One gentleman came in, a friend of ours -- Liam's more than mine, though -- and at some point during his visit, a remark about my being tense came up. This man put his hands on me, gave me a pleasant little backrub for, oh, maybe three minutes tops...
"It's funny," Liam said when his friend left. "When he was touching you, I just wanted to tell him to get his hands off of you." He paused for a moment. "I was jealous. I was actually jealous." I'm guessing that that emotion wasn't quite what he expected. Me neither.