Though few and far between, I still occasionally write little stories for the fun of it. I wrote this one in Spring 2011. Enjoy.
The dull roar of the jet engines does little to distract the tumultuous of thoughts racing through my head. Am I really doing this? Have I gone completely crazy? Am I in over my head?
I attempt to convince myself that I was sane. It isn’t like this is an uncommon occurrence in these days. Girl meets boy. Girl falls in love with boy. Girl flies half way across the country to see boy less than two weeks after their whirlwind romance began, while still unsure exactly how the romance began in the first place.
It’s a lot to wrap my head around. I’m not really sure what the catalyst was that started the events that lead to me being here, but it all started innocently enough. It started with a phone call.
I was expecting it when my phone came to life with an incoming call. He had asked when he could call me through a text message while I was at work. Begrudgingly I texted back when I would be off, with nervous butterflies flopping around in my gut.
Two years prior, I had avoided his phone calls. The hairs on the back of my neck would prickle up whenever his number danced across my screen. A jolt of nerves compelled me to hit the ignore button. I had no good reason not to answer, other than my utter lack of self-confidence telling me not to. I was effectively reduced in to a puddle of jello with just a simple phone call.
He made me nervous for no obvious reason. This was not some stranger off the web, after all, but someone I had gone to school with for five years. He was the harmless boy who sat in front of me in class. Smaller than me, quiet and looking much younger than his 13 years at the time, while I was commonly mistaken for a teacher, having been an early bloomer. We didn’t have a close relationship, but he had left an impression on me. Nine years later, that kid, who was now a grown man, intimidated me, in a strange role reversal. I wanted to know him better but felt paralyzed by his calls. To my odd relief, the calls from him slowed, and then ceased.
Over the next two years we exchanged sporadic at best text messages or random hellos on social networking sites. I figured he thought I was a frigid bitch for avoiding his friendship in the past. I was mad and disappointed in myself for ruining our chance at friendship, so, for the sake of trying to redeem myself, I decided to talk to him. The worst that could happen would be boring the pants off of him or making a fool of myself.
I nervously answered the phone, heart racing in an uneven rhythm. It was understandably awkward at first, seeing as we were near strangers. He was better at keeping the conversation going then I was, but soon we fell into a comfortable banter, almost like old friends. Time passed quickly but it also felt as if time wasn’t moving at all.
Somewhere along the line, direction of conversation evolved into something much more than just friendly gossip. I could feel the chemistry and sexual tension electrifying our exchange. It made my head buzz in excitement and confusion and made my panties wet. We promised to talk again the next day. And so we did, every day leading up to where I was now, cruising at 35,000 feet in the air, headed in his direction. We were just hours away from us being face to face for the first time in years.
I fidgeted uncomfortably in my seat, stuck between a snoring older man and Korean teenager watching movies with subtitles on his laptop. I could feel where my skirt had hiked itself up and I tried futilely to adjust it knowing that I had skipped panties when dressing that morning. This was not unusual for me, and something I know he was hoping I would do. I had come to regret it by this point, especially after fighting to keep my skirt down in the wind navigating stairs at LAX, and I had no doubt that I had flashed at least one person during that struggle. On top of the fear of giving everyone a crotch shot, I was becoming acutely aware of the moisture between my legs that was building along with my anticipation.
I wasn’t really sure what I was anticipating and I felt a bit in over my head. I lacked any experience what so ever, not just sexually, but in relationships. I had been flirted with, asked out, what have you, but nothing felt right. Not until him. He stimulated my brain, as well as other more sensitive parts of me, without even being in the same room. He made me feel like one half of a whole that I had been searching for. I feared that this could be too good to be true, but knew I would have to live with the regret if I let him slip away from me again.
I slowly took deep breaths, attempting to calm my pounding heart. I was scared to see him, but I wanted to be with him desperately. I flipped through a magazine I brought as a distraction and idly tried to absorb any sexual knowledge from its pages. Soon we touched down and I was that much closer to my destination. One more connection and I knew there was no turning back. It was time to test if our chemistry extended past our phone conversations.
Touching down at my last stop was exhilarating and horrifying. My fear of rejection was rising in my chest, but I focused on collecting my baggage to quell it. I brought up his number and dialed, his soothing voice answering that he was waiting out front for me. He couldn’t wait to see me. This is real.
I made my way out the revolving doors and caught sight of him in the distance. No longer shorter than me like the boy had been, the man towered over me. I had the urge to run, but settled with a fast walk. There he stood with a shy smile. I felt a blush creep across my cheeks as we loaded my bags into the car and I took my place in the passenger seat.
He joined me in the cab and pulled me into an embrace and kissed me passionately. My body was ablaze as I felt his lips press desperately against mine. The ride back to his place couldn’t be quick enough, but, finally we arrived. He dragged my bag inside behind me and I took my surroundings in. It was a typical bachelor pad with scarce décor. We stood and embraced each other for a few minutes, a sense of relief of finally making it here radiating through me, before my pent up desire took over. We headed to the bedroom.
I sat on the edge of the bed anxiously and he began to unbutton my blouse. I can feel his nervousness too, behind the confident façade. Numerous articles of clothing later, I scoot to the middle of the bed and I beckon him over to me. I take in his naked body as he crawls over to the center of the bed and in between my legs. I almost quiver with longing as he leans over me and we kiss.
He pulls away from our kiss and we bring our bodies closer together in union. He tenderly asks if I’m ok as I feel the first pressure of him entering me, slowly. I sigh, with a twinge of discomfort that passes almost as quickly as it came. Slowly, slowly he presses forward until I can feel every inch of him inside of me, connecting us by pulse pounding heat. I begin to become accustomed to his girth as he slowly, pulls back and forth, in a building, steady rhythm. A moan escapes my lips as pleasurable waves wash over me. His pace increases, doubling then tripling the pleasure as we both approach orgasm. I feel myself go over the edge, muscles contracting involuntarily and he then comes inside of me, with nearly silent grunts.
We lie there, recovering our breath and composure before making our way to the shower. The long day finally catching up with us, we return to bed freshly showered and entangle our naked bodies to sleep. Exhausted, but my body still buzzing, I lie awake, listening to the thunderstorm brewing outside and drinking in his body in as he quietly snores in my arms. Sleep slowly drifts over me and I fall asleep on his chest, knowing I’m finally home.