by Grace Risata
“Are you making this stuff up? No one has that bad of luck!” Dane shook his head in disbelief.
“I wish I was, man. I couldn’t make this up if I tried. We’re not even to my longest relationship yet. It gets better. Or worse actually, if we’re being honest. From age twenty-two to twenty-four I dated “Mr. Gay.” As you can probably surmise by his nickname, he turned out to be playing for the other team. We dated for TWO years and I had no idea. We had sex that lasted for fifteen minutes. It was my longest yet, so I assumed I was finally doing something right. He never seemed to want it as much as I did and he never initiated it. I foolishly assumed he was just shy. He was nice and always remembered my birthday and holidays. He was very clean and his house was always tidy. I assumed it meant he was mature. One day he called me over to his house and told me he had something very serious to discuss. I thought he was going to ask me to move in with him. I panicked because I wasn’t ready for that yet. I know we’d already been together for two years, but something just felt off. The passion wasn’t there. I’d been asking myself for the past few months if I shouldn’t be looking for something MORE. Someone who made my heart skip a beat when I walked into the room. Someone who could make me melt with just once glance. Something MORE, you know? I couldn’t describe it, but I knew I didn’t have it with him. So he sits me down and tells me that he found someone else but he didn’t want to act on his feelings until he broke up with me first because he was a gentleman. I was livid. It angered me more that he dared find someone else, than the fact that he was dumping me. Once I found out that the other woman was really another man, it calmed me down. I couldn’t compete with that. I had entirely different parts than he was looking for. Not my fault! And the last loser on my list is Blind Date number Four: Herman Henderson the perfect man.” I looked over at Dane to see if he would laugh or think I was a crazy degenerate man repellant.
Instead Dane was shaking his head in awe. “Izzy, what’s the matter with the guys around here? Don’t they know a good thing when they see it?”
“Obviously not!” I replied. That was very sweet of him to say, though. “Ok. A deal’s a deal. Your turn. What’s the story with the hooker?”
“Let’s just say you’re not the only one with a…how can I put this…a catastrophic dating history. I will tell you one example, and one example only. I don’t like to spill too much at once. I prefer to remain a mystery,” he declared, while winking at me. My goodness, he sure piled it on thick. I swear he would do whatever he could in order to avoid divulging any of his past. I sincerely hoped he wasn’t abused by any of his foster parents and that’s the reason why he wouldn’t share much of his life. I desperately wanted to ask, but I knew it wasn’t my place.
“You got a serious look on your face, Izzy. How come?”
“Can I get one question, too?” I asked.
“Sure. Most of the girls that I end up dating are ones that I meet in a bar. Spider has a band and he’s always dragging me to watch them play, like I’m a groupie or something. I have no idea why he feels the need to have a wing-man because he has no problem getting female attention. Anyway, it was on one of the nights in the bar when Spider had a gig. I was sitting at the bar all alone near the end of the night and a girl came up to talk to me. That never happens. She was pretty cute and I was pretty drunk and we started chatting. We ended up getting a little friendly with each other—“
“What does that mean? Like you’re bending her over the pool table or she has her hand on your thigh? I don’t know you well enough to know what you mean.” I wasn’t the only one who could interrupt a story! And, yes, I was jealous of the girl who was friendly with Dane. I wanted to know just how jealous I should be getting.
“I did not ‘bend her over the pool table’ as you so eloquently put it! I’m a gentleman. We were only kissing a little bit,” he elaborated. Aha. So he does that with EVERYONE. Bar strangers, me, my dog. I’m sensing a pattern here.
“Spider came over after his set to see what was going on and he tried to get me to leave. I told him that I was in the middle of something and I’d be ready in a few minutes. The girl gave me her phone number and I promised to call her the next day. I was riding high on a wave of self-confidence and I was bragging to Spider about how smooth I was. For some reason, he wasn’t impressed. As we drove home, guess who I saw standing on the street corner with some other ladies of the night?”
“No way!”
