Nora was a young woman I was fairly sure was a lesbian the first time I saw her. She was thinnish and had a way of looking at
everyone around her like she was watching for some injustice. She didn't seem to spend a lot of time decorating herself like women usually do. Not that she needed to, but most women seem confident only when they do. Nora wore stylish, but understated clothes, and had an almost male bearing. So in my mind, I had already classified her.
I met her at a Buddhist meeting in Davis. One of those evenings with a talk and an introduction to meditation that seem to attract mostly women. Buddhism seems to have an exotic appeal to people who are still searching for meaning in life. Attending this was a good way for me to get out and not sink into loneliness and depression.
I had meditated off and on since I was a teenager. Not much through the middle years of my life, while raising kids, working, and taking care of a house, but since my divorce and the kids being on their own, I was trying to get back into the habit. I am 54. Hopefully, this is still my midlife—I’m not really ready to slide into home plate yet a declare the game over.
Nora was sitting in the front on a mat, looking eager and as if she already knew that Buddhism was the right path for her. I thought it a bit smug. The previously enlightened seeking confirmation. I didn't like her for it, but it's my philosophy to try to love people no matter what I thought of them. But I didn't sit anywhere near her.
The room filled, sort of. Maybe 13 people. Mostly women, half students and half moms in their thirties wanting the night off from the kids and some greater meaning in their lives. Good luck with that! A few weird men, the kind who will always have big theories about life, but never, ever, understand it. I felt a little sad for them.
That nights leader was a woman my age or maybe even a little older. Its hard to tell when they have long wavy gray hair and dress like a spiritual hippie. She could have been 49ish or 60. She did have charisma though, a beaming smile and an inclusive loving vibe. I'll bet that she sells real estate for a living. Her name was Claire.
She started out talking about the long history of the search for answers and the influence Buddhism had on more recent religions, and even mentioning the rumors that "our very own Jesus" may well have spent some of his undocumented years in the east searching for enlightenment. Wow. Uh, yea, ok. The group was eating it up. Its sad that the people who most need and want answers run into people who are willing to suggest them to them. What they really need is for all their already programed answers to be stripped away and them be gently set on a path to find them for themselves with some very simple tools.
Meditation is such a tool, if not fucked up with a lot of shit ideas about what it is, and what to do, and what to expect. You sit. You breath. You notice. You try your damnedest not to do anything else. Its hard. Almost impossible sometimes to do no more than notice your thoughts, to stay out of them and just be with them. And then if you succeed at that, you then have the next level which is to just let the thoughts stop. You can't stop them, you have to let them stop all on their own. I've been there. A few times. But I understand why the monks in Tibet retreat for their whole lives. Maybe they have that state for an hour a day everyday. And there is probably a step beyond that, that is not yet in my conception. Maybe some universal connection, oneness with the cosmic consciousness.
I'd be happy just to stop thinking for a few minutes every day. And on good days I do.
Claire did what I hate, say; "OK now everyone introduce yourself and say a little bit about why you are here." Fuck. I hate that. I usually make up something smart assed or fake. On time when I was a boy scout in that situation, I introduced myself as "Frank James" "Jesse's brother". Nobody got it, people called me Frank and were confused when I also answered to my real name. I felt stupid, but fuck them if they are too stupid to know basic American mythology!
The women all clapped for each others story of who they were and what they were looking for. Women are like that, all about being connected and supportive and inclusive. Makes them good child raisers and culture builders. Not so good thinkers.
Nora said she was a student and she didn't know, she was here to find out. Score one for the bitch. I'm sure she has a lot of already decided ideas, that I am sure would fit perfectly in what she already decided buddhism was and wasn't. But she was smart enough that she wasn't going to say what they were, and then look stupid later when everyone found out the truth about life. And thats what its all about isn't it? Finding the truth?
I already know. The truth. The truth is….drumroll please…..there is no truth. Only things you know and things you don't. And if you added up all the things you and every person who ever lived, knows and knew, and all the things that they didn't, and never will, added them all up….then you would be getting close to the truth. Just close. That's what I know. And don't know too.
My turn, I said "I'm here to pick up on the hot little college chickies and find enlightenment, in that order". Twitters, a few coughs, a "thank you for that" from Claire, and the most delicious icy, hate filled stare from Nora. My heart warmed. At least there was a lot of life in her, even if expressed as such pure resentment that she could have shut down most men with half of it.
