I met Trisha at a music industry event. My buddy is a writer and producer, and was getting an award for a song he’d worked on that went to number one on the Canadian charts. The ceremony was at a small hall, with maybe a hundred or so guests. Most of them were industry types, with a few friends and family scattered in.

I went by myself. I knew my friend would be too busy schmoozing to hang out with me, but I used to work in music publishing, so I thought maybe I’d run into some people I hadn’t seen in a while. As it turned out, most of the ones I knew had moved on to other jobs and new lives. So I was pretty much on my own.

Trisha was the first person I saw when I walked in. I opened the door, and she was in the foyer, right in front of me at coat check. She was wrestling with her coat, trying to get it off while holding a handbag in one hand and a small gift in the other.

“Can I give you a hand with that?” I asked.

“Oh, thank God,” she said with a thick Caribbean accent. She glanced at a small group of guys by the entrance and added, “I was beginning to think common courtesy was dead.”

She turned her back to me and kind of shook herself out of her coat until it slid down her shoulders. I caught it and held it while she pulled her arms free, then handed it off to the coat check girl.

“It’s mad that you people live in the cold like this.” I knew she was joking, but it felt like she was testing me to see what kind of answer I’d give.

“This is early March,” I told her. “You should see what December is like.”

She looked at me like I was out of my mind.

“Where are you from?” I asked.

“Barbados. I should be home by now, but I got talked into doing some extra work when the tour ended.”

We stepped inside together and kept talking. She told me her name and that she was a backup singer, just off tour with Bryan Adams. She still had a little time left on her work visa, and Sony hired her for a few days as a vocal coach for the artist who’d just hit number one. Apparently, you can hit the top of the charts and still need singing lessons.

I thought she was beautiful the moment I laid eyes on her, but once we were inside and warmed up, I really saw it. I’m six-one, and in low heels, she was just a couple of inches shorter. She had a great body, slim, but still had curves where you wanted to see them. One of the things I remember the most about her was her skin, not just how flawless it was, but the tone of it. She had a caramel hue, which I later found out came from being biracial. Her mum was from Hong Kong, her dad from Barbados.

And it wasn’t just her physical appearance that struck me. Trisha had this presence about her that made her impossible to ignore when she walked in a room. Her charisma came through in her eyes and the warmth of her smile. If she were half as attractive as she was, she’d still draw looks.

We only got a few minutes together before some label exec came over and pulled her away, but just before she went, she looked back at me. It was no more than a quick glance over her shoulder, with a sneaky smile, but it hit me in a way that I wasn’t prepared for.

I’m usually a laid-back guy who lets things happen and accepts when they don’t, but I spent the next twenty minutes trying to figure out how to talk to her again without looking desperate. When a guy came on stage and announced that we had fifteen minutes to take our seats, I saw an opportunity.

I don’t even know what came over me, because this isn’t the sort of thing I’d ever do. But the idea popped in my head, and I just went for it.

The hall had a bunch of large tables set up, each with about ten seats. It was all assigned seating. There was a friends and family section, and another one with people grouped by company and department. Then, in opposite corners of the room, there were two tables for all the people like me who didn’t fit in anywhere else.

I walked over to my table, grabbed the name card of whoever was supposed to sit next to me, and swapped it with Trisha’s card from the other misfit table.

By the time we were supposed to sit down, she was already there when I walked up.

“Oh nice, looks like we’re together again,” I said, trying to play it cool.

She gave me a look. “Funny, because twenty minutes ago I was supposed to be sitting over there.”

She’d caught me.

“Busted,” I said. “I hope you don’t mind. I’m here on my own, and I figured you were too.”

She laughed. “Take your seat.”

There wasn’t much chance to talk during the presentations, but it didn’t take long to figure out we were on the same wavelength. Different people got up to speak, and we reacted the same way every time. Things that made other people laugh had us rolling our eyes. Then one guy got up, obviously drunk, and kept slipping these little barbed comments in that went over almost everyone’s head. Trisha and I were both trying not to lose it.

We kept trading looks and smiles like it was just the two of us in on the joke. It gave me this weird feeling, like I’d known her forever, even though we’d barely talked.

As soon as the ceremony wrapped, we turned straight to each other. I was about to say something when she beat me to it. “What was that, and why were we the only ones who got it?” She meant the drunk guy, of course. We cracked up and started quoting our favourite lines back and forth.

