Brian asked me out. But I can't tell if he was being shy or sneaky.

He emailed me this morning to ask if I'd like to go to lunch with a group of engineers. Sounds shy, right? But if he'd figured that I wouldn't date a co-worker...

So I went with a half-dozen techies to a Mexican restaurant. Brian persuaded them to let us sit outside; the outside tables weren't really being serviced, but it was such a beautiful day today.

I was the only girl, and the engineers were in equal parts testosterone-laden and nerdy. Brian was a perfect gentleman, and very sweet.

Fought with FrontPage most of the evening. My discussion board just isn't working right. I don't know if it's a bug or if I've screwed something up. I'm going to start it over in a new location. See Helen's Story Board, and while you're there, let me know if you think dating a co-worker is necessarily bad.

 

Well, I said yes. We (Brian and I, that is) were talking about Nicolas Cage. City of Angels is one of my favorite movies. (And I'm horribly jealous of Meg Ryan :-) Brian was saying how he had heard that his new movie, 8mm, was really gruesome.

"That's something I'd like to see," I said, meaning I couldn't picture Cage in a gruesome role.

"Would you like to go?"

"Oh," he took me by surprise. No apparent nervousness, but I got the impression (later, thinking back on it) that he had planned out the whole conversation just so he could ask nonchalantly.

"When?" I asked.

"How about tomorrow?"

"Uhhh..." Oh, God, Larry. "I can't."

He failed to hide his disappointment, though he tried hard. "Okay."

"How about Friday?" I offered, and his smile returned.

I'm still ambivalent, but he's so sweet. (I keep using that word about him. It suits him so well, but I have to find something that's a little less sickening, because he isn't. He just seems very quiet, and very genuine. And very young...)

 

Lost our Internet connectivity. Upstream router problem. As if that makes any difference to the veeps and managers. Assholes, all.

I take that back. Assholes, all, except Jack, whose coat-tails I am happy to hide behind. He can out-asshole any one of them, and stands up for us through thick and thin. I'm changing my opinion of Jack. He's a hard man to work for, because he expects a lot of us, but as little as he tolerates our failures, he absolutely will not permit any outside criticism of us. He makes sure we do our work right, and then makes doubly sure that everyone else knows that it is right.

Veeps kept scurrying by complaining that company business is not getting done. Jack told them to take it up with the phone company.

Sales / marketing droids panicked because customers can't get to our web site. Jack told them to take it up with the veeps, who had nixed our plans for externally hosted sites...

I like Jack. Respect might be a better word, but hell, no, I've seen through his facade. I like him.

And if he ever finds out, he'll probably fire me...

It's Wednesday. I hurried home to get ready for Larry. My caller ID box showed that I had several calls from him, but he hadn't left a message. He called again a few minutes after I got home.

"Hi, Helen. I'm sorry, I can't come over tonight."

"Oh." I was disappointed. I tried to hide it.

"Ellen isn't going out tonight. She's being sent out of town this weekend, she figures she needs the evening to prepare."

"That's okay, Larry, I understand." I did understand, but it wasn't okay.

"Umm... are you free Friday, instead?"

Friday. Damn. Brian. What a trade-off. Cute guy I could possibly like against... against a single evening I would definitely like. And I already postponed Brian because of Larry. Ironic. "Sure, I'm free. You want to come over?"

"You know the answer to that, Helen. I'll see you at seven?"

"Great. See you then."

Damn. On the other hand...

"Hi, Brian, it's Helen from the office."

"Oh." Nervous. "Hi."

"Something came up on Friday. I'm not going to be able to make it."

"Oh, okay." He sounds as disheartened as I had felt a few moments earlier. He thinks he's getting the brush-off.

"Listen, you suggested Wednesday at first, and it turns out I'm not doing anything after all. Do you want to switch to this evening?"

"Sure!" What a change in his spirits. "Let me check when the movie's showing. I'll call you back."

"I'm looking forward to it."

And I am.

 

I'm either too suspicious of Brian, or not sufficiently so.

Perhaps he didn't have the conversation about "8mm" planned out, and he didn't know what to expect either. That would be the thought I'd like to have.

Because if he really knew what the movie was like before he asked me out, then I don't understand him at all.

