It seemed to happen at exactly the wrong moment. Which might explain why I am so confused, and am still no clearer than 24 hours ago.
In fact I feel even more confused since I barely slept last night, and had my first workday at the publisher’s office.
I made a super quick salad, and here I am writing and eating at the same time.
I have a few hours before I really should go to bed, so that I m fresh tomorrow.
Originally I had planned on doing yoga now!
Made sense to do something physical since I will be spending the rest of my life sitting on my ass, now that I have entered working life.
I do take my work very seriously.
No more Sunday night’s sneak peek movie for me, for instance!
I never got home before 11 PM; Way too late.
But it wasn’t just skipping the movies. I had also planned on choosing my outfit yesterday night, and to get up extra early so I had time to prepare lunch and take that with me.
When in reality I didn’t do anything anymore, after The Guy left.
I was just there all afternoon and night, on my balcony smoking and staring or something. I don’t even know what I did!
Time stood still.
I didn’t pick an outfit, barely slept, got out of bed way before the alarm went off, yet still had to rush to get out the door.
I survived my first workday, but already dread going back tomorrow, because I forgot all the instructions I received on how to do my job.
Fuck, this really is messed up.
Oh, and then make matters worse, like I said, I still don’t have a clue on what to make of it, or what to do. I don’t know what was worse: Being haunted by my untold story – as if it could escape me if I didn’t bring it home safely by 6 PM. Or to still have no idea what the story actually was.
And every hour that went by, made that more painful.
So here I am.
Still not knowing.
I will just share all the thoughts in their disturbingly unclear form.
Yesterday, the bell rang. When I opened it I saw a man in white painter coveralls.
He had long black curls and he was wearing sunglasses that seemed to be so much a part of who his was that he didn’t take them off even though it was heavily clouded.
He had an odd way of speaking. As if he was shy, but then wasn’t. I don’t know, it was weird. Anyway, he said the landlord had sent him to paint the balcony, and this made sense because I had told them I had accepted a job and would not be present during the day anymore.
They have done a big renovation before I moved in here, but some things still needed work and now the landlord had sent a painter to my house on a Sunday afternoon.
He went back to get his gear from the van, as I waited in the doorway to prevent the cats from escaping.
I remember that right at that moment, my head was already spinning.
This was all just a little too close to what I had been dreaming of, more intensely than I care to admit.
A few months ago, I received a Bon Jovi VHS tape by mail, along with a fan fiction story that the seller had written.
We had been on the phone for what had seemed hours, and she had actually asked me if I cared to read it. It wasn’t the type of thing you’d send to someone uninvited, because this was hardcore pornography.
At one point it became too much even for me, but the character who had been written into the story to execute such cruelty, stuck to me:
Nikki Sixx.
It wasn’t that I desired my skin to be cut open, nor to be humiliated or bruised. But I did desire someone who would play with me, if I did want it. Or even someone who had to restrain himself from hurting me, because he was a medium-sized sadist underneath, who liked the idea of owning and abusing me.
That, was what I wanted.
Initially I thought that Bear might be willing to date more often, and bring us back to where we started over four years ago:
But I seriously doubt that now.
I think he is ready to go bigger and bolder: Just not with me.
Maybe he desires an older woman who can teach him and dominate him. I can only imagine being the one in charge, must get straining at some point.
Boring even.
When I asked him to become my lover, it was initially just to lose my virginity or maybe a few times more. But then, when he was sooo good being dominant, I realized I could develop myself with him. He had all the cookies in store, all I had to do was ask.
And I did.
But he? Has he really been able to develop himself sexually?
I really doubt it.
He carefully stayed within my limits, and now that we both graduated and our working lives have started and I am ready to invest in my sex life again, he isn’t there to pick it up.
I still think he’s seriously toying with the thought of settling down. That unlike me, he doesn’t rule out starting a family.
The only thing I think I can pride myself on, is that I don’t believe someone has approached him the way I have. With a business-like invitation over coffee, rather than a passionate or “couldn’t help ourselves” love affair.
It was premeditated, and that made it so erotic.
An unorthodox arrangement that once made him confess he was surprised girls like me really existed.
Yes, I exist.
But after four and a half year with Bear, I need more.
First to get my sex life back to the level where we used to have it, before months could go by without seeing him.
And after that, I want to go further. The Nikki Sixx route: To have him lead me to a point where I say: “No, please. I can’t take it anymore.”
Just like I had to quit reading the story.
I just couldn’t take any more.
And it was all so real to me that I half expected a Nikki Sixx-like man to come rocking out of the bushes “Tadaa!”
As if I was summoning a genie, instead of looking for a lover.
But a Slash-like man ringing my doorbell was close enough to send a shiver through my spine, and to make me nervous. I couldn’t afford to fuck this up. I really couldn’t.
And I don’t think I did.
