Response Ch. 01


It’s been a while since we’ve touched one another. You’re usually tired after a long day at work. Excessive hours were the reason you switched career back in our early days. Like most new couples, spending time together was an imperative for us. Each day you left at 6am and came home somewhere near midnight; exhausted, hungry, and completely interested in me but too stressed and tired to do anything about it. Still we stayed up ’til 2am most nights. Talking, laughing, discovering everything about one another. Both of us learning the others body.

I’d been in relationships before. Plenty of relationships – to my shame, more than I wanted to admit. I thought I knew a fair bit about sex, about how to please a partner, about how to read a partner. You taught me that I knew nothing.

We met face to face for the first time one evening in late winter 2009. You were late. Held up at work. We’d never spoken on the phone or even sent an sms to one another, but we’d shared profile pictures and chatted online for a couple of weeks.

Earlier in the morning, I had some research that needed finalising at my university’s sister campus which was near the city where we were to meet. I figured it didn’t make sense to drive the one hour twenty minute journey back home if I had to just drive right on back a few hours later. So I went into the city, found a safe place to park my car, and had a look around the shops. I explored the city for about an hour.

We chose to meet in a popular coffee shop on the main drag. I had no idea where exactly the coffee shop was but seeing as I arrived about a half day early I had enough time to learn the lay of the land before we met up later. I set about finding the coffee shop we were to meet at and there it was, exactly where you’d said it would be.

I check the time, not even noon. We were meeting at 6pm. I’d have to entertain myself for a few hours. I walked up and down the river a few times. The brown water left me wondering if even a cockroach with scuba gear could survive in those murky depths.

While I waited for 6pm to roll around, I had nothing to do but walk up and down the streets looking at the endless shops. I passed the pawn shop so many times that the man spruiking out front was getting a bit too familiar in his greetings to me. At first we exchanged a smile. Then we were exchanging ‘hello’s. Then, ‘oh, fancy seeing you here’ and ‘long time no see’.

Our exchanges were fun, they made me feel like I had a base of operations in this new and strange city, like someone here knew me and I wasn’t really quite so alone in this concrete jungle.

Then the spruiker started in with things like, ‘you look lost, hunting down Mister Right?’ Then with a sly and sleazy sideways wink he said, ‘if you’re looking for Mister Right could be you’ve already found him’ and he gestures with his hands up and down his body, as if to say ‘fancy huh, you ought to give this bad boy a whirl’.

I laughed, ‘haha, no, just waiting for an appointment’. I crossed to the other side of the road.

Maybe the spruiker was being grandfatherly, but generally my grandfather never offered me a relationship and a sexy wink. I wanted to tell him, ‘well actually, I’m waiting to meet the woman of my dreams. We’re going to have coffee and then probably dinner and, after that, who knows what might happen, but it won’t involve you.

I walked back to the massive plaza near where I’d parked my car then down the main drag again. I decided I’d find a place to read the book I’d brought with me. I bought a can of soft drink and made myself at home on a bus stop seat near the dead side of town.

At 5.30pm I made my way to the coffee shop where we were set to meet in half an hour. I ordered a flat white and settled in to finish the last few pages of my book. As the sunlight faded away I became more and more nervous.

What if she doesn’t show. What if I change my mind. Is it rude to call it off if I can’t stand her but she’s having a good time. I was entirely inappropriately dressed in my comfortable casual clothes, jeans and a t-shirt with long sleeves underneath. I started to fret that you’d be dressed for work and I’d look like a slob. I’d already waited all day. There was no point in bailing now.

I’d previously met two other people online in the recent past. I’d chatted to both for months before meeting and both turned out to be nothing like their online persona. Monstrous doesn’t even begin to describe those meetings. I was nervous of that sort of thing happening again but I was also nervous because you seemed like a normal person. I liked you so far but I was also aware that we’d only chatted online for a couple of weeks so there was still a good chance you could be a nutcase.

I tried and failed to concentrate on my book. 6pm rolled by. I didn’t want to seem too eager when you arrived, sitting at my table peering out the door awaiting your imminent arrival like a puppy looking for a escort şişli new home. I tried to look immersed in my book, I tried to evince an air of calmness, of being somewhat blasé.

6.05pm came and went.



