His purple jacket was hanging in the closet and I walked toward the door to get it. He hadn't even left my apartment yet, but already, I could feel the excitement rise within me as I anticipated his return in a few hours. He looked into my eyes, and again, as I looked up at his face, I was struck by how handsome he had become to me. And then I was taken by the rugged beauty of his defined jaw which I found to be so incredibly sexy. His eyes commanded all of my attention and I willingly shared my energy with him.
"I had a great time with you tonight," he said "And I am really looking forward to tomorrow. I don't even want to go to sleep tonight but I'm afraid that my body is collapsing," he added, with a sweet soft smile.
Tristan looked at me again, almost with disbelief and in awe of what he, and what we, were feeling. As he suddenly embraced me with an urgency and force, he erased my worries from earlier and replaced them with the confirmation he was giving to me.
"I thought of a couple of fun places to go to tomorrow, if you're up for it after we eat," I offered.
I was bursting with life and had the desire to maximize my time and share all that I had with him. Despite how we spent it, the next day would be memorable and I was excited to show him New York through my eyes.
"I'll see you in a few hours," he said, then he kissed me softly on the side of my cheek and slowly walked out the door to the elevator.
I felt my heart race as I inhaled everything about him. His scent still lingered, and again, with equal strength, it stirred a steady pulse in parts of my body that had not recently been moved as easily. His strong but lean body sauntered with an air of confidence and natural and effortless grace. I had not closed the door as I watched him walk away, and as if he could feel my eyes upon him, he turned back to give me a smile. It was his infectious smile, strong and sexy, that had come to fill my heart. The elevator came, he waved to me, then disappeared as quickly as he had come.
The morning came quickly and I had slept soundly, but it was only 8:30 a.m. I had been eager to wake up, knowing that shortly after I did, I would see Tristan. It was all so crazy, the feelings, the situation and the fact that it would all be just a distant memory in another few hours. And then what? Where would it leave me? In a place where it no longer seemed possible to give myself to Jordan, and, unrealistic to share, even moments with Tristan. Our worlds were so different anyway, I tried to convince myself. By 9:05 a.m. I was dressed and ready and my adrenaline had been keeping me going. The phone rang suddenly as I was neatening the apartment and it was after I answered, "Hello?" that I heard the voice that I had learned to appreciate.
"Hi, it's me, are you awake?" he asked cheerfully with his wonderful foreign accent.
"Hi, and yes, I am, but what are you doing up so early?" I responded happily, although I was surprised to hear from him almost an hour early.
"Well, I couldn't sleep and figured that if I had to be tired today, you would just have to be tired with me," he said playfully.
"Oh reeeally," I responded teasingly, as I mimicked the way he stretched out his "e's." "Well", I added. "You, my dear, just happen to be lucky because I am up, dressed and ready, otherwise I would have taken revenge on you for waking me up."
"And what precisely did you have in mind in the form of revenge?" he challenged.
"As I said, this time you're lucky," I teased, avoiding the bait he intentionally sent me.
"Well, I'll let you off the hook this time, but only this time," he chuckled.
"So, are you leaving now?" I asked, not wanting to wait another moment before seeing him.
"Yes, I'll take a cab and meet you at your apartment in about ten minutes, is that all right?" he asked.
"Yes, that's perfect," I confirmed. "See you in a few minutes,"
I waited anxiously for Tristan to arrive, feeling confident and excited. It was progressively becoming more difficult to contain my feelings the more he shared his with me.
Just get through the day, I thought to myself. As soon as he leaves the feelings will dissipate and you will feel more settled, I tried to convince myself.
The doorbell rang.
"Coming," I yelled out.
"Hi," I said, as I opened the door and he whisked me into his arms.
"I have been thinking about this moment all night," he said, as he pulled me closer to his body.
"Well that's a nice greeting," I said to him, as I smiled from ear to ear feeling happier than I had in a long time.
This is how it should be, the thought ran through my head. No decision to make, just a secure, innate feeling that makes you want to go with it, my thought continued.
"Are you ready, I'm starved," he said with a grin that conveyed his hunger was not strictly related to food.
"Good," I said. "Then let's get out of here quickly, we wouldn't want you to die of starvation," I replied, playing a little hard to get.
The weather was freezing but the sun was shining brightly and the warmth from Tristan's arm around me penetrated deeply. We hurried through the streets looking for a restaurant, but because it was early, there were not many places open. The breath from our mouths formed smoke-like clouds as we searched for a place to eat.
"This one looks fine," he said, after noticing someone inside as he looked through the window.
"Great, anything to get us out of the cold," I responded.
But despite the painful chill in the air, each new minute with Tristan was an experience that I was thoroughly enjoying.
"Is brunch in the U.S. like brunch in Germany in that you can you order breakfast or lunch?" he asked me, after we had seated ourselves at the table.