Not that it was a bad movie. I think it was a great movie. Probably. When I look back on it in a few weeks, I may think that. What it was, and still is, this close to the event, is a very disturbing movie. Which I think I enjoyed, but a little like "The Devil's Advocate", it left me too shaken to think clearly at the time.

Nicholas Cage is still wonderful, even if he has a strange taste in acting performances.

Anyway, all that aside (as much as is possible...) Wednesday's date with Brian was pleasant. He's very reserved. (Can I use that instead of sweet?) And I think he was as taken aback at the violence and dark sex of "8mm" as I, probably more so. Which makes me think perhaps I was too suspicious of him, or that he had planned his opening but didn't know enough about the movie. Either way is fine with me, I don't care if he needs to think through an approach. I'd rather he was a planner than be unable to follow through, or, worse, be offensive or stupid.

So. What happened, you ask?

Nothing. I held his arm before the movie started. Afterwards, perhaps he felt that after what we'd just seen I may have been unreceptive. And perhaps I would have been. When he dropped me at home I gave him a friendly kiss on the forehead. If he wants more, he can let me know next time :-)

I've seen Brian at work since I wrote that entry. He smiled at me. I thanked him for the movie.

"I think I'm glad I saw it," he said, "but next time, let's do Disney."

I chuckled. "It was pretty intense, wasn't it?"

"No kidding."

"Will there be a next time?" I asked.

"I hope so," he said. "I'd like to see you again."

I actually felt my face getting warm. "I'd like that, too. Give me a call."

He said he would, and I scurried back to my office.

And tonight, Larry's coming over. What a way to end the week :-) I feel strange talking to a nice guy like Brian, knowing what I'll soon be doing. I'm going to have to stop the Larry-thing soon. I don't think potential boyfriends would understand. As good as he has felt, since Jay left, I'd like to get back to the possibility of affection, love and sex, if not necessarily in that order...

 

I will never be able to get everything in a single entry. Perhaps in two or three days I'll be able to get through Friday night :-)

Larry didn't arrive until almost eight. I thought he had stood me up. But he had run Ellen to the airport, and with all the traffic...

Embarrassment, of course. The usual.

"So," I said.

"So... umm..." He paused. "Helen, I have to say, I'm here under slightly false pretenses."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, well... umm... I don't know that I really need any more... lessons... not need, that is, still want, but only if you..."

"I'm not following any of this."

"No, I'm sure you aren't." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "Wednesday, when I had to cancel... I was disappointed, and frustrated. I guess I was angry with Ellen, that she had made me change my plans, then I realized how stupid it was to be angry, that she was the one... so I held her, instead, but I got so turned on, thinking about what I was missing, and one thing led to another..."

I saw where this was leading. "And you tried your new techniques out on her?" He nodded, and I found myself trying to suppress a nasty, cold edge of jealousy. "How did it work out?"

"I don't think she's going to object again."

Damn, this was stupid. This is what we were trying for. I had no right to feel jealous. "Tell me."

"Uhhh... okay. It was still quite early. We were pretty steamed when we'd finished undressing each other. I used my fingers, you know, she kept trying to get me inside her, but I delayed until I didn't think she would be able to object, then I crouched down and started in on her. She was already so close that she didn't try to stop me. She wanted it. I made her wait. She actually begged me to keep going. She made a lot of noise. When she was through she... uhhh... she attacked me, for want of a better word. She bit me." He rubbed his neck, rueful expression on his face. "I've never had her so excited. Novelty, I'm sure, but I know she will want more."

I had recovered from the pangs of envy, pleased to know that I'd helped to arouse such passion.

I feel that way about my stories. I get a lot of email from people who tell me that my writing has inspired some particularly erotic encounter. It turns me on - and I use the phrase deliberately - to know that one of my stories led to especially glorious sex. It surprises me - and pleases me greatly - to learn how many read my stories as couples, turning their mutual arousal back to each other.

So, of course, listening to Larry was making me hot. And perhaps there was just a little competitive edge here, that perhaps I wanted to show him that even with Ellen's change of heart, I could still turn him on better than she. Because, after this it had to be over. We had no more excuse, and a dark corner of my soul wanted him to regret not having me.

"So, you're ready for graduation class?" I asked.

He grinned nervously. "As long as you understand."

I held out my hand to him...

In the bedroom, I stood toe to toe with him. I stroked his chest. "We're going to do things differently, this time."

"Differently?How?"