One by one, the rest of the table slipped away. Later, a woman I vaguely knew told me that everyone else had left because the way Trisha and I were vibing with each other made them feel like they were intruding.

I’ve never connected with anyone that fast in my life. An hour of talking with her made it feel like we had years of friendship behind us. She was stunning, no question, but the way our conversation moved, the way we joked and teased each other, it made it easy not to get hung up on how beautiful she was. She was so out of my league that I didn’t even consider hitting on her. The rejection would have been crushing. I just felt lucky she wanted to sit there and talk to me.

The only bad part of the night was finding out how soon she was leaving. The event was on a Sunday night, and her flight back to Barbados was early Tuesday. In all likelihood, that night was going to be the only time we had together.

But we didn’t let it hang over us. We just kept going, like we were old friends rekindling a friendship, not strangers starting a new one. I told her about my time working as a roadie, driving all over North America in a beat-up van, and she compared that to her life of world tours and first-class flights. She wasn’t one-upping me, we both envied the other’s experiences.

Every so often, I caught myself wondering if she was flirting or if I was imagining it. She brushed up close when she laughed, and touched my arm when she wanted to make a point. It all felt intentional, but I also thought that maybe it was just a cultural thing. That made more sense, because it just didn’t seem possible that she’d be interested in me.

After a while, she gave me a mischievous smile and said, “How upset would your friend be if you left?”

“Not at all,” I told her. “I came to support him, but he already warned me he’d be too busy to hang out.”

“Good,” she said, pushing her chair back. “Let’s get out of here.”

She was staying at the King Edward, which surprised me. It’s not only one of the priciest hotels in the city, but it’s got a matching reputation for being snooty. More rich, old white people than young Caribbean musicians.

I asked why there, and she laughed.

“Because the bar makes the best zombies in Toronto.”

“You’re telling me you booked an $800 room just for the bar?”

“It’s more than a drink. Rum reminds me of home, and I’ve been on the road for the better part of a year.”

We took a cab there, then slid into a booth in the dark wood-panelled bar. She wasn’t lying. The zombies were as strong as they were sweet, and went down easy before sneaking up on you. After a few, she had a brief change in tone and spoke in a more serious way than I’d heard all night.

“You feel it too, right?” she said. “This weird connection, like we go way back?”

I didn’t even think before answering. “I do, and it makes me wish you could stay longer.”

“I really can’t, my visa’s up. I’ve got two days left, and have to be at the airport by four in the morning on Tuesday.”

“It’s too bad.”

“A lot can happen in a night.”

Call me slow, but it wasn’t until right then that it hit me she was actually interested. I’d wondered, I’d hoped, but when she said that, I finally let myself believe it.

“Want to see what an $800 room looks like?” she asked.

That sealed it.

I paid the bill while she waited by the elevator. I couldn’t stop staring at her, and she just stood there smiling at me like she knew exactly what was going through my head. No one who looks like that isn’t aware of the effect they have on other people. I’ve never had a hard time meeting women, but nothing like this had ever happened to me, especially not with someone like her.

The elevator ride was dead quiet. We stood side by side, with her looking straight ahead, and me watching the floor numbers tick up while my mind was racing too fast to focus on anything else. My nerves were kicking in, and my heart started pounding. I prayed she didn’t notice the sweat forming on my forehead.

“Relax,” she said, putting her hand on my shoulder and whispering in my ear, “I’m going to suck your dick so good you won’t have time to be nervous.”

No one had ever said anything to me that boldly before. I turned to look at her, just to make sure I hadn’t misheard. She was smiling, nodding her head slowly, amused by how nervous I was.

When we got into her room, she didn’t pause at the door. She just kept walking straight toward the bed, dropping things as she went. Her bag hit the floor, followed by her coat. She tugged down the zipper on her dress and let it slide off her body without even stopping. She wasn’t wearing a bra underneath. When she turned to face me, she was standing there in nothing but her heels, stockings, and lace panties. That’s a sight I’ll never forget. She crooked her finger, calling me in. My knees nearly gave out.

I tore off my winter coat, and my suit jacket right after. I was fumbling with my tie, trying to get my shirt open as I moved toward her. She took a few steps closer to me, put her hands on my chest, and pushed me gently back onto the couch. I dropped into it, and she climbed on top, settling on my lap. Our mouths met right away. My tie finally came loose while she started yanking at the buttons of my shirt, like she couldn’t stand to wait for me to do it on my own.

