Living Vicariously

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We sat in silence for a few moments, our laughter from her last story drifting into the ether.

“Can I ask you a question?” She suddenly looked serious.?

“Of course.”?

She set down her fork very deliberately and made real eye contact with me for the first time in several minutes, though I’d been gazing at her the whole time.

“How did you know you were…?”?

“Gay?” I smirked subtly.

“Yeah,” she responded, flush-cheeked and obviously more than a little embarrassed.

I sighed before answering, and I guess I sounded frustrated, because she looked down at her food and picked her fork up again as though she were afraid of my answer.

“I have to be honest with you. I’ve heard that question more times than I can count, and sometimes I make up answers because I got tired of telling the truth.”

She looked back up; her turn to be frustrated, I supposed.

“That doesn’t help me.”

“Why do you need help?”?

“Just…tell me how you knew. Please.”

I sighed again and leaned forward, crossing my arms on the table. “Well, on some level, I’ve always known. I just wasn’t comfortable with consciously knowing that part of myself until very recently. As for how I got comfortable with it, I guess I found myself in a place where I was surrounded by love and support, and that made loving and supporting myself seem much less scary and self-indulgent. So I started seriously thinking about what I was attracted to, and it turns out women were – and are – a lot more attractive than men.”

“But why? What about them makes you feel that way?”?

I smiled again, only a little less subtly than before. “Women are soft,” I explained, inwardly refusing to break eye contact with her, not allowing myself to feel uncomfortable. Even if I were, I wouldn’t let her know it.

“I think femininity is incredibly admirable. Women are so strong and simultaneously delicate. Not in a breakable kind of way, but in a —”

“A beautiful kind of way,” she finished for me, looking up. She realized she’d spoken and her eyes grew ever so slightly wider.

“Exactly,” I returned casually and immediately, not giving her the opportunity to back out of this conversation now that we’d begun it. “A beautiful kind of way. A warm, quiet kind of way. But, again, they’re so incredibly strong and resilient and…powerful, almost. It’s sexy.” I shrugged. I wanted to convey the notion that this wasn’t a big deal, that we were just two people having a perfectly mundane conversation about our various likes and casino şirketleri dislikes.

“Women are like music,” I finished, knowing that this comparison would resonate with her more than any adjectives could. “They fill your soul with meaning or comfort or joy or complexity. I need those feelings. I don’t think a man could do that for me.” I leaned back in my seat, studying her face as she continued to poke at her food with her fork.

I wanted her to be the next one to say something. It took her a while, I think, to find the words she wanted, but that was okay. She needed to be the next person to speak.

“So…have you ever been with a woman?”

What a question. “Yes,” I answered honestly. “I have.”

She nodded, contemplating.

“Have you?”

She clearly wasn’t expecting that.

“What? I — no, I mean — not really —”

“What does ‘not really’ mean?”

“It — I don’t…know how to answer that.”?

“Try honestly. It’s okay.”

She closed her eyes and took a breath.

“I guess I have, inasmuch as any teenager or college student has, experimenting and joking around with her friends. But I’ve never…slept with a woman.”

I nodded this time, squinting a little to study her expression. She looked down at her plate nervously, clearly more embarrassed than she’d been at any point until now.

“How’s your husband?”

She was startled by this inquiry. Her gaze practically leapt up and she crossed her arms defensively, leaning back. “Richard? He’s fine. Why?”

“Because,” I returned, smirking again and leaning forward to balance her movement, “you’re asking an awful lot of questions about my…lifestyle. And I don’t think you’d be asking them if Richard were fine.”

She let out a long breath, then made eye contact again for the first time in a while.

“You’re right; Richard and I are not fine.”?

“I figured. That’s okay. It happens. But why are you asking me about all of this instead of talking about what’s wrong?” I was almost certain I knew the answer, but I needed to hear her say it.

“I’m not sure, honestly. I guess I just wanted…to live vicariously for a little while. I’m tired of the manipulated family time and the manufactured…alone-together time. It feels so artificial and I feel like my house is a cage. So I needed to escape somehow, for just a little bit.”

I chuckled softly. “So you invited me to come have lunch. So that you could live vicariously through a twenty-five-year-old woman who is not only your former mentee, casino firmaları but also visiting home for quite possibly the last time before leaving for good to move across the country. To escape your cage of a house without having to leave. To live vicariously through this young woman, who happens to be a lesbian.”

