With urgency but tenderness he lifted the top of my pajamas. I felt his hands caress my body from the bottom of my neck to my waist. His touch made me quiver. I responded to him completely, in way that made me know that it was not just physical, and not solely based on emotion, but with a mix of both that put me in a state of equanimity. His legs were warm and I waited patiently to feel them against mine without the obstruction of my bottoms. He kissed my lips as if he were tasting me, and appeared to luxuriate in every moment.
"You taste so good," he said, as I felt his tongue slide down my neck.
I wanted to feel him all over my body, and as the thought passed through my mind, his mouth expertly brushed over my breasts. He was creative, and at the same time gentle, and he read me well as I felt the moisture of his tongue cover the whole of my stomach. His hands and mouth worked well together, and with his tongue leading, he began to venture to my lower half. His hands assisted as I felt my pajamas slowly move down my legs. With my body fully exposed, he warmed me, as I felt his mouth affectionately stroke my inner thighs. I yearned for him more at that very moment than I had since the day I had met him. Like so much else innate between us, we instinctively understood how to please each other physically. His eyes examined mine making certain that I was comfortable with the level of intimacy that was taking place between us. I closed my eyes and ran my fingers through his hair letting him know that my barriers were no longer present. His mouth and fingers traveled up my legs, then met where the top of my thighs became one. I felt the heat of his mouth upon me and his moisture together with my own. Gently, I pressed him closer to my lower body, wanting to feel the sensation of his mouth to its fullest. And after I thought I could take it no longer, I urged him, with subtle touches, to bring his body face to face with mine.
The orange glow still filled the room and the light continued to flicker. It was silent in my apartment but it was a silence, nonetheless, that was filled with a warmth and contentment. I ached to feel him and explore his secrets and dissolve the mystery from my thoughts. I had imagined quite vividly about the feel of his parts but I wanted nothing more than to make the fantasy real. My arms embraced him as our bodies melded together and finally, I reached to touch his growing desire. I peeled away the layer, that his body still wore, and as I did, a burning hunger erupted in me as I felt it rise within him. Touching Tristan was like magic to me, the way he responded so easily. I explored him then, the way that he did me, over every inch of his being. I had envisioned the closeness we were finally experiencing, so many times, in anticipation. And the way that it felt, knowing that two people could not be closer than the way that we were at that moment. Well, almost. There was still some exploring to be done. Then, as if he could read my thoughts, just the way he did on Menjangan island, with his firm masculine arms and his body a blanket on mine, he embraced me tighter, then tighter still, until this time, we literally became one.
And in the hours to come I heard the peaceful sound of his breathing as he drifted off to sleep. The night had been memorable. And I would never forget it. But it had been the reasons that I could not forget it, however, that did not allow me to sleep. As I layed in his arms the whole night through, the hours seemed to be endless. My mind could not rest. Things he had said gnawed at me, although it was what he hadn't said that was worse. I did not trust that our intimate night was an indication that we had moved forward. I had no idea what lay ahead but my gut told me that something was wrong.
But I knew immediately from the moment I had awoken, I had truly been fooling myself. And if I forced myself, I could have even admitted that I had known it the night before. Even while it was all happening. It was not the way it should have been. There was no real chemistry, at least the way I had hoped. Chemistry, by definition, meant a reaction caused by two. The way it had been on Bali. My mind suddenly flashed back to the first moments we had met in the pick-up van to go diving. I thought about our nervous laughter. And of Tristan's piercing eyes that spoke to mine. And then of the moment that I got out of the van as it dropped me at the hotel. And how without saying a word we both understood that we would one day see each other again. That was chemistry. But the emotions that were present just the previous night were generated only by me. I had felt alone in what I was feeling. Or at least on the level that I was feeling it. He had been far, far away. In another world. There was a part of him that I could not reach. A part that would not let me in. Yet he had given himself to me. And I believed he cared. Enough to want to be close to me and enough to cater to my needs. And enough to want to make me believe that his heart was no less than sincere. His feelings for me seemed very real, but had limitations that ran deep. And yet, I had allowed the night before to transpire in spite of it. Knowing. Sensing his restrictions that were still undefined. Unclear. But I had wanted him. And I had wanted to feel that closeness to him that one only felt with intimacy. Even if he couldn't share himself wholeheartedly with me. Because I trusted that when he could, he would. But deep down inside of me, my instincts told me that for whatever reason, the night before would have probably been the only opportunity that we would have had to share that experience together. I couldn't explain the premonition, but intuitively, I knew.
But I also wanted to believe it wasn't a woman from his past or something I couldn't compete with. I had hoped that it was something we could conquer together and maybe lessen his burden. But it had never even crossed my mind that it may have involved someone from the present. He had attempted to tell me something only the day before, but he had obviously hedged away from it. My mind raced quickly, searching for an indication in all he had said, that suggested his heart might be elsewhere. Suddenly I recalled that he had spoken with interest of his new colleague named Jean. He had mentioned the name only recently but it had surfaced a fair number of times. I had inquired about their relationship but he had led me to believe it was benign.