I was the only person in the coffee shop. I started to worry that the staff would soon close and throw me out. I didn’t know they were open until 9pm.

At 6.20pm my phone pinged. It was you.

‘Grr, all these silly one way streets. Sigh. Nearly there!’

‘Don’t stress’, I casually smsed back. Blasé. Good.

At 6.40pm you entered the coffee shop. I was still the only customer. If I had a last minute change of mind it would be a bit hard to say you had the wrong person, plus you already knew what I looked like. I was in this to the end. Whatever that end might look like.

‘Are you Beck?’ you ask.

‘Yes, Jess? Hi.’

‘Yeah. You want to get something to eat?’ you ask.

I’m nervous. I put my book away and try to not look at you. Looking at you might reveal all sorts of terrible flaws and things that could shatter my current state of liking you. A fall from an elevated pedestal is an easy occurrence.

We make our way to a casual restaurant a little ways back down the main drag. You seem to know where you’re going. I follow your confident lead.

I realise I’m not under-dressed, though I could have dressed a little better. I’m surprised that you are wearing much the same attire as me; jeans, t-shirt, jumper. The waiter puts us in a 4 seater booth on the footpath, plenty of room to get comfortable, and the back of the seats are so high that the booth affords a fair amount of privacy.

It’s dark now, the sun has fully set. Cars make their way up and down the drag – looking for parking, checking out the dining options. Every now and then our conversation is drowned out by the roar of music from a passing car, doof doof doof. I wonder to myself if the drivers consider that their loud music is blasting the intimacy of other peoples first dates.

The waiter hands us each a menu and we order some drinks.

I look at you wondering why you’re having to meet people online. You look like you ought to have plenty of people waiting to fill a place in your life. I start to wonder what your big relationship busting fault is.

You speak eloquently. You’re neatly dressed. You were late to our meet-up but that’s because you have a job. Your hands look soft, your nails manicured but not garish. The street lamps pick up the orangey hues in your hazel eyes. Your shoulder length chestnut brown hair is tied back in a haphazard manner, not messy but hurriedly done. It’s a good look.

I try to not look at you too much, which isn’t difficult because I’m nervous.

The difference between day and night on the main drag is drastic and a little disconcerting. Lights flash, sirens blare, music blasts from every pub, restaurant, gaming lounge, and cafe. Televisions adorn the walls of the restaurant opposite ours, the constant flicker of the screens in the periphery of my vision is like little beetles flying through the air. The laughter and noisy conversation of people around us cuts through my concentration, interrupting the flow of my thoughts.

We order dinner.

We talk about university, politics, music, work. We talk about how hard it is to deal with family that want to guide your every action. I talk shop psychology, things about olfactory response and social hierarchy. We talk about wanting to visit the Aztec ruins of Machu Picchu in Peru. We compare our thoughts on politics and social issues. We cure the world of poverty. We eradicate overpopulation. We end childhood disease.

We order dessert.

We share an easy conversation, speaking like old friends reunited after 40 years apart. You are incredibly easy to talk to. You have a gentle manner. You are sure of yourself. I can see that you mean what you say and you say what you mean. I find you incredibly attractive.

The waiter interrupts. Last orders, they close soon. We order coffee.

We giggle at the endearing waiter with her bright red lipstick and dishevelled greying hair. We both wonder if she realises we’re on a first date. I stress at having to leave but I have a long drive home and an early morning.

We pay our bill and depart. It’s 10.30pm, so much for ‘the city never sleeps’.

As we walk down the street, I look back to the restaurant to see the waiter already wheeling our booth back into the restaurant. ‘Our booth’. Even if I never go to this restaurant again, it’s ‘our booth’.

It’s clear that neither of us are ready to call it a night just yet. We mosey around the city streets. Chatting, whinging, laughing. The light casts shadows across your face. Your skin looks so soft. I’ve had a wonderful evening but I hold back saying anything. I don’t want to be eager. You seem perfect. I don’t want to scare you off.

We walk through the kağıthane escort local square. It’s deserted. Even the homeless men who sleep under the trees outside the church are sleeping now. You tell me your frustrations with having to live up to the expectations of others and how that means putting your desires on hold. I want to hold your hand. I tell you there’s always a middle ground, sometimes we just have to stand in another position in order to see it. I imagine your skin would be warm even though the weather is cold.