The evening went on as it would, progressing into some simple instruction in meditation and a 15 minute "practice". It was dumbed down Vipassana, sit and concentrate on the breathing at a point just below your nostrils. Just try to be there and let it happen and notice your thoughts, but try not to engage them. "Try not, do" (yoda). Sure it would work, they would get relaxed and feel great and benefit from it. Even take that into their lives and be able to then examine their lives from a calmer place. But it was the just baby's beginning steps on a long road that always seemed to circle back to beginnings and never arrive. Like the truth, an illusion quested for but never achieved until you understood that you never would. And could be happy with that.
At the end Claire came up to me being chatty. I wondered if she was single. I wondered if she was gray "down there" too. Nora joined us and gave me a stern look. "You know, I know your were just joking about picking up girls, but some of the young WOMEN here are sensitive to that kind of thing, and it makes it hard to have the proper experience if you are flippant."
I smiled. I said "I wasn't joking. Would you like to have coffee with me?" And I gave her an intentionally smarmy creepy smile and let my eyes wander down.... Not long enough for her to call me on it, just enough to let her know I was a man. I thought she was going to puke! Too funny. So serious and passionate! Then I smiled at her more normal and said "Just joking" "But I'd really like coffee?"
Claire said “yea me too, lets go!” and Nora, probably thinking she would save Claire from me, said OK. Silly Girl. Fell right into my trap. I don't know why I was playing with her, maybe just because I could. We went to Mishka's, because well, its fair trade and organic and solar. Hard to find parking of course, but it was a weeknight so all three of us found places within a block for our cars
Claire and Nora jabbered away, justice this and loving heart that, and I just sat and listened. Smiling when either seemed to want recognition for their wonderfulness, frowning when life's indignities were mentioned. Coffee was good. Lots of cuties in clothes their dads would feel uncomfortable with, wandering in and out looking for love and advertising sex.
It reached its natural conclusion in an hour, after Claire and Nora had bonded as spiritual beings in search of common spiritual stuff. Nora was not so hostile seeming, but Claire seemed even more interested. I ignored the almost subtle signs. The willingness to smile and have eye contact, the posture that says "if your interested…"
Nora said "You're not so bad a guy really, just your jokes are a little old fashioned." I smiled at her like I agreed. I had pretty much not said a thing the whole time, just sat there being not so bad a guy, and listened and responded politely. I wondered if she shaved, "down there".
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Next Tuesday's (Tuesdays and Thursdays 7pm to 9pm, with a half hour socializing and set up before hand, and please devote at least 45 minutes a day at home...) satsang started with 15 minutes of silence, then Claire (and on subsequent evenings other enlightened folk) would talk for maybe a half hour and take questions or reports, (too much if you ask me) and then a break and then almost an hour of meditation. To me talk spoiled it. It put stuff into your head that would swirl around for the whole next hour. Like does the MILF in front of me realize I can see her Victoria Secrets® "5 for $25" panties tops? Or does Claire really think it is important to try to use Hindu words for concepts, when it just confused and isolated people to have them presented that way?
The MILF in front of me was Michelle, married to a guy who worked at the University rearranging knowledge. Post Doc, but not tenure track. She had two kids and a Prius she seemed overly proud of; "I parked my Prius under a Mulberry tree, I hope it doesn't get dirty". Yes, well I parked my pickup on the street, I don't give a fuck. But she was earnest, you could see that she needed to get out of the house and be with grown ups or she would probably go insane. I was nice to her. People with kids need people to be nice to them or their personal shit would build up from stress and get on their kids. Don't want shitty kids.
Michelle wore those yoga pants that give women a camel toe, and I loved that about her. I mean she had to have looked in a mirror. Women always do. She must think, "well I deserve to be a little sexual after all I have gone through, even if it just to have my VULVA noticeable". Thats the sort of subconscious dialog I imagine women having, but not consciously acknowledging.
It was a nice vulva, not all puffy from fat, probably well trimmed or shaved from the way it separated so nicely. She probably had gym time on her schedule, though she still had a bit of tummy and thighs that will never again be like the little college chickies in the class. She wore a long baggy top that covered her camel toe anyway, so it wasn't like she was being slutty. Yea. Don't get me started on women.
