I drank a big glass of wine from one of the wine glasses Will gave me for my birthday before talking to Cutie McBarista, and another while talking to him. I smoked 2 cigarettes during our phone conversation. And after telling him why I was so upset, and getting the opposite reaction from the one I expected – and wanted – we moved off that topic. I waited until he’d mentioned our hook-up to speak of it, but then I couldn’t help myself. I talked about how great it was. I told him how badly I wanted him when he said we’d get together when he comes back to Atlanta. I felt my thighs tingle as we talked about it and as I heard him call me the same things he’s always called me – darlin’, doll. I loved that.
“Why didn’t we ever do this before?” I asked him. I knew the answer, but wanted to hear his take. I knew he’d wanted me all summer, and I’d tried my hardest to keep those thoughts away from his head. But the sexual tension was always obvious. Every time we’d hang out I’d hope he wouldn’t try to kiss me. I’d sit far away. I’d play ultra-cold. I’d discourage it at every bend. Because before he’d actually acted on it, a short week and a half ago, I really didn’t want it. But after the way he kissed me that very early Sunday morning…the way he’d touched me…the way he’d talked to me…I can’t help but get wet just thinking about it now, and talking to him only made it that much worse.
“We hung out so much this summer. Why didn’t it ever happen before?”
“Well…” he started and I cut him off after sensing his hesitation.
“Because I wouldn’t let it. I know. But now we both know how good it can be, how good it will be.”
“Oh, definitely,” he said like there was never any doubt for him.
And so I suggested that instead of waiting for him to come back to Atlanta and having to deal with all that drama of his not-girlfriend and trying to get away from her and all that…instead we meet half way, get a hotel room…essentially make this happen sooner rather than later. And he seemed to love the idea, suggested a weekend getaway, said he’d get a Saturday off, has every Sunday off…and we’d do it. We could go to the beach, he said. It may not be a great beach but we could have fun anyway, he said. Amen to that. I doubt we’d even make it to the beach, I told him. We’d be all laid up in that room loving on each other’s bodies the entire time if it were up to me…but I didn’t say that part out loud.
Maybe he’d finally get me to go to the park. Maybe we’d walk on the beach. Maybe we’d have good food and reminisce and forget the old times. Maybe we’d sit and talk and smoke cigarettes and drink coffee. And maybe it would be just as good as I’ve made it out to be in my head. Maybe it would be just like it always was, only this time with his dick inside me.
“It will be better, you know,” he told me. “We’re already such great friends. It can only make it that much better for us, doll.”. And yeah, I know he didn’t mean it the way I wanted to take it, but I took it that way anyway. He was talking about sex; I wanted connection.
“It will be fun,” I responded, “and great for my book.”
“Yeah, that sounds really great. We need to do it. Maybe we could meet in Mobile?” I felt the wetness increase as we talked and was encouraged by his obvious interest in my idea. I tried to talk about it more, told him how badly I wanted him, how great it would be to finally get some after all this time. And he laughed nervously, so I told him I’d let him go, not wanting to ruin the moment I’d surely extend in my head while lying in bed later.
“Where do you smoke?” I asked him before we got off the phone when I could hear him inhaling.
“Right here at home. I’ve been sitting here smoking next to my sister.”
I sighed then, realizing why I couldn’t get him to feed into my sex talk as much as I’d wanted him to. He was more open about it than I would have been, but now it made sense why he’d laughed nervously when I’d talked about how great it would be. And I wanted him more then…if that’s really possible.
My Cutie McBarista…the one who’d left. The one who told me tonight how I’d find so many better things to move on to, much better friends. The one I expected to blow off all Jen had done, and give me a reason to forgive her, but instead told me I shouldn’t waste my time with people who had such obvious character/personality flaws. And he was right, but it wasn’t what I’d wanted to hear. I wanted a reason to forgive. I wanted it to not be a big deal. But when my sweet little McBarista wouldn’t even make an excuse for one of our mutual friends I knew I had no choice but to move on from all this…from this friendship. And I hate that.
