Tomorrow night, he will be sitting on a cold bench on the campus sidewalk, waiting for me as he eagerly watches for the first sign of my silver car to pull up in his college parking lot 9 hours away from our hometown. But, tonight, I'm lying alone in my darkened dorm room intensely thinking of him. I haven't seen my sweetheart/best friend/soon-to-be-fiance-then-husband in nearly 3 months - misery for a twenty year old young couple in love in the 1980's. The date matters because there was exactly one communal pay phone in his dormitory hallway at his college several states over from mine. I used a calling card from my ugly green wall phone in my dorm to call his hallway phone every Sunday night after 11 o'clock p.m. when the rates were cheaper as our parents were still footing the bills. I would stretch the curly long phone cord out the door, gently pull it closed, and talk quietly in the hallway if my roommates were in bed already. I never knew for sure if anyone could track him down if I did call at a time other than our standard schedule. Would he be in his room studying? Was he at the library? Would the line be busy? But, it isn't Sunday so I can't call him.
We exchanged by mail near daily letters spritzed with Drakkar Noir for his and Coty Wild Musk for mine. Crammed with loving words, daily events, news about roommates, classes and tests, but mostly missing-you type things, our correspondence passed through the same postal systems each headed from whence the other one came. Sometimes we wrote sexy fantasies of what life after marriage would be like for us. As I laid in bed this particular evening and thought of him, I was enveloped in a thick sensual cloud that stole my ability to breathe deeply. I simply ached for him, never having had him or him, me. I was fantasizing, but not exactly knowing how to do that. I was new to the feeling of sexual frustration and desire. He had awakened those sensations within me slowly and gently in the 3 years we had dated. I also didn't even think about pleasuring myself. It never even occurred to me. I thought only men did that.
At some point early on in our letter writing days throughout our long separations, we started putting code letters on the seal of the envelopes and the answer to each little mystery on the inside flap. For example, I.R.M.Y would be on the outside, and I Really Miss You would be on the inside. Well, after being cute with that for a while, eventually things got steamier, and although we didn't realize it at the time, very corny. But, that's where we were and what we did. I.C.W.T.K.Y.L. = I Can't Wait To Kiss Your Lips turned into I.C.W.T.K.Y.O.L = I Can't Wait To Kiss Your Other Lips. Hubba! Hubba! as we said back in the day.
In the late cool crisp air of late fall on a dark Friday night, I park my car in the nearest open spot and quickly jump out because I cannot wait one second more to see him, touch him. I get a glimpse of him among all the parked cars. He has sprung off his sitting place. My breath catches as I realize that he's running to me. After months of emotional correspondence, pressure built up in our lungs, all the longing, exhausted feelings, and loving that is compressed within us finally releases - and it nearly bends the air between us.
When the air between us crackles,
a loose live wire dances down
sizzles across our skin
Hiss! Crack! Snap!
A sputtering jump of electric current.
He is reaching out to me wearing his green and white letterman's jacket whose wool scratches my face as does his stubble when I throw myself into his arms, bury my face in his shoulder, and hold on to him with all my might. He smells of his letters and envelopes as I smell of mine. With mixed scents and emotions, we already know that as excited and as relieved as we are to see and hold one another, that in a short 48 hours we will be saying goodbye in this same position but with much sadder feelings that stuff our lungs again like cold weary air that sinks to the ground desperately seeking to steal its heat.
But, that time comes no matter how long we stayed awake each night or how hard we tried to stop it for just one more minute, one more kiss, one more hour, one more clingy clasping of hands. As we hug goodbye, a pattern of tiny surface cracks breaks out on the delicately painted glass of our weekend. And I don't know if that is a good thing or a bad thing. Did we just create a near work of art together, build upon a foundation for our future, or did the soul of our body vase just splinter?
Now, after 30 years of marriage, I fantasize more specifically about this man. If he is taking me from behind, I do like to imagine what it looks like. If I am underneath him with my face under his chin, I can see it and I don't have to imagine it. The corded muscles in his neck as he's straining over me. My eyes flicker up and I want to lick his throat.......and so I do because I am not that young innocent gal lying in my dorm room bed alone anymore. I know his body well and he knows mine, too. I'm familiar with exactly how stimulated he is by feeling his pace of thrusting and I match it. Sometimes it's long and smooth and swaying, then it becomes faster and more guttural. But my favorite is when he's climbing up me and I'm sliding down on him -- that deep pressing together that cannot go any further is one of my most favorite feelings when I am naked with him. As we reach the summit, a pattern of tiny surface cracks breaks out on the painted glass of our silver years. And I do know that it is a very good thing, we did just create a near work of art together and our beautiful body vase has aged with marks and beautiful cracks that still somehow manages to hold itself together.
What is new to me is him saying certain things during our lovemaking......... things that have to do with him dominating me, spanking me, and me being his submissive wife. I find that incredibly kinky. None of those words ever appeared on the back of our letters from college thirty years ago. B.I.A.G.T.A.T.U.N = But, I'm Glad They Apply To Us Now.
There's this power dynamic kind of crackle in the air. Please tell me, have you had this feeling....... or do you want it?