Staying silent Romance, no sex Write to the author at thedreamer1901@yahoo.co.uk It's funny how the smallest details about a person make the most vivid impression. And usually the first impressions are important for me as well. Just like the first time I met you. My very first impression of you? It was your voice - a happy voice, confident and bubbly. It was a cold evening, as you poked your head into the office that first time so as you came in, I saw your face and heard your voice. The jacket covered everything else that first time. So, I heard your voice and saw your eyes and my evening suddenly got better. Your eyes were dark and soft, and searching. They're not piercing, but lively. I never had the thought that your eyes can look right through me but I've always known they can see under the surface just a little way. It got better still when you sat down and started talking to me. Now that was going to be quite likely, bearing in mind I was the only one there at the time, but that didn't occur to me at the time. I was just pleased that you started a conversation. I'm actually not very good with new people or at starting a conversation with strangers. I shouldn't have been surprised that you were interesting, that you had opinions and wanted to share them. Do you remember? We talked about the theatre, about paintings, about oversize statues of people at the Tate (or was it undersized people?). It was enough to get me fairly well hooked anyway. The next time, it was warm, so no jacket. For the first time I saw how slender you were, how delicate your features were, how precisely your shape had been carved. Now, I try not to let appearances rule my thoughts too much, but... how can I say this without sounding crass.... you looked delicious. That was when I knew there was no hope. I was caught. And the conversation was great once again. It's easy to talk to you. I loved to make you smile so I could see your face light up. I loved to hear you tell me you're not at all girly, in that girly voice you use once in a while. And to hear you say those sweet things that make you sound so vulnerable makes me feel like I haven't felt in years. That's how it started. And we end up spending evenings together, doing the most boring job in the world, and I loved every minute of it. You talked of your children with a pride that had you almost fit to burst. We talked of past relationships. We talked of how strong we both are now that we have moved on with our lives. We talked of the pain of the past. And we let each other know how lonely we were without ever uttering the words. We talked about anything and everything. In unguarded moments, we opened our hearts to each other in such pureness of friendship. These are the days we got to know each other and to find out what we were like below the surface. These were the days that I fell in love. It's a quiet time, when you fall in love. It's the time you smile to yourself because you have a happy dilemma: Do you shout it to the world or hold the secret close to yourself? Perhaps saying it out loud would be tempting fate. So I stay silent. The atmosphere was filled with expectation in those few days - something was ready to happen. I can still feel your touch as we sat together. Your fingers brush my arm, to guide it as we work together, to make a point perhaps, to take something from my hand. The feel of your hand against mine was electric. It was inevitable that something would happen. It was beyond my dreams that something would happen, but one night, it did. The first kiss, a chaste one, left me that night wishing I could feel your cheek again while I was alone. A few nights later, the goodnight kiss lingered a little longer and the hug was a little tighter than before. "Very tempting" you whispered. "yes you are" was my reply. Was that the opening of the flood gates? No, of course not. We are both far too sensible for that to happen. The passion that followed was tempered by thoughts of families at home. Knowing that whatever happens, we both have children to be protected and to be loved more than anything else. But for that one night, I felt you and touched you with my skin brushing yours. We exchanged caresses and teased each other and kissed each other. I sank into the softness of your skin while I traced your shape with my fingers and felt the delicate form that makes you who you are. We lay together, my chest against yours. I can't get over how it made me feel as I touched your arms, your shoulders, your back and your breasts. I believed that night that I had found treasure. Even in the deep blackness of the night, you sparkled. I wanted nothing more than to see you and touch you and keep kissing you.. Oh how we teased each other. "What do you want", you asked me. "Everything that you want to share" was my reply. And I wanted all of you, not for the night but for the future. "We shouldn't be doing this" we told each other and I told you how important our friendship is. I told you that I would never want to do anything to harm our friendship and I meant it. I truly meant it that night. For once, I said something in a passionate moment that I really meant. The moment was erotic and sensuous and yet, affection was more important than lust. I still feel that way; friendship is precious, especially when it's yours. But how I wished that I could have more. I wanted to shout at you, to tell you that I want more than friendship, that I want all of you and I wanted to give myself to you, wholeheartedly. I couldn't do it. Far too sensible you see. I must make sure that we don't hurt each other or hurt our families. You tell me that in romance, it's all or nothing for you and I agree with you but inside, I cry out that I want you. But I stay silent, because I don't want to embarrass myself and I don't want to embarrass you either. I don't want you to have to tell me I have the wrong idea or that you don't feel the same about me. I don't want to do anything that might lose this friendship. From out of nowhere, you appeared in my life and you got under my skin without any effort. I can't take the risk that you will laugh if I tell you my real feelings, so I stay silent. "We can never expect more than this" you tell me quietly as the first light of dawn dilutes the darkness. Without so much as a tear in my eye I agree happily with you and tell you that I don't care if nothing else happens, that I have a memory to treasure. How wrong I was. For a moment, I was as happy as I could ever imagine being. Now I have a memory that torments me. A glimpse at what might have been but for two people being sensible, making sure the families are protected from the passion. Somehow, we go back to what we were before but we both know it can never be the same. At the end of another evening at the studio, you slip out of the door quietly with a smile, avoiding the kiss that I hope will come. So, I want to ask the questions now: Why did you let me in so briefly? Did I do something wrong that night? Or later? Was it just curiosity that led you to that night? To see if you could attract a man with such ease? Or perhaps, do you feel about me the way I feel about you? Are you hurting as much as I hurt? I want to ask all of the questions that run through my mind continually. But I don't. I don't want to put you on the spot and make you answer when you don't want to. Perhaps even more than that, I don't ask because I don't want to hear the answer that tells me you don't feel the same way. I don't ask in case you decide that we cannot be friends if I have that much feeling for you. So I stay silent and hope you call. Never have I waited so intently for a phone call. At work, I look for your name on the phone as it starts to ring and I curse the person who has dared to make me think you might call. Is it only two days since I was with you for the last time? It feels like weeks but I can still see you with me, feel your touch against me and smell your aroma. Your voice is still in my ears while I sit in the quiet of the night, hoping that you will call. It's just gone 1 in the morning and I sit here expecting the phone to ring, knowing that you would never dream of calling at this time. It's easier than going to bed. In the darkness of the bedroom, I will be dazzled by your image. I shall sleep soon enough, to pass the rest of the night in relative peace. I can wake p refreshed once more and realise that things aren't so bad after all. Today will be the day you call. I can't call you right now. It wouldn't be proper to pester you, to impose myself on you and disrupt your day. So I stay silent and hope. Comments? Write to the author at thedreamer1901@yahoo.co.uk