When Dreams are Calling (13 page)

22
Lust and Other Demons

Falling
in love is never kind

Lust
is lost and you are blind.

That
is why, when it comes to men,

Hump
them, bang them, scream hooray!

To take my mind
off law but not quite, in my last trimester of law school, God sent me
another
provocation: a tense, sexy lawyer, all alone, who needed to be
discovered,
comforted, and all in between.

We met during a mediation session.

“Hi, my name is Dora. I’ll be your mediator
today.”

“Our mediator?” he asked, a bit surprised.

“Yes, do you have anything against it?”

“No, not really, just that... Aren’t you a bit
too young for this?”

“For this? No. For you? I might be,” I
answered, a bit annoyed by
his remarks.

Nevertheless, there was something intriguing
about him. I could sense
he was the dangerous kind, one of those guys who charms you, has you,
and lets
you cry in the rain. And then I knew: the challenge was about to begin.

The following day, I got his email:

“Dear Miss Dora, I like you. Let’s go for a
coffee together. Tomorrow
will be great if it suits you. Kind regards…”

I replied:

“Firstly, please do not call me Miss. You make
me sound either
important or as one of Dickens’ characters. I am lucky enough to be
neither.
Dora or even ‘mate’ sounds way better. Secondly, I don’t drink coffee,
I drink
tea. Thirdly, let’s go for a walk and then to a spa together. Lastly,
please
keep those ‘kind regards’ of yours for more solemn occasions. See you,
stranger!
Dora.”

That’s when my new romance started:
challenging, exciting, eye-opening,
and most of all, passionate. It took me deep into the forbidden gardens
of
pleasures, blindfolded and guided only by my insatiable desire for
lust. I did
what I never dared to do before: I reached for sexual fulfillment. I
did not
hold back emotions or words, I did not put a stop to my fantasies, and
I did
not let fear or shame to spoil my fun.

Why him? I didn’t know back then and I don’t
care to find out now.

All I know is I found how pure lust feels, what
a multiple orgasm is,
and that in all of us lies a dormant rabbit wanting to mate all day,
all night,
and everywhere it can. Although much better than finding out I am a
koala,
wanting nothing else than to sleep all day and all night, it was not
less
worrying.

Before going into the nitty-gritty details, let
me start by saying:
Before, I never let myself swayed by the physical beauty of a man.

I always considered it a matter of pride to be
with an intelligent man
rather than just a handsome one. As for those rare cases when those two
qualities meet, I thought it’s such a rare event that you must be born
in the
lucky year, lucky day, lucky hour, to happen to you. And even then, it
would be
selfish and silly to expect they will belong only to you forever and
ever,
amen. But, sharing a man was never my forte.

In the end, I made myself believe that as they
say, the beauty is in
the eye of the beholder and any decent man will be a much better match
than any
homme fatale
.

But, now and then, you start questioning your
beliefs and you start
aiming for the moon in broad daylight.

And this is what was happening to me now.

He picked me up from my house in his casual
shorts, un-ironed
T-shirt, and flip flops, proudly driving his beauty down my
driveway. 

“A BMW? Ha! You know what it means?”

“No,” he said.

“Bring Me Women, silly.”

“Just a coincidence. I assure you it is not the
case,” he smiled.

“And the plate number, ‘AHA69,’ a coincidence
as well, I assume.”

“Coincidence indeed,” he replied, this time
quite amused. “Get in!
We have a long day ahead!”

And long it was. First, we got lost and we
could not find the place
where we were supposed to go for a walk. Then, we finally got there
and, when
after two hours of walking we wanted to go to the spa, we could not
find our
way back to the car. In the end, after another five hours of walking
around in
circles, we found the car, but we could not find the spa. Once down at
the spa,
he could not find his towel, but thank heavens he found his bathers.
The
beginning was promising.

Just when I was about to relax, he tried to
kiss me. I refused: Once,
twice, and then my whole world changed. This time, we were truly and
fully
lost.

There was something about him that was setting
me free, making me go
for it without shame. It might have been his intoxicating smell, his
handsome
muscular figure, his deep green eyes, his grave voice, his childish
spoiled
lack of manners, his huge best friend he was so proud of, or maybe,
just maybe he
was the right guy at the right moment with the right me.

After months of
teasing, the real thing
finally happened:

“
Do
you wanna touch…
?”

“What are you
singing there? Is it Joan
Jett, the Blackhearts?” I asked him wondering what was going through
his head.

“Yes, it’s her.
And I’m not
only
singing.
I am speaking my mind,” he said, looking straight into my eyes,
provocative,
alluring, promising many days of pleasure and even more of pain.
 

“I see…”

I could hear my
heart, but I could not
feel my knees, I could see him, but I could smell him even better. He
fascinated me from the first moment I’ve seen him. There was no way I
could
deny this simple truth. And, except for an overwhelming fear of losing
control
of my heart, I had no reasons to.

Be
yourself,
everyone says when we’re in trouble. But how can we be ourselves if
we don’t know what it means? And how could we, if we never let
ourselves go? If
we’re always scared of slipping, scared of having it all. But one day,
something happens. And in that day we become more fearful of silence
than of
noise, more frightened of comfort than of adventure, more worried of
making no
mistakes than of dealing with them. That day, we are born again, that
day we
become ourselves.

And that was my
day. All I wanted to do
was to give myself to him, wholly and truly, to let whatever was coming
over me
fill my mind, wake up my senses and question everything I thought I
knew about
relationships. That day I allowed myself to be swayed by lust.

“So, what’s the
answer?” he went on,
pushing my back against the wall.