We stop on a street corner. Procrastinating, we admire the bas relief on the building across the road. ‘Unity is Strength’ reads the plaque beneath it. We stand side by side for a minute. Almost touching. My heart pounds so hard I’m sure you can hear it. I swing around a street sign like Gene Kelly in ‘Singin’ in the Rain’. I say something about unappreciated facades and parapets. I wonder what you’re thinking. I feel the tension between us. I wonder if it’s just my imagination.

You walk me to my car.

I drive home. Apart from one truck, driving almost side by side with me, the roads are empty. I feel electrified. As I drive I wonder how soon is too soon to contact you again.

It’s just gone midnight when I arrive home. As I approach my front door my phone pings. A text message from you.

‘Hey I probably shouldn’t text u while I know ur driving…but…I had a rly good night 🙂 that’s all I wanted to say 🙂 drive safe!!’

We talk online for the next few days. We arrange to meet the coming Saturday. The week drags on like a dying cat.

Saturday morning I drive to your house. You make me listen to a band called Lamb. I hate it. You tell me that you just bought a big new bed and how sleeping alone is so lonely. You say it in a matter of fact way, not sleazy, not fishing. We stay in and talk all day. You touch my hair. I meet your sister, her husband and their two kids. I like them. Like you, they have an easy laid back manner. I want them to go away so I can have you to myself. I wonder what you feel like.

We have dinner at the local RSL club. You drive. We each get schnitzel and a beer. Nothing fancy. The schnitzel is massive, I can’t finish mine. You look good when you eat. I want to feel your mouth on me.

We go back to your home. You flip open your laptop computer to show me some videos. We lay on your bed, our faces just inches apart as we move closer to the laptop screen poised at the head of the bed. You show me Bill Hicks’ ‘Revelations’. I love it. I find it hard to concentrate on Hicks because you’re so close. We’re both nervous and neither of us is prepared to put anything on the line. You kiss me. And I melt.

Your lips are soft and feel like mine. My brain lights up white hot. An image flickers through my mind, of us standing under a street sign looking at a bas relief. My body fades away. Your mouth is warm and smooth. Your lips move across mine for eternity. My blood thrashes in my ears, drowning out all sound.

Your hand touches my face, bringing me back to my body. I imagine taking your shirt off, cupping my hand around your breast. Your nipple against my lips.

You stop kissing me but you don’t pull away. I feel your hot breath sweep over my lips. I hear the hitch in your breath. You look nervous. Apologetic.

‘No’, I say. ‘It’s good’.

I take your face in my hands. My fingers skim the line of your jaw. Your skin is as soft as I imagined. I press my lips against yours, feeling how we fit together. I brush my tongue over your bottom lip. I notice an ache throughout my entire body. Tingles of electricity crackle over my skin.

I run my fingers over your temple and brush your hair back from your face as I press my mouth to yours. I feel your breath hot against my mouth and as your tongue enters between my lips my heart skips a beat. I’m already so wet that you could slide deep inside me. I’ve been thinking about this for a week.

I move my mouth across your cheek, kissing your neck and then your shoulder. My face brushes the underside of your chin, your hair tickles my cheek. I move my hand around your back, slipping beneath your shirt to unhook your bra. I feel the soft touch of your fingers against my stomach. I feel my nipple between your fingers, your hot palm gliding over me. My whole body pulsates in need. I remove my shirt and then yours.

I remove your bra to nestle my face against your bare breasts. The warm cushiony flesh, soft and inviting. I place my mouth over your nipple, slowly drawing my lips together to suck on your hard nipple. I hear you gasp as my tongue traces over and around the dark skin of your areola. I stroke the side of your breast, cupping you, pulling you deeper into my mouth.

As I run the flat palm of my hand down your back, from the base of your neck to the little hollow at the small of your back just above your underwear, I feel both of your hands firmly cup my breasts, escort ataköy kneading me, massaging the heat of your anticipation into my body. Your breathing is irregular and erratic, it turns me on to near orgasm.

I bring my mouth back to yours, kissing you deeply. Pushing my tongue just inside your lips to meet yours. I draw you in to my mouth and suck on you, moving my lips along the shaft of your tongue. I imagine sucking your clitoris. I feel dizzy. I move my body closer to you, pressing my breasts against yours.

