Unquenched (18 page)

"How was the shower?" I asked him casually, trying to
avert my eyes from his body. 

He stood in his underwear, European style, which were brief and
exposed his long legs.  It was because he was so tall that his tiny
undergarment seemed even more minimal on him, and made him appear almost
naked. 

"It was great!  You are going to feel so much better when you
get out," he said, looking refreshed and clean. 

I looked at him again and couldn't believe how confident he was to
parade around almost nude.  But he did, without question, have an extraordinary
body.  Although he was lean, he had a powerful frame and his muscles appeared
almost sculpted.  He had broad manly shoulders yet a small firm waist which
created a nice big V in his shape.  His chest however, was not particularly
developed but overall, I delighted in his look.  When I entered the shower I
wondered for a moment what I should wear when I got out.

"How was it?" he asked me, as I came out, dressed in a
set of long and nice, but not particularly suggestive pajamas. 

There was no need to overdo it, I knew him already, and what I
wore made me feel relaxed.

"It was great!  Now I know how you felt.  Not only do I feel
clean, but I also feel like it relieved my sore muscles from dancing so hard
tonight," I admitted. 

"Yes, I know exactly what you mean," he said laughing as
if we were both a hundred years old. 

He was still sitting in his underwear but he had since moved onto
the couch.  If he had been an American man I might have thought it was
presumptuous.  But he wasn't American and therefore I wasn't offended by it. 
Over the years I had found that most European men were not shy about walking
around in their briefs.  Even friends, those that were male, had changed their
clothes in front of me.  But more than that, being a guest in my apartment, Tristan's
options had been limited.  If he had gotten into my bed before I had, it
somehow would have been inappropriate.  And I knew that to put back on his
sweaty old jeans was not an appealing thought.  Anyway, I hadn't felt
threatened or intimidated.  It was enticing, but comfortable, and no matter
what, I felt like we were friends.

With a grin on his face and trying to be coy, he asked, "OK,
which side do I sleep on?"

"Well
Sir
, what makes you think that you're sleeping
in the bed?" I challenged him, jokingly, and I pointed to one side of the
bed. 

We turned off the lights as we got into bed, and it was then that
we saw a flickering.  It was a soft orange glow in the room that surrounded us,
from the candle that we had left burning.

Not a moment was wasted before his lips touched mine and I relaxed
as my uncertainty disappeared.  We became lost to each other as our bodies were
entwined and I savored the moments I had waited for.  The powerful feeling of
his arms around me captivated me and I could think of nothing else but him.  He
did not speak but his embrace spoke clearly, communicating words of its own. 
We were finally together, still not knowing where the future would lead but we
would relish in the opportunity to express ourselves.

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 States 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