I hadn’t walked at a pace, but I could feel sweat building on my brow and upper lip. My body was restless, accentuated by a subtle and rising heat at my core. I stood outside his building, waiting for it to be ten minutes past our agreed time.
I looked down the street. The autumnal light reflected off the windows on the buildings, shards of gold held in brick. There was something humorous about our saying hello in Paris. A city held in the eyes of the world as the epitome of romance.
Once lovers, now strangers, meeting again. Who we were now was a mystery to each other. Different relationships, work, family losses and the unavoidable side effect of time would have altered the characters we knew each other to be. A few years had passed since we last met; seasonal late-night exchanges of needed sexual validation and thirst were what had held us together in-between. Hearing from him never failed to bring a smile and somehow, I would hear from him when I needed it most. As if he knew. There was always a mutual fondness, some branch off of love. Our parting hadn’t been one of heartbreak, just circumstance.
I rang the bell and was instantly let in. I wasn’t sure what floor he was on. I started climbing the stairs trusting I would know when to stop. As I reached the second floor, there he was, standing in the door. He looked at me and smiled. A look in his eye that made it feel we had only just said goodbye, a look that openly held anticipated desire. He parted his arms and brought me in close, holding me tight to his chest. His cologne had changed but he smelt the same. The unknown layered on top of the known.
“Come in” He took my hand and led me in further. I looked around at his place, there were remnants of him everywhere. I recognised objects, books, talismans from different chapters. It was soon evident that he didn’t live here alone either. Photographs of a new life gave that away.
“Can I get you anything, wine? Coffee?” I shook my head.
“I don’t want anything, thank you”
We stood opposite each other, staring. Trying to detect if the differences were etched onto each other’s faces and, I suppose, trying to discern what the other was thinking. How we felt standing before one another, each knowing that the last time we had been together it had been the end. We had also fucked in his car at the airport after saying goodbye and before I got my flight to leave. It felt yesterday and years ago. It was both I suppose. Time had passed but, in that moment, I missed him more than I ever had. Or I just wanted him. It’s hard to tell the difference. Silence layered tension in the space between us.
“Tell me” he said.
“Tell you what?”
“Everything” he replied. I smiled and walked over to the shelves adorned with records and books. Collections of inspirations and intrigue. Visuals of his new life and his woman. She was beautiful.
“Are you married now?” I asked.
“No. With someone, in a way”
“In a way?” I turned so he couldn’t see my face; I could feel a smile forming and didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. Not yet.
“When we’re together, we’re together. Apart, we don’t expect anything from each other”
“How modern”
“We both get what we want that way” I laughed and looked back at him. His statement compelled me, as he knew it would. He motioned for me to join him and sit on the sofa. There were long pauses after each of us spoke. A thousand responses possible, none being said. More was conveyed in the absence of language.
“As for now?”
“Now? She’s away and I am here with you”
His eyes focused intently on mine, as if he was able to see some reflection of promise in them. Searching for familiarity in our new dynamic. He moved his body close to me, our faces a hair’s width apart from each other. I could feel his breath on my lips. Maybe we had both known what would happen between us. I didn’t say anything, just held his gaze.
His hand moved towards my leg and, softly, his fingers started to trace across my inner thigh. I could feel my body dissipate from the feeling of his touch on my skin. Their firm strength made me aware of my heart’s pulse. His fingers continued their ascent, pausing and then moving again, under my skirt, massaging their way up. Higher.
A tension built from the novelty of seeing one another again and the memory of what once was took over us both. We stared, desire and determination mirrored in our eyes, and gave into it.
He started to kiss my neck, licking it, waking any nerve endings that might have been dormant. I could feel myself getting wet, feel the pulsing beat in between my legs vibrate. I reached down, placing my hand on his hand and guided it further up, so his palm was on my cunt and pressed it into me. He stayed there for a while, rubbing me slowly and then faster. Slowly and then faster.
I moved the lace of my underwear to the side, lace that I had spilled onto already. His hand stopped. He pulled back. His eyes alight, he leant into the side of my face, licked my ear, and said “Not yet.”
He kissed me. Hard. Our kisses hot and heavy not cautious. Tongues entwined with breath and sounds of want. He moved me so I was on my back, layers of clothing being abandoned, our kisses growing with desperation. I could feel him getting hard as his body pushed down on my mine. He began kissing my shoulders, my arms, his lips marking their territory once more.
He moved further down my body, grabbing my waist with his hands. His mouth everywhere. Biting my skin. I could hear him whispering something, whether it was for me to hear or not I wasn’t sure. He moved lower as I started moving myself closer to his mouth. An insatiable want to feel his tongue on me, to feel it inside of me, to feel it in every crevice of my pussy.
He moved me around to the edge of the sofa and took himself onto his knees. He began kissing the inside of my thigh, moving my legs further apart. He breathed onto me, then used his nose, followed by his mouth then his chin to push into me. I could feel the warmth of his breath on my clit. He continued this motion, nose then mouth then chin, as his hands reached the top of my underwear and pulled them off.