Chloe was the "college chickie" I had my eye on. She sat on the other side from me. Probably subconsciously wanting to be away from the less cool MILFs and creepos that reminded her of a bad version of her grandpa. She was maybe 5'4" but probably 5'3", with a cute button face, big green eyes, a good blond dye job, clothes that said mom and dad were so proud of her and wanted her to have the very best, and the same kind of yoga pants as Michelle except she was so tiny I wondered if she still shopped in the little girls section. She looked 15. She knew how to wear a thong that didn't show toe or panty lines. Cutest little butt this side of a baby, and a perky enthusiasm and earnestness, with a sweet naiveté and innocent friendliness.
Nora had seen me saying hi to her and asking if she was a student at Davis. Like she could be anything else, but a good way to start a conversation. "Whats your major?" I asked. "I don't know yet, I'm a freshman and I don't have to declare for a while, but I think I want to be a writer or a teacher" she said. Nora swooped in and joined the conversation, "I'm a philosophy/political science major, so that means I'll probably be teaching too!" Stay away from the little cutie, lesbo, I was thinking. Let her at least get burned by love for a man before you start in on her.
We had a good satsang, milf's reporting almost ecstatic experiences from the effects of having a few brief moments of inner silence, nerd guy having a new theory of god, and Claire read us a bit of Alan Watts before the evenings main meditation, like “Zen does not confuse spirituality with thinking about God while one is peeling potatoes. Zen spirituality is just to peel the potatoes.” The kind of thing that minds don't do so well at being logical about, and so breaking thought. I used to love Zen stuff, reading it, ironically, rather than being it, but useful still.
My meditation went well, close to still, and expansive, feeling the whole room and other consciousness's in it, and feeling that they all were on the same track. Sometimes group meditation is like that and that is why I go. Other times its like noisy sniffing shuffling minds on speed, in too stuffy a room. Not tonight. I was buzzed when Claire ever so gently tapped on the bell and we all turned out minds back up and opened our eyes and stretched and smiled. I took my time folding my mat and getting my bag and smiling at the others and chitting here and chatting there. I was hanging back on the side of the room just enjoying the buzz.
Claire looked at me expectantly a couple of times, but I avoided holding her gaze, and just smiled and looked away. I know what she wanted; me, interested in her. I don't know if I have any romance left in me, and thats what they want. They being the vagina'ed. I didn't want to play that right now. If she wanted to screw, fine, say so. But I don't need a housekeeper, cook, life mate, soul mate, wifey person in my life. Maybe each of those things except cook, but not all together in one person who would then be the focus of my life and bring all kinds of expectations into it. Not for a while anyway. And I like to cook myself.
Claire sort of announced that she was going to coffee and Nora jumped on it and Michelle too and Chloe sort of shyly included herself with the group, and Nerd boy of god too. I didn't jump on it, and made like I was going to sneak out. But Nora called me out, "Hey, scared of us!? We won't make you open your heart chakra or anything!" OK, I was in. Her heart chakra was pretty tight itself and maybe I could have some fun putting her into the position of a little more vulnerability than she liked to show.
We piled into a couple of cars and went to coffee.
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Usually its booze that brings out the life story stuff. Here it was that feeling you have when you all shared something, in our cases, our just completed meditation. It had been real good. Surprising for a beginners group. Michelle was the first to venture into private territory, mentioning how she seldom gets to do "her" stuff, like being at coffee with people who are not other moms or joint friends of her and her husband. That lead to some philosophical stuff about sublimating ones life to the larger goals of family, and then to the idea of a woman losing herself in her marriage and losing the passion in the process.
Sort of that the passion, came from her as an individual, but the more she submerged in the group dynamic of family, the less individual self and less passion she had, and it was taking its toll on her marriage, sex becoming irregular, affection being replaced with expectations. "You are this to me, and that, and as long as that holds up, our marriage is good" when really it should be this continually created thing between two individuals, who were continuing to grow as themselves. And appreciating the growth in others. Tears and almost a sob as she sort of realized this about herself and her situation, and what she was losing. Lucky there were other women to say the right things and bring her back to her coffee and us, and not some blue funk.
I think meditation sort of suspends stuff, and then when its over and things start to move again, sometimes its not the same linear continuum that you were on before. Hope her husband is supportive.
