Celebrating Seduction

Mister K and I never had a true anniversary date before we got married. We met sometime in January but didn’t see each other again for many months. After reacquainting, we did go on a few dates, but eventually, he broke it off as he was due to have major surgery with the chances of his survival only 50/50. He didn’t want to place that burden on me should something happen. What a choice to have to make as a man in his mid-thirties. To have surgery and take a chance at death or decline surgery and eventually become paralyzed. To not take a chance at love, just in case.

My heart was sad, but I understood as best I could from an early-twenties point of view. I was still so close to being invincible or believing I was, that I couldn’t fathom having to make such a decision.

I smiled and wished him well but knew that his leaving took a piece of my heart. He told me his surgery date, should I want to know the outcome, and I didn’t hear from him again.

I had written the date on my calendar and it finally came, a big red circle around the numbered box. I thought about calling but talked myself out of it. The next day, I thought about it again, but once more, couldn’t bring myself to pick up the phone. Three more days went by and the thought of him came to me as I was leaving a night shift. Tired, but intrigued and a little bit curious, I stopped and bought some overpriced breakfast and drove to his house.

I sat out front for longer than was necessary, but I was worried he would turn me away. That maybe he didn’t want to see me. Or worse, that he wouldn’t be there because he never came home. My mind took me back to the first time we met, a cold blustery night, and then again to myself standing under a tree sheltering from a storm, him coming to my rescue. I knew there was something between us, some sort of bond that was larger than us, and that decided it. Better or worse, I had to know.

I knocked on his door timidly, then waited with as much patience as I could muster. My legs shook and the bag of breakfast crinkled in my tight fist. I was so nervous that the door wouldn’t be answered, and more nervous that it would, only not by him. After a minute, the door remained closed and a lonely tear slipped down my cheek.

Turning, I walked toward my car, and as I was getting in, a voice that had warmed me more than once before quietly said, “Leaving before you’ve even said hello?”

I spun around and the smile that split my face could be felt from ear to ear. I had never been so relieved, nor happy to see someone in all my life. He was moving slow and couldn’t turn his head. He hid the pain he must have been feeling well, and I did my best to not show the sympathy that layered my thoughts. But his smile reflected my own, and I knew I had made the right choice.

We had a wonderful breakfast and agreed to do it again soon, but I was leaving for Boston the following day and would be back in ten. He wished me a safe journey and we touched cheeks, a dull replacement for the hug we both wanted. I lingered in his doorway, taking him in. You know, just in case.

I returned from Boston and contacted him, but our schedules never seemed to line up. The relationship I thought would transpire never coming close. We flirted and texted and I ensured I called his car company when I needed a ride, but it never seemed to progress.

Months had passed and we were back in January, a full year after we had met. It didn’t seem like we were moving along, but my desire for his attention had grown. He now had me doing his shopping (for a fee), his taxes (for a larger fee), and even asked my opinion on his renovations. I could tell he was interested, but for the life of me couldn’t understand his aversion to asking me out. I knew I needed a plan but whenever I thought of it, I would let my fear of rejection get the best of me.

One night after a long day at work, I tucked my tiny child into bed and ran a hot bath. Pulling my “save for a rainy day” bottle of wine from the refrigerator, I popped the cork.

Sinking chin deep into thick frothy bubbles I closed my eyes and laid back, savoring the warm feeling of bliss.

I was finishing a glass of wine when the thought came to me and before I could talk myself out of it, I had dialed the phone and poured myself another glass. Nothing compares to the courage found at the bottom of a bottle of wine.

“Hi,” I said when he answered. We had talked many times this late in the evening, but he must have known this call was different. Maybe it was the sound of my voice. I had never been so nervous, which was strange because I was usually quite bold with my words.

“Hi. What’s up?” He asked. I could hear his smile. He was happy I had called, and that small gift spurred me on.

“Umm, I was wondering if you could help me with something?”

“Sure. Like right now? Or did you have another time in mind?”

I bit my lip and then felt the wine take over. “Soon, as in now would be great. Then maybe again at a later time.” I was grinning from ear to ear, so proud of my bravery, spurred on by the wine coursing through my veins and the hint of wonder in his reply.