“Yes, way. It was the girl. Spider was kind enough to point her out. He said, ‘Hey Dane, isn’t that your future wife over there turning tricks?’ I pulled the car over to see if there was just some giant misunderstanding and maybe she only needed a ride home. She stuck her head in the window and offered to finish what we started for the bargain price of a hundred and fifty bucks. Spider pulled out his wallet just to piss me off, and I peeled out of there so fast that I left half the rubber from my tires on the street. To this day, Spider tries to fit that into conversation whenever he can. He yelled at me for not noticing the track marks on her arm. I tried to explain that her sleeves were pulled down, but he didn’t buy it.”
I was laughing all the way through the story. That was great. I really wanted to meet this Spider guy. I bet the two of them together would be larger-than-life. “Spider sounds like a good friend. Can I ask my question now?”
“Sure. What’s on your mind?” Dane asked.
“I was curious…and I know it’s not my business…but…I watch TV and hear a lot of horror stories on the news…were you ever abused in any of your foster families?”
Dane’s face instantly changed and his playful demeanor vanished. I cursed myself for asking this stupid question. He obviously had an answer that I was not going to be prepared for.
“You’re right,” he replied distantly, “It’s none of your business. But I’ll answer you anyway. Only because I never want you ask me that ever again. It could have been a lot worse. I got smacked around a little when I was too young to defend myself. But no one ever tried to touch me in a bad way. I knew people who had that happen to them. It’s not something that you ever ask someone about. It’s extremely thoughtless. What if I HAD been touched like that? Do you think I want to talk about it? I’ve seen things that I shouldn’t have. I didn’t have to deal with much abuse, thank God. It was mostly just neglect more than anything. People didn’t notice me, as if I didn’t exist at all.” He turned to look at me and continued, “I don’t want to talk about it. Do not ask me again. Is that clear?”
“Yes, it is. I’m sorry if I brought up something painful. I have no diplomacy. I just worried about you. That’s all. I won’t ask again.”
He started walking a bit faster and made it clear with his body language that we were headed home and there would be no more conversation. Once we got back to my house, Dane said he was tired and he was going to sleep. I highly doubted that it was his usual routine to fall asleep at nine-thirty on a Saturday night, but what was I going to say? I felt bad for asking him about things that he didn’t want to talk about. Nice to know that my powers of repelling men were still active. Sigh.
Kitty and I went to bed, too. I was sure there would be no early morning make-out session after that. I was wrong again.
Sunday, January 10
I woke up at one in the morning to the feel of a soft tongue licking my cheek. Unfortunately it was Kitty and not Dane.
“Sorry, buddy,” I whispered, “I love you, but Dane kisses better. He doesn’t use so much tongue. And his breath didn’t smell like dead fish. What have you been eating?” I took a paw to the face for that last remark. I’m pretty sure it was a “get up and feed me now” paw and not an “I’ll punch you for insulting my kissing skills” paw. I threw on a sweatshirt over the T-shirt I was currently wearing, but didn’t bother to put a bra on. The faster I fed her, the sooner I could go back to sleep.
I opened the door, and to my surprise, Dane was sitting up on the couch.
“Why are you
awake?” I asked him.
“I can’t sleep.” I suppose that’s a logical answer. I shrugged my shoulders and went to feed the dog.
Dane followed me into the kitchen and admitted, “You’re the reason that I can’t sleep.”
“Was I snoring?”
“No. No matter how hard I try, I can’t get you out of my head.” Dane marched over, grabbed me by the waist, and lifted me onto the kitchen counter. His face was inches from mine. He was wearing a short sleeved T-shirt and it was deliciously tight. I put my hand on his shoulder and pulled him closer. He sucked in a sharp breath. I leaned up and kissed his neck, just below his ear. I worked my way down to his shoulder blade, trailing soft kisses as I went. He put his hand behind my head, grabbed a fist full of hair, and pulled my head back to have access to my neck. His kisses were not as gentle as mine had been. He licked and sucked and nibbled. His other hand went up the back of my shirt and he said, “Hmm, no bra. I like this.”
