I smell like sex, and hope no one notices as I take my window seat in row thirty two on a New York bound Boeing 737. I wasn’t ready to wash him away as I was leaving, throwing things haphazardly into my suitcase while he looked on, sprawled out on the bed.
“I guess this is goodbye then?” he later said as we stood outside on the sidewalk, my cab driver putting my luggage in the trunk.
“It is. I had a wonderful time.” I stood on my tiptoes and kissed his cheek, avoiding eye contact as I climbed into the cab. I hate goodbyes.
A large man in a gray suit stuffs himself into the middle seat and a frail elderly woman takes the aisle. I am pressed against the wall, wanting what little personal space I have left, ready to spend eight hours in that space of not here but not quite there.
I stay awake long enough to feel us ascend during take-off. I shut my eyes, desperate for sleep, but all I could see was his face. I had spent the last day of a work trip in my hotel room fucking Hagen, the charming man I met on the Tube.
My husband, Derek will be home from work by the time I land. I wonder if he would notice my scent, if on a cellular level he would pick up on it even if he didn’t physically notice the scent of another man on my skin. I had gotten away with it before, and he didn’t detect anything, or mention it if he did. I felt invisible around him, like I could be anyone and no one at the same time.
Hagen, a tall, sinewy gentleman with hair the color of butter, clear blue eyes and a kind smile gave up his seat for me during rush hour after glancing at my three inch heels.
“Thank you.” I said, sitting, placing my overstuffed bag on my lap.
He nodded his response, a slight smile spreading across his face, our forced proximity causing his knees to brush against mine. He held on to the rail overhead, the crush of people was so dense I could barely see the doors.
We held each other’s gaze for longer than necessary and in that moment I decided I had to know what it would be like to touch him, what pressing my lips to his might feel like.
“Where you headed?” I asked.
“Earl’s Court. What about you?” he replied, swaying with the motion of the train.
“Oh! Me too.” I lied. I was heading back to my hotel room off of the Embankment stop for an early dinner and a long soak in the tub. “What are you up to?”
He said something about work, but I didn’t understand with the noise of the train, and voices around us mixing with his accent. Earl’s Court was the next stop.
“Come get coffee with me instead.” I said, standing, my body so close to his I could kiss him.
“I’d like that.” he grinned.
The fasten seat belt sign turns off. The man next to me is sound asleep, his dome-like head lolling in my direction, his lips parted, the smell of garlic escaping his mouth. I peer outside to find we’re flying through a white cloud.
I learned Hagen’s name once we exited the platform. The London sky was overcast and threatening rain.
“I’m Michelle.” I offered my hand, but he leaned in and kissed my cheek.
We decided on a tiny café a couple of blocks away from the station. Hagen and I were two of three people there. A gentleman working on a crossword puzzle with a half filled mug of coffee next to him sat by a window. We settled into a corner spot, a black coffee for him, and an espresso for me. A pistachio croissant on a delicate lavender plate sat between us.
“So you pick up strange men on the Tube do you?” he asked.
“Only ones that interest me.” I looked up from tearing the corner off of the croissant.
“I’m glad I caught your eye.”
“Me too.” I smiled.
Hagen was from Denmark and had lived in London for five years. He was a photographer, and was single. He wanted to build a boat one day and live on the water somewhere in Greece.
I told him about the fashion magazine I edited in New York, how I was from Connecticut, and that I was not single.
“Your husband? What does he do?” Hagen asked, propped on his elbows, his eyes studying mine.
“Accounting. He’s good with numbers.” I said before taking a sip of my espresso.
“How long have you been married?”
“Almost eleven years.”
“Long time.” he wrapped his large hands around his coffee mug.
“Tell me about it.” I sighed.
“You are unhappy?”
“No. Yes. I don’t know. It’s complicated. I love him, but it’s different. He’s so familiar now, that I can’t imagine my life without him and yet, I want to disappear. I feel like I already have, like he doesn’t really see me.”
“Why do you stay?”
“Convenience I guess.” I polished off my espresso.
“And that’s good enough for you?”
“You have a better idea?” I raised an eyebrow.
He kissed me once we were outside. Long and full, his tongue urgently mixing with mine, his hands pressed into my back. I invited him to my hotel.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, the captain has turned on the fasten seat belt sign.” The flight attendant’s high pitched voice breaks my reverie. “We’re expecting some rough air in a few minutes.”
I take a deep breath and chew on my thumb nail. My mind’s eye returns to Hagen in my hotel room. I can almost feel his fervent kisses here now, making me feel more alive than I have felt in years.
I continue gnawing on my nail, as my lips curl into a smile while tears flood my eyes. I feel like a day where the sun is shining and rain is falling at the same time. I want to jump out of the plane and swim back to England, while simultaneously wishing this had never happened. Or better yet, that I had never gotten married in the first place.
The turbulence kicks in, shaking us. I try to blink back the tears but they spill out of my eyes anyway. I wipe them away quickly.
Hagen undressed me slowly, delicately, like I was something worth savoring. I stood there and let his hands and eyes consume me instead of racing to get him out of his clothes. I watched him marvel at the curve of my shoulder, the heaviness of my breasts and the expansion of my ribcage with each article of clothing he removed.
“You’re gorgeous.” he whispered once I was bare, the expanse of my olive skin a sharp contrast to his pale skin peeking from his clothed body.
I smiled my appreciation and lowered my eyes reaching for his shirt, planning to remove it. He took my hands, and kissed my knuckles before saying “I want to taste you first.”
He knelt, planting a gentle kiss on my pubic bone. He pressed his tongue against my crevice and pushed against my clit. I raked my fingers through his hair, my knees threating to collapse.
He dragged his tongue back and forth from the base of my pubic bone all along my slit and back again. I wanted more and pushed my hips forward to increase the pressure.
Hagen slid his hands over my ass then dug his fingers into my flesh as he split me open. A guttural moan slipped from my mouth as I pulled his hair, the pleasure almost too much to take. He licked me like he was going after ice cream on a cone. I looked down at him, at the top of his blonde head bobbing between my legs, at my fingers buried in fistfuls of hair.
I leaned against the wall, but kept my hips in place, my body staying in contact with his tongue as he followed me on his knees. I wrapped a leg around him, pulling him into me. He dipped his tongue inside of my cunt, opening his eyes to meet mine.
I sucked my fingertips and pressed them to my clit, rubbing it as he grinned. He matched my speed, the warmth of his tongue against my fingers mixed with the wetness of my arousal turned me on even more.
I thought of Derek, of how I hadn’t felt desirable in so long, about going the rest of my life with these little trysts with people I’d meet here and there. Was it enough? Was receiving teaspoons of sweetness from this one and that one enough to sustain me forever?
My orgasm was building up to an eruption at a snail’s pace. The contractions were subtle at first, announcing their arrival like a barely audible knock on a door. I kept at it, steadily rubbing myself while he lapped at me. I couldn’t believe I had gone so long without this kind of pleasure.
“I want you to come.” Hagen said, his lips brushing against me.
“I will.” I replied, feeling drunk with desire.
He stroked me with his tongue, gradually increasing the pressure and speed until I felt my body let go, convulsions shooting through me with such intensity that I didn’t care how loud I was as I cried out, my voice a crescendo of sounds as my body tensed and relaxed over and over until everything inside of me was quiet. Read more »