You push me away slightly, groping for the buttons on my jeans. I follow your lead, quickly unbuttoning your denim jeans and pulling your pants away. My clitoris throbs. My underpants are wet.

You gently push me back onto the bed. I pull you down on top on me.

Your hand moves down my shoulder, over my breast. I close my eyes. You plant kisses along my neck as you move down the bed. You take my nipple in your mouth. Your lips pressing against my skin. I feel your tongue licking me. Your other hand caresses my breast before trailing down my stomach.

I feel your soft breasts pressing against the skin of my thighs, moving ever downward. You part my legs, I am only too willing, and I feel your lips kissing my inner thigh. You position your body between my legs. One of your hands gently massages the top of my inner thigh. My eyes still closed as the heat of your erratic breath breezes against my wet opening.

I can barely think straight as your tongue sweeps the length of my opening, and up along my clitoris. Your tongue hot and smooth. An electric current radiates from my every pore as you push your tongue inside me. Licking me back and forth, slipping in and out in a slow steady rhythm. I bite my lip to stop from gasping out loud. My insides tighten as you slide your fingers inside me.

‘No, I need you here,’ I say. Gripping your face in my hands, I pull you back up toward me.

‘Is this ok?’ you ask. A concerned look on your face.

‘Fuck yes,’ is my response.

I pull you down to kiss you. I lick my wetness from your mouth, moving my tongue over and between your lips. I take your hand and press your fingers between my legs, pressing the tips of your fingers over my clitoris. I hold you there, grinding against your fingers for a moment. I can feel my orgasm building, creeping down my spine. The throb inside me so intense my whole body pulsates.

‘I need you to lie down,’ I tell you.

‘Are you ok, is something wrong?’ That concerned look on your face again.

‘No, not at all. I need to be inside you. I don’t think I can wait anymore’. My erratic breathing makes speaking difficult.

I move over on the bed and you lie down next to me. I straddle you and turn around.

‘What I want is for you to fuck me with a strap-on,’ I say. ‘I want to feel your nipples pressed against mine, while you thrust deep inside me, long firm strokes as I cum all over you. But right now I need your mouth and your fingers’.

I lower myself over your body. Your hands grip my buttocks, pulling me down to your mouth. I feel the familiar flick of your tongue over my clitoris. My heart skips a beat as I breathe in the humid aroma between your legs. I slide my tongue over your clitoris, top to bottom, gently flicking when I feel the hard nub.

I feel your fingers slide inside me again, to the knuckle this time. The firm pressure of your thumb on my clitoris for a moment, while you clean my wetness away with your tongue, sends a wave of fire through me.

I draw your clit between my lips and slip my tongue across your soft wetness. Lapping at your opening, tasting you, drinking you. I reach around your thigh so that I can slide my fingers inside you. You are so wet and so warm. Tightly gripping me, but allowing me to move freely within you.

I feel you gently pulsing inside as I slide my fingers in and out. Each time I move deeper inside you, you grind against me, dragging your clit down over my tongue. As I slide my fingers back to your opening, you grind hard upwards against my tongue. You grab at my arm, forcing my fingers deeper, faster. I grind my clitoris hard against your mouth.

I feel that familiar crackle in my chest, seizing my spine. The feeling grows each time you grind against my face, each time your fingers slide inside me. I’m so close. I feel like I’m dripping onto your face.

I hear you whimper and suddenly suck hard at my clit. Hearing your cry tips me over the edge. I feel your cunt grip hard around my fingers. I feel you stiffen beneath me as you cry out. I force myself down hard onto your fingers while I grind my mouth into your clit. All of my senses switch off as the orgasm inside me explodes like a tidal wave wiping out a city.

‘Jesus,’ I hear you say. ‘Jesus’. And then you let out a laugh, as I collapse beside you.

We lay in silence for a few moments, gathering ourselves. I don’t even know what to think. I didn’t know sex like this was possible. I’m left speechless. I just had no idea it could be so hot.

‘So, what are you doing tomorrow?’ I ask.

Staring up at the ceiling, you reply, ‘What are you doing for the rest of your life?’

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