Was it good for you?- Chapter 5

Chapter 5, "Exit, Stage Left."

There is no escaping the awkwardness of the first time you take your clothes off in front of someone. I always think, in my mind, of how casual it'll play out. Like something out of a movie, where the lead characters are tossing off clothes and breathlessly kissing in between shirts flying off, and pants being undone. Each garment floating to the the floor perfectly like a feather, the lighting is romantic, two bodies falling flawlessly onto the bed. Most of the time, for me, I have a pretty good buzz going on when I'm at this stage, so my recollection of some of the events is a bit foggy, but I'd like to think it's all very "L Word" when it happens, and the reality is that...it is not. For me, anyways. One time, my date tossed her sheer shirt off, and it landed in a bowl on my nightstand that had milk leftover from my granola cereal earlier that morning. That stopped things pretty quickly. Another smooth move came about when I kicked off my shoe which soared a bit too far and broke a date's framed picture of her recently deceased dog. Whatever the case may be, it all leads up to that moment when you're both naked and vulnerable. Having a buzz definitely helps moves things along. I guess the fact that I didn't care that much about the person I was having sex with REALLY helped move things past the awkwardness. If it happened one or two more times in the following days, that was great, and if it didn't, no big deal. So, there was rarely any pressure for perfection. 

But this....this was different. I was already invested in whatever was happening with Liz. I already liked her, I already wanted to spend more time with her and we hadn't even slept together yet, so to say I was a little nervous when we arrived back at my place was an enormous understatement. Also, I wasn't the least bit drunk, so every semi-disasterous pre-sex moment of the past was crystal clear as it replayed in my head. I was careful not to light candles all over, as the memory of Jeffrey's tail catching on fire just as one of my random dates was about to go down on me was still pretty vivid. I was sure I had cleaned up before I left, so there was no glasses or dishes in my bedroom, nothing that could get knocked over or ruin a halfway decent article of clothing. 

The thing about having sex with someone new is that you're starting out with no playbook. You're going out on the field with no strategy, no game plan and the team is counting on you. The only blueprint for success you have is what YOU know YOU like. The problem is, as a woman, your tastes have evolved since the first time you masturbated or your first crappy 6 minute sexual encounter with a teenage boy. So, over the years, you've developed a more keen sense of what works for you. In my more recent sexual encounters, I'll admit, I didn't care whether there were earth shattering fireworks, I was just looking for some sort of satisfaction and perhaps a little validation. Yeah, of course I wanted some chemistry, some sparks, some shudders, some shivers, some heavy breathing, and if a heart pounding orgasm happened, then great. And if it didn't happen for me, I really was perfectly okay about it, because (and this is where the validation part comes in) I still knew that that I was attractive, or interesting enough that this person underneath me wanted to have sex with me. Stupid, right? Well, that's what the early 30's are for. Momentary lapses in judgement. I knew having sex with Liz wasn't going to be a mistake, or a momentary lapse in judgement, so it was all the more important that things go well. I was trying to relieve myself of the pressure by thinking, "Ok, this doesn't have to be GREAT, we're both aware it's the first time we're going to be together, but it has to at least be GOOD." The truth is I did want it to be great. 

As we get comfortable in the living room, which is fairly simple, because we both kick off our shoes at the same time, I pour the wine. From there, I careen into a downward spiral, forgetting exactly how to relax. I'm up and down several times. 

"Should I put the TV on? Is there something you want to watch?" I ask, shoving my hand between the couch cushions digging for the remote.

"That's okay, we can just talk.." 

"Alright. Um..music? Any favorites? My iPod is loaded..."  I instantly get up (again) from the couch, and press play on my iPod dock. "Let's see, we have Enya, we have Enigma, all the lesbian date night classics..."  Funny-yet I'm thinking I came across as "suddenly nervous" because I trail off. Liz laughs, as she stands up and walks over to me. In an instant, we're kissing. I can feel my worries and nerves subsiding as her hands move slowly from my sides, to my shoulders, then my neck as they lightly make their way to my face, gently moving to my hair. As we get progressively bolder, tongues swirling, bodies pressing more firmly, breathing getting a bit heavier, my mind shifts to how we get to the bedroom from here, because here...is feeling pretty damn good. My fingertips move under her shirt, feeling her soft skin, the curves leading to her bra, then back down to her waist and around her sides to the small of her back.  Should I say some cheesy line like, "Shall we move this to the bedroom?" like some dickhead guy in a straight rom-com movie?  Should I start to do that wild kiss & fumble walk into the bedroom banging into shelves and walls because we can't tear our lips off one another? No, I opt for the 'no words needed' move and put my hands on hers, bringing them to my lips and kissing them before entwining my fingers in hers and taking a step backwards towards the hall to my bedroom. She smiles a sheepish grin, sort of biting her bottom lip in anticipation, squeezing my hands a bit before moving with me. 

My room is dimly lit without having any lights on, thanks to the streetlight that shines outside one of my windows. It's a strange orangey glow, but just the right amount, thanks to the blinds being expertly tilted. It's an absolute plus for anyone over 30. I resist the urge to say "This is where the magic happens..." to put us at ease with a joke, as we enter. I kiss her again, standing near the foot of my bed. This time, she slowly breaks the kiss and nuzzles my neck near my ear, before whispering "Dina...." 

