As im struggling to come up with some meaningless general conversation starter, you turn and ask me what I would recommend. The male in me obviously wants to say "My lips between your thighs." But the man in me replies, you smile, and I walk with you to the counter. After you've made your choices, I invite you over to my table. We introduce ourselves, and as Im watching you speak, your lips moving against one another hypothesizes me. I find myself losing all track of what your saying as I feel myself glancing your upper body up and down, meanwhile, my dick is nearly knocking on the bottom of the table. Thankfully, I hear you say "My lower back has been killing me lately, I think i sit wrong at work." PERFECT. I tell you im a masseuse and my job is right across the way, I offer to comp you a 20 min massage, you smile, accept, and say you'll be right over. You stand to give me a friendly hug and tell me you'll see me later, and without thinking about it, I stand too. I see you casually. Tonight I had a sickness in the pit of my stomach that wouldn’t go away. And if I let it, it would spread over my whole body. There was no comfort and no escape from what I knew. I closed my eyes, and felt the beginnings of a headache coming on. I would probably get a migraine out of this, and then I would be telling the truth. At least one of us would. _________________________________________________ After that first night together, when Peter had proposed to me, we were almost never apart. At my insistence I didn’t move in with him right away. I was still marginally sensible and I feared drowning in him. Never before had I felt such a connection, such an intuitive, intimate way of being known. And a piece of me was afraid. It was not a fear of losing Peter, it was a fear of finding myself. He spoke to a dark place in me that I knew existed but felt I was keeping successfully under control. Besides the immediacy and the unusualness of our connection there was no evidence for this.
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