It’s just that over 24 hours later, I still don’t know how to proceed.
Or maybe I do…. just that I m afraid of rejection or pain. Of losing Bear. Losing myself.
As determined as I was when I folded that fanfic story away, to go out and make sure I would be challenged in my love life again; that’s how nervous I am now.
If all my dreams come true and he’s my new lover, will I be able to take this?
Will my aids phobia come back?
My general fear of STD’s? Will I dare to give him a blowjob without spending a week in bed in shivering, cold anxiety?
All questions that were already running through my mind yesterday, when I should have been focusing on getting to know him. I was so nervous I didn’t even look for a wedding ring. And he actually may have told me if he was in a relationship, but that I would have missed it.
Being together was totally strange but he was also impossible to look away from and it was so promising. I broke off the conversation to go inside and leave him to work.
Not because he made the impression he wanted that, but because we just kept grinning at each other. I thought we would be able to have a conversation, as he was working on the balcony. But instead he kept looking at me too, and grinning!
It was idiotic, fun, but sooo strange!
People don’t do this!
They look away, pretend it to be casual.
But it was as if the air between us was already filling with what we wanted, even tough we said NOTHING sexual! Absolutely nothing!
And like I said, as far as I remember nothing about if he has a relationship, nor if I have one. Nothing.
All in all I spent time with him three times.
Once when he was setting up his things. When the grinning became too uncomfortable I excused myself and went inside.
Then after an hour or something, I asked him if he wanted coffee, and he did. He drank it black with a lot of sugar (my favorite type of man!) and we both smoked, chatted and drank our coffee.
This was our longest conversation.
I asked him about the sunglasses. Why he was wearing them, and that he didn’t have to answer if he didn’t want to. Strangely enough, he took them off immediately when I asked, and gave them to me!
Why, right?
It seemed more like an instinctive thing.
Just like I instinctively put them on, and tried them out. I looked at him (grinning some more) and he said they looked good on me.
They were aviators, and way larger than the small round sunglasses I usually wear.
I gave them back.
And oh fuck I so wish I had seen the color of his eyes! It went by so quickly! I guess I also failed to take notice because the moment he had his sunglasses off, I had put them on. Either way, I have no idea. Most likely brown, I m almost sure they were brown.
Also because his hair is black and it’s not dyed.
So anyway, he said he had sensitive eyes, and that he had barely slept because he went out last night. I asked where, and teased him saying:
“You probably go to The Star, or something.”
The Star is a hardrock cafe but it’s mainly for old people.
He laughed and said: “Noooooooo. I go to Warhol’s usually. Ever go there?”
Warhol’s is by far the coolest place around. I used to go there when I was still in my teens. And in my first college years too.
Firstly because I was living straight above it, but also because none of my peers went there. Not even Bear.
Warhol’s was no place for college students, and that had been its appeal. It was my own little bubble of coolness.
“Used to go there a lot,” I said. “You probably sit at the bar in Andy’s room. With a Black Label on the rocks.”
He grinned again.
“Maybe.”
I didn’t really know what to make of that, if he was inviting me to meet him there, or not.
But maybe that was the whole point? That he didn’t want to make this too easy for me.
One hell of a way to start a relationship, but it definitely fueled my thoughts on his dominance.
The third time we talked was around the time he left.
He was bringing everything in and closing the door.
The balcony he painted is in my study, where I also have my stereo and music collection. We both seemed a little reluctant to part, although we both tried to hide it.
Before he left he said:
“I saw you have some good music,” and nodded to the albums. “Death Angel. That’s impressive.”
I laughed (oh God, I really could just not stop grinning!) and answered:
“I know!”
He said: “There are weird things on that Iron Maiden cover. Did you know that?”
I said I didn’t, took it from the shelve and handed it to him.
We both studied it and were standing really close, side by side, as his fingertip traced the hieroglyphs on the pyramid.
“Here’s a little man.”
It was one of those drawings I used to make in high school, from a bald man with a big nose peeking over an edge. It said: “Wot? No Guinness?”
There was a reference to Indiana Jones and a Mickey Mouse.
It was like I was holding my breath.
I knew he would be leaving in minutes and there was nothing I could do. It was as if any hint or flirt would hurt my ears. It all seemed so blunt and ugly, as if it would stain the entire afternoon. Ruin it all.
I just couldn’t make myself.
He had said he went to Warhol’s, and with that he had already told me where I should be spending my Saturday nights, if I ever wanted to see him.
It’s 24 hours after and I already know I will do anything to see him.
If only to be rejected, I don’t care.
I ll be there.

~Lauren
An unexamined life is not worth living

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The idea of this retro series is that they are erotic stories, but this is just an introduction so I called this 1994 one just a story – not erotica 😉 
You can read episode 1 and 2 here:
A letter from a stranger | “1994” fanfic inspired erotica episode 1 
Mutuals | “1994”: fanfic inspired erotica episode 2 

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