Claire jumped in with her story, trying to make Michelle feel better, but really who wants to hear how great love is, from someone who has been married two times? She made it sound like two great romances, but it didn't seem to occur to her that their failure was their ultimate measure. At least in the context of woman think, "fidelity" and "commitment".
Claire's first husband had been in real estate like she was and they had an office together and made money and raised kids, but it dried up in the mid stages of kid raising. Somewhere where young Michelle intuitively knew she was headed. They both came out of it financially good, and "We are still friends". Yea. In other words he's happy to be free of it, not you, but just the marriage.
Her second marriage was a little sketchier sounding. He as a business man, who just happened into a bit of bad luck in the time coinciding with their marriage. "He had these wonderful ideas" "But he was just ahead of his time and couldn't get the funding". It was only two years, but probably all her accumulated wealth, before it was over. She glowed about how he gave her foot massages and bought flowers and "those little things girls like so much". I gather he was well equipped too, although she was coy and careful not to be crude. Romance as rationalization for being used. Her freedom's price, loneliness. Both unacknowledged and unsaid.
Nerd boy didn't have much to offer, he hadn't found someone special just yet. Get a haircut boy and man up and talk to women by listening to them and not by telling them how good you are at World of Warcraft, or how rich you are going to be someday. He was hopeless in my eyes except for those fat goth girls that seem to love skinny nerds because they were the only men that would have anything to do with them.
Nora surprised me with a tight true feeling story. Guy and girl in love in high school, he gets scholarship to play college baseball in Iowa, long distance thing for a while, he breaks his throwing arm riding bitch on his buddies motorcycle on a night of drinking and his dreams are over. He forgets her, quits school, enlists in the marines, and gets himself IED'd in Iraq.
So not leso, just broken. She must be strong like a man inside, strong defined as able to keep it down without too much to drink or crying to friends. Like me. Namaste Nora, I see the god in you as I am in me. Didn't say that though. You don't do that to other guys.
Me? Wife left me after 20 years for a guy with a Walnut ranch out by Winters and I don't really know what else. I hadn't been a bad person, not bitter like I am now. I thought we were happy. I remembered our anniversary almost every time, loved the kids, worked hard. Yea, I had a couple of times when I was tired and didn't get as hard as I should for long enough, but she always seemed to understand and never made an issue of it. Maybe it was just change, the difference, the newness of a new man. She wouldn't ever say. I caught them together having lunch, but didn't question them then and there, but when she came home that night, she said it was over and she wanted a divorce. And that was that.
We had killed the buzz throughly with all the talk, although Claire tried to keep it light and reminded everyone about Thursday and a special guest. We all walked out into the night. Claire and Michelle and Nora were headed for Claire's car and said "come on Chloe, we've got room for one more" Nerd boy was walking.
Chloe said she would walk too, because she lived on campus and it was a nice night to walk. I could see Nora watching and taking her time getting into the car, not wanting to abandon Chloe to the possible moves I may put on her. But then they left and Chloe hadn't quite started off. I walked over to my truck and was about to get in, but she was still lingering, so I said, "sure was a buzz kill, all that talk!" She said " yea." Silence. I said "makes a man think about drinking". She had a sad smile, and said "a girl too".
After a moment I said "I know your underage and all, but I've got a bottle of wine at home, and if you want to talk, I won't rape you". She laughed and came over to my truck, let herself in, and plopped down in the passenger seat like she'd been there before.
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First thing out of her mouth as we started to my place was "you remind me of my dad". Great. Best rape preventative I had ever heard. She was tiny anyway, and even younger acting than my youngest daughter. You're safe kiddo, I thought. Delectable, but safe.
I turned the lights on and let the cat out. The cat my wife had wanted but never cleaned up after. Wanted until it was time to split to live with a "dog" man. Mine now and my best friend.
I was worried she couldn't drink a red, but I had a pretty smooth Petite Sirah that I had been saving for what I don't know, and she was fine with it. Even sniffing at it and swirling it and making appropriate ummmm sounds. Life is way to short for bad wine, even if you need to drink. I had a box of crackers and got out some cheese and a cutting board and knife and sat next to her on the couch. We nibbled and snacked and talked about innocuous stuff, her school, life in the peoples republic of Davis, Facebook.