She nodded, looking down again.

I leaned back in fascination. “Living through me might be a dangerous pastime.”

She gazed up slowly. “Maybe I don’t want to live through. Maybe…maybe I want to live with. Just for a bit.”

I smiled, just a little bit bigger than before upon hearing the answer I was hoping for, but still small enough to continue the guise of casual chit-chat so she wouldn’t be scared off.

“What does that mean?”

“What do you think it means?” She returned softly, maintaining real, steady eye contact. It was my turn to be taken aback, but I refused to show it. Instead, I took control.

“I think,” I returned, standing and walking slowly to her, kneeling beside her chair and resting my left arm on the table, “that you want to feel what I feel. I think you want to be filled with the softness and the comfort and the complexity.” I gazed down at her hands in her lap, gently taking her left in my right while I stood, lifting her with me. “I think you want me to fuck you.”

She seemed only a little shocked at my bluntness. I didn’t give her a chance to respond. Instead, I turned and pulled her slowly towards her staircase and up to her bedroom. I turned back to face her, and she didn’t look surprised anymore. She seemed almost intoxicated by her own thoughts, by the way she found herself moving. I clasped my fingers in hers, lifting my other hand to softly stroke her cheek. I smoothed over her lips with my thumb. I let go of her hand and ran my fingers through her hair, gently pulling her closer to me, my lips finally, delicately touching hers. She melted just a little and fell sitting onto the bed.

I broke the kiss and stared into her icy-blue eyes. They contained multitudes; suddenly I knew exactly what Darwin meant when he first dreamed about the origin of species. He wasn’t just talking about evolution, or the Beagle expedition, or the contradiction of the Church of England. He was talking about instincts and sex and desire. Animals feel them, and aren’t we animals, after all? I could tell the woman in front of me certainly did.

She drew in a small, sharp, quiet breath, then reached her hand to the nape of my neck, pulling me gently back towards her. güvenilir casino She laid on the bed and I kneeled above her, straddling her torso. She closed her eyes as I slowly pulled her dress off from beneath me, followed by my own shirt. I tossed both on the floor. I slid my left hand under her neck and held her cheek in my right, lifting her head so our lips could touch again. She reached behind me and pulled my pants off, dropping them on top of our other clothes.

I moved from her lips and kissed her jaw, her neck, her collarbone. I slipped a finger under a lacy bra strap and then slid the whole thing off – I don’t remember how. My mouth grazed her breasts, leaving a trail of delicate kisses down her chest to below her belly button. She ran her hands through my hair, tilting her head and arching her back, overtaken by the complexity.

I tucked the tip of my finger in the waistband of her lace panties and pulled them down slowly and deliberately. I smelled her warmth and wetness and muted sweetness, gently blowing cool air onto her. Another sharp breath from her beautiful mouth, louder this time, an almost animal-like moan.

I couldn’t help myself; I smiled through my work.

I took one of her small nipples in my mouth as I moved my hand slowly down her side, barely making contact with the surface of her smooth skin. She nearly wriggled out of my grasp; I couldn’t help a quiet chuckle escaping my lips. I used the breath that had grown in the pit of my stomach to blow gently on her chest. She convulsed slightly and I smiled again. She was enjoying herself, and she wasn’t holding back.

Finally, I kissed my way down to the soft hair between her thighs, stopping only briefly to pay extra attention to her soft, toned belly. My lips and tongue took complete control of her and she whimpered. I continued, gradually increasing my pace, until she was at the brink of ecstasy. I easily slipped two fingers within her, and that was enough. She gasped – so loudly it was almost a shriek – and her entire body trembled. She tore at the bedsheets, clutching fistfuls of them to stabilize herself. Her back arched beautifully, creating the perfect fermata, and I slid my hands beneath it, gently massaging her muscles into relaxation as she came down from her high. I moved back to her stunning face and kissed her so she could taste herself on my lips. She sighed, reaching up yet again to run her fingers through my hair.

“It’s that joy and comfort and meaning and complexity,” I reiterated, whispering into her ear, brushing my lips against her temple. “Do you feel it with me?”

“Yes,” she whispered back, barely making a sound, eyes still shut. “I see what you mean now.”?

“No need to live vicariously.” I kissed her again, relaxing beside her. “Just live.”

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