One Night In Amsterdam

by Nadia C. Kavanagh

  “Because there is nothing to tell. Nothing is going on.”

  “That’s bullshit and you know it. Start! Now!”

  “Oh, fine.” I grumbled. “Yes, there is someone. He’s a bit too persistent and also won’t accept ‘no’ for an answer. You already know him.”

  “What do you mean I know him? Who is it?”

  “It’s Dylan from Amsterdam, and somehow he found me. I guess he was in New York all this time. He said he was searching for me all over the States for months. Max, his best friend if you remember, happened to be at Steve’s party, and he told Dylan that he saw me. The rest is just like you heard from Amy. He’s come to the ER a couple of times, the first time as a patient. We had dinner and he has been calling me almost every day since.”

  “You are kidding, right? The ‘sex god Dylan’ found you and has been trying to see you, and you are saying ‘no’ to him. Oh my god Emma! What’s wrong with you and how could you not call me and tell me about this?”

  “Stop calling him sex god.”

  “Your words, not mine.”

  “I am sooo regretting telling you about him and our night in Amsterdam. You are pure evil.”

  “I am not evil. I am so happy that I pushed you to go with him that day. Now tell me more. How is he? Is he still super sexy and handsome?”

  “Yes, he is alright, but it doesn’t matter. There is nothing between us.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because… I am already struggling to catch up with my life as is. I don’t need a boyfriend to add to my troubles.”

  “Ems, you have to get over this ‘I hate relationships’ syndrome. Kyle was a jerk. Dylan is awesome.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I can tell.”

  “Well, I am going to disappoint you but I do not have time for a relationship right now. I have one semester left. My days are full with my rotations, my thesis dissertation, oh and let’s not forget my troublesome brother.”

  “Emma, Dylan is the best thing that’s happened to you in a long time. You need to give him a chance.”

  “Sydney! Please! Can we talk about this some other time? I am really tired and I don’t have the energy to argue with you.”

  “Fine!” she said aversely. “But this discussion is not over yet. How is Steve doing by the way?”

  “Not good. I finally convinced my father to cut off his financial support. As long as he relied on him, nothing was going to change. He needs to stop being a troubled rich kid. I know he can do so much better if he would only try.” I explained quickly. I was frustrated to see how nothing had changed after his accident. He was irresponsible and immature. He still thought he could fix everything with money and unfortunately my father continued to allow him.

  “Wow! That’s a big change. So, what is he going to do?”

  “The last I heard he was staying in NYU dorms and looking for a job. He is still not talking to me.”

  “What did you expect? You’re making him live like a broke college student.”

  “For his own good. He will thank me one day. He needs to grow up and take on some responsibility. He trashed a quarter million dollar car while he was high and walked away as if it was nothing. He could have killed someone, or himself. ”

  “Don’t start grousing again or you’ll lose your sleep. Get some rest. I’d like to see you soon. I miss you. Let’s get together some time. Alright?”

  “I miss you too. How about lunch next Tuesday?”

  “Deal. Take care and promise that you’ll tell me more about your hot boyfriend.”

  “He is not my boyfriend. Just a friend!”

  “Whatever, Ems! Bye…” She said, with a whiff of sarcasm obvious in her voice.

  “Bye Sydney.” I muttered back and hung up. With my cell phone on my hand, I strolled back into the kitchen and put some water in the kettle to make some tea. While I waited for the water to boil, I started sorting my mail. Between the usual ads, grocery coupons and several bills, a gilded envelop with the most elegant handwriting caught my eyes. There was no return address and the stamp had yesterday’s date on it. It was sent from Manhattan. I opened the envelope immediately and was surprised to see an invitation.

  “Join me for opening night of La Bohéme,

  Metropolitan Opera House on December 21st.

  I will pick you up at 5:00pm.

  Please say yes.