After a couple of glasses and a lull, she turned to me and said "your story is like mine". Cute kid but I doubt it. She said "My boyfriend and I were great in high school, went to the proms, spent all our time together, and it seemed like maybe we would be together always, but after graduation he just sort of disappeared." "He would answer calls and texts at first, but then later in the summer, nothing, like he was hiding from me". "No one saw him with other girls or anything, he just disappeared on me."
She was quiet, and I got another bottle and opened it and poured a big glass for me and a little one for her. I got up and let the cat back in and it went to her and circled her ankles, and raised its head for petting.
"Yea, disappeared" I said. "I understand that."
She looked like she might cry. "I don't 'get' love". "I thought I was 'in love' and he even said he was, but what happened?" "I know I'm cute and I'm not dumb and I'm popular, and we were good together." "Even our parents both started acting like we were a couple and headed for a life together." "I just don't understand!"
It was like she was hoping I would explain it to her and then she could move on. I couldn't. Or I didn't want to try, because that would involve some feats of rationalization and hopeless fantasies that I just didn't feel up to. I poured more wine, killing the second bottle. More for her this time. No tears yet, but I suspected she needed too.
I changed the subject to my cat, and my place and my work and she cheered up a bit.
It was getting late. I said " I can drive you over to the campus if you want". She didn't answer.
“Or you can crash on the couch too if you feel woozy.” She smiled and said "thats what my grandma calls it." "Yea I'm definitely woozy!" So I got a blanket and pointed out the bathroom and considered putting a trash can by the couch, but decided that would be insulting. She laid down and said "thanks, I kinda didn't want to be alone." I said "nite sweetie", unthinkingly letting it slip out, my daddy mode.
I brushed and pee'd and got in my bed, feeling warm and sleepy from the meditation, the wine, and the emotional revelations of the evening. I was almost asleep when there was a tiny knock and I said "come in". She did and she was naked, and she said "I just want someone to hold me, you can do what ever you want if you'll just hold me".
I held open the covers in the dark and she slid in, and then slid over to me and then buried her face on my chest and started quietly crying.
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I woke up first and got up and pee'd, and put on the coffee, and slipped back in bed with her and watched her sleep. Poor kid. Such a cutie and so innocent. I had done everything I wanted to her in the night. I had held her. Yea I know, I'm losing it, she wouldn't have minded at all if I had had her. But I had what I wanted from her, her trust. Sappy I know.
She woke up after a bit and smiled at me from behind the covers, looking up at me the way girls do that makes their eyes look big. She looked real happy like it was the weekend and the sun was shinning. It was Wednesday though. She sort of snuck out of the covers and trotted naked butt into the bathroom and pee'd without closing the door and I heard water run a bit and I think a furtive bit of water rinsing her mouth and then she casually walked back in smiling and sort of swinging side to side.
"You didn't fuck me" she said. "No, I must have been tired" I said. "You were welcome too…" from her.
"Its not like you don't turn me on…" I said, and pulled back the sheet to show her my morning wood.
She didn't say anything, but just stood there all cute, naked, shaved bare like a little girl, and biting her lip and half smiling, and looking at my penis. I'm not that big, but she couldn't look away and just stared, and gently twisted back and forth with her bottom lip under her top teeth. Then with a big laugh, she jumped on the bed and on top of me and play pinned me down, and with her feet, kicked the sheets lower and lower till they were off the bed and she was straddling my stomach. Still biting her lip, she moved her hips lower until she was straddling below my crotch, and quickly back up making my penis push up into her.
She wasn't quite ready, but she was determined and got me in just a bit and then laid back down on my chest and said "hold me some more."
I did. Until she was totally wet and she slid up more, taking me fully.
She was a little athletic rabbit, like a kid who had too much sugar. She did it hard and fast and grinding. She was abandoned to it and saying oohhh oohhh. She seemed ecstatic and a little desperate. I was looking up at this kid who was using me to get off, and worried she was going to say "do me daddy" or something so kinky and outrageous that I would loose the script, but then she came. Quick, hard, and way before I could have.
She collapsed down and kissed me, sweet and gentle, the first time we had, and rode me slow till I finished too. I would never have expected her to fuck like she did, completely unselfconscious, joyous and in charge. Eighteen year olds usually aren't so….in tune.
