Discovery, hope and disappointment
Discovery, hope and disappointment: “My blog was found a couple of weeks ago, by a charming man the music teacher met for an afternoon tryst in a park in the city.
Meeting in a park for a tryst? The music teacher has come a long way in her sensual journey that began just over six months ago. But I digress…
He’d promised to bring chilled wine and glasses to their first meeting in the park so they could talk and get to know each other but it didn’t quite happen that way. It was hot and humid, and she’d walked from the station, smiling all the way because she had such hopes for this man. They seemed to be looking for the same thing, a friend with benefits, and the emails they’d exchanged during the week had her feeling excited and hopeful. She saw him stand as she approached the landmark statue and he caught her in a passionate kiss just as she said hello.
‘I hope you don’t mind but I thought that instead of bringing the wine down here, we could go to the wine. My place isn’t far.’
He took her hand and steered her towards the road. Between the kiss and the change of plans, she was feeling a little confused but I stepped in to help her out. Do you trust him enough to take the risk? She liked the way he’d taken her hand. She knew safety was never guaranteed but as had happened so often before curiosity and lust made up her mind to go with him and accept the consequences of whatever was to occur.
‘So, Amrita Jones, created in the imagination of a middle-aged music teacher, threatening to take her over.’
‘Yes,’ she laughed and and then confusion. ‘What?’ She hadn’t told him any of that.
‘I found your blog. It’s well hidden, I would never have found it if it wasn’t for your email address.’
‘Wow, I’m impressed, you’ve done your research.’ She’d forgotten about my blog but he’d found it. She was secretly pleased. And so was I. He’d been curious enough to find Amrita.
When they got to his apartment, which was just across the road from the park, he opened chilled white wine and they sat together on the leather sofa to talk for a short time before he kissed her, took her glass and caressed her breasts. I watched to see what would happen.
Would I be the observer as I was when she was mauled by that pig, Romeo? Or would I merge to experience the pleasure with her? It depended on the lover she was with. If he was a real lover and not just there for himself we’d become one, the music teacher and I, as she transforms into the sensual woman fully-expressed she so desperately wants to be. Otherwise, I watch so I can help her with the details later as she writes to process what happened and learn.
He was a lover, and she surrendered to him, so we experienced the joy together as he brought her to a gushing orgasm.
Later, sitting on the couch, he talked about the blog again.
‘Now I understand. ‘Amrita’ nectar of the gods?’
‘Full of nectar.’ They laughed and smiled with new found intimacy. ‘Again, you’ve surprised me.’
He’d more than surprised her, he was working a wedge into her heart.
‘What of your other adventures?’
She told him about Romeo. I knew she couldn’t help herself – it had been to date the most overwhelming experience she’d had, albeit the most brutal and dangerous. He watched her face as she recalled the details of that night.
‘It was obviously a very powerful experience.’ She looked at him. ‘I can see it in your face as you relive it.’
‘I learned a great deal about myself. I have written it down, everything I remember.’ I remembered it for her and helped her write the account two days after the event. ‘But I won’t allow the experience to change me or the way I’m living my life. I won’t live in fear. I’ve written about all my encounters in detail. I’ve started collecting them into a book. ‘
‘There’d be a market for that.’
‘There are things I want people to know, things I’ve discovered.’
‘Probably less of a market for that.’ I bristled a little at his statement. The insights gained from the music teacher’s awakening were precious to her but he could be right – maybe they’d be of limited interest. ‘Amrita’s blog? Just one entry. You should write more and get it out there. Nobody will find it unless you do.’
She thought about the writer’s block that had beleaguered her for months now and wondered how on earth she could do it. But I was starting to feel excited. I wanted to tell her story, just as she’d wanted to tell mine.
He made love to her again and then offered to drive her home. She didn’t want to go, but she knew it was hopeless. Men are experts at redrawing the box that redefines the boundaries of intimacy – she’d learned that. The afternoon of joy was over.
When he dropped her at the gate, he kissed her and she left happy and hopeful that she’d found the intimate continuity she’d been looking for, the friend with benefits she was allowed to call and spend time with. He was divorced and available, and for once she didn’t have to be invisible. She didn’t want to clutter his bathroom or live in his pocket, she just wanted the freedom to love him and make love with him when the mood took either of them.
But it wasn’t to be. The next day he emailed to say he was reconciling with his wife. The pain was unexpected – a week of contact and a brief encounter, but she felt it deeply. She couldn’t tell if it was him or what he represented that had touched her. In many ways it didn’t matter – moving on just took time, courage and the willingness to renew an open heart.
So here I am writing her story in my blog. A character writing the story of her creator, and there are so many stories to tell.
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