I arched my chest into his and muttered one word, “yes.”
He stopped kissing my neck and looked at me. “Yes?”
“Yes, don’t stop, keep going. It feels good.” I wanted it perfectly clear what “yes” meant. I had never been kissed by anyone with as much raw masculinity as Dane possessed. He was a mystery. I wanted him desperately. So, of course, he stepped away.
“Why? You didn’t let Grabby Hands or Blind Date number seventy-two touch you like I’m touching you now. What makes me so special?” Dane asked as he took off my sweatshirt. He threw it in the corner and then put his hands on my back and pulled me closer to him. My legs spread open and he was standing right in-between them. So close. Dane took both my hands in one of his and held them over my head. His other hand started to touch my breast on top of the T-shirt.
“Maybe you should take that off,” I suggested breathlessly.
“Maybe I like to take my time. You haven’t answered my question. What makes me different? Why do you want my hands all over you, when you push others away?” Dane leaned closer to me and licked my bottom lip with his tongue. That wasn’t good enough because he bit it next. Just a nibble. He moved on to biting and sucking and sticking his tongue in my mouth. We kissed feverishly, mouths pressed together like the only way to get air was to breathe it from each other’s lungs.
Dane let go of my hands and I wrapped them around his waist, pressing him closer into the spot between my legs. With only a few thin layers of cotton separating us, I could feel how hard he was. Without thinking, I thrust my hips into him. Any attempt at rational thought went out the window. My body was calling the shots and it wanted Dane. He let go of me and took a few swift steps away, backing himself into my kitchen island. He ran his hands through his hair and shook his head.
“We can’t do this,” he insisted. This was making me crazy. It was always one step forward and two steps back with this one.
“I don’t want to complicate things here, Izzy,” Dane added. “It’s bad enough with me having no money and having to rely on your kindness. This whole situation with you feels like I’m not in control. Like I have to ask too many favors. Drive me here, buy me pants. I don’t feel like a man. That’s why I can’t be anything more than friends with you right now. I don’t want you to think I’m just doing this,” he pointed to himself and then to me, “so you’ll let me stay here. Because I’m not. I would never be that way. I’m not a whore off the street like the girl in the bar that I told you about. I hope you understand.” Dane’s eyes searched mine, begging to be understood. He had no idea how well I could relate. There was a time not so long ago when someone thought they could throw money at me and I would do whatever they wanted. Thankfully I had good people looking out for me and things went in a different direction. I could very easily be a completely different person than I am today. I refused to talk about that with anyone. Past is past. Freedom is priceless. I try not to look back.
I forced myself to come back to the present where Dane was staring at me, uneasily waiting for me to say something. I didn’t know what to answer. I could tell he was clearly upset and I didn’t think having a debate in my kitchen at one in the morning was going to solve anything. I sadly shook my head and got down off the counter. I slowly walked past him on the way back to my room, but then abruptly stopped. Something else needed to be said. I turned around and answered his question.
“You want to know what makes you special? What makes you different from the other guys I was with? The reason that I didn’t let them touch me like you just did?” I asked, using air quotes for the word ‘let.’ “Because I didn’t WANT them to. So I didn’t LET them. With you it was different. There was no LET involved. I NEEDED you to touch me. I wanted it. You’re more of a man than anyone I’ve ever been with. Don’t think for a second that you’re not.”
-------------------------------------------------
Again Dane woke me up at 6:30 to take him to work, and again we had awkward car conversation. Ok, we had no conversation and that’s why it was awkward. At least I didn’t make him lunch this time. I didn’t want to get in trouble for being too “nice.” Nice girls finished last. Or they ended up in the “friend zone.” Since Dane took it upon himself last night (or rather, early this morning) to decide that we should just be friends, I wasn’t going to go out of my way to be sweet. I didn’t want to be his friend. Well, ok, I wanted to be his friend and his lover and the person that he thinks about all the time and can’t get out of his head. The one who makes him scream in ecstasy and fall asleep fulfilled. But I wasn’t doing too good of a job succeeding at that. I would have to see if Winter or Monica could offer me some advice. After promising Dane that I would pick him up at three, I went back home and got ready for my girls-only brunch. I prepared myself for a million questions about my new house guest.