I offered her a ride after I made her an omelet and toast, but she said no. I wanted to prolong being with her. I think she wanted to be outside and feel the wonder of the universe on her skin, in the form of the caress of the air, or some such subconscious romantic urge. She pulled her thong up into the memories of me, and dressed and left with a soft sweet kiss.
I saw her out the window, down the block, bounce up into the double decker bus, and vanish.
I got out my mat and set it in front of the slider, looking out into my yard. Something aesthetic about it, meditating with a "garden" view. Really a bit of old lawn, and a fence and a bit of sky, but not the wall, as some meditators use. I suppose it was a bit of attachment, wanting the aesthetic, having a bit of ritual, but then once attachment is realized, does it have any power? Or is it just another bit of thought, noticed and let go?
I moved into the openness of silence and focus, feeling as if I were enveloping all the sounds and activity of the neighborhood, and that they were in me, people moving through me, cars and trees in my extended space, noticed, yet not. There, but as thoughts, free to be themselves, requiring nothing of me.
The stronger thought came to me that I didn't know how long I had been at it, and I opened my eyes, and reached for my iphone, which I have set for one hour and five minutes, and with a special ringtone for the timer, of a gentle ting…..ting….ting. As I picked up the phone the timer went off. My 65 minutes were up. It had seemed like seconds.
The cat came by as she always did and welcomed me back with rubbing of her face on me and her tail straight up and gently swaying. I told her I loved her too, and got up to shower and live the day.
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Thursdays satsang sucked. Bad energy, or someones karma leaking into others thoughts, or just the stars not aligning like they sometimes do and sometimes don't. It was apparent that every one was having a similar experience. We were edgy, nervous and tried to rush through that which has no end to get to. Our special guest had been some new agey friend of Claire’s who talked with a lot of words that didn't have common experience or common sense behind them. I would rather have had a real Buddhist sit in front of us and impassionately say nothing for the time, but just demonstrate being present in the moment.
I tried to make an unnoticed escape after, but Nora came after me and called out to me in the parking lot, using my last name like in P.E. or in the military. "You and me are going to have some coffee," "alone," "follow me," she said, and turned her back on me and walked to her car and drove off.
As I was pulling out I saw Michelle's husband with the kids in their car seats, waiting for her to come out. He looked like a man who was not sure what was up with his wife. Affair? Or just honestly seeking self improvement? Or tired of him? He looked anxious.
I saw her coming out looking annoyed to see him.
I drove to meet Nora at Mishka's, got an expresso and went to sit down.
"I'll cut your fucking dick off with a rusty knife, if you try anything with Chloe, you old pervert!" she said as I was lowering myself into my chair.
Whoa! There was some weird energy going around tonight. Did all the women sync cycles or something?
"What business is it of yours?" "She's 18 and can think for herself" I said.
She looked exasperated, still angry, but a little resigned. "Look, I'm just tired of men messing up women's lives" she said, and "You do know that she's a virgin don't you?"
"No, I don't know that" I said. Honesty is the best policy. Also discretion, being the better part of valor, I didn't say more.
Nora went on explain that Chloe was semi well known for blogging about her life in a very openly, and frequently discussed her virginity, the close calls she had to losing it, and her stated goal of having the perfect first experience. And that many women resonated with her issues and felt protective of her. Yes, 18 is sort of late to lose it, but that I had to respect her or she would round up a posse and castrate me.
"She is younger than my youngest daughter, and I would never intentionally hurt her" I said. Hoping to myself that I hadn't already hurt her, or that she would have regrets. Not that I was afraid of Nora. Just the opposite. I admired the passion and compassion she was showing. Protecting another from the kind of hurt she must have had at one time in her life. I wondered, but knew better than to ask Nora about herself. That was something for another time, if ever. I admired Nora for her courage, or maybe just bold recklessness, in confronting me. It was really very sweet in a twisted way.
Nora calmed. She sipped her coffee, and seemed finished "You are a good person" I told her. She didn't smile, but seemed to be looking inward at some hurt. Something that she maybe had projected out on the world, an attachment of sorts, but one that she was seeing maybe didn't fit.
Claire walked in saying "I thought I would find you two here!" and got a coffee and sat with us, but Nora excused herself saying she had a busy day coming and to have a nice evening.