I placed my hands on his shoulders. "Like this." I fastened my mouth to his. He took a moment to respond, then put his hands on my back.

I unfastened his shirt as we kissed. He was still uncertain what to do with his hands, so when we separated to pull his shirt off, I took his hands and placed them back on my waist, under my tee shirt. He got the idea, and my nipples hardened as he fondled my breasts. I wriggled out of my tee shirt, and kissed him again, with my tongue slightly extended.

I pushed him backwards onto the bed. stepping out of my shorts as I climbed up to join him. Crouching over him, I fastened my lips to his, my breasts just below his chin. His hands sought refuge there.

He didn't need my encouragement to move a breast into his mouth, though I did have to prompt him my taking one of his hands and placing it between my legs. I was wet, and he soon had me sighing contentedly.

Then I climbed off him and turned around. I crouched over his face, facing his feet. As I lowered myself onto him, I said "Take it slowly. I want this to last." I stretched my legs out behind his head, and lay completely down, my head resting on his thigh, relaxed and warm.

He avoided my clit, nibbling my lips, tonguing around outside. I told him to keep going just like that - I didn't want my lack of response to make him think this wasn't working. It was, slowly, very slowly, I was accumulating stimulation. He freed a hand to work on my boob. I covered it with my own, stroking him.

"You're making me glow inside," I said. "This is wonderful."

I lifted my head slightly and looked at the fastener on his jeans. It turned out to be fairly easy to unfasten one-handed, and I slowly pulled down the zipper...

I relaxed my head against his leg again, then stroked the hardness in his boxer shorts. He groaned slightly, but made no move to stop me, as my strokes eased him towards the opening... freed of the restraint of his jeans, his shaft soon unfolded out of his underwear like a jack-in-the-box. I studied it as it finished expanding, long, thick and solid. I ran my fingernails around the tip...

I gasped as Larry's efforts became more insistent. A small drop of fluid had formed on the end of his shaft, and I rubbed it around with my forefinger, breathing heavily. His cock seemed to tense with anticipation. I smiled.

My clit was swelling, and occasionally Larry's tongue found it, making my breath catch. I lifted my face, and extended my tongue to taste the tip of his shaft. I ran it around gently as he twitched. Then I licked my lips and covered just the end of his cock. That was when he realized I was no longer using my finger, and he groaned.

I drew back, licked my lips again, and took in slightly more, doing this until I had most of his cock in my mouth. I've never been able to suppress the gag reflex, and he was long, so I certainly couldn't take him completely into me, but I licked my fingers and ran them around the base of his shaft. He moaned as I started to move, very slowly, but regularly. Occasionally I would only take a couple of inches, then would rub the tip with my tongue, which made him jump, and invariably made him speed up the movements of his tongue.

My relaxation was by now replaced with an anticipatory tension, the glow reaching through me. He was working hard on my clit now, and I knew I could come at any time. I pulled away from his cock. "Stop for a moment," I breathed. "Let me make you feel good for a while."

He drew back, though he kept nuzzling my pussy, which felt good, and reached out to hold my breasts. I pulled his boxers over his erection, eliciting a pained growl as I had to push his cock down to get the underwear over. Then I pushed his jeans and shorts down over his knees, where he shook them off.

I drew patterns on his hard shaft with my tongue, careful not to overstimulate him. Then I would take him as far back into my mouth as I could, but without moving, just letting him feel the moist warmth around. Sometimes I would just run my finger down the underside of his cock.

I could tell from his breathing that I was driving him crazy. His breathing and the way he squeezed my boobs when something I did especially excited him. I drew the experience out as long as I could, holding back and using as light and delicate a touch as I knew how. The feelings I was giving him were so obviously intense that it was an erotic catalyst to me. I carefully, slowly, slid his length back into my mouth, and held him there while I ran my fingers around the base of his cock. Just held him, while his breathing grew ragged, then slowly slid back...

He gasped as I stroked his cock gently with my teeth, then I felt his tongue pushing back into me. I pulled back from his cock and breathed shallowly as he claimed ownership of my senses. I extended my tongue and held it against the tip of his shaft while my body absorbed the fire. Then I plunged my face down onto him, gratified to hear him moan as he yet increased the intensity. I sucked hard on his shaft, then felt him sucking on my clit, squeezing my boobs, and I shook my head against him as I lost control. Though my climb to this point had been mainly gentle, almost relaxed, there was nothing gentle about the spasms that shuddered through my body.