---------------------------------------------------
“But I don’t understand why you can’t just eat one bite of my waffle?” Winter asked Monica. “You’re not going to gain weight if you eat one bite.”
“How many times do I have to tell you? It’s not about the calories! It’s about eating food that has a nutritional value. If I put garbage in my body, then I’ll feel like garbage. Fruits and vegetables give me energy. Enough energy so I can tolerate your bitching at me for not eating a bite of the crap you put on your plate. Do you want some waffles with your syrup? That’s disgusting.”
In typical fashion, Winter showed up ten minutes late, Monica only put fruit and one tablespoon of eggs on her plate, and I was the one being their referee. I was always the moderate in the middle. Take for example the current outfits they were wearing. Monica wore a red sweater with a beautifully patterned scarf, an ornate bracelet, and just the right amount of make-up to be tasteful without overdoing it. Winter, on the other hand, wore a short hot pink dress with black stilettos. It showed off her ample cleavage and left nothing to the imagination. Monica gave off the impression of a high society socialite, whereas Winter exuded more of a “I wore this last night and I’m too hungover to change” kind of vibe. I fell somewhere in the middle in black pants and a vibrant blue fitted dress shirt, with a silver watch as my only accessory.
“Will you two calm down? It’s the same thing every time we go out to eat,” I scolded. “Pay attention to your own plate and quit staring at each other’s food.”
“Well, I just think she should enjoy herself a little more,“ Winter remarked. “Life is too short to eat rabbit food all the time. Eat a damn candy bar once in a while. You know you want a big ass like mine.”
I laughed in amusement. Like that would ever happen. Monica was in great shape from her weekly sessions with a personal trainer. She did want to gain weight, but for a very different reason. That was the big issue with her and Trent right now. She wanted a baby and he said he wasn’t ready.
“How are you coming along with convincing Trent to knock you up?” I asked her.
She looked down and quietly mumbled, “I don’t
want to talk about it.”
I exchanged concerned looks with Winter. Monica was not one to back down from an issue. She never failed to get us to go along with whatever she wanted. She convinced Winter to quit wearing so much make-up and she got me to start eating organic strawberry jelly instead of the sugary crap I’d been buying. She was always trying to get us to settle down, be mature, and live healthier lives. We let her meddle because we knew she only did it out of concern for us. Winter’s mom worked a lot and my mom was gone, so Monica took it upon herself to be the mother hen of the group. She was so perfect at caring for others and I knew she’d make a great mom. That’s why it was so frustrating that Trent wouldn’t give her the one thing that she desperately wanted.
Winter was trying to be sympathetic to Monica’s struggle, so she changed the subject to throw me under the bus instead. “You’ve been awfully quiet today, Izzy. When are you going to tell Monica about Brick Wall and that he’s really not your neighbor but actually your roommate?”
“WHAT?!?!” Monica exclaimed, instantly snapping out of her frustration with Trent. “You’re LIVING with this guy? Since when?!”
“Don’t worry about it. We’re just friends, as he painfully pointed out after our sweltering episode of lust this morning.”
I recapped the snowy meet-cute and subsequent make-out sessions so both ladies were up to date.
“What the hell has gotten into you, Izzy?” Monica snapped, pleased to be back in full-on mother hen mode.
“Unfortunately not Dane,” I mumbled dejectedly.
Winter gasped, “I’m turning you over to the Dark Side. It’s about time. It’s way more fun here. Join us, you’ll like it!”
“Dane is just more man, more testosterone, more passion than I’ve ever had in my life. When he touches me, my body responds to him in a way it never has before. He’s rugged and masculine and I don’t want to be his friend! I want MORE of him. I want ALL of him,” I stammered in frustration.