Selina told me he would be at The Lounge, around 9. I went with a girlfriend. When Alana and I arrived, he wasn't yet there, so we sat and had a martini. The lights were low, the DJ spun chill, relaxed and sexy tunes. Alana and I became immersed in our conversation, and forgot my mission. As we were leaving, I noticed him out of the corner of my eye in the corner of the room. We made eye contact, and I left. As I walked home, I could feel the intensity of his gaze upon me. We hadn't spoken. We hadn't even lingered over the look. But the nanosecond look confirmed my knowing that we would be fucking, eventually.
Selina was helping me make the moment. He was my massage therapist, she was a yoga teacher at his studio. How could I breach the professional dynamic he had done so well to develop? Not only did he soothe out my crunchy muscles, he helped me move deeper into my own body, and he walked me through all the trapped feelings in my body I didn't even know existed until he touched me. He handed me Kleenex under the table. He sighed with me as I exhaled deeply. He breathed through it all with me. We had been doing this for years.
So Selina said that the solution was to bump into him in neutral territory, where he wasn't rubbing his hands all over my naked body. Then I could make my proposition: I know you can't see me if I am your client, so why don't I stop seeing you for six months so you can ask me for a drink? And then he could run his hands all over my naked body.
After The Look I knew that the opportunity would appear soon. When there is that much energy between two people, attraction will draw them together. I no longer needed an intermediatry because I trusted it would happen.
Several weeks later, I was walking out of the flower shop on St. Laurent, the one a few blocks from Andrew's studio. I was carrying a bunch of tender nasturtiums. I was fresh, feeling alive. The air was damp with spring and the puddles glistened with beginnings. I felt the exuberance of being young, full of blood and sex. I wore my favorite outfit to celebrate spring, even though I was a little cold -- a red sundress with polkadots. After a long bath that morning, I had shaved myself bare, and I loved the feeling of spring air on all my delicate parts.
I bumped into Andrew. Right there, on the street, with my arms full of flowers and my legs shivery in the spring damp. We hugged. It was tight and long. He was really happy to see me. He asked me what I was up to. I told him I was going to go home and put my flowers in a vase.
You should come with me. We could have a lemonade on the deck. That is, of course, if you take lemonade on the weekends with your clients.
I think I can take a lemonade, he said.
We walked to my place together. When we stepped in, sun was streaming thorough the windows, and we could hear drips coming off the eavesdrops. We took off our jackets at the door, chatting amiably about the neighborhood, our favorite restaurants, that Brazilian place with the good shrimp. It was light and easy.
As we stepped into my apartment, he admired the view of the mountains thorough my window. I put on music; feeling the rhythms all through me. I took out two glasses.
He came into the kitchen with me and looked intently at me. I froze. We stared at each other. Very slowly, I turned to put the glasses back on the counter without breaking eye contact with him. The air was electric. As soon as the glasses were out of my arms, he leaned into me, putting his hands behind my head. He kissed me on one cheek, then the next, then my eyelids. By the time he kissed my lips, strong and clear, with intention and presence, I could feel the flush of dampness between my legs. I was standing stock still, arms at my side, my whole body focused on the kiss. His tongue was strong and sweet and gentle. He tasted simple and clean.