A kiss is all it may ever be.

He came by my office after work today and we walked to a nearby Italian place. We laughed about the overly attentive waitress and he showed me how he squeezes lemon on his pizza like real Italians do.

And then it happened: we do not yet have the green light from his wife.

I struggled to keep my face smooth when all I wanted to do was crumple on a pitiful sob.

He’s a decent man and he watched me intently, looking for signs of upset. “Are you ok?”

“Not really.”

A soft silence landed between us like a pile of cotton. I looked at his worried brown eyes and respected that he made no promises.

I surreptitiously gulped air and slowed my heart, staved the tears like a good little Dutch boy with his dam. This was what I feared the most, but there was nothing either of us could do.

“I still want to know you. I keep thinking I should invite you over to meet everyone.”

“Who?”

“My wife and kid. But then I think now isn’t a good time.”

“If she says no to this, I’ll need time. Maybe we could pick up later, but I’d need to gather myself.”

He assured me he wasn’t motivated by sex. “I just want to know you.”

We leaned back into that pillow of silence and looked into each other’s eyes. His the color of coffee, mine the color of a stormy sky.

We shook it off and talked some more, about things that weren’t sad. We became Instagram friends and he told me he liked my face as well as everything else about me. Even the dimples I don’t actually have, but that he insists exist.

We walked back up the hill relaxed and friendly. At my car we kissed. Slow and formal at first and then as if the breeze carried lust on it more deeply and hungrily.

He nibbled my lips and stroked my tongue and I held on to him for balance as I raised up on my toes to close the gap. Long pauses with our lips locked, bodies pressed against one another, and our breathes mingling.

I could feel his heartbeat.

We separated and I opened my car door.

“Wait,” I grabbed his hand. “One more.”

His mouth crashed down on mine and he held me as he tipped me back a little off my feet. His mouth was silken, his beard rough and we kissed many times more. We pulled apart again and I was a little breathless.

“I like how you count,” he said.

I looked at him curiously.

“You said ‘one more’.”

I laughed and got in my car and tried not to cry. Phil Collins sang In the Air Tonight. Home safe and successfully tearless he texted me:

Hey, I had a super fun time – I always have a super fine time. I think you’re such a thoroughly terrific person & I feel really energized talking with you and being around you. I think you’re the tits (:

I smiled and responded in kind.

Fuck.

I suppose now all I can do is reserve the tears for after a red light and pray to all the gods for green, because I can’t imagine what getting to know all six feet seven inches of him inside and out would be like. I imagine it’d feel a lot like winning the lottery: lucky as fuck.


A 40-something single mother who writes honestly about sex, body image, D/s, relationships, her nervous tics, and how much she loves to fucking fuck. She also likes to show you her tits.

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4 thoughts on “A kiss is all it may ever be.
  1. Well, if tears want to come, let them. Just don’t wallow in them. Let them wash you free of the worry.
    Wait until after the green light to feel anything ressembling loss, though. You don’t know yet whether there even WILL be a loss!
    XO

  2. Dear Hyacinth,

    I think you may have lost the days comments, but for one. I sent one concerning Bass fishing and while I did see it up, it is now gone. Maybe Cambridge Analytica has harvested the data?

    My advice which, I have no credentials to validate anything, was on how you might just wait and see if there is nothing more Elliot wants to to know. It is history anyway and who wants to rehash the past when the future is passing us by as I poke at my iPad. He really could just want to get on with the future and more matinees, early bird dinners and leave the TV twaddle to those for whom it was intended. ‘Early to bed and early to rise (not too early) makes for a nice life.’ Sorry Mom

    Just kick back and wait for Elliot’s nibble at your bait. Just a little jerk, but if he needs to figure out what happened just feed out a little line. In a bit he will tire of this game and start thinking that life in your 3,000 gallon aquarium might be really good. It will be really good. As my late Mother would have said, “All good things come to those who wait.”

    Phillip

    PS I believe that ‘Someday MY Bass Will Come.’ 🎼🎤

    1. I got it!! But it was on my post when I was contemplating writing every day in June :). Thank you for your thoughtful words on this. You’re not wrong and I am just waiting now. We both are. I know he wants very badly for this to be a yes, but alas, it isn’t up to only two of us. All 3 must be on board for this to work!

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