SEX AND… SENSIBILITY
Part One – The Foreplay
He is tall and ruggedly handsome; if you don’t mind the nasty grime
that sticks to his face. His position, a senior executive with a powerful local
company, gives him a self-assuredness, which compensates for a certain slowness
in his physical movements that make him appear rather clumsy at times.
We met in a mutual friend’s house and it was clear from the outset that
he had a crush on me, even though he
was accompanied by a chirpy, dark-haired woman. However, he soon got
rid of her and started conquering what was supposed to be a hard fortress; me.
For days on end he would phone me and we would have the most
interesting conversations. When he finally plucked up the courage to invite me
over, to my sheer delight, I found most of my favorite books on his
shelves. In fact, more than half of our
books were common.
He liked showing off with me; taking me to dinner parties and
presenting me like a trophy. He would leave me with some of his friends and
acquaintances, and move to another corner of the room so that he could watch
me. At times, he would display his familiar cheeky grin as if he was saying:
“See? The girl is mine!”
But I wasn’t his and never regarded him as a lover, not even a
friend. I had mixed feelings about him
and not once I did want him to kiss me.
I never had that desire for closeness with him that makes falling in
love so special. However, in reality, I
was drifting into what was to be one of the strangest, most intellectual, and
sophisticated relationships I have ever had.
The weekend that followed he invited me and another couple to a
mountain chalet he owned in the Pennines . As we approached the sight
and setting couldn’t have appeared more beautiful, romantic, and perfect to
me. For the first time since we met I
was beginning to feel mesmerized by his world. I wished I could forget about
everything that turned me off, and just enjoy the moment.
That night the music was excellent, the food he had brought was
“classy’’, and the champagne brought the night to a happy end.
Here we were, naked, lying on a king-size bed, with a haunting, big,
orange moon staring at us through the open window. Occasionally, strange bird
shrieks would break the silence. I didn’t make a move and he didn’t either. We
simply lay, not touching even a finger, a tranquil serenity taking over.
He must have felt the awkwardness of the moment
too because I heard him saying: “Do you want to ask me something?” “Ask me anything”, I replied. In a moment I
found myself playing the most bizarre game; the naked quiz. Weird questions
cross our minds, and we ask each other if we were animals what would we be ? Or, do you
think sex can really save a relationship?
We have so much fun and the giggling soon turns
into roars of laughter. What would our friends think of us, I thought. It’s the
funniest, supposingly sexiest night ever. Energized by it all I
stand up, gesticulate, look out of the window, come back, nestle in the bed
sheets, but I never touch him. He doesn’t even try to draw near. He simply lies
there and expresses the most wonderful thoughts about every possible topic.
Dawn found us falling asleep, two strangers in a golden bed; naked and
emptied of everything, with an odd gap there between us.
Part Two : I want to
think like a man !
Nothing was to be said about the night in the chalet.
He keeps taking me out, I sometimes insist paying the bill and he agrees, just to make sure I won’t say “
no “ the next time…
When we finally get to
a kiss on my living-room sofa, it turns out it’s not so bad as I have expected.
His lips have a sweet softness but the
reserve and weirdness that have delayed the moment for so long are still
present. We are stubborn in keeping a
purely high intellectual relationship,
we compete in literature, music, art and even cooking.
Sundays are the best
in doing all these and as long as I’m asking myself many times what the hell I’m doing next to this man and not being able to answer to it, everything
is ok…..
He doesn’t ask me
anything but has become my buddy, my dance partner, chef and confident.
And the next thing
that comes to my mind is ‘’ I have to do it “. I cautiously prepare myself , looking in the mirror, scrutinizing every
thin line and frowning :” My dear, you are going to do it and you will feel
absolutely nothing afterwards. Why not ? A
lot of men do it and the world still keeps spinning around….so what importance does
it make this man hasn’t lavished his chemistry or he has but not a single drop
has reached you ?”
Yes, I’m content, a
certain determination lays on my face and
nothing can stop me now.
I throw my clothes in
a desperate attempt to hasten the moment and as soon as I’m in bed I pull the
blanket up to my neck and keep my eyes wide…shut.( normally I enjoy my lover’s
eyes resting on my naked body ) At
times, I peep at the other corner of the bedroom where Ron neatly arranges his
trousers on the back of a chair. I feel like bursting into laughter and think “
bad sign ‘! He finally reaches the bed and lies next to me. I want everything
to work out and the two bottles of red wine ought to help. It’s strange but I
can’t recollect too much of it, just our both efforts in trying to do it right
and my immediate desire that everything should be over. It’s nothing like I’ve ever
experienced before and sex dilutes in sense…
I slam the door,
breathe deeply and start whistling as I’m walking down the street, I feel young, free and unburdened and I’m
sure I’ll never see him again…
A strange
association crosses my mind and I alter words : chemistry ,
sensible, chimera…, .yeah, yeah, I’m going to write a poem soon…