Moments later, I felt him flood into me. Gasping for breath through my nose, I kept sucking, draining him. His hands rubbed my breasts as we drew on each other until there was nothing left to draw. Well, that's not true. I'd have loved to let him keep working on me, but I didn't want to push him; I had other things on my mind.

I climbed off him, and collapsed alongside him. His eyes were closed. I ran my fingers through the thin hair on his chest. "Hey," I said, "I think you passed your graduation exam." He grinned weakly. "The first part, anyway."

"First part?" He sounded horrified.

"Sure. You don't think I'm going to let you go after that? You don't need to be back tonight, right?"

"Well, no, but..."

"After the last few weeks, it's a bit too late to have any reservations. Don't tell me you didn't want what we just did."

"Well, no, but..."

"Good. Then I'm keeping you for a repeat performance."

"Repeat? I'm not up to... the whole thing."

"Well then," I said, pressing my face close to his, "we'll have to find something to do in the meantime."

And we did.

And this entry is getting so long, and so much more happened, that I'm going to have to delay writing it until tomorrow.

 

So, where were we? Larry had learned that you don't need to be a president to be led astray by a determined tongue. And I had left him expecting more of the same. Which was true, as far as it went.

As aroused as the situation made him, it didn't take too much kissing and touching (especially where he was touching - ooohhh :-) for him to start to respond visibly. But before I turned around to work on him, I palmed a small package from my nightstand...

I squatted on his chest, then lowered myself to his slowly growing manhood. He stroked my breasts as I encouraged him with my tongue. Pretty soon he was quite hard. Then I engulfed him noisily, slurping my tongue along him as I surreptitiously unwrapped the condom. He was squeezing my thighs, saying "Don't stop, God that feels good," when I withdrew. His shaft was considerably harder for the brief exercise. I stroked down his cock with my fingers, and he squeezed my ass in time to my movements. Then I slipped the condom over him, unrolling it with the same movements.

I was already turning around when he realized what I was doing. I crouched on his thighs, his wrapped cock nestled against me. "Oh, God, Helen..." but his heart wasn't in his protests, his need was too strong as I rubbed him against me. I watched his emotions battle on his face as I slipped him into me. Then I lifted his hands to my breasts, and held them there as I tightened myself around him.

He was right, he did feel good.

I lowered myself over him, pressing my breasts against his chin. His reluctance having vanished, he sucked my nipple as I pressed against him regularly. After a time I pulled my boob from his mouth, and replaced it with my tongue. Taking his hands in mine, I twined my fingers with his, then stretched my arms out and up, pinning him, my body flat against his as neither of us could support ourselves with our arms. Still I pressed my thighs into his, and soon, surprisingly soon, my head grew light as my climax washed through me, and I was panting against him, my tongue buried under his. Then I released his hands, and he pulled my breast into his mouth. I cradled his head in my arms as he tongued me into another wave of pleasure.

Then I lay my head against his shoulder, and we just enjoyed the feel of each other, moving slowly.

We rolled over, still connected. Larry picked up the pace gradually, until he was pushing hard into me. I hooked my legs around him and helped him along... he came, eventually. By then I was exhausted, and slightly sore... but I had only myself to blame for that. And it was worth it.

"Now," I said, "you did say you weren't going home, didn't you?"

Yesterday morning (we finally moved on from Friday), when the phone woke me, I was disoriented. I don't sleep naked (well, I did after Bennigan's', I remember noting the fact...), even when Jay was here I'd always slip something on before sleeping. And here I was pressed against an unmoving body... I had to reach over him to get the phone.

It was Brian, calling to ask if I'd like to go ice-skating. I almost turned him down. The sound of that innocent voice, after the evening I'd just spent... I felt guilty even talking to him with Larry in my bed. But I eventually agreed to go, it sounded fun, and I wasn't planning anything else.

By the time I hung up, Larry was awake. I snuggled against him. (Hey, I may have felt guilty while talking to Brian, but I wasn't going to obsess :-)

"Hey," I said, "I've enjoyed the last few weeks. Wednesdays won't be the same."

"And good morning to you, too, Helen. Do you always wake your men up to tell them to saddle up and leave?"

