~A love letter to Jack~

I remember the first time I saw you. I sat alone in my bedroom, sad but hopeful, flipping through the profiles online. It seemed a long shot but I had nothing else to do. Insomnia. Still awash in the throes of heartbreak. The majority of men I saw in the dating pool were of no interest, not even physically.

I remember the moment I clicked on your ad. I saw your gorgeous smile, those beautiful eyes curled up in a grin. My heart may have skipped a beat, or it may have happened only in memory. “Pretty, smart, goofy? You’re my girl!” it said. “Oohhhh, “I thought, “He’s looking for me.” I read through your profile hungrily, and liked what I saw. 500 miles away? Ehhhh…but I looked back at your picture and had to write. I didn’t that day. Or maybe the day after. It took me a few days to get up the nerve to even say hi. But I kept coming back and looking at your picture. Every time my heart would flutter in my chest and I would dismiss it as delusional optimism.

But then I wrote. What I wrote I haven’t the faintest idea. Hi, Marry Me, I’m Her, I’m The One? I’m certain I tried hard to come off as sincere but aloof. I know me. That would be my style.

You wrote back. My heart sped up as I saw your return message in my inbox. I read it. You liked what you saw, as well. I wanted to immedietly write back, I Love You, Let’s Run Away Together, My Heart Might Have Exploded but I refrained. I made myself wait two days. Every time you wrote I made myself wait two days. I did it so I wouldn’t come off as desperate. Men respond well to waiting, I had learned. Makes them wonder. And although I had nothing better to do than to sit in front of my computer and write to you every night, I wanted you to wonder just enough to keep you interested. (chuckling) I didn’t want to come off as desperate, because I wasn’t. I was very discriminating. As a matter of fact, I really wasn’t sure I wanted to start anything with you, either. I was very afraid to have my heart broken again.

Your sincerity wore me down. Every time you would write I would steel myself to read it. It was impossible to NOT fall for you. You seemed to be everything I had ever wanted, everything I dreamed a man could be but I had never found…until now? I didn’t dare let myself believe it. Ok, maybe little bit. But I didn’t admit it, not even to myself.

Every day I would get home and race into the bedroom to turn on the computer, wait impatiently for it to boot up, hurry hurry! I would do some deep breathing. I would go online, check to see if you had written, and stare at your picture. Always with the butterflies in my stomach. Growing more hopeful every day. Denying it.

Our letters became longer, more personal. Each conversation seemed to be a joy and a hurdle. So afraid something would come up that was insurmountable, something that would show we were not meant to be together. I analyzed your letters for days, looking for some hidden meaning, some thing written between the lines. looking for closure while looking for hope.

You sent me your phone number, asked me for mine. I refused. I wouldn’t call you. I was afraid. I told you I wanted to take it slow, but the truth of it was that I was utterly terrified. It was easy to feel safe when we only e-mailed. To talk on the phone might concrete my feelings for you. I couldn’t bear it just yet.

We talked on IM for the first time. How silly it was; neither knew what to say. It was so goofy.

That day or maybe the next you sent me the e-mail begging me to meet you. You said you couldn’t go through another week wondering. I couldn’t either but I wasn’t about to let you know that. I didn’t want to meet. I was enjoying my fantasy of love, and I thought to meet…could destroy that. “Come to the beach for the weekend” you implored. I was horrified. I tried to find a way to do it but was relieved when I couldn’t afford to go. You trumped me with, “Then can I come see you?”

Silence. Then I heard myself say, “Yes.” What? Yes? Am I crazy?
And then the plan was made. You would drive 500 miles on your motorcycle the next day. You would arrive late Saturday night. We would meet. You would leave Sunday morning. You asked if you could stay at my house, you didn’t want to presume, you said. I said yes. I told you it would be silly if you stayed at a hotel, since we would just talk on the phone all night while you were there….you laughed.