Trisha broke our kiss and pulled back, grinning at me in a way she knew would get to me.

“I’ve got a promise to keep,” she said.

She slid down between my legs and pulled at my belt until it came free. My fly was open a second later, her hand was on me, rubbing me through my boxers. I pushed my head back against the couch and tried to catch my breath. I was nervous, and she could tell.

She pulled me out, taking me in her hand. “Don’t be so nervous,” she said, giving a little laugh. “You have a nice cock.” She looked up with wide eyes, assuring me.

I took a deep breath and nodded. It was the only thing I could do. My mouth had gone dry.

Her tongue flicked at the tip, slowly teasing me. She kissed around the head, down the shaft, and back up again. She took her time with every move she made. I think she wanted me to get used to the idea of having her mouth on me before she really started.

And then it happened. She wrapped her lips around the head and slid down, engulfing me with a warm wetness as her hand twisted at the base. I groaned louder than I meant to. She pulled off and smiled.

“You like the way that feels?” she asked.

“God, yes,” I said, more eager than I intended.

She laughed again and went back down on me. Her tongue swirled around me as she bobbed her head, still taking her time and drawing it out. I couldn’t help but watch the way her lips slid up and down, the way her cheeks hollowed. I felt my stomach tighten. I didn’t want to embarrass myself by cumming too fast, but I was already on the edge.

She really knew what she was doing. Every time I got too close, she’d pull back and stroke me with her hand and lick along the underside or kiss the head, enough to remind me of mouth but not make cum.

“Relax,” she said. “I want you to savour it. We’ve got all night.”

I wish my body would listen to her, but I was already shaking, gripping the edge of the couch, trying not to lose it too soon. She smiled at me, blew me a kiss, gave me a wink, and went down on me again, deeper this time, until I felt the back of her throat.

My hips jerked. She held me in place and moaned in a way that let me know she was enjoying it too. She pulled back for a second, still stroking me with her hand. She looked up and must have seen it on my face, the way I was biting my lip and struggling to keep it together.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I said, barely able to speak.

She went back down, sucking harder. No more teasing licks. “Oh fuck,” I groaned. Every muscle clenched, and I lost it. I came in her mouth, and she swallowed all of it while her hand kept working me until nothing was left.

When she let me go, she licked her lips. “That was a lot,” she laughed, proud of herself.

She stood up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She tugged me up from the couch and led me by the hand to the bed. She lay back against the pillows and patted the mattress beside her.

“Come join me.”

I crawled into bed and tucked my arm under her head. She rolled into me and rested her head on my chest.

“Was that good?”

“Literally the best.”

“Yeah?” She lifted her head, watching my face.

“Honestly, yes.”

“I’m glad. You deserve it.”

That hit me. I can’t get into all of my previous relationships, but hearing her say I deserved this, deserved her, even if it was only for a night, started to fix something in me I hadn’t wanted to admit was broken. All I could do was kiss her forehead, and I think she felt what I meant in it.

Before it got too heavy, she lightened the mood.

“You can return the favour by eating my pussy.”

I didn’t need to see her face. I could hear the smile in her voice. And I wasn’t going to argue. I slid my fingers under her panties and pulled them down as she lifted her ass off the bed.

I spread her thighs and went down on her, burying my face between her legs. She was already wet, and the noise she made when my tongue found her opening told me she wanted it just as much as I did.

“Ooh, that’s nice,” she moaned.

I moved slowly, running my tongue up and down, finding the spots that made her hips lift. She reached down and ran her fingers through my hair, guiding me.

“That’s it… keep going.”

I stayed there until her hips were grinding against my mouth, and she was pulling at my hair to keep me right where she wanted me. I’ve always been confident when it came to eating pussy, and after what Trisha had done to me, I was giving her my best.

I felt her thighs tremble when I lapped at her clit. I had gotten to her the same way she got to me. I felt like we were on equal ground now, and that let my nerves begin to fade away.

“I need some cock,” she panted. “Are you ready?”

I was. I pushed myself up onto my knees between her legs. My dick was pointing straight at her. When she saw it, she smiled, impressed that I’d recovered so quickly.

I expected to mount her, but Trisha stood up and crossed the room to a little writing desk by the window. She planted her hands on the wooden top, took a wide stance, and arched her back. She looked back at me with the same over-the-shoulder glance she flashed me at the event.