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I drank a big glass of wine from one of the wine glasses Will gave me for my birthday before talking to Cutie McBarista, and another while talking to him. I smoked 2 cigarettes during our phone conversation. And after telling him why I was so upset, and getting the opposite reaction from the one I expected – and wanted – we moved off that topic. I waited until he’d mentioned our hook-up to speak of it, but then I couldn’t help myself. I talked about how great it was. I told him how badly I wanted him when he said we’d get together when he comes back to Atlanta. I felt my thighs tingle as we talked about it and as I heard him call me the same things he’s always called me – darlin’, doll. I loved that.
“Why didn’t we ever do this before?” I asked him. I knew the answer, but wanted to hear his take. I knew he’d wanted me all summer, and I’d tried my hardest to keep those thoughts away from his head. But the sexual tension was always obvious. Every time we’d hang out I’d hope he wouldn’t try to kiss me. I’d sit far away. I’d play ultra-cold. I’d discourage it at every bend. Because before he’d actually acted on it, a short week and a half ago, I really didn’t want it. But after the way he kissed me that very early Sunday morning…the way he’d touched me…the way he’d talked to me…I can’t help but get wet just thinking about it now, and talking to him only made it that much worse.
“We hung out so much this summer. Why didn’t it ever happen before?”
“Well…” he started and I cut him off after sensing his hesitation.
“Because I wouldn’t let it. I know. But now we both know how good it can be, how good it will be.”
“Oh, definitely,” he said like there was never any doubt for him.
And so I suggested that instead of waiting for him to come back to Atlanta and having to deal with all that drama of his not-girlfriend and trying to get away from her and all that…instead we meet half way, get a hotel room…essentially make this happen sooner rather than later. And he seemed to love the idea, suggested a weekend getaway, said he’d get a Saturday off, has every Sunday off…and we’d do it. We could go to the beach, he said. It may not be a great beach but we could have fun anyway, he said. Amen to that. I doubt we’d even make it to the beach, I told him. We’d be all laid up in that room loving on each other’s bodies the entire time if it were up to me…but I didn’t say that part out loud.
Maybe he’d finally get me to go to the park. Maybe we’d walk on the beach. Maybe we’d have good food and reminisce and forget the old times. Maybe we’d sit and talk and smoke cigarettes and drink coffee. And maybe it would be just as good as I’ve made it out to be in my head. Maybe it would be just like it always was, only this time with his dick inside me.
“It will be better, you know,” he told me. “We’re already such great friends. It can only make it that much better for us, doll.”. And yeah, I know he didn’t mean it the way I wanted to take it, but I took it that way anyway. He was talking about sex; I wanted connection.
“It will be fun,” I responded, “and great for my book.”
“Yeah, that sounds really great. We need to do it. Maybe we could meet in Mobile?” I felt the wetness increase as we talked and was encouraged by his obvious interest in my idea. I tried to talk about it more, told him how badly I wanted him, how great it would be to finally get some after all this time. And he laughed nervously, so I told him I’d let him go, not wanting to ruin the moment I’d surely extend in my head while lying in bed later.
“Where do you smoke?” I asked him before we got off the phone when I could hear him inhaling.
“Right here at home. I’ve been sitting here smoking next to my sister.”
I sighed then, realizing why I couldn’t get him to feed into my sex talk as much as I’d wanted him to. He was more open about it than I would have been, but now it made sense why he’d laughed nervously when I’d talked about how great it would be. And I wanted him more then…if that’s really possible.
My Cutie McBarista…the one who’d left. The one who told me tonight how I’d find so many better things to move on to, much better friends. The one I expected to blow off all Jen had done, and give me a reason to forgive her, but instead told me I shouldn’t waste my time with people who had such obvious character/personality flaws. And he was right, but it wasn’t what I’d wanted to hear. I wanted a reason to forgive. I wanted it to not be a big deal. But when my sweet little McBarista wouldn’t even make an excuse for one of our mutual friends I knew I had no choice but to move on from all this…from this friendship. And I hate that.
Sent via BlackBerry by AT&T