  - Dylan”

  I stared at his neat handwriting in black ink for a long minute, contemplating what to do next. Should I say ‘yes’ or come up with an excuse? I was still ambivalent to going on a real date with Dylan. The more time I spent with him, the more I was drawn into his irresistible charm and it was getting harder to fight my feelings. Feelings… Since when did I have feelings for Dylan? Did it start when he showed up unannounced at the ER? Or my house? Or the day we met? One side of me wanted to run away from him, but the other side wanted to give in and embrace all the exciting feelings he offered. Oh, the amazing kisses, the mind blowing sex.

  I picked up my phone and found his number. I typed “Yes” and hit send. My phone beeped right away.

  “I promise, it will be an amazing night.” He wrote back.

  The day of our date arrived and after trying on five different dresses, I decided on a long, black satin gown with deep cleavage in front with an open back. I put on my high heel stiletto shoes and light makeup, except for lipstick. It was Russian Red, a gift from Sydney which I had never worn before, but today was the day to be bold. Even though I still couldn’t admit it out loud, I certainly had feelings for this amazingly handsome man. I wanted to charm him as he charmed me. I was ready an hour early and impatiently sat by the fireplace, waiting for Dylan to come.

  Dylan showed up fifteen minutes early again. I opened the door without waiting for him to ring my recently fixed door bell.

  The instant he saw me standing in front of him, “Wow!” he exclaimed and furrowed his brows. His face looked too serious. It was like he was taking me in and undressing me with his intense gaze. I was struck, almost spellbound as I lost myself in his unblinking blue eyes. To ease the unspoken, heavy attraction building between us, I spun around like a little girl. If I didn’t do something to break his intense gaze, I would have asked him to kiss me and take me right there.

  “So, what you think? Better than my good old, bleached scrubs?” I asked jokingly after a deep breath.

  “You look…” He swallowed hard. “Gorgeous! I don’t even know what to say.”

  I blushed inadvertently and thought that he looked just as much, maybe even more beautiful in his black tuxedo. “I hope it’s not too much.” I said timidly.

  “No, not at all. It’s perfect.” He answered and paused as he eyed me head to toe one more time. “You are beautiful in your scrubs, Emma, but in this gown you are breathtaking. I will need to be very careful tonight, maybe even hide you in our reserved box from admirers lurking around.”

  “We have a box? Those are so hard to get! How did you get one? Don’t say a good friend owed you another favor.” I muttered disbelievingly.

  “I donate every year to the Metropolitan Opera and have season tickets for the company. It was time for me to finally use them.” He said, and looked at me apologetically. “And also …I am sorry for being early again. I really tried to come here on time but time seems to stall when you stare at the clock, and I couldn’t wait any longer. So here I am … early again.”

  “Isn’t it a bit early for the show? I thought it didn’t start until eight. What are we going to do for three hours?

  “I have a surprise evening planned for you. Now…are you ready?” He extended his hand and clasped my fingers tightly. He didn’t tell me where we were heading regardless of my begging, cajoling or whining. Only after we took a left turn onto 53rd street on Madison Avenue he did whisper “we are close”. Then we came to a stop in front of the most visited museum in the United States, the world renowned: Museum of Modern Art.

  “What a
re we doing here at MoMa on a Saturday? It is closed.”

  “I know!” He muttered smugly, as he pulled me out of the limo and led me toward the museum’s entrance.

  “So?” I asked again, a bit impatiently.

  “I told you Emma. I have it all planned.”

  “But!” I tried to interfere, when he suddenly put his index finger gently on my lips and said, “Why don’t you just relax and let go?” His eyes lit, wandered over my body, resting on my lips a bit too long. Then, he inhaled deeply, turned to Jeff and ordered. “Pick us up here in two hours.”

  We were greeted by an attractive lady, probably in her fifties, dressed in a pencil skirt and white blouse, looking very professional, in front of the museum. “Good Evening Mrs. Johnson,” Dylan said, he shook her hand gently and introduced me.

  “Good Evening, Mr. Hamilton and Ms. Collins. Welcome to the Museum of Modern Art,” she replied, and turned to Dylan, speaking slowly and courteously. “It’s such a pleasure to have you here tonight Mr. Hamilton. I’d like to express candidly how much we appreciate your contributions and donations to our museum. Although it wouldn’t be enough to match your generosity, at least tonight, your special request, gives us an opportunity to return the favor just a little bit.”

