Journey to the Window

“To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves.”

There isn’t a right time or right place for anything. Or maybe I am naive and there is, but I like to believe that anything is possible, and if it’s really worth it, anything can work.

It had taken a lot of courage to make my interests known. I had, after all, been the one who had spent the last several months silently interested in an individual who probably never would have taken the same notice had I not finally taken that initial risk to capture his attention – solidify my presence.

Once we had a firm plan to meet one-on-one, I was elated. Hit by a plethora of emotions; excitement, nerves, and trepidation. I wanted to say everything and nothing because he still made me nervous and I didn’t know how to say any of the things I had wanted to. If am honest, after having taken the time to read about his life and adventures, loves and hurts, I felt nothing I could bring to the table would be good enough to match his experiences, or wisdom. I was intimidated from the first day I met this individual, however, I had successfully managed to get something I wanted; a meeting. I let go and allowed myself to be excited, to yearn for it, to fantasize about all the things that could and wouldn’t happen.

Time. Timelines. I feel as I am getting older I don’t as clearly recall the order of things or exactly when they happened. I believe it was the night before our encounter that he sent me a photo. It was black and white and very shadowed. It was the type of picture that breathed; a chair sitting in front of a large window.

My heart stopped upon seeing the image. When it started again, racing, with the blood pounding in my ears I contemplated all the things it could mean. I didn’t want to misinterpret it, but then I believe there wasn’t supposed to be anything to interpret. It was meant to allow the imagination to go wild. When I received that image I was sitting in my car about to go upstairs, but sat and stared at it a little longer instead. The various scenarios that played in my head and a little string started pulling at my insides. A warmth spread and descended into the lower extremities of my body. I imagine my body tied by a rope to that chair in multiple different ways. Would I be naked? Would I be partially clothed? Would he ravage my mouth with his as I sat there unable to move? Would he blindfold me? Would he take away my ability to watch his every move, follow his eyes looking down upon me. Would he wrap his fingers around my throat as I had imagined him doing countless times before. I entertained the idea of using that chair to dance for him, move my body in provocative ways, as I slowly remove my clothes. Would he instruct me while I did so? Would he tell me what he wanted to see? As all of these scenarios coursed through my mind I could feel the warmth forming between my legs. The wetness penetrating my silk panties made me smirk a little. I couldn’t remember the last time I had gotten so wet. My impulsive instinct went automatically to wondering if this chair would lead to me being fucked hard and that spun a whole new whirlwind of fantasies.  

I have always been the dominant one in all of my relationships and this notion that someone could do these things to me instead of me to them, I didn’t know what to make of it. Letting anyone have that power over me was beyond anything I had ever conceived, but yet, isn’t that why I had started this journey? This was what I wanted; to relinquish control. To be submissive to someone who saw me for all that I am. I wondered if that level of intimacy was even possible for me. Could I feel vulnerable and submit, could I be a good girl? I was torn.

“Where is that, and how do I get there?” At the time I think that was the safest thing to say given everything going on in my mind.

When the day arrived that we would finally meet the sun was bright and the air was crisp. Everything seemed perfectly the way it should be for an encounter with endless possibilities. Butterflies danced in my stomach as I drove the seemingly long road to meet him.

(Fast Forward; the encounter is a story all in itself and will be revisited at another unexpected time.)

“Do you want to go see the window?” He asked.

All I could do was smile and nod – was this really happening? Could so much excitement kill a person? My entire being was a current of electricity that could strike at any moment.

As we walked through his door, my breath stopped. The length of the living space with panels of gleaming wood floorboards and floor to ceiling window that reminded me of a mirror. It was like my own private dance studio and I had the sudden urge to start doing pirouettes around the room. I felt giddy but I needed to stay in control. I had the sensation he was watching me, I don’t particularly like to be watched when I am not in control of myself, it makes me feel vulnerable and I could feel his eyes on me very intently.

The chair, as in the image he had sent the night before, was still sitting in front of the window. It made me smile. I was happy in that moment that I had wiggled my way in and had this opportunity to feel this excitement with someone who was a complete mystery to me. Someone I wanted to discover, one layer at a time.

Reading people is something I am particularly good at. With him, however, (and I don’t know if I find this refreshing or annoying) I couldn’t make out a thing. I could see the armor like thick black steel; only he could be the one to decide if he would let me in or not.

Once we had settled on the couch my eyes were drawn to the window, then him, then back again. That window pulled at me like a vortex, I just needed to be in front of it. I wanted my naked flesh pressed up against it while he fucked me from behind. Having that private thought in front of him left me feeling shy, nervous, unsure of myself. Usually I am so certain and lead any conversation confidently yet I sat there not knowing what to say. I was entirely unaware if he was even attracted to me and there I was having sexual fantasies sitting right in front of him.  I didn’t want to sound foolish to this man who knew so much. I knew I could learn a lot from him, and felt somewhat insecure.

As he moved closer to me on the couch, that was the only indication that made me aware that the attraction might be remotely reciprocated. Again, he was so guarded. Watching me, assessing the situation, listening to everything I said. This made me particularly nervous. I am someone who changes their mind often. Once I process my feelings, I can easily go from one notion to the next, or agree with something I have disagreed with previously. I was afraid he might think me crazy. I don’t like to get stuck on one particular thing, because I am very open minded and am aware that with all the right information, something you thought you felt can easily change. I sat there, trying to keep my thoughts structured. My body restless, shifting positions frequently, not knowing what to do with itself. “Kiss me already, damn it” was all I could think.

He did. It was soft, and sweet and unexpected. I held my breath trying to commit to memory every single detail. The way he held the base of my neck as he kissed me, the roughness from his beard brushing against my skin when our heads shifted. The sweet taste of him reminding me of cinnamon and honey. I always have this apprehension about my lips being too large. It makes me uncomfortable because I always feel the person I am kissing might feel overwhelmed by them. As he kissed me, I wanted to push harder but held back for fear that the power of my lips would not be welcome.

We didn’t use the chair that day. It was there to plant a seed of possibility and wonder; want and desire. It definitely triggered a hunger in me. I have since made my peace with the notion that, that was all it was.

To use his words “that day was interesting, strange and amazing all in good ways”.

The lazy time on his couch, touching and kissing with my unsubtle attempt to push his boundaries. The first time he struck my ass. When he held me down. His fingers digging into me, engraving a memory that would forever be seared in my mind, my body.

The Window opened my world. It pulled me out of my slumber.

He made me smile. He awoke the hunger in me that I believed was gone.

© 2019 My Provocative Truths by El Jackie O – All Rights Reserved

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited.

In collaboration with CJR Editing

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