Saturday morning I awoke and felt like someone had lit me on fire. I was burning inside, a phoenix of the heart. Too cheesy? Ah well. It’s true.

Each time you called from the road I would pace and pace, unsure of what to say, just speechless. I couldn’t believe you were driving so far just to meet me. I felt like I must be dreaming. You were a stranger. A stranger I was in danger of falling in love with.

By the time night fell I was almost ill from anticipation. You called me to tell me you were about 8 miles away. I paced relentlessly. E called. I told her what was going on. She was highly concerned, to say the least. I was letting some guy I met on the internet come to my house??? Was I insane? I wasn’t sure. You pulled up, the deep rumbling of your motorcycle announcing your arrival before you came into sight. Didn’t matter. I was perched in the window with my face smashed up against the glass to see when you would arrive.
(pauses to catch breath and stop heart from beating so fast)
I told E I had to go, that you were there and I set the phone down. I felt nauseus and dizzy and elated all at once.

I opened the door and walked out into the light, then down the walkway into the dark of the parking lot. I thought I might explode. I hoped I didn’t just babble when I saw you. As I got close you were pulling off your helmet, and I knew… I knew I was going to fall in love with you and I knew there was nothing I could do about it. I felt pushed by a thousand gentle hands of destiny, helpless and raw and alive at the same time. You said hi. I took your things. We may have hugged, but I don’t remember. I was trying to not pass out from anxiety.

We walked inside. I was ahead of you, and I remember being concious of my legs, my ass, my waist, as you checked me out from behind. I tried to say witty charming things. God knows what actually came out of my mouth.

We got inside and it was suddenly hideously bright. I felt overstimulated, tweaked out of my gourd, really. I didn’t know what to say or do. I couldn’t even look at you. All I wanted was to be be touching you, kissing you in the twilight, tasting your lips, your tongue. I wanted to know what your skin felt like next to mine.
But my son was insistant and wanted to know who this stranger was. He wanted to know why the hell his mother was acting so incredibly bizarre.

I paced a bit. You caught me mid-pace leaving the bedroom. I remember walking out the door and suddenly there you were. You caught me in your arms and I blushed and looked away. You gently pulled my face upwards to look at yours. I pulled my face away. You sweetly asked me, “Are you afraid to look at me?” I nodded. “You’re adorable, ” you said, and pulled me closer, stroking my hair. I think I managed to breath for the first time since you got there.

A few minutes later my son turned away for a second and you snuck our first kiss, just a glancing brush of the lips. My heart tore out of my chest and I was speechless. The minutes crawled until it was my sons bedtime.

When I got him to sleep I came back out to the living room and I don’t think I’ve ever been so excited and nervous in my life. I didn’t even know what to do. I faltered and stuttered like a schoolgirl with her first crush. I felt like I was all arms, all legs, with not a brain in sight. You had me sit in your lap. We started kissing. We didn’t stop. Your lips, your tongue, so sweet, so perfect, so… touching my lips and tongue for the first time, like heaven. I was done for. I knew the end of my denial was inevitable. After a few minutes you pulled away for a second then informed me, “I just want to jump your bones” with the impishness of a horny schoolboy, and it shocked me. I just gaped at you for a second and tried to come up with something to deny you with, some reason, some…anything… Nothing came. I said, “We should move to the bedroom then” and smiled, shocked at my own voice informing you I wanted to sleep with you, too.

You started to undress me. As each layer of clothes came off, my denial was stripped as well. I thought I should feel bad, guilty, ashamed for being so bold, for sleeping with a man I didn’t really even know. But everything felt so right, so perfect, so correct. I can’t remember ever being so curious about what a man would feel like inside me before. I wanted to know how you moved, how you moaned, how you pushed, pulled, thrust, everything. I needed to know.

Most of it is a blur. I was overwhelmed and estatic. Fucking you was heaven. I never wanted to come, I never wanted to stop. We finally did. I think we talked for a little while but certainly never got dressed.