  I was confused with what was happening around me. We slowly sauntered towards the elevator as Mrs. Johnson showed us the way. We were inside the museum on Saturday. There was absolute silence among the most amazing paintings by world renowned artists. Right in front of the elevator, Mrs. Johnson stopped and touched Dylan’s arm, subtly. “Fifth floor. Room 21. It is all set up and ready for you Mr. Hamilton.” she said with a big smile and waved us goodbye.

  “Thank you so much for all your help!” Dylan said succinctly, nodded with his head and returned her smile.

  “Is she really leaving us here, alone in the museum among these valuable paintings?”

  “Yes!” He said with a grin and gave me the same look when I asked about our seating in the opera house.

  “What is going on Dylan? What is ready? How did you arrange all of this?” I demanded him to tell me as the elevator ascended slowly to the fifth floor. He just kept his blazing eyes on me without uttering a word. His hands were on the small of my back, caressing my skin gently, sending shivers down my spine with his each contact.

  Finally, the elevator dinged, announcing that we arrived. We turned the corner and suddenly I was speechless. In between priceless paintings, there was a neatly prepared table for two: Red and white checkered linens, matching napkins, a champagne bottle with two glasses and a wicker basket. All of these, set up right in front of the one of the most famous paintings of all time: Van Gogh’s ‘Starry Night’.

  “How would you like to have a picnic with me, watching Starry Night?”

  “Oh, my God Dylan, This is unbelievable! But …how?” I stuttered in disbelief.

  “You wanted to visit the Gogh Museum in Amsterdam but we didn’t have time. So, what you think?”

  “What do I think…? I think you are amazing. Full of surprises.”

  “And that means… you like it?”

  “Of course I like it! Having a picnic and drinking champagne in front of the most beautiful painting in the world. How could I not like it?”

  “Then… shall we start? Would you like to look around first?”

  “You already know my answer. Please tell me about the paintings, just like you did in Amsterdam.”

  We walked around, his hand on the small of my back, caressing me softly as we appreciated the amazing paintings; from ‘Hope’ by Gustav Klimt to ‘Sleeping Gypsy’ by Henri Rousseau. After my private and very informative personal tour, Dylan whispered in my ear. “Would you like another glass, or maybe something to eat? I packed us some cheese, crackers, grapes and your favorite sandwich.”

  “You know my favorite sandwich?”

  “Peanut butter with honey and sliced bananas.” He spat out surely.

  “How do you know that?”

  “I am a good researcher and I like to keep my sources secret.”

  “I should tell Sydney to stay out of my personal life.”

  “Oh, come on, take it easy on her. She was so excited that she got to help.” He admitted with a sly grin.

  His peerless blue eyes didn’t leave mine for the rest of the night. He held my hand and brushed his lips over my fingers before he pushed my seat in. We sat at the table, talked and laughed for almost an hour.

  “It is so easy to connect with this painting.” Dylan said as he turned his gaze away from me for the first time, looking at ‘Starry Night’. “I think that’s why it’s so popular. It is a scene that anybody can relate to, feel comfortable and at ease with. Swirling clouds in the night sky, a bright crescent moon… below the hills on the horizon, a small quiet town. At the center, a tall steeple of a church. It is such a serene scene that reminds me of peacefulness. Then the dark, biggest object in the painting, maybe a bush or a mountain, reminds me of isolation, loneliness. It evokes many different emotions at the same time.”

  “I don’t even know how to describe how I feel. It’s … amazing. Thank you, Dylan. Thank you for bringing me here tonight.”

  “There is one more thing…” He said, and brought his phone out of his pocket. He started playing a song. I instantly remembered the tune; it was the one we danced to in Amsterdam. “Shall we?” He asked and extended his hand. I took it nervously. With a killer combination of Dylan, his intoxicating smell, his fathomless eyes and champagne, I was already feeling dizzy. My heart was throbbing so fast and I thought my legs were going to give way.