"Yes, usually," I responded, as I smiled to myself, thinking about how wonderfully refreshing it was to be with him and to see things through his eyes.
He was in no way naive, innocent or childlike, but he enjoyed examining circumstances. He looked at me then, and the smile on my face must have given away my thoughts, propelling him to chuckle a little out loud.
"What are you thinking about?" he asked me. "Are you laughing at my question?" he inquired, again the inflection in his voice sounding very British.
At that, I laughed again and we both got lost in what seemed to be a perpetual state of laughter.
"Hello," the waiter had said to us. "I'm sorry, but we are not open yet. We open in about a half an hour, can you come back then?" he asked.
Tristan and I looked at each other, then around at the restaurant noticing that it was still completely empty, and for some reason found humor in the whole situation. We were riding a high that made everything feel positive and nothing seemed to bring us down.
"No, that's OK, we'll just wait here until you open, if you don't mind," Tristan said.
"Sure, if you wish, that's fine," the waiter replied.
Tristan took my hands into his, and rested them on the table. He caressed them and held them tightly, letting me know with his affection how much he cared.
"I don't want to leave, you know," he suddenly looked more serious than he had been all morning.
"So, what are we going to do?" I asked, not sure that I wanted to expose myself any further and contend with the unknown intricacy that I remotely feared would at some point surface.
"I don't know, but I'll be back here soon".
Tristan was wearing a preppy purple sweater, with two little buttons at the collar. Yet, there was something about him that made the clothes he wore take on a whole new image. His image. The process, by definition, was referred to as "transference". His character had the ability to portray his clothes in an entirely new light. Most people chose clothing to give them a style. Tristan clearly had his own. The sweater that he wore did not categorize him, it just enhanced his unique demeanor.
"I really like the sweater that you are wearing, it makes your face look so alive," he said, with ease and a confident smile. "And it looks quite good against your long dark hair, the contrast is very appealing," he added, almost as an observation.
My sweater was
purple, coincidentally, but I loved being complimented by him in spite of the fact that I knew that the color might be the impetus behind it.
"Yes, and these jeans really enhance the rest of my outfit, don't you think so?" I said, trying to sound British, but also with a hint of sarcasm as I attempted to make the situation somewhat comical.
The jeans I was wearing were torn at both knees, a fashion of the times that was supposed to be sexy. And they were. They exposed my tan skin and had a casual look that shaped the curves on my body.
He laughed and said, "Well, it looks good, but don't you think you might be a little cold?" he teased.
"Well, you might just have to warm me up, do you think you can handle that?" I challenged.
"I don't think that you want to test me on that, let's just say we learn things where I come from too," he said in retaliation while slipping his hand inside the hole at the knee of my jeans.
He had been taken by me, the way I had been taken by him, and because of how we viewed each other, our egos swelled at the thought of it.
"Would you like to order?" the waiter finally asked.
Neither one of us had even looked at the menu yet, and we began to laugh again.
"Please give us just a few more minutes," Tristan requested, as I hid a smile behind my hand. "Can I bring you something to drink in the meantime, sir?" the waiter asked almost impatiently as we were still the sole customers in the restaurant while he had been trying to prepare to open.
"Yes, pleeease", Tristan said. He looked at me then and asked, "The menu says the brunch comes with a Bloody Mary, would you care for one?" he asked.
"Sure, that sounds good," I said, wondering how we would survive on almost no sleep and more alcohol.
"OK, two please," he informed the waiter. We giggled like children when the waiter walked away, knowing that he probably wasn't thrilled with us being there.
As we sipped our drinks, our heads felt light and the world around us felt dreamlike. His eyes captured mine as he stared once again, freezing the energy between us. He lured me in, as a willing prisoner to a place I did not want to escape. Almost a minute had passed, and suddenly, as if he had caught himself, he shook his head bringing himself back to reality.
"G-d," he said, "that is unbelie-e-vable." I knew he was referring to the intoxicating power and strength of the feeling that existed between us.
Despite my fatigue, I felt a surge of desire, a throbbing that made me want him. And at that moment, he lifted my hands, found my fingers and put them into his mouth. The warmth from his breath and moisture from his mouth sent a shiver through me to the core. My eyes closed suddenly and involuntarily as I held back the desire to moan. He sucked on my fingers in an affectionate way that did not appear tasteless in public. The wetness I felt was no longer being secreted solely from Tristan's mouth. I took his fingers to taste them too, as we experienced heights that were almost unbearable.
"Oh good, the food is here," he exclaimed happily with a genuine look of relief.
"And, I am starved," I said, in a manner that matched Tristan's enthusiasm and what I interpreted to be his belief that we had just been rescued. Rescued from behavior that at the time would have been inappropriate, but conduct we knew we both wanted to pursue. It was all too good to be true. The emotion, the intensity, and the sensation of desire. And yet time was limited. In a few hour's time, he would be gone.
