The next day we visited more existing and potential clients. I was introduced as John’s ‘beautiful new assistant.’ Enough men smiled at me that I felt warm and fuzzy about it. That night at dinner, I expected a little pressure. I was confused when he called an early night and delivered me back to my room. After kissing me on the cheek again, he turned to leave. I was caught off guard, and, on reflection, felt a little insulted. I had a rejection speech all rehearsed. It said, no, but didn’t prohibit further effort on his part.
As he turned away, I blurted, “Is that it?”
“Is that what?”
“I thought this was all part of your seduction. I thought tonight was when you would make your move.”
He looked a little confused. In that instant, I knew I’d misjudged him. He then smiled in understanding.
“Let’s go into your room and clear some things up.”
We went in and I poured us some wine from the minibar. I sat in one of the chairs while he sat in the other.
“I apologise, Lisa, if there’s been some kind of misunderstanding. While I admit to finding you extremely attractive, I have never cheated on my wife and doubt you have cheated on your husband either. I would certainly never risk our professional relationship, or, dare I say it, friendship, by making some clumsy pass at you like a teenager. Yes, I’m not totally happy with my wife, but I would have to think long and hard about jeopardising my marriage and so should you.”
I was confused. I was so convinced he was a player this new information was forcing a reality shift. John stood to go and I rose as well. He took one pace forward and wrapped his arms around me.
“I hope I haven’t insulted you, Lisa. As I said, I’d be lying if I said I don’t find you extremely attractive, and, under other circumstances, would love to spoil you in that big bed over there, but we should both be very sure first. I don’t want to spoil what we have by rushing into a cheap, tawdry affair.”
He leaned down for another kiss. I closed my eyes and puckered my lips. He kissed me on the cheek again, let me go and left. It was still early, so I hopped in bed naked, rang Dave, and we had phone sex. I couldn’t concentrate though. My thoughts were on the bulge I’d recently felt pressing into my stomach. After I rang off, I masturbated sensuously to the thought of John knocking on the door. That led to a better than average orgasm. I drifted off to sleep hoping he would knock, if only to absolve me on the chronic misreading I’d made of the situation.
As I’m writing this, I’ve just had a revelation. Well, I am writing it to explain to myself why I did what I did. If I don’t understand it, how can I avoid it in the future? The revelation is something I should have known all along. Sex, for women, has four components. There’s the purely physical side—the achieving the release that only a good orgasm can give you. Dave will always win there. After seven years of bedding me, he knows exactly what buttons to press and when. Second, is the feeling of love that comes with sex with someone who really cares about you. A loving connection when they spend two hours spoiling you rotten. Third, is the validation of your womanhood. When your partner walks in the bathroom, sees you naked, lifts you onto the bench, and just screws the shit out of you. The animalistic lust is perhaps the highest compliment you can ever get as a woman. The last element is something Dave can’t give me anymore—the tension and excitement before someone beds you for the first time. A tension that slowly dissipates as the relationship continues.