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