I guess I grew up with only one way of thinking about sex: “Make the first move.” Kind of like laying siege to a castle or something. The girl is supposed to act like she doesn’t really want to and then you’ve got to convince her that she does. Or the girl has to act a little shy or something. And you have to prove yourself to her. And then she gets into it.
But this was different. I was standing there in the middle of the room, we had spent all day together and had ended up back at her place near Venice Beach and I was in a nothing, mellow frame of mind. We knew we liked each other a lot — it was just a matter of “when.” So I wasn’t thinking about anything, was actually thinking about taking a piss, when she pushed me up against a wall and kissed me. Not aggressively, more like absorbing me into her aura, surrounding me with herself. The sun was setting and everything was getting dim, and in the gloom all I could see were her eyes glittering. And then she just smiled and moved in on me and I let go. I let her. I felt like my body was filled with neon and she was lighting me up.
We fell into this thing together, except we didn’t tear each other’s clothes off. No. We didn’t fall into bed. We didn’t do anything more than kiss. We just stayed in that space for a long time. And then her boyfriend showed up, so we never did have sex. I didn’t come. But it was the most intense sexual experience I’ve ever had.
Read No. 10