I moved up behind her and pressed my cock against her ass as I cupped her breasts and kissed along her neck. She moaned, pushed her hips back into me. I guided myself into her from behind.

Trisha was so tight I couldn’t hold back a loud moan when I finally pushed into her. I couldn’t believe I was inside this woman. I held her breasts in my hands, rolling her nipples between my fingers, while I started sliding in and out of her. She braced herself on the desk and rocked back into me.

“Your pussy feels incredible,” I whispered against her ear.

“Mmm… yes, baby… fuck me just like that.”

I pulled almost all the way out and slammed back in, her body jolted forward against the desk. She gasped, then pushed back harder, meeting me stroke for stroke.

“My God,” I said. “You’re so fucking hot.”

She moaned louder, her voice broke as I picked up the pace. “Oh god… right there… don’t stop.”

Sweat was running down my chest, dripping onto her back. I gripped her hips, driving into her. I lifted one of her legs until her knee was resting on the desk. She was teetering on one foot, but the new angle allowed me to push in deeper. I fucked her as hard as I’ve ever fucked anyone in my life, and she took it all.

She turned her head, breathing deeply. “Let me know when you’re going to cum.”

“I’m almost there.”

She pulled off me, spun around, and dropped to her knees in front of me.

“Cum on my face.”

I stroked myself fast, my cock wet from her and throbbing in my hand while she looked up at me, waiting. The sight of her on her knees, mouth open, with her tongue out, was enough to push me over.

“Oh Fuck—” I groaned, jerking harder.

The first spurt hit her cheek, the next sprayed across her lips, and then more, streaking her face as she smiled and held her tongue out for me.

“That’s it, baby,” she said, as her smile turned to a giggle.

I kept pumping until the last of it dripped onto her chin. My legs were shaking. She wiped a finger through the mess and licked it clean. She looked pleased with herself for how hard she made me cum for the second time.

“Aren’t you glad you offered to help me with my coat?” she said, smiling up at me with cum on her face like somehow it was her reward and not mine.

After cleaning up, Trisha and I crawled into bed. She wrapped herself around me, and I tried not to fall in love with her. Maybe I should have let it happen.

I woke up the next morning to the smell of coffee. For a second, I didn’t even know where I was, then I saw the tray on the table by the window and Trisha standing in a hotel robe.

“I had some breakfast sent up,” she said. “I’m a vegetarian, so no meat. I hope you don’t mind.”

“I don’t eat meat either,” I said, sitting up. It was another thing we had in common, without even knowing it.

We ate together in bed, passing plates back and forth. The night before came up, but only in passing.

“I hope you don’t think I’m the kind of woman who does this sort of thing all the time,” she said.

“I don’t, and neither am I,” I told her. “If this was a one-night stand, it was my first.”

She gave me a look. “Is that what you think this was?”

“No, I hope not. I just meant that your flight is tomorrow.”

The reality of that hung in the air, and we both felt it. I told her I needed to run back home to change and feed my dog. I hesitated before asking if I could come back and spend the day with her.

“Of course,” she said, without a second thought. “I wouldn’t want to spend the day any other way.”

The rest of that day still feels like a blur when I think back on it. We walked through the shops downtown. I took her up the CN Tower so she could see the city from above. It wasn’t until we got to the glass floor on the sky deck that we admitted to each other that we were both terrified of heights. Later, we had dinner at one of Susur Lee’s restaurants.

Saying goodbye that night came too easy, maybe because I was convinced we’d meet again. We walked the streets of Toronto for hours, holding hands and talking. Our wandering eventually brought us near the train station. I had my way home, and she had a line of cabs waiting to take her back to her hotel. I gave her a kiss, and she squeezed my hand when she said goodbye. And that was it.

We kept in touch for a while. Phone calls, Facebook messages, little check-ins here and there. But as time went on, the calls came less often, the messages slowed, and eventually they stopped. Her Facebook profile hasn’t been updated in years, and the last message I sent her is still sitting there, unread. At some point, her number changed, and she didn’t give me the new one. I know she did one more world tour with Rihanna, then settled down in LA. Her social media went silent around then. That was about eight years ago.

Trisha isn’t the one that got away. We lived in different worlds. But for twenty-eight hours, those worlds overlapped, and it was enough to remind me I was worthy of more than I thought. She helped me let go of the weight I’d been carrying from old relationships. I don’t know where she is, what her life looks like, or if she thinks about me at all. But to this day, I smile every time I pass by the King Edward.