“Yeah, I want
to touch you: here, there,
everywhere!” I responded and rolled into bed with him.

A few hours
later, cuddling in his arms, I
was still unsure about what I wanted to do first: catch my breath or do
it all
over again. Making love to him was a dream, this time an unplanned one,
but no
less amazing. Despite not being a virgin, I felt like I was; despite
not being
a sinner, I felt I would die to become one. Now that the game was on, I
did not
want it to stop and I doubted I would ever want.

“Uh, that was something!” I said softly. My
body was exhausted, but
I was totally relaxed. I was happy and excited and part of me was
already picturing
the day when we will walk down the aisle.  

“Take it easy, it’s just sex. Pretty good one
though! And the night
is still young,” he replied, jumping out of the bed and turning on the
TV on
the footie channel.

I always found all the words equally beautiful.
There is a moment, a
place and a person for all of them.There is a place, a moment, a person
for
sex, for shag, for making love, for mating, for copulating, for rolling
in the
hay, for humping and for whatever other is out there.

But now, it was not the moment, not the place
for
sex
. And I
was not the right person for it. 

His words sounded like an alarm bell and I was
fully awake. The
picture was changing. I seriously needed to reflect on the assumptions
I
carried about the whole thing. After all, he was the kind of guy
who
charms
you, has you, and lets you cry in the rain.
What was I
thinking? Probably
what lots of women are thinking: I will be
the one
who will change him.
Silly, I was not
the one,
I was just
another
one.
And it was time
for me to face it: take it or leave it, but don’t ask for more. “Just
sex, huh?
OK. Have it your way, stallion,” I told him, still hoping he’d say
something
that would make those harsh words go away, hoping he wanted all of me
for ever
and ever, same as I wanted him. But, he didn’t. He remained silent. And
he
broke my heart.

Ever since that day, he went by the name of
Stallion, while I was
known as his Trouble. 

I could write for hours about our trips, the
cafes we went to, the
parties we joined, his favorite dish that always happened to be mine
too, his
annoying habit of always being late, and so on. But, ever since that
day, none
of them really mattered.

That day, I decided that I didn’t want to know
anything about his
life. No good could have come out of it. He would take more and more of
me,
while I would remain with the same thing: great sex with no strings
attached.
He was too much into himself to let even a tiny bit of him go to
another. He
enjoyed a fling, a good shag, a glass of wine and a chat, and he was
the
perfect guy for all these. He was a lover boy and the rest came with
the
territory.

Now, that I was certain of it, all I wanted was
to let him have me,
over and over again. I wanted to satisfy my thirst for lust, to allow
myself to
dissolve in sensual pleasure, to adore his body and let it become the
master of
mine.

Like the sun, my desire nurtured and burned my
heart while my days with
him were passing slowly, surely, and definitely not purely.

Each time, he was taking me to new virgin
territories of pure
pleasure, making me feel like a starlet who finally found her stallion:
amazing.

There was never enough, there was only more.

He was pushing himself inside me, looking into
my eyes, going faster
and faster until I was moaning with pleasure, making me come over and
over
again until I did not have the energy to move, to scream, or to beg for
more.

“The neighbors definitely heard us. I think
they hate us by now,” I
said after one of those sex therapy sessions that felt like the whole
apartment
might just crumble before us realizing anything else, other than what
we were
doing.

“You think so?” he joked, imitating my voice
during climax. Oh,
he was cute! But not as loud as I was.

“Stop it!” I said, blushing.

“Stop it? That’s new! You mean, continue?” he
teased me. “You want
it! You always want it! You’ll kill me before saying you don’t want it
anymore!”
He bit my lips gently, the pain slowly increasing. He knew I loved it,
just a
bit of pain, enough to keep me in the moment.

“I am exhausted! I am all sweaty,” I complained.

“You, exhausted? That’s new again! What is
sweat when compared with
pleasure, gorgeous?”

“I guess we’ll find out soon enough, Stallion,”
I replied, jumping
on top of him, the signal his break was over.

And so it was. Day after day. Night after
night.

Sex with him was my freedom statement, my detox
session, my body and
mind exercise. It was powerful, but beautiful, overwhelming but
enlightening, scary
but liberating.

I was dancing close to a fire: I could feel its
warmth, its charm,
and its dangerous side. I liked to feel my wings starting to burn just
so I could
move farther before it would blind me forever.

Each time, my voice screaming out loud without
holding back my
emotions and his voice following mine shortly after, sounded like a
beautiful
song without any melody or definite rhythm. Together our
fantasies
were
becoming reality, one by one. I could tantalize him with a private
striptease
session at his office after hours, when he was looking so tense, tired,
and so
sexy in his lawyer outfit. I could take off my shirt and bounce my tits
after a
long, strenuous hike without a worry in the world. Or, we could rush
home and go
straight for a good one, leaning against the entrance door before
turning on
the lights, taking off our shoes, or taking a shower.

I loved to watch our bodies performing acts I
didn’t know they knew.
It was like they had a mind of their own in which I had nothing to say.
I loved
to see our hearts coming together for a second only, then going
separate ways,
dissolved in the power of the mind.

There was no shame, no fear of embarrassment,
no anxiety, no place
better than another, no rose petals scenario, no well-rehearsed right
words
spoken softly. I was not concerned with pleasing him and he was not
concerned
with pleasing me and this made it all happen.

Nothing was ordinary or too much, nothing was
appropriate, courteous,
or predictable. It was as it should always be. And we both loved it
this way.

With him, I was myself: dancing without music,
singing without a
reason, saying the words I wanted to say, living my deepest sexual
fantasies
just to wake up full of desire and loved slowly before even saying good
morning.