Soon we were grinding up against each other again. The hours passed, we were both insatiable. Over and over again, until the clock said it was late and you reminded me you had to drive back tomorrow. Which by that time was 3 1/2 hours into today. I laid next to you, and tried to be still and quiet. After you fell asleep I gazed at you, wonderous and beautiful in my bed. The white of the sheets, the warmth of your naked skin, the candlelight…I wanted to burn it into my memory, that I would never forget what an angel looks like after he’s done fucking you.

Morning came, my son awoke. We hurried to get dressed so as not to shock him. I felt heartbroken as you put your clothes on. I tried so hard to not let my son see his mother act like..well…act like that, but I couldn’t keep my hands and lips off of you. I was totally in love with you and there was no way around it.

You called in to work for the next day. You stayed. We stared and drooled and laughed at each other all day. The daylight was eternal, and yet the day flew by knowing you would leave again the next day. The hours passed with a tender pain that never left me all day.

Night came. With my son asleep our clothes finally came off again. Another blur of slow sweet sweaty deep fucking. I remember leaning over you at one point and telling you that I felt like I did in high school, when I just fell in love, but that made no sense because we just met and…you said you felt you loved me, too.
And the last molecule of denial shattered and I was yours eternally.
I still am.
I always will be.

The weeks afterward were a blur of excitement. You came to see me again. I went to see you. Each time was more glorious than the last. Each time I was nervous but nothing could keep me from you. Nothing.

The time we met in the middle at your friends house was hot. My son with his dad, it was the first time we got to be truly alone together (except for your friends who were in and out of the house). I loved sucking you off on the couch. I loved you tying me up in the spare room. My arm is still scarred from that, by the way. It makes me smile.

That was the weekend we got to explore a little deeper, see each other in public, around other people. I laughed at you when you smoked a cigarette in front of me. You looked so silly. You know, I don’t think I ever saw you do it again. I’m glad you lost that wretched habit.

We drove around for a long time, trying to find some snazzy place to go eat while we could enjoy being alone. Driving around for what seemed like forever, lost in a strange city… We finally found IHOP and agreed it was perfect. And it was. We ate like gluttonous pigs. And when your friends asked us where we went they laughed at us. We didn’t care.

The endless phone calls, talking for hours every night, about everything and nothing. The late night sex talks, where you would tell me what to do while you jerked off in your room alone, God that was hot. That was the beginning of my submission to you. I reveled in it. No man has ever made me feel the way you do. And laying there with the insistant and dominating growl of your voice in my ear made me feel the way a woman should: sexy, protected, unassuming, willing. I’m sure the neighbors still wonder why in the world they could hear all that screaming when I was home alone (smile). Mmmm, I knew. Even from 500 miles away you could wear me out.

~happy sigh~

Why the happy submission? I trust you. I have never truly trusted another. It is because of the man you are. I know I can trust you to treat me right, I know you will not harm me, I know you will cherish and protect me. A lot of that is due to those marathon relationship discussions we would get in when we lived so far away from each other. You laid the groundwork then for my trust and respect then. You reinforce it every day, by being the man you are and that is a man worthy of my respect and admiration.

Submission is based on trust and respect, I have discovered. If you want to tie me up and fuck me in the ass while calling me your dirty little whore, so be it. I am ALL about it. The kinkier you get, the more I love it. The reason? I know you trust me. You trust me act out your secret dark fantasies and you know I will never judge you. Because I love you and I respect you. And likewise (sly grin) you won’t judge me for liking it so very much. Heh heh heh…

I am a dirty little whore. Yours. I belong you to, heart and soul. I will never knowingly betray you or cause harm to come to you. I promise to live out my life in a happy partnership with you, to support your growth, to support our growth and the health of our relationship in any way possible. No man will ever come between us, God help him if he tries. Or she. Whatever.
The point is that I will forsake you for no one, and nothing.
Not even my own fear.