I grinned. "Lately, yeah, it seems that way. I always give them something to remember me by, though..." I reached down under the sheets, and a moment later his eyes grew wide. "So, in the last couple of hours we have, perhaps you'd like to tell me what other things your wife won't let you practice..."

He did, and we did, and if there were a story, perhaps I'd go into detail, but I've already told more than is interesting in my effort to outline just how I turned our arrangement around on Larry, and showed him what it was we both really wanted.

Suffice it to say that Larry and Ellen have always made love face-to-face.

And it's one thing that, judging from his reaction, he's either going to have to raise the issue with Ellen, or he's always going to have that tinge of regret about me that I talked about yesterday. I'm not sure I really want him to succeed in persuading her... but that's just jealousy again, and I'm not a jealous person. No, I'm not. I just like to be memorable... to leave a little of me with the other person when a relationship is over. Just as I try to take something of them...

In Larry's case it will be a learning experience like no other, and a seduction that he wanted but couldn't have - but couldn't refuse. Remembering Friday night will make me horny for a long time.

I probably should have delayed my ice-skating trip with Brian until at least today (Sunday), because I was aching quite a bit. We had fun, though. I've been ice-skating before, but I'm not very good. Brian is very good. He showed me how to do more than just not fall down.

Before we left, as I was feeling fairly confident, he put his hands on my waist to skate in sync with me. Just very simple, circling the edge of the rink. It felt good.

We went for coffee afterwards. I asked him why he skated. He was a little reticent, but then he told me that he had started skating after seeing "The Cutting Edge". I told him I had never seen the movie, and he suggested we rent it. So we did, and took it back to his house.

He has a nice place, small but comfortable. We got a couple of beers and sat together on the couch. Close, but not touching.

I like the movie. I like it very much. I need to make a "favorite movies" list. I don't know where this would be on it, but quite high, I think.

I left soon after the movie. I think Brian would have liked me to stay longer, but I don't know how I feel about him, or what he would want me to do. I'm even a little scared... this is strange for me to think... but a little scared that I might not be good for him. I think he may be looking for someone to love. Long term. I'm not. If he falls for me, he'll be hurt. But I like him, and I don't want to cut him off.

So if he's going to keep asking me out, we need to have a talk, and I don't quite know how I'll handle it. I certainly don't want to mislead him. He's too nice to be used.

So we finally catch up close to the present. I did my grocery shopping at midnight on Saturday, slept late, and woke aching. Not enough to stop me getting the plants I picked up last weekend into the ground. It turned cold today, and I wished that I had taken care of it yesterday, but it wasn't cold enough to be unpleasant.

 

Flash floods on the freeway. Gentle drizzle overnight, but as soon as I got in the car the heavens opened. My Miata isn't built to be a sailboat. More than usual I hated the long drive to the office.

One day I'll find a job closer to home.

Other than that, usual Monday. No sign of Brian, but I didn't go looking for him. Nasty network problems this morning, probably because of the weather, but after last week the veeps avoided Jack :-) So actually, it wasn't a bad day at work.

I'm tired. I'm going to curl up with the cat. He has the best idea... there's nothing finer than a good night's sleep. Or a good sleep at any other time of the day. Makes me wish I could purr.

 

I wish I could figure out why I am finding it so hard to write. It isn't any lack of ideas - or inspiration - at the moment. It just seems that it's hard to put the ideas down in writing. I haven't found that before. Before The Old House, I was usually working on more than one story at a time, even to the detriment of getting them formatted and uploaded.

Now I seem to be just completely lacking enthusiasm for putting pen to paper - or at least, keystrokes to screen. "The Old House" was certainly a drain on me, emotionally, and I think that's part of it. When the story ended, it hurt... but even when I was actively working on it, it colored everything around me, much more than anything else I've done. (Actually, strangely, Susan did a little of that, too; I've never understood why that particular creation affected me so much.)

I think TOH (I'm tired of writing it :-) cost me my relationship with Jay. We had known each other for about six months before we started sleeping together, though we hadn't been dating for very long... and that was only weeks before the idea came to me which became the premise for TOH. So it was almost that our relationship developed as I was living the fantasy relationship of TOH. I think it was not Jay and Helen, it was Michael making love to Angel.