I can hear myself kind of groan "Mmmm?" with my hands still on her hips. 

"Dina...I'm a little nervous..."

I open my eyes and focus on her face. She blinks sweetly, and takes my hands. "I haven't done.. this ..in a long time..." 

"Okay...would it help if I said I was nervous, too?"  Kiss, kiss.

"You are?"  Kiss, kiss.

"Yeah, of course."  Kiss, kiss.

She squeezes my hands. "It's been almost a year since I've been with anyone..."  Kis--

A year? Wow. I'm not sure if I'm supposed to react or not react, or if I'm suppose to offer up the fact that's only been a couple months since I've been with..whatshername...or if I should just say, "it's been a long time for me, too" and keep it vague. But that would open me up to a "How long?" response, and I don't want to lie. 

Kiss, kiss.

Still sort of whispering in hushy breathy tones, she says "A year is a long time...and I feel like... I'm not even sure what to do...."    Kiss, kiss.

I run my hands along the top of her jeans, stopping at her button, and undoing it then slowly pulling the zipper down.  Kiss, kiss. 

Moving my lips along her neck, I stop by her ear and whisper, "You know what?"

She lets out a soft little moan, her eyes closed, as her hands move along my arms. Still brushing my lips near and around her ear, I continue to whisper. 

"A year is a long time, but here's the good news...nothings changed..."  Kiss, kiss.

"Kissing is still sexy as hell..." I slowly push her jeans down. 

"Touching is still hot..."  I say, as I lightly touch her hips. 

She steps out of her jeans, and her hands immediately unbutton and unzip mine. I peel her shirt over her head, and she finishes unbuttoning me, kissing down my chest. As I try to think of a great ending to my sexy dialog, like "And sex is still awesome..." it doesn't even matter because we're lying on my bed in our bras and special date-night panties, sending currents of excitement to each other through our touching, and feeling one another's bodies, our lips crushed together, hands roaming along legs, arms, sides, shoulders, backs, and thighs. 

It sounds much more graceful than it was because I'm leaving out the fact that my skinny jeans were a pain in the a*s to get off, and her shirt sleeve got stuck on her watch.

The important things is, for a moment, I thought, if we only did THIS all night, I would be so okay with it. But, my senses took over. Her lips tasted like the wine we had been sipping all night, her skin felt like velvet, she was slowly grinding in all the right places, I felt like I was breathing her in with every breath. The faint moan every now and then that she would let escape felt like it traveled directly to my core. 

I've never been more thankful for a front clasp on a bra than I was at this moment. As my fingers moved to unhook it, she gently covers my hand with hers, as if to stop. I open my eyes. Probably a bit too wide. "Is everything....are you....Is this okay?"

"Dina...I...I'm.. like sixteen years older than you," she says. 

I must have had a look that said "I don't understand...?" because she continues...

"I...don't have the same body as I did 20 years ago...and I think...No, I know, that's a big part of why I'm so nervous," as she talks, her hands never leave me. One clearing the hair from my eyes, the other running along my arm. "Every day, when I look in the mirror I see all the changes, new wrinkles, new lines, and things ...sag... more ...and I'm not getting any younger."

I kinda love that we're talking about these things right now, because it's a lot of what goes on in my own head, and I'm 34. So, I completely get where she's coming from at 50 years old, and it's just making me feel closer to her that she's willing to put this all out there before we've done anything more. 

"Liz, I get it. I do," I kiss her lips and her cheek. "One of the things I actually love about women is no matter how different we are, we all share that very same twinge of self consciousness and vulnerability when it comes to our bodies. I know it. I feel it. All the time. I get these 20 year old theater starlets walking in to audition, and I'm fifteen years older than them and I clearly remember, like it was yesterday, that I was one of them...I see the changes in myself every day, too."

She looks down shyly. "You're very good at this.." 

I smile, "But I mean it, I'm not just saying it. I can relate. I'm scared shitless, Liz. My bra is still on, too, in case you hadn't noticed," I say, giggling. 

She nods a little, like she's absorbing everything I say. I touch her face, "If there is anything you need me to do to make you more comfortable, or at ease, I have no problem with that. If it means closing the blinds all the way, leaving our bras on, getting under the blankets, or...even just waiting."

I think I can actually see her eyes well up, but I can't tell in this damn light. It hits me that, for once, I'm having an actual honest conversation in bed, so I might as well keep going.

"I think it's important for you know that I am...so completely and utterly attracted to you. Inside and out." I take her hand and place it on my rapidly beating heart. "Feel that?" She holds her hand there. "Yes." 

"This is what you do to me. In clothes. Out of clothes. Doesn't matter."

She's quiet, but I feel her smile in the darkness.

