Three years. Three years is how long I’ve spent secretly admiring you. The reason I’ve not been able to share my desire for you? Our positions. The fact that you were my boss and the obvious thirty-year age gap. There have been so many times that I have wanted to tell you how incredible you really are. How kind, intelligent, caring, and charismatic. How I love the little bit of slump of your shoulders and picture your arms outstretched pushing yourself down my mouth, how I love how lean your fingers are and how I visualize them slipping in and out of me night after night, or how it makes me sad that you’re color blind and can’t appreciate how incredibly gorgeous your big blue eyes are.
I’ve spent all week nervous about your coming over. What would this dinner be like with you? We’ve gotten together a few times before without anyone else, but I’ve never quite known how you felt. I’ve spent too much time over-analyzing the words that you’ve said trying to figure out if there was a possibility of our ever being together. We’ve mentioned an age gap in a relationship, and we both agreed that the physical would be the only common interest between such a wide age gap. But, there’s something that I can tell you’re attracted to in me. I don’t know how you’re attracted to me, but I know that on some level you are.
You’re about to arrive for dinner, but, if there’s any of this evening that is up to me… this is how the evening will go.
You’d knock on my door. I’ve moved out of the hometown and onto my own, and you’re visiting me in my new place. You show up looking clearly ecstatic to see me. The fact that you traveled here means a great deal to me. You’re clean-shaven, and wearing a dress shirt tucked into khakis that make your 50 something year old ass look wonderful and tight. The smile you’re sporting is the smile that I crave that makes me feel like I am the only person in the world. You take off your shoes as you come in, and I find this as a sign of your respect toward and comfort with me.
I already have dinner cooking and am about a glass of wine in already. I offer you some wine, and you accept. As I reach up to grab a glass from the cupboard, I see your reflection in the window looking at me. Taking me in. It excites me to have your eyes on me, and it makes me feel like there is indeed a type of animal passion inside of you that longs for me.
As we sit down to dinner, we talk about everything and anything. Our conversation reaches from the world of education, to love, to politics, and to religion. We surprisingly have similar views on all of the above, which is odd considering I am 22 and you are 55. I am not sure if this means that I am mature for my age or that you hold some sort of youthfulness inside of you. Maybe some of both.
Dinner goes well, and as we began to do the dishes, the heat from the water, the hot summer night, and my blush for you makes my body temperature too much to handle. I take off my shawl exposing myself in just a tank top. I can see your eyes travel down from my eyes to my mouth and to my open neck. As I reach to grab some dishes from the table and turn back to the sink, I hear you step behind me and feel your presence behind me.