"Tris," I had asked him, ironically, only the previous day. "Have you ever dated Jean before?" as I tried to act nonchalant.
"No, actually, we only just met several weeks ago. We met on a flight we were working," he answered, casually, and appeared not to be overly interested. "Why do you ask," he surprised me with his inquiry.
We had not yet discussed the expectations of our relationship and therefore had not even broached the subject of seeing other people.
"Tristan, there's a lot we haven't spoken about yet, but I do realize that we live far apart. Is Jean someone you're interested in dating?" I honestly wanted to know.
We hadn't agreed to any terms as of yet and I would have been able to handle it. I was only seeking some genuine insight and the reality of his feelings for me. Or what it was that was distracting him and occupying his mind. And in my heart, I knew that even if he did care for me, he still wasn't right for me. I just had to find the strength to walk away from him.
"My relationship with Jean is based on friendship," he replied. "And besides, Jean has a boyfriend at the moment."
His words were short of what I considered comforting yet I knew what he was trying to say. He had tried to alleviate some of my concerns by telling me that Jean was involved with someone else. And because of that, the chances of he and Jean getting together were seemingly unlikely. But it was not enough to convince me. It hadn't stopped him when he had met me.
"Oh," I said, "I was just wondering," and I let it go, feeling the pit in my stomach grow larger.
We ate breakfast over candlelight and the conversation was free and easy once again. I had prepared some muffins and coffee for us and added the candles for ambiance.
"I really do like these candles," he said, "I don't think I've ever eaten breakfast at home in such an elegant setting," he added playfully, and conveyed some appreciation.
"Well, what can I tell you, you are from Germany my dear, you must get to the States more often," I teased, getting back to our old ways.
"Oh yes," he responded, "I forgot, McDonald's serves breakfast, and in the Stat
es there is one on every corner. Something I cannot get in Germany, that is for sure," he added sarcastically but flirting once again. We both laughed at his comments and moved to the couch to relax when we were done.
"I only have another hour or so and then I have to get going," Tristan said with remorse.
"The time seemed to go so quickly, I can't believe that you are leaving already," I said sadly, but with a mix of emotions.
He lifted my chin and kissed my lips softly and said, "But I will be back in a week and a half," then smiled with a wonderful grin.
Forgetting about my fears and concerns, I looked at him with joy and exclaimed, "Really?! Why didn't you tell me? This makes your leaving a whole lot easier! What day are you actually coming?" I questioned.
"A week from Wednesday and I thought it would be fun if I surprised you," he said with excitement and anticipation.
As he stroked my face he seemed intent on the future and gave me hope that I was a part of it.
"So don't make any plans for Wednesday night and maybe we can go to a show or something," he suggested.
"That sounds great," I responded, feeling the roller coaster make its way up again.
He took me in his arms and kissed me again in a way that should have left me worry free.
Ten minutes later I walked him to the door and he looked at me and said, "I'll miss you."
As I glanced up at his eyes and took in his smile, I said, "I'll really miss you too."
CHAPTER SIX
********
The next week and a half flew quickly by as we spoke on the phone every day. The day before he arrived I came home to a message on my answering machine from Tristan.
"Hi, it's me," he said. "I guess you're not home but I'll leave you a message anyway. Don't bother getting tickets for a show tomorrow, I actually have another idea. We might want to make reservations for dinner but somewhere that is quiet, so we can talk. See you tomorrow."
The roller coaster was on its way down. I should have known but the irony was I still didn't know why. Nothing seemed to make sense. And suddenly, my curiosity was driving me almost more than my heart itself. He was an enigma. So much so that I wasn't even sure he knew certain things about himself. But time would tell. In twenty-four hours the truth would unfold. Or at least I hoped it would. With Tristan, one never knew. But this would be the last time that I would bathe in uncertainty. I needed to know. And my senses told me that he needed to tell me. Either way, I would wait just a little bit longer.
At 6:30 p.m. the following day, the phone in my apartment rang. I picked it up quickly as I awaited his call and answered, cheerfully, "Well it's about time."
I heard him laugh at the other end, and with his distinct foreign accent said, "What do you mean, I'm early."
I laughed too and said, "I know, I'm only kidding. So what's the big plan?" I asked, trying to act light despite the nervous feeling in my stomach.
"Well," he responded, as I heard the tone in his voice become suddenly more serious. "You remember me mentioning my colleague Jean, don't you?" he asked.
"Of course," I responded, suddenly not liking the direction of the conversation.
"Well last minute Jean was put on my flight and is obviously here tonight," he continued.
I didn't say a word. He was going to have to get through whatever he was leading to himself.
"I was hoping that you wouldn't mind if we all spent the evening together," he finally said.