  I wrapped my arms around his neck and rested my head on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” He said in my ear, probably sensing my dizziness as he moved slowly with the music.

  “I am not worried. Not with you.” I said back, looking at his eyes, his perfect lips only an inch away. The pull, the attraction, the intense air between us was ineffable. I bit the edge of my lower lip to restrain myself, but I couldn’t resist him any longer. I leaned in and kissed him. It was everything I was scared of. Kissing him meant losing myself in him and I did. I closed my eyes and dove into the abyss as his lips moved softly over mine. Warm. Tender. Sensual.

  I had no idea how long we kissed. As if it was just us, and everything else was an irrelevant. A nuisance detail in the background. “Emma…” He moaned abruptly. “We have to go. Jeff is probably downstairs waiting for us. But don’t forget where we left off.” He said playfully and pulled my hand.

  We got in the limo, “To the Opera House, but tour around the block ‘till eight,” he said to Jeff.

  As soon as we were in, he closed the partition. He pulled me on his lap and immediately we started kissing again. Our kiss was not tender or gentle as it was in the museum. It was full of passion and desire. I held my breath and broke away for a second to ask. “What about Jeff?”

  “He can’t hear or see a thing.” Dylan answered. “We have twenty minutes.”

  I pulled up my gown up and straddled him. I could feel his definite bulge underneath me. “Let’s see what we can do in twenty minutes.” I winked and whispered in his ears boldly. His eyes grew big. Full of desire, promising me pleasure like no other.

  “Are you sure about this Emma? I don’t want this to be another night like in Amsterdam. I want you and I to be all in. Don’t play with me.”

  “I am in.”

  “That means you and I…”

  “Yes, I’d like to give this boyfriend, girlfriend thing a try.”

  And hearing my confirming words, he kissed me fiercely while he slid one hand under my gown and with the other, he lowered the straps of my dress, exposing my breasts. He took one into his mouth and teased me with a wet, velvet swipe of his tongue as he circled over the thin lace of my thong with his deft fingers where every nerve ending in my body merged. I gasped, tormented with his touch firing off my body, aching and trembling with the need between my thighs. I needed friction. I need
ed to feel him in me. I moved on his lap, up and down, slowly, almost instinctively.

  “Not yet baby.” He rasped. “Let me get you ready first. Then, you get to ride me.” He smirked, denying me what I wanted so badly, making me squirm inside, all the while I was feeling his forceful hardness between my thighs.

  He grabbed my hips and lifted me up as he pulled my thong aside, swiftly with one hand. He started kissing my inner thigh, slowly reaching my heat. He slid one finger in me first and then another, as he sucked my wetness, torturing me with his slow strokes at the same time.

  “Dylan…Please.” I said huskily, craving for more pressure. I was about to shudder as he dipped his fingers and swirled his tongue over and over again.

  “Give in Emma. Enjoy it. I know you are close…I’d like to give you two orgasms before we park.”

  He increased the intensity of his strokes while he circled my bud with his thumb. I was inebriated with extreme pleasure. The intensity of ecstasy was building up every passing second as his tongue continued doing amazing things. I slowly climbed up, and with his last touch, I shuddered. Panting heavily, my body convulsed and I held on to his shoulders tightly to keep myself steady.

  “This is the first one…” He kissed my lips. With a mischievous smile, he added “Now let’s work on a second one where I can join in.”

  “Condom?” I mumbled, still trying to catch my breath.

  “There is one in my wallet. Please don’t think I was planning this.”

  “Don’t worry. There is one in my clutch too.” I grinned.

  “Oh, you are so amazing.” He pulled my face to his and kissed me hard, fervently. I pulled down his zipper and finally freed him of his boxer briefs. I took his rock hard length between my fingers, feeling elated for getting my turn to torture him with pleasure. I stroked him slowly, leisurely, grazed my fingers over, teasing him unmercifully and then lowered my head and licked his velvet tip with my tongue. He squirmed and groaned my name. “Emma.”