A few days ago after banter about an aging porn star, I found this note in my chat queue on Tinder:
“Haha so I just stumbled upon your OKC profile. I must say, my initial impression of you just barely skimmed the surface. To find a better example of a physical representation of a personality would be near impossible, in my opinion. You definitely radiate bawdy, bold, and brash in a very sexy as fuck kind of way. Well done!”
He picked a convenient spot to meet and was early. I wore my California State flag t-shirt, knee-high boots and a short grey skirt and was unavoidably a little late. My breasts jiggled against the low-cut and basically see-through material as I confidently pulled the bar door open and walked in having no idea what I’d find.
It took me a second for my eyes to adjust before I saw him at the end of the bar. He was tall, had a climber’s build, and a thick, wild hairdo and clear, light blue eyes. He was better than I’d hoped.
We talked and laughed for an hour sipping drinks he bought us. He noticed little things about me and asked about them and he looked at me as if he were memorizing my face when he didn’t think I was paying attention. He’s The Neighbor’s age, though half a foot taller, wildly different in so many other ways, maybe the same in ways unseen.
I absent-mindedly gazed at the veins in his forearms, his lean muscles, and wondered how they’d feel against my naked curves.
We left the bar to walk a couple of blocks to where a friend of mine was having a jewelry trunk show. We walked down a quiet, dark street and I imagined it’d be the perfect spot for a quick make-out session. Nervousness radiated off of him in slow, rolling waves; not inappropriate, but to be respected. I kept a safe distance from him and filled the thick warm night with small talk.
At the new venue I hugged Tina hello and she convinced me to buy a Mother’s Day card from her. I introduced him to everyone I knew at the table by hers and bought him a cider and sat as close to him as I could. It wasn’t close enough.
I could only manage to hook my foot on his calf as I pinched my shoulders together to accentuate my cleavage. The humid night clung to my skin and I repeatedly tied my hair in a knot atop my head to allow my neck to cool. He glistened under the strings of lights.
I lived up to all his expectations — exceeded them, even — he told me. I blushed and flushed and leaned as close to him as possible, though we barely touched. Just last night the Little Marine lavished me with compliments and I sucked them deep inside me like the eternal sponge that I am. I’ll never tire of hearing how tantalizing I am to another human being.
We danced around what it is we’re both looking for only to discover it sounds like the same animal: a friendly, ongoing thing that’s not too serious.
Finally we acknowledged the time and decided to walk back to our cars.
Again, the long, quiet dark street and still no moves. Standing awkwardly by my car he asked if I’d like to see him again because he would most definitely like to see me. I said I’d love to.
“It’ll be a month or so,” he grimaced. “I’m trying to be respectful of my ex…” his words tapered off as he referenced still living with his ex-girlfriend of 5 months.
“I understand,” I said smiling. “Does that respect extend to kissing girls, too?”
His eyes opened wide and I reached out to his crossed arms and pulled him towards me opening his limbs to me.
“No,” he whispered as his hands reached up to cup my face.
I tilted my head back and parted my lips. He nibbled and sucked at my mouth perfectly. My hands rested on his hips, his muscles hard beneath my hands as I moved them up his sides just a little.
And then he broke it off and we thanked each other again and said goodnight.
I drove home smiling having no idea if we’re more than a match made on a random, sultry Thursday night in April.