Claire said "You do know that she likes you, don't you?" Well, that would be a twist. No, I didn't know that. That would have to be one of those weird reverse psychology things where people show there interest by threatening to cut your dick off? Hmm. Maybe she did.
Claire apologized for her friend who had spoken tonight, saying she had misjudged. I agreed, but not to vigorously. Claire had a big heart and worked hard to make things happen for people, sometimes, like tonight, without too much reward. I could tell she was a bit disappointed, but she was the type to keep cheery.
"Would you like to go have a glass of wine at my place?" I said.
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I normally don't do mercy fucks, but Claire deserved some attention. She would be too proud to ask for it, not the fuck, but to ask for some attention, but I knew she needed it. Anyway it was not a done deal, the fuck, but the attention was. I was not going to give her a foot massage, like ex number two, but I would get her relaxed and get her talking, and when women talk they feel better. I didn't need a fuck to pay for it either. In fact I was a little tired and I wouldn't mind just holding her.
I let us in and the cat out, after she had circled the block twice, and painstakingly parallel parked. Gestured to the sofa, then the bathroom after her asking, and got out the cheese and some crackers, this time some nicer ones from Trader Joes, and chose a Zin for the wine. Old vine Zin from Lodi. I loved it and hope she would too. It was a more mature taste, subtler, even with stronger flavors.
She came out, made some complimentary comments on the art on my walls, a print from Mendocino, and some old maps and graphics from the flea market in Paris. Remnants of married vacations. She sat just where Chloe had sat two nights before. That was on my mind, not that I needed Viagra, but Chloe had used up a lot of my psycho-sexual energy, that something-not-physical that is behind the physical act. I didn't know if I would need to gear up for action with Claire or if it would be one of those talking nights that you sometimes had with women, where you ended up knowing everything about them, and them feeling like they knew you too, but no information had really been exchanged only imparted. Not that it is bad to sit and listen to someone. It is a kindness, a service, and can even be an act of love.
I poured and we sipped. I leaned forward to the coffee table to slice off some cheese and she leaned forward too, her head nearer mine than not. She carefully placed her glass on the table, put her left hand on my right knee and her right hand up to my cheek, pulling me to her lips. She kissed like I remember teenage girls kissing, not Chloe, but girls from when I was a teenager. Tentative, exploring, hungry and a little unsure. We leaned back still kissing and made out. It had been a long time for me since I had made out like that, just kissing and not progressing to touching, groping and sexual frustration.
After a bit it stopped, and she sat up and sipped at her wine and said "its been a long time for me". "It isn't as easy as men think for a women to get sex". I understood, they have all kinds of mental emotional things going on about it. Reputation. Disease! Pregnancy, fidelity, body image issues. But they are the ones who dream up all that too.
She stood up and turned to me, holding out her hand to me, and pulled me up off the sofa, and led me into my own bedroom. Issues, I guess, out of the way.
It was clumsy, her half undressing at first, me fully naked right away, touching each other with permission, but not with familiarity. Then after a bit it happened. Her legs opened. There is this moment in the prelude to the act, when a woman is ready, and I truly believe that is unconsciously done, when there legs just fall open. If you wait for it, it is better than if you try to turn her on or to open her legs for her. Claire had opened to me and I went in her. She was slippery, and exuding heat and had done her kegels. Still clumsy but we got a rhythm and worked at it, and then her hand went down between us and she helped herself a bit too, as we both reached a sweaty, panting end. No squeals and screams and sudden ecstasy, but a good, hard, worked for, mutual orgasm.
I relaxed my head on her chest, a nipple and breast just in front of my eyes, and she slowly stroked my hair. I love it when a woman does that. It's maybe a bit infantile to have a woman caress me that way, but I have always loved it. My first girlfriend would do that after we made out in the car and before having to go in, curfew 10pm. I'm embarrassed to ask for it.
I must have dozed, imagine that, a man dozing after sex, but woke to find her still stroking my hair and I think quietly crying. I asked if she was okay. She said "Its been two years". Yea I understood. Not that I had ever gone that long. I would go crazy. But women have their issues and the issues sometimes rule over their needs. It is easy for a woman to rationalize away sex. They can't always just be in the moment and let it happen. They need the right circumstances, the right man, the right frame of mind. I feel sorry for them for that.
