I Want {Ed. 3}
Copyright Yael Wolfe
I want to do something crazy.
Meet a man I don’t know very well in a hotel room. Or maybe…in very particular circumstances…let him come here, to my home.
Maybe we’ll have dinner first, at a restaurant. Only, I won’t eat, at all, because I’ll be too nervous. When he asks me why I’m not eating, I’ll only smile, coyly.
I’ll be the one to suggest it.
That we should go to his hotel (or maybe…maybe…maybe my place) for a nightcap. Even though he’ll know by then that I don’t drink.
It’ll be awkward. I’m not good at this stuff. Maybe we’ll talk on the bed for a little while and then I’ll get impatient and make a clumsy move as I’m known to do.
He’ll be kind - say he’s had a lovely night and there’s no need to rush into anything.
But I want to. I’ll slide onto his lap and make it clear that I want this.
It’ll probably happen pretty fast. I’m so sorry, but I will probably not pay attention to much except fulfilling my need. Just that one time.
There won’t be a lot of looking each other over or soft touching - just undressing and immediate, desperate fucking.
He’ll be surprised by my transformation from that awkward woman who can barely make a pass to the grunting, wolfish creature who’s suddenly bobbing over his lap and dipping a fervent tongue into his mouth.
I’ll apologize when it’s over. Because, honestly, I really didn’t mean to go that fast. I like to take my time. But I just needed to do this. I needed to jump straight in and totally let go.
He won’t mind, though. But he’ll want more.
That’s when I’ll pull out a few things from my handbag. Maybe some lubes and lotions that I like. My gua sha tools. Some items that will feel indulgent and give him a treat, too. I’d like to spoil him, even if we only have one night together.
And oh, I’ll have an overnight bag in my car. Because maybe I’ll want to put on my slip. Maybe I’ll need my fluffy robe or some pajamas (though I plan on mostly being naked for the duration of the night).
He’ll find this incredibly amusing that I planned for this to happen the whole time. That I’m the one whose aim was to get to the fucking.
The rest of the night will be much less awkward. Less hurried. We’ll take time to do things right.
I’m not even sure I care what happens in the morning.
***
It’s been twenty years since I jumped into bed with someone. I don’t remember how to do it. The thought terrifies me.
And I confess, I want more than this - so much more than one night. But it’s a start.
I’m not sure I’m brave enough, anymore.
But I want to change. I want to be free. I want to do something outlandishly out of character.