I felt the roller coaster go sharply around a curve.
"Tris, I really don't know what's going on, but it clearly wasn't what I had in mind," I admitted.
I tried desperately to hold back my mounting temper but nothing made sense from where I stood.
"I need to talk to you about something", he managed to say. "And it will be easier for me to tell you if Jean is with me," he added.
The whole situation was ludicrous. His colleague, from what he had told me, was new in his life, yet already, Tristan needed Jean by his side. From the sounds of it, they were running off together and Tristan wasn't man enough to tell me by himself. And the nerve of him, I thought. To bring Jean with him to make it easier on him. Couldn't he even spare me the hurt of having to picture them together after the intimacy that he and I had shared?! All that I had seen in him, all that I thought he had represented, I had only imagined, as it was clear that I had been wrong. I had thought he was strong person. I had thought that he could stand on his own two feet. I had thought he had been an individual, and for that, I had respected him. It had all seemed so simple in Indonesia. Our feelings for each other, at least. So pure. So real. Or so it seemed. I was furious with Tristan, but there was no doubt, I definitely still cared. I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if I told him not to come. I had to understand the complicated force that was about to take him from me. But then again, Tristan wasn't completely insane. To put me in a situation of extreme discomfort meant I really didn't trust him at all. He had to have a good reason for what he was doing and there was a slight possibility that my instincts were wrong.
"OK," I said reluctantly, "Why don't you and Jean come over for a drink in about a half an hour," I offered, thinking to myself that I was crazy.
"Great," he said, as I heard his relief. "Do you need anything?" he asked.
It was a strange time for formalities, I thought with sarcasm, and I answered, by saying, "The truth Tris, that would really be nice."
A half hour later my doorbell rang. I walked slowly toward the door with intense trepidation. I couldn't imagine what I was about to discover. But I had felt confident nonetheless. I had put some extra time into getting ready that evening in the hope of looking better than Jean. I wanted at least that much. But just like the first time he had come to my door, there was no turning back anymore. My mind flashed back to so many moments recalling the memorable times. From the moment I had met him I had extended myself, and did anything I had to, to see him. I tracked down his number without knowing his name, I borrowed a car I couldn't drive, I drove to the Cape and back in a day, I showed him New York, I slept with him, and now I was meeting his Jean. But for my own sake, I had to believe that it had all been worthwhile no matter what the outcome. I had to believe that his feelings had been real and I could cherish the storybook romance. True, I had been disappointed by him, but never had it seemed intentional. I always knew that it was tied to something that one day I would understand. The doorbell rang again. I emerged from my thoughts, reluctantly, and yelled, "I'll be right there!"
I opened the door and smiled at Tristan but was taken aback by what I saw.
"Hi," Tristan said, as he hugged me tightly but my mind ran haphazardly in circles.
I was more than a little confused. I went through the motions of shaking hands with his colleague, and as I tried to make sense of it all, I looked into Tristan's revealing eyes, and they told me something new. We all stood in the hall by the door of my apartment in an awkward pensive silence. I did not invite them in, and nobody dared to move. Looking at the person that had walked in with Tristan, it had suddenly all become clear. In no uncertain terms could I ever have competed. It was beyond competition. Jean's body alone, was something I could never have even dreamt of having. And Jean's face. It was different than mine but if that was the type that Tristan wanted, I understood the attraction. Tristan did not need to say a word. Nor did Jean. I saw it in their eyes when they looked at each other and I watched in disbelief. Tristan had been right to bring Jean to me, otherwise I wouldn't have believed it. The three of us stood almost frozen in place, and although he did not need to explain any further, Tristan broke our silence.
"This is Jean," he said with conviction, but I knew he had forced out the words. As I stared at Jean I swallowed hard, still digesting that Jean was a man.
I couldn't speak. I needed space. I needed to be alone. Or I needed to be with Tristan alone so he could tell me it all wasn't real. But it was and that's why Tristan had brought Jean to me. My mind
was saturated with so many thoughts, but mostly of anger towards Tristan. I couldn't believe what he had done to me by bringing me into his world. His world of confusion and pain and searching when he knew, for us, there was no chance. But as I stood there, still motionless, I realized that he hadn't known. He had been locked in a world without any answers and had been looking for an escape. And although for the moment he had discovered his freedom, I knew he was a long way from home.
We stood there for what seemed an eternity and a smile slowly crossed my face. It wasn't ideal by any means but it would somehow all be OK. What Tristan and I had temporarily shared, had been real, but never could have lasted forever. Jean had shown him that.
I missed the passion in the days that ensued but was thankful for the experience of having had it. I wanted to know that I could feel that way again, but hoped the closure would be different. It was a confusing time for me, however, and I needed to digest it all. I needed to release my entire story to free myself and go on. Maybe even take some time off. Bali had a nice peaceful ring to it and to me it sounded like the perfect place to write a story.
THE END
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