“I can be there in ten. See you soon.”

“Let yourself in,” I replied before hanging up.

He arrived a few minutes after the ten-minute mark. I heard his knock on the door and the attempt at being quiet as he entered. He walked around my apartment, checking each room, even the one where my tiny person slept, before finding me in the bathroom. Pushing the door open with a single finger, he appeared apprehensive of what he would find.

His eyebrows shot towards the ceiling as he took me in, nude, surrounded by a thick curtain of bubbles. The tub wasn’t very deep, so my breasts were presented like cherries atop a sundae.

I had one leg draped over the side, the other leg bent but they were very obviously open. My hair was piled high on my head, a few loose tendrils hanging down. I held a single strand in my hand, circling it around my finger in a gesture that was clearly meant for seduction and flirtation.

He didn’t move for a while. Just took it all in. I watched him, while he skimmed his eyes over each exposed part of me, stopping at the apex of my thighs, hidden by bubbles. Finally, he took a step forward and then another. Dropping to the side of the tub, he placed his chin upon his arms and simply looked at me.

Neither of us said anything for a long time. He just continued to look at me and me at him and then finally, he asked,” May I touch you?”

It was so very sweet, but I couldn’t help the release of laughter that naturally took over. Trying to hide my giggles I merely grabbed his hand and instead of answering, placed his fingers on my neck and not letting go, pushed them lower over the peak of my nipples, the valley of my belly, and over the mound of my mons pubis, where I finally released him.

The entire time he simply looked into my eyes, his gaze never leaving mine. Finally, his instincts took over and he started again at the top. Taking his time, he explored every part of me, lifting my arms from the water to study each finger and lifting my feet to see my toes. He grazed his thumbnail over my instep and with my squeal released me. I don’t know how much time he took learning the curves and valleys, the dips and peaks that my body offered him. It felt like a lifetime, and yet not long enough.

Finally, the water began to cool, and I said so. He held a fluffy towel for me to get out and then dried each part of me, gently, like I was the most delicate and priceless of possessions.

Once dry, he took the towel away and took his time studying once more. His fingers were traveling over my spine as he viewed me from the rear, the slight touch raising goosebumps over my flesh. I held my breath to keep from squirming, but as his fingers delved inside my folds to explore the silky skin within, I could no longer hold back my moans.

“Take me to bed.” I pleaded.

He didn’t need to be asked twice. Lifting me off my feet, into his arms, he laid me gently on my bed. I thought that this would be the end of his discovery, but instead, he found a new way to reveal my feminine charms, using his tongue. Retracing his fingers earlier path, his tongue found areas his fingers had not, and before long, I was groaning and holding his head in place as I bucked against him.

We made love for the first time that night, slow and gentle, not at all like any time ever in my past. Or in our future. This was a time of discovery and revelation, a chance to learn and master, a moment to explore what each of us had to offer.

Many hours later, he stood at the door, dressed in the clothes from the night before. We kissed and hugged and said farewell. Tip-toeing past the tiny persons’ door, I was hoping for a few minutes of sleep before it awoke, a smile on my face. I had asked him to stay, but he had an engagement first thing in the morning.

I laid in my bed and relaxed as my eyes closed. The smile that I had when he left was still plastered on my face.

Rethinking the night’s events and my boldness, my smile grew. I had never made the first move before, and have yet to again, but thought if all events turned out like this, I may be on to something.

I must have drifted off fairly fast because I startled as the bed dipped. Opening my eyes, Mister K (who back then was just K, I guess) was sliding in beside me. He curled his body around my much warmer one and snuggled in.

“Change your mind?” I asked sleepily.

“Locked my keys in the truck. I guess fate changed my mind for me.”

We still don’t know the date of our first meeting, but each year in January we celebrate my seduction, and the one time I chose to be bold. He told me later that he never asked me out because he thought I was out of his league. I don’t know anything about that, but I do know that taking that chance was the best decision of my life. We married many years later in June, but January is still my favorite month to celebrate. Can you blame me?

To see who else is celebrating in the month of January, press Bridget’s polka-dot.

For more tales like this, see Meant to Be or Small World After All.