The Truth of the Matter

5. London Calling

June 2013

We had gotten comfortable enough with each other to enjoy hot and heavy make out sessions on my couch or on my bed; sweaty dry humping, under the clothes groping, and oral sex. It was more fun  with someone who actually wanted to fool around and not simply finish like some of the guys I had seen off and on in college or some of the less than awesome dates I had been on recently.

My first orgasm at the hand of another person in over a year had happened by accident. His body moving against me like waves, hands cupped around my breast while we kissed sloppily. The pleasant pressure took me by surprise and toppled me over the edge quickly. I had bit his lip so hard he had a bruise for a week after. It made me smile anytime I thought about it when he wasn't around.

I didn't have a reason for not having sex yet. I wasn't contracted by some religious rule. I trusted him, and I was more than ready myself. But it just didn't happen, each time something would cause us to back off. I knew that this wasn't fair to him, and it really wasn't fair to me either. It was completely arbitrary and nonsensical.

I had been pondering whether or not to bring this up to him because I was worried that I would lose him if I didn't make some kind of move soon. He didn't seem to be that shallow, but I had been led astray before. I didn't want this to be a big deal, but I was blowing it out of proportion in my hamster wheel of a brain.

Molly was exasperated with me by this point. Every time that Quinn came over she would make it a point to embarrass me in front of him, as if that would somehow move the process along. Peer pressure could be incredibly effective.

However, he began to expect her off the cuff remarks and now offered quick comebacks to whatever she said. When he knocked on the door my heart was thumping faster than a marching band.

He was always well dressed and put together and tonight was no different with his emerald green collared cotton shirt, khaki pants, and light jacket tossed over his arm.

He smiled really wide, greeting me happily

"Good evening love" swooping in for a long kiss on the mouth.

"I have to talk to you about something" he told me as he walked in the door and took off his shoes.

I swallowed and nodded, fearing the worst: the break up speech.

"Oh God, what did I say? You look like you're about to vomit?" he hurriedly asked, looking incredibly concerned, glancing around the room presumedly for a waste basket.

I squeezed his hand

"It's just when people say 'we need to talk' it's like, really bad and or relationship altering. Sends me into a tizzy every time."

He kissed my forehead

"I do know how much you hate going into a tizzy."

He wasn't wrong. We sat down on the couch and he began

"Remember how I told you that I spend two weeks every summer with my mother?"

I shook my head yes and he went on

"Well, this year, I wanted to do something a little different. Want to know what it is?"

I replied acerbically

"Nope, just leave me here in ignorance."

He clicked his tongue at me and kept on as if I hadn't been snarky

"I wanted to give you a gift, not only for making my life immeasurably better in the last eight months, but because you deserve a break. In a month, I am going to London to visit my family and I want you to go with me. Will you be able to?"