And (dare I say it? :-) I'm no Angel. (Hee... I needed to say that, but honestly, it just came to me, all the time I've known her I never made that connection :-) For one thing, I'm white, which I'm sure comes as no surprise, and which I believe makes no difference in any area, including love. And I don't know why I envisioned Angel as black, but I do believe that was part of Michael's initial attraction to her, and I guess in a way that disappointed me, knowing that he wouldn't find me as desirable as Angel. Is it strange, finding oneself attracted to a figment of one's own imagination? (And, if I'm brutally honest, I have to admit I was attracted to Angel, too. Just a little... :-)

So I was Angel, and Jay was Michael, and although we were very good with each other, it was almost voyeuristic; two other people making love. Some of the time. I mean, it wasn't as clear cut as that, and I did care for Jay.

Then I finished the story, and Michael and Angel were out of my life. And I had to get to know Jay all over again. And what I found was that I cared for him, and I had fun with him, but we really weren't that close. Being close was part of my fantasy life. I guess I realized that I wasn't in love, where I hadn't been sure before that point... there was love in my life, but it wasn't mine.

Now I'm sounding really schizo. Again, it wasn't as clear cut as that... but there was some interference between my fantasy and my life.

Did Jay love me? That I don't know. He never said so, he hinted at it, but when I realized my own feelings, he seemed to respond similarly. I think he loved the feel of my being almost-in-love with him.

I think that's why we managed to break up amicably. We liked what we did with each other, but we really didn't have much feeling for each other apart from that. I think it's also partly why my rebound was so violent, and why I was determined to follow through with Larry, even though my relationship with Jay had ended peacefully. I wanted to recover some feeling that I hadn't had in the last few weeks with Jay. (And boy, did that part work... though the feeling was not love, it was powerfully erotic.)

Perhaps that scared me a little. That my fantasy did spill over so much. That I really don't want to let it happen again... but that if I'm honest to my writing, I may not be able to prevent it.

(As an aside, over the past year I have come to think of myself as a writer. I didn't at first, I thought of erotic writing as being imitation art. I don't know that most serious writers would consider it anything else now, but I do. I even think I might try a different kind of writing some time, or couch the erotic writing in a saleable form, though I have trouble imagining "Helen, the author of bodice-ripper novels".)

Now, from a radically unexpected direction (i.e. from the office, from youth and from innocence), someone has turned up whom I may be beginning to care for. I can't help but feel from the start that any long-term relationship between us is unlikely to succeed, but should I just write it off? If I don't, what do I do about my writing?

I guess the problem is this: if I were to drag Brian into bed right now, I don't think he'd resist. I think he'd wonder where his good fortune came from. But I think it would be horribly unfair, because I think he would believe that he was in love with me, and if we broke up, he'd be worse than heartbroken. For all I know, he's still a virgin, and that would be a cruel way to welcome him to the ranks of the experienced.

So, then, if my fantasies start to leak back into my life, I may end up being irrational over him, and what I need right now is logic. (Patience and gentleness wouldn't hurt, too.) Because if I'm not rational, I would probably hurt him.

It feels strange to me to need to be so sensitive to a man's feelings. Generally it's men who need the sensitivity lessons. But I'm determined not to hurt him, even if that means I need to cut him off right now.

But I don't want to do that. And I do want to start writing again.

 

This week has slipped by so fast... Well, I guess technically there's one more day left, but with work being so busy, and with - I guess - less to anticipate post-Jay and post-Larry, the days have blurred. I've had a couple of ideas for a new story, but nothing that I think will really gel.

I've barely even watched TV. Just gotten home late, fed the cat and fallen asleep. Read a little.

Larry called Wednesday, just to see how I was doing. So he said... I think he was hoping for an invitation, but no, that's over. He did tell me things were progressing well with Ellen.

Brian called to invite me to Sunday brunch. I said yes, but I think it's time for that conversation.

Winter morning storms the last couple of days. I hate trying to get started when it's raining.

 

Skipped a weekend again. Oops :-)

Though maybe it's good. I don't want to obsess about this diary. I think I have been getting too much into detail, and not enough into thought. At least when there isn't much going on. And this weekend was much detail and little introspection, which is fine with me, but doesn't leave me much worth saying.

So I guess the high point of the weekend was brunch with Brian. (Ugly alliteration - sorry.)

And we talked, back at my place, and I think we resolved things. Let me try to replay it here, since perhaps today I'm detail-light, though this probably isn't very accurate. Certainly our conversation was a lot more halting than I can present it.

