Friday, February 17, 2006

The First Kiss (Administrator/Alley Version)


He pressed his body against mine, my spine melted into the graffiti and spit and peeling paint. He touched my cheek, slid his fingers slowly down my neck, down my breasts, down and down.



Three weeks before, this man was a stranger.
Three weeks before, he was a name and number on a business form.
Three weeks before, I never would have considered making him my lover.

Now he was making my body shake and my lips tremble and exploding dirty sexy-sex thoughts in my brain.

I wasn’t looking for romance when I undertook the research project. Being so close to a college town, it seemed a logical step to interview students for our new product. Marketing was my bag, one-on-one communication was my forte, and my ever-questioning mind couldn’t resist such a juicy challenge. A co-worker had given me the name and number of an administrator who had connections to several college groups I could interview, and could arrange empty rooms for me to conduct surveys and interviews. It was a perfect situation.

“Hi, I’m Gary. You must be Mona?”

We met in the lobby of a classroom building, both of us in suits, impossible not to be mistaken for grownups when surrounded by nineteen-year-olds in sweatpants.

Gary was not what I expected.

He had a twinkle in his eye that I’d only ever seen in the eyes of kids at Christmas. His grin took up most of his face, and his handshake was strong and warm. He held my hand a few seconds longer than I would have expected, which sent a twinge of possibility up the back of my neck. He had light blue eyes, pecs I could see through his white-on-white button-down shirt, and hair so light in colour it looked invisible.

“Let me show you the classrooms I’ve arranged for you.”

Gary led me up the stairwell to the second floor and showed me the carpeted meeting rooms he’d reserved. He produced coffee from a corner kitchenette and we sat near the window, planning the event, gazing at the spring buds, the young coeds tempting fate with only a sweater in mid-April, chatting about the concert on campus that night, about the changes since we’d been college freshmen. His voice was excitable; his voice had power; his voice made my legs like jelly.

Over the next few weeks, Gary and I spoke every day, fine-tuning my project, introducing me to the students I’d be interacting with, fetching me cables for my camera equipment and diet soda from the machine downstairs.

I videotaped him as a test, asking him, “Tell me Gary, what is it you really want?”


I laughed, and he laughed, and we knew that it was not a joke.

That moment led to him asking me out for a drink that night.
That moment led to me sneaking home early from work to change into a leather skirt and heels.
That moment led to me meeting him in the lobby, to walking across the street, to finding a cozy booth in the low-key college bar we both frequented.

We drank lots of Guinness, and had a few shots of whiskey, or was it scotch. He sat across from me, attentive, and reached for my hand as I smoothed out a cocktail napkin. Those warm hands were magnetic, and I couldn’t release him.

As the time passed, and the conversation grew into personal confessions, our hand-holding turned into side-by-side shoulder rubs, and eyes turning down and hair brushed aside.

We stood to walk out, and realized we’d had a few too many pints. Stumbling out the back door, he took my hand and led me across the alley to the grimy wall of the bar next door, under the crooked steel light, where many a drunk frat boy had puked or peed, where spray paint marked the passage of time with “Led Zeppelin”, and “Nine Inch Nails” overlapping the broad crooked smile of the yellow drunk smiley face logo of some local band.

Where Gary held my hands, and walked my pelvis with his pelvis against the wall…

Where Gary whispered in my ear, “I want to be with you tonight”…


Where Gary pressed against me with gentle need, and touched my cheek, my neck, my breasts…

Where Gary covered my lips with his and kissed me hard…

Where Gary covered my lips with his and my mind raced to places where flesh rolls around under sheets and on carpeted floors and sweat and screams soak the walls…

Where Gary covered my lips with his and kissed me so deep, I couldn’t say “No” when he asked me to cross the street once again, to his office, to the couch…

Where Gary and I found our own project to explore.


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