I found myself stiffening against her thigh and she opened for me again, and I did it to her hard. Harder than I had in a long time. It was no virgin vagina that was going to get hurt, she had done her kegels and was tight enough, but she could take it. Me slamming myself against her, bruising at soft tissue over her pubic bone when bottoming, feeling her cervix too, and before me this time she lost control and slammed back and bucked. I followed 30 seconds later with a weaker end, but feeling a relief that was almost emotional rather than physical.
She woke before me, figured out my coffee, cleaned up the crackers, cheese and wine and was looking in my fridge for stuff. Sweet, but I'm the cook. I had her sit and did what I could in place of a foot massage and made a nice omelet with a mixture of cream cheese and more flavored ones and a hint of dill on top. We sipped our coffee and ate and didn't talk about the night, but we were comfortable with each other. She was a good looking woman, smiled easily, was smart and well read, and not outwardly needy. Thats one of the things that make moments intimate, when someone shows you their need. When they open too you and trust you. Not just sexually, and really sex can be totally mechanical and not at all intimate, just two people on their own agenda. Thats not what it had been for us.
As she left, she kissed me, and I looked at her like I was going to say something, but she stilled me with a finger to my lips and said "Don't worry, you don't have to date me now or anything." "It was what it was and nothing more." "It was wonderful and let's just leave it at that." I said "some guy is going to get real lucky with you." "Yea I know" she said with a twinkle and a smile and she was off.
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The next satsang was good. Claire didn't talk too much but was beaming. Chloe smiled at me real sweet. I had asked her when I saw her walking up, if she maybe wanted to have dinner sometime, and she frowned a little. She said "I like you a WHOLE lot, and I LOVED what happened!" "But I want to keep it 'just friends', OK?" "Like if you ever need to, or I ever need to, we can be there for each other." "But no 'attachments'. " Making a little play on words, Buddhist notion of attachment, versus the relationship meaning. She was a cutie and smart too. I could live with it. I knew I could never be "HIM" for her, but she deserved anything I could offer just for being so cute. She made the world a nicer place by the self she put in it.
Nora looked serious. Like she had been thinking. Thinking isn't always a good thing. It is like chewing on thoughts and some thoughts are like leather and will never surrender and be swallowed. Best thing to do with thoughts is smile at them and watch them go by. Imagine them birds or butterflies flittering or flapping on their way, on their own little missions, to their own destinations. Away from the quiet, still awareness that is watching them with love. I wished that sort of understanding for Nora. She was a good person. She deserved it. We all do.
After the bell and cleaning up, packing mats, chatting, and saying maybe next time to coffee, I walked out to my truck. It was dark but just so, as it was summer, and warm and I felt good. It had been one of those "good" group meditations where we all stilled and all merged. It felt like there was a part of me that was just me, and ego, and identity package, but that there was another me, that was not so distinct but part of something larger. Part of other people and other life. Trees, and even the earth. It was like a duality of ME versus all there is, but the duality was really a continuum, a singular whole.
Nora came out and saw me and walked over to where I was parked. Away from the other cars in the lot, so I knew it was deliberate. She smiled gently at me. I could tell she had shifted. "Chloe bragged to me about you and her in the women’s room" she said still gentle. I smiled. "Life is funny" she said. "Yea" from me.
It was peaceful and warm and no one was around and she just got on her knees in front of me, opened the buttons on my jeans and took me out and into her mouth. She looked up at me like she knew what she was doing, submitting, opening herself to me symbolically in the act. She gently and patiently followed through and got me off. And swallowed it with a cute smirk. "I needed that" she said.
I didn't fully understand, but yet I did.
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“We could say that meditation doesn't have a reason or doesn't have a purpose. In this respect it's unlike almost all other things we do except perhaps making music and dancing. When we make music we don't do it in order to reach a certain point, such as the end of the composition. If that were the purpose of music then obviously the fastest players would be the best. Also, when we are dancing we are not aiming to arrive at a particular place on the floor as in a journey. When we dance, the journey itself is the point, as when we play music the playing itself is the point. And exactly the same thing is true in meditation. Meditation is the discovery that the point of life is always arrived at in the immediate moment.” Alan Watts
“Life is too short to be living somebody else's dream" Hugh Hefner
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