"It's kind of dark in here, and if you're blushing, I can't really tell..so I'm just going to slow it down for a minute and do this," I say, wrapping her in a hug. This is probably the first time I ever just listened to my heart and did what it told me to do without questioning how corny or stupid something would come across. It's a moment that I want to be right, and true. Having my arms around Liz, her head against my shoulder, her hand, still on my heart. I know that we have a connection. I've felt it before, how we look at each other, in conversations, our likes and dislikes but this is more powerful. We're both quiet for what seems like a long time, just holding each other. 

Liz lifts herself so we're face to face, looking into my eyes as best she can in this lighting. "Dina, you are more than good at this," Liz finally says, unhooking her bra, and pressing herself against me with a deep, long kiss that leads to us getting all the way naked and making love for hours. 

In that time, all kinds of things were happening. In a good way. I didn't struggle with my inner dialog about if I was doing things right. I didn't worry about if I was taking too long, I didn't wonder if I was making Liz feel good. Everything was happening naturally, our responses and reactions, the way we moved together, the inhibitions we were plagued by moments before seemed to wash away. The subtle sexy talk, the genuine looks and smiles, the attention we paid to one another's signs and breathing, and the instinctive way we were finding one another's hot spots was as if we had road maps built in. The perfect amounts of lightness, and strength, all of it unfolded so organically. A complete balance of playful, soulful, and intense. I know I had two hip-thrusting, a*s in the air, heels dug into the mattress-orgasms. Liz earthquaked with two, as well, before we finally fell asleep, without either one of us having to ask "Was it good for you?" 

I don't usually sleep well if I know the person I just had sex with is going to be there in the morning. Before Liz, if I met someone that I hit it off with, and I knew we were going to have sex (at my place) I would almost always set the scene early on, and talk about how my schedule was so incredibly busy and I had such a big day the following day, and I had to be up and out so early, blah, blah, blah- so there isn't really a question about them spending the ENTIRE night. Most of the time, it works. Once in a while, it fails. 

On those occasions, I would hardly sleep at all, playing different "morning scenarios" in my head: will she want to shower here? Her first or me? Ugh, what if she wants to shower together? Is she going to try and use my toothbrush? Is she a chirpy, happy morning person? Is she a bitchy morning person? Will she want to do it again? Do I have to make her breakfast? Should I at least make her coffee? Do I have milk in the fridge? How long before she goes? If I fake-sleep will she just quietly get her clothes on and leave?  Sometimes, I would even get up quietly in the middle of the night, and hide my toothbrush. Seems a little weird after having your tongue down someone's throat to worry about it, but these are the things that make me, ME. 

Liz fell asleep first. We were talking about how some people can totally get off on foot massages, and although those are great, we wouldn't compare it to orgasmic levels. The next thing you know, her breathing became steady, her arm wrapped around me tighter, and she was sleeping. I didn't fidget or squirm away. I didn't roll out and over. I just relaxed and fell asleep, too. For about 4 and a half hours, which is good for the first time having Liz stay over. 

My eyes flutter open at 6:48am. I instantly notice the water bottle on my night stand, and I don't even remember getting up at any point to get that. When I roll over, Liz is sitting on the big poofy chair near my closet, slipping on her shoes. She is dressed in her clothes from last night, and has her hair tied back into a bushy, big ponytail. In an instant, I remembered the first time we met and she had brushed her teeth in the ladies room of the cinema, and I felt a rush of relief come over me, knowing I didn't have to worry about my toothbrush. I can smell her faint perfume and fresh minty toothpaste.

"Morning, Tiger," Liz says with a joking laugh, looking at my sleepy state. She gets up and sits on the bed next to me. I snuggle in close and lay my head in her lap. She kisses my hair, and lifts my face, kissing my cheeks, nose, and pecking at my lips, that I keep tightly shut, because..well....morning breath and all. I can tell she completely gets it, and doesn't push for more. She tossels my hair, while she looks at me, grinning. 

"How adorable are you with those rosy cheeks and sleepy eyes? You doing okay?" she asks. She gets up, and gathers her handbag, and the few things she's used from it this morning. 

"Yeah, did you sleep alright?"

"I sure did. I'm an early riser, though. I figured out your coffee maker. I wasn't sure how you like it, so I didn't make you a cup, but it's all brewed and ready for when you are." 

I sit up a bit, still under the covers, but propped on one arm, watching her. "Are you leaving?"

"I am. I'm sorry, darlin'. I have a 9am client this morning, and I have to go home & get cleaned up and changed. But, let's talk after lunch. What's your schedule like?"

"Rehearsals from noon to 3pm, stage work from 4 to 6, I think."

"Okay, so..cool. We'll talk later this afternoon?" She leans over and kisses me on the lips, cheek and along my neck, as she runs her hand down my chest and cops a little feel. 

"Yeah, definitely. Wait, I'll walk you out," I say, as I begin to get up. 

"No, no. Stay warm under there. I'll let myself out." She kisses me again, picks up her bag, and jacket before heading out. 

"There's some travel cups in the cabinet, if you want to make yourself a coffee before you go..." I say, flopping backwards. She pops back in the doorway, holding up my Buffalo Bills plastic to-go mug.

"I did, thanks! Get some more sleep, you earned it," she says, with a wink, laughing on her way out. 

I laid there, sinking into the pillows, thinking about how absolutely perfect that was.

 

All of it.