"Brian, I think we need to talk."

Well, how do you introduce a sensitive topic? It's difficult to work something like this into everyday conversation, even on a date. Of course it made him nervous.

"What about?"

"Us. I guess I'm concerned about where we're going."

"How so?"

"Actually, I guess I'm concerned about where we are, too. Are we dating?"

"Umm..."

"No, seriously, are we? We've been on dates, I guess, and I think we like seeing each other, right?"

He nodded agreement.

"So, why am I sitting over here, and you're over there?"

"I could move." He sounded pleased by the idea, but I stopped him.

"No, not yet. See, that's not the point. The point is... the point is, which of us is waiting for the other to make a move? Or is that what we're doing?"

"Well, I know we've been taking things slowly, but I don't want to scare you off. I still can't quite believe you want to see me."

"I don't mind taking things slowly. I don't think I mind. I haven't done it for such a long time... but this is slower than slow. This is stationary. And you've made me start wondering if I'm good for you."

"You are!" he argued.

"No, wait. Not whether you think you like me, but whether I'm good for you. I don't think I'm what you think I am."

"What do I think you are?"

"Hell, I don't know, but you seem to think I'm... gentle, and sweet, and fragile. I'm... I'm really not any of those things."

"Gentle and sweet, yeah, I think I'd say that."

"But I'm not," I countered. "I could try to be gentle... but if you're looking for sweet, you found the wrong girl. And that's the thing, if you need someone pure and nice and... chaste," I swear, I couldn't think of a better word, but saying it made me blush, "that isn't me."

"Umm... I didn't think you were... uhh..."

"Then you weren't wrong." Damn. I couldn't stop blushing. "I get the feeling you're looking for something serious, something long term, and I don't think I can give you that. I can't give you commitment, and I certainly can't give you monogamy. Not right now."

"I didn't ask for that," he objected.

"No, but is it what you want? I mean, how would you feel if I dated someone else? Someone I may... go a little further with than we have?"

He looked dejected. "I don't think I'd like it."

"Then, that's a problem. Because, you see, I like being with you, but I'm not looking for any kind of exclusive. It's not, like, I'm a major party girl, or anything, but I don't want to be tied down. Not yet." Well, not in that way, anyway :-)

"I could try to be okay with that..." He sounded unsure.

"Could you? I mean, really?"

He shook his head. "I don't know," he said, "but if that's what it takes... I really don't want to stop seeing you."

"I don't know if that makes me feel any better. I don't want to hurt you. That's the whole point of this, really. If I didn't care about you, we wouldn't be having this conversation. If you're stuck on me, well, I think you're going to regret it."

"Well, now, just a second." He was finally animated. "That part is my call. You can have your life and your affairs, and you can love me or you can dump me, but whether I'm hurt is up to me, not you. You can't dump me because I might get hurt. That isn't fair to either of us."

I'm sure those weren't his precise words, but the idea is close.

I stared at him for a moment. I wasn't expecting an outburst like that. Then I stood, walked over to his chair, leaned over him, and fixed my lips around his. He took a moment to respond, then he stroked my hair and kissed me.

I pulled away, and eased myself into his lap. "You were saying?"

He was grinning like a crazy man, and I was feeling pretty good too. I rested my head on his shoulder, and he held me.

"You're too young for me, you know," I said, "and I never date guys I work with, and you're crazy to want me..."

"And you're making excuses," he interrupted, and pulled my face to his. He kisses surprisingly well when he gets started, and by the time he let me go I was in the mood for much more than kisses. (So was he, judging from what was pressing against my thigh.) But I wasn't going to spoil things. If he wants to take things slow, we'll take things slow.

So instead, we moved back to the couch and held each other for a while.

And that was it. When he left, we'd done no more than kissed, no groping, no petting... and I was frustrated, but it was a nice, warm feeling.

Which gets me to wondering, and to the introspection I was missing earlier... do I feel so good about him because he cares for me enough to want to be with me without sex? Or because I'm anticipating something that now seems more likely?

Or am I falling for him? God, maybe I've been worrying about the wrong person here. Because he has left me wanting more, and at the same time, I don't think I've ever felt less like satisfying my desire with anyone else. And it's over 24 hours later, and I'm still thinking about him.

Perhaps I let myself get just a little infatuated.

It will pass.