JOURNAL: MEMORY OF AN EX

A girlfriend (now an ex) once asked me what I really thought of her when we began dating. Out spilled a cornucopia of platitudes, but I felt it didn’t really do justice to the feelings she instilled in me. I decided the best way to share my feelings was to let her in on the inner monologue I had with myself during the first time we hooked up. The below was the resulting letter.

This cab ride is taking forever. I know. Why does she live so far away? Hush. I wonder what she’s wearing. I wonder if she missed me. I wonder if she’s nervous. The fare meter climbs, each click advancing the already rising giddiness within me. When was the last time you actually got excited for someone like this? Had to have been high school. Isn’t that too long? Yes. Here. Finally. Pay faster. I’m trying.

What? Five flights up? Yeah. It’ll go quick. She’s at the top. She’s worth the breathless trek. Christ, you’re not in shape. I’m ignoring you. Hear her? She’s calling to me and even her voice sounds hot. Just a few more steps.

She’s hotter than I remember. Is that even possible? I know. Her ass looks astounding in those shorts. Are they even shorts? They look like underwear. Who cares; she’s kissing me. I would sleep on these lips. They are the epitome of soft and sultry. She’s gently biting you. God, this is hot. It’s tender. Loving. It’s…perfection. Her hands are wrapping around my head. Mine are instinctively drawn to her hips. Her body is entirely preternatural. Feel that stomach. Firm. Tight. Young. Explore lower. Not yet. Ah, anticipation, I’ve missed you.

Why aren’t you in her bed yet? I suggest her bed. She trots ahead of me and I follow; already fantasizing and savoring what’s about to occur. We fall into bed and into each other. My fingertips methodically graze her skin delicately. She’s quivering from your touch. Her body reacts, forming thousands of tiny speed bumps for my hands, slowing my descent towards her erogenous zone. Listen to her breathing. It’s shallow and quick, her chest seemingly beckoning me closer. More kissing. Kiss her more. Her leg entwines mine. Nothing has ever felt this right. Ever.

She’s completely naked. For you. This is what you’ve wanted. I want more than that, though. What else is there? Look up. Her face is contorted with pleasure. I want to know her. Does anyone really ever know anyone else? So I shouldn’t even try? Focus.

My hand slips between her legs. Her breathing intensifies and comes in even more rapid spurts, as pleasure overtakes her body. She succumbs easily. Her back arches. Her body thrusts towards mine. I pull her even closer. Those perfect breasts are against my chest.

Pull her on top of you. That’ll be hot. She’s completely exposed as my legs spread hers. The only sound filling the room is her exhaling. I reach down the front of her again and find her sweet spot. Spasms rack her small frame, addling her with pockets of bliss as her thighs instinctively fight to clamp around my hand. Harder. Go deeper and harder. No, she likes this. She likes it gentle. So do you. You’re made for each other. I steal kisses where I can. I blow in her ear. She likes that. I know. My free hand finds hers and holds it briefly. There’s your moment of real connection. I like this.

She’s literally bucking. You’re doing this to her. This is insane. As my hand moves faster, her rhythmic hip-gyrating increases, matching my hand speed. Her eyes open briefly and meet mine, inches away. Our shared gaze is a paragon of lust. That’s a burning look. She has to be close. She is. As she comes, small guttural sounds of sheer bliss escape her lips. Her entire body goes tense, quivers uncontrollably, and then goes lax. She’s laughing. Why is she laughing? Sometimes it’s so good; the only thing to do is laugh. She’s back laying next to me, nuzzled up close. A feeling of jubilation wraps itself around me like a blanket.

There’s funny small talk made. She laughs. I laugh. But we’re really both just basking in her post-climactic glow of euphoria. You love her, don’t you? I just met her. That’s completely irrational. So? “Irrationality” hasn’t ever hindered you before. I’m falling for her, yes. Why? I don’t have to explain everything to you. She’s out of bed, strolling across the room for a drink. Even her gait is sexy. Her ass looks amazing naked. I spend the next several hours exploring her body, tracing her every curve, memorizing her face as she reacts to my touch.

As we part ways later, she wraps both hands around my face, pulling me in. A bevy of staccato kisses rain upon my lips. You want a real kiss. I get it. It’s the ultimate ending to our passionate afternoon. She leaves. The mental replay has already begun and it’s in high definition; it’s hyper-real. You’re just standing in the street. Hail a cab already. No need. We can just float home.