Making love. It’s a beautiful term. It sounds so romantic and passionate but do you have to be in love with someone to make love with them? I am not one that falls for the sweetness of romance. I don’t allow myself to get caught up in that moment and have it lead to the possibility of undying love but I do enjoy those moments that come as close as I will let it, to making love.
These moments are a rare occurrence for me. Times that I completely let go of my surrounding. I let go of Belle and the show she puts on. I let go of the fact that I am in bed naked with a stranger. I let go of the fact that I am being paid to be there with him. In fact, these moments cause me to feel almost guilty for collecting when I leave. I say almost simply because when I collect I am safe. It is a business transaction and at times like this especially, I need to keep that in perspective.
I met a man recently. A man with a smile that would make any woman melt. His eyes so intense I could feel him looking right through me. A man who, when standing next to me, would make my legs tremble. A man I knew I had to be naked with. He gave to me a fantasy I never knew I yearned for. I suppose I can’t really call it a fantasy because it was not an experience I had dreamed of but if I were to have had a fantasy, this would have been it!
I was at an event recently, an event he was attending as well. It was unrelated to this business but I suppose technically we would not have met if it were not for my connections I have made from within. It was an informal meet which left me plenty of time to spend with him. We had only met hours earlier and I found myself desperately hanging on his every word, my thoughts drifting to visions of him undressing for me. I could feel his breath on my lips when he spoke, even though we were not in a close enough proximity for that to be possible. Damn do I ever love my imagination.
We were to be attending this event for 5 days. Five days of trembling, heart pounding, sweat inducing thoughts. He would be talking of the weather, I would be thinking sex. He would talk about the sights of the city, I would be thinking sex. It was such torture, such wonderful torture. Oxymoron? Perhaps. But I could not stop imagining the two of us, a bed and all of the time in the world.
We would tease each other with words, enticing one another to the point of us both being sure that at some point during this event we would follow through with our desires. It was fun to wake every day and go to sleep every night wanting him, feeling him and just wishing he’d come close enough to me to feel his body against mine. Our third day and he did just that. It was a simple brush of his hand down my arm. Innocent to most but erotic to me. I went to bed that night feeling his touch. It wasn’t much but yet it was everything. I woke up early on the fourth morning of my stay and could hear him sleeping just a few feet from where I stood. I could have likely walked into his room and had my way with him right then and there. I sat at the table and just listened. I closed my eyes and imagined the things I would do to him, the things he would do to me. For one hour I just sat there.
As I heard him stir I headed outside for some fresh air. It was awkward for me. As Belle I have no problem being sexually aggressive. I enjoy being blunt about what I want. I love to walk up to a man and tell him I want him to f*** me. But this was not the place nor the time for Belle. And quite frankly, I am glad she wasn’t there. I liked feeling shy again. I liked the anticipation, the “not knowing” what would or would not happen during our time together. He made me feel like me again and it’s been a long time since I have been able to fully connect with myself that way.
My last night. It was now or never. I knew we’d likely never see each other again. I knew it had to happen. This was something I could not leave without regret and I don’t believe in regrets. I was waiting for him to make that first move. Just like kids in high school, it wouldn’t have been the great experience that it turned out to be if I had made that move. I needed to know that he wanted me like I wanted him. And he indeed wanted me.
He came out wearing jeans, his chest bare. My body trembled and I felt that awkward feeling once again. If I didn’t escape this moment I would have made a fool of myself by acting on impulse. If this was to happen it would be because we wanted it to, not because I threw myself at him. I don’t think I could have him sit across from me and hold a conversation with him. I couldn’t talk, I couldn’t even think….aside from thinking how badly I wanted him to touch me, to hold my head against his bare chest and yes, make love to me.
So that brings me back to the term “making love”. I don’t know him aside from what I have learned these past few days. I don’t know his goals in life, his experiences that have lead him to where he is at in his life. He doesn’t know of my fears or my joys in life. We know nothing of one another besides the apparent fact that there is a strong connection that needs to be made tonight. Can we make love without being in love?
I stood to walk outside, my escape from an awkward moment. He took hold of my hand as I passed him and I knew there would be no more waiting. This would be it, the moment I have agonized over since meeting him just a few short hours prior. He led me to his room. This was the first time I had been led by the hand to a man’s bed. It made me want him even more. I didn’t think that would be possible. I undressed and lay myself upon the bed, my naked body writhing in anticipation as I watched him undress. He hovered atop my body and I placed my arms on his chest. I wanted to close my eyes so I could memorize the feel of his skin but his eyes drew me in. There was something in the way he looked at me, something I have not seen in a man’s eyes before. I still am not too sure just what it was but I know I will never forget that moment.
He bent down to kiss me. I had to close my eyes. I didn’t want to be aware of anything around me, be aware of anything but the taste of his tongue, his kiss. We spent the evening fondling each other. I can still feel his hands running up and down my back as I moved my body up and down his. We took our time, we were in no rush. There was no driver waiting for me, no cell phones to go off telling us our time was up. It was just him and I, naked, and all of the time in the world. Yes, the sex was amazing but not for reasons you would think. It wouldn’t have been so wonderful without the smile I would see when I looked down at him. It wouldn’t have been so wonderful without the look in his eyes I would see as I looked up at him. It wouldn’t have been so wonderful if I had made the first move. And it wouldn’t have been so wonderful if I collected at the end. This was not a show. It was just the two of us doing what a man and a woman were meant to do. I left his room feeling safe. Something I didn’t think would be possible. Something I have fought so hard to feel. I let go, I opened myself up, I did not collect and I still felt safe.
So, is it possible to make love without being in love? If making love is being in a place of pure ecstasy and not wanting to be with anyone else in that moment, then yes, we made love. If making love is letting go to the point that you have forgotten how and why you are there, just knowing that you do not want the moment to end, then yes we made love. I don’t love him, he does not love me but I have do doubt we made love that night.
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