I was happy, a little excited even, to provide a night of lodging to Rod,
the fellow from the home office, upstate. We had been working together on
the new facility design for months.
He was gorgeous and I enjoyed the few opportunities I had to be with him
outside of the office -- lunches and on one occasion a late night cocktail at
my apartment.
Not wanting to put him off or give him the wrong idea, I offered to sleep
on my couch. Rod laughed looking at the loveseat that I called a couch. Not
necessary, he said.
I didn't dare assume anything from his casual observation that my king
size bed looked like it could easily accomodate more than just the two of us.
I crashed early, freeing the bathroom for my guest and creating what
privacy I could by my sleep.
I lay quietly for over an hour before I heard him snap off the t.v. and
come in to the bedroom. He stood in the doorway, framed from behind by the
light in the bathroom and gently illuminated from the front by the lamp near
my closet. I feigned sleep, watching him closely through thin, veiled slits.
I don't know if I was hoping to see him undress, maybe, yes, that was a
hope but one that I wouldn't let get too high. He peeled off his slacks,
shrugged out of his shirt and stepped out of his sleek briefs. My throat
tightened. God, he looked terrific.
He pulled a dacron night shirt over his head adjusting it around his hips.
After a few moments in the bathroom the light went out and he padded across
the room. I felt the bed adjust itself as he lowered himself gently, even
cautiously, into bed. It was clear he though I was asleep. Minutes passed,
maybe an hour, I couldn't tell. His breathing slowed, went deep and more
quiet. Eventually I drifted off, too, full of notions and feelings that I
refused to try and articulate for fear of what I might find.
At some point I was wakened by Rod's movement . I was still lying in the
same narrow corridor of the bed that I had clung to before sleep fell over
me. But Rod had moved. His body cradled--mirrored--mine so that we were
lumped together like spoons. His right arm was draped across my hip, but
other than that we weren't touching. But, the movement I had felt was a
snuggling as Rod insinuated his body against mine.
I could feel him pressing against my rear. I was frightened. What if he
woke and thought I had arranged myself this way? I tried to roll out from
under his arm but it got heavier and his muscles tensed.
"You don't have to move unless you want to, Jo," he murmured.
"Umh," I grunted back, trying to sound as sleepy as possible.
Now what.if I didn't move? I'd be telling him something about me that I
wasn't certain of myself. If I did move I'd not have a chance to, well, to
find out what I could about my private thoughts and feelings. It felt like
it was up to me. I stirred but made no clear effort to get free.
"Do you want to move away," he asked in the same low voice.
"I don't know, I guess, ...I guess I don't know," I stammered. "I guess it
doesn't matter as long as you're comfortable," I said, trying to put it back
on him...
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