"So, are you ready to tackle Manhattan, Mr. International?" I asked playfully. "Oh, and don't worry, if you have difficulty understanding anyone along the way, I'll be here to help you with your English," I abused him, knowing very well already what his hot buttons were.
"Well Miss, I think that you are clearly at the disadvantage because should we come across something that requires knowledge of the German language, you, might I remind you, do not know any, and I have not yet agreed to assist you," he gleefully took revenge.
"Under the circumstances, I guess that's the risk we both face, should we choose to spend the afternoon together," I stated with confidence, knowing full well that there was no other option, for either of us.
"Yes, that is true, so shall we...?" he said, as he extended his arm indicating that I should loop mine though his. We left the restaurant without a care in the world and hopped into a cab toward 94th St.
The International Center of Photography was perfectly located for what I had hoped we would do after visiting it. I had already known that Tristan loved photography, it was one of the passions that we shared. There was a colorful exhibit on China and its culture, something I knew we would both appreciate.
"This is excellent," he said animatedly, pointing to one of the photos that portrayed a traditional Chinese celebration. "The color is so vivid," he continued, "I'd like to know what kind of film this photographer uses."
He was so interested in everything he involved himself with, down to the very last detail. It was a pleasure to be with him, as I too thrived on the particulars of life, and it was easy for me to share with him.
"Come look at this for a moment," he requested excitedly, as he pointed toward another exhibit. We approached a photograph that displayed brilliant colors, of changing Autumn leaves. "That is a fantastic picture," he said. "I'm not really certain if I've ever seen colors like that," he added passionately. It was the way he had said it that for some reason made me think that he had never experienced true fall foliage.
"Do the leaves in Germany change color at all during the autumn season?" I asked, sounding somewhat naive but confused. Tristan attempted to hold his laughter but did not succeed in doing so.
"Actually, the leaves in Germany usually turn blue," he said, being smart but playful nonetheless. "Didn't you know that?" he continued, as he victoriously made his point.
"OK you, I think that we have seen enough in this museum," I said, pretending to be angry. "I think I have something better in mind that I'm sure you will find quite invigorating," I added, while punching his arm as if I were beating him up.
"Re-e-ally, and what might that be? It couldn't possibly be more exciting than looking at blue leaves!" his flirting and sarcasm persisted. I couldn't help myself from laughing, because although I had been embarrassed by my momentary faux pas, I had to admit, it was humorous.
"You, my dear, are going to get it," I replied.
"I hope so," he said smirking, then took my hand and we walked west to the corner of Fifth Avenue.
The snow remained a blanket throughout Central Park, although it had melted on the streets of New York.
"Have you ever been in the park before," I asked, ready to take him regardless.
"Yes, but only once, and it was right in the middle of summer," he replied.
"Great, then this will be fun for both of us," I said delightedly.
"It's freezing outside though," he protested, then asked, "are you kidding?" as he smiled, trying to be a good sport.
"I told you that our next activity would be invigorating, but if you can't handle the cold...," I toyed with him.
"OK, but just for a few minutes, I don't even have gloves," he said, attempting to justify his aversion.
Tristan was far from a fragile man, it truly was cold and I knew it. But the park had such a romantic feel to it with the sunshine and glistening white snow. And I wanted to experience that luminous setting specifically with him. It was actually the thawing out that I looked forward to and the fun of warming up. He walked up behind me, put his hands in my pockets, then we walked through the park in tandem. It was beautiful. The hush in the park created a peaceful feeling, solace, and a sense of serenity. There were few people around but those who were, walked briskly through the cold air. A woman and her two children passed by us then. They were twins, both of whom had blond hair. They giggled joyfully as they scampered by, and instinctively, Tristan and I locked eyes, and without saying a word, it was clear what we were both thinking. The situation between us seemed to be progressing fast despite my attempts to control it.
"Time to go!" he said triumphantly, as if he had just passed a test.
"OK, I guess your hands are red enough," I said jokingly. "How about going back to my place for some coffee?" I asked.
"That sounds like a great idea, I still have some time before I go," he replied. We walked to the corner and hopped into a cab, and Tristan began rubbing my arms to warm me up.
"Would you like your coffee with milk or do you take it black," I asked Tristan, after returning to my apartment.
"Milk please, I could never drink it black," he answered.
I was learning very quickly that he was set in his ways and his responses were sometimes curt. Most of the time it translated into sarcasm but I could see how it could become combative. Despite his charm, he would be a tough one to deal with, that was becoming quite clear. There was something about him that made me know that things would always have to be his way. And things could change when I least expected it, but I never knew which way he would go. He was unpredictable when it came to his needs. Or maybe he was just moody.
What was it about him that I sensed was being hidden, but I could not yet put my finger on, my mind struggled.
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