It was 5 a.m., five hours later than I had intended to stay. We talked, in that clichéd way, until the sun reminded us that we had more pressing...
It was 5 a.m., five hours later than I had intended to stay. We talked, in that clichéd way, until the sun reminded us that we had more pressing things to do other than exchange Michael Jackson deep cuts. It was an amazing conversation.
To be honest, a little too amazing — no awkward pauses or uneasy eye contact — you know, those bitter, beautiful breaks where you stop talking and start feeling? Instead, hours straight of two people connecting so fluidly I genuinely couldn’t tell if he thought we were meant to make a baby or a cool clubhouse for besties.
“It’s getting late, I mean early. I guess I should go.”
He nodded and stood without hesitation. I guess clubhouse it was. He walked me to the door and I twisted in my shoes.
He hugged me with his shoulders, my heart sank, he kissed me on the cheek, I instinctively kissed his, he kissed my other cheek, I kissed his chin, he kissed my forehead, I kissed his jaw, he kissed my nose, I bit his lip and then it was on.
He lifted me out of my shoes and carried me back to the couch. Our kisses were hard and helpless. After a few wonderful minutes, he pulled away to breathe.
“I mean this in the most respectful way possible, but you’re even more amazing with your mouth shut.”
I laughed and agreed. I learned the best kisses have as much to do with what you do with your mouth as what comes out of your mouth.
I had been travelling — by bus.It was the beginning of our love affair, so early that a few days apart felt like an eternity, so he insisted on...
I had been travelling — by bus.
It was the beginning of our love affair, so early that a few days apart felt like an eternity, so he insisted on picking me up from the station even though it meant taking a day off work.
I guess this is why I felt kind of guilty when I saw the look in his eyes as I approached his car and knocked on the glass.
I nodded, he studied me longer, I guess just to make sure.
I stood outside in zero-below weather wearing a bulky coat and a bundle of bags, “Can I come in?”
He startled, fumbled to unlock the door, then came out and helped with my bags. When I was all loaded in, we both climbed back into the car in silence. No kiss, no hug, just your standard Uber experience, I guess.
“I’d ask how your trip was,” he began, “but I am guessing, long."
We got back to his place and he dutifully got my bags, but still no hug, no love. We got inside and he rushed past me to the bathroom and ran the water. He walked out and waved me in. “All yours.”
“Thanks,” I said, even though we both knew I didn’t request a damn shower.
I got in and began to wash the funk and tears away. As I questioned whether I had turned him off completely, I heard the door open and then he stepped in.
I stepped back and he stepped into me. He looked me right in the eyes, even though I was completely naked, and kissed me. The right kind of kiss, too: the 80 per cent soft, 20 per cent hard kind.
I pressed into him, then tried to break away so I could make space for us to do other things. He held my face, closed the space and kissed me more.
He played with my lips, massaged my shoulders, held my hands. He kissed me like we were teenagers at school, not adults in the shower. It never progressed to sex; we simply got out, dried off and hung out on the couch.
I loved it and learned the best kisses are the ones that are treated like the ultimate experience — not just an appetizer.
These are just a couple of great lip locks that have taught me some amazing lessons. I no longer kiss either of these sets of lips, but I certainly do relive the magical moments.
What are some of your faves and what pearls of wisdom did you pluck from them?