Unquenched (15 page)

"Come look at this for a moment," he requested
excitedly, as he pointed toward another exhibit.  We approached a photograph
that displayed brilliant colors, of changing Autumn leaves.  "That is a
fantastic picture," he said. "I'm not really certain if I've ever
seen colors like that," he added passionately.  It was the way he had said
it that for some reason made me think that he had never experienced true fall
foliage. 

"Do the leaves in Germany change color at all during the
autumn season?" I asked, sounding somewhat naive but confused.  Tristan
attempted to hold his laughter but did not succeed in doing so. 

"Actually, the leaves in Germany usually turn blue," he
said, being smart but playful nonetheless.  "Didn't you know that?" he
continued, as he victoriously made his point. 

"OK
you
, I think that we have seen enough in this
museum," I said, pretending to be angry. "I think I have something
better in mind that I'm sure you will find quite invigorating," I added,
while punching his arm as if I were beating him up. 

"Re-e-ally, and what might that be?  It couldn't possibly be
more exciting than looking at blue leaves!" his flirting and sarcasm
persisted.  I couldn't help myself from laughing, because although I had been
embarrassed by my momentary
faux pas
, I had to admit, it was humorous. 

"You, my dear, are going to get it," I replied. 

"I hope so," he said smirking, then took my hand and we
walked west to the corner of Fifth Avenue.

The snow remained a blanket throughout Central Park, although it
had melted on the streets of New York. 

"Have you ever been in the park before," I asked, ready
to take him regardless. 

"Yes, but only once, and it was right in the middle of summer,"
he replied. 

"Great, then this will be fun for both of us," I said
delightedly. 

"It's freezing outside though," he protested, then
asked, "are you kidding?" as he smiled, trying to be a good sport. 

"I told you that our next activity would be invigorating, but
if you can't handle the cold...," I toyed with him. 

"OK, but just for a few minutes, I don't even have gloves,"
he said, attempting to justify his aversion. 

Tristan was far from a fragile man, it truly was cold and I knew
it.  But the park had such a romantic feel to it with the sunshine and
glistening white snow.  And I wanted to experience that luminous setting
specifically with him.  It was actually the thawing out that I looked forward
to and the fun of warming up.  He walked up behind me, put his hands in my
pockets, then we walked through the park in tandem.  It was beautiful.  The
hush in the park created a peaceful feeling, solace, and a sense of serenity. 
There were few people around but those who were, walked briskly through the
cold air.  A woman and her two children passed by us then.  They were twins,
both of whom had blond hair.  They giggled joyfully as they scampered by, and
instinctively, Tristan and I locked eyes, and without saying a word, it was
clear what we were both thinking.  The situation between us seemed to be
progressing fast despite my attempts to control it.

"Time to go!" he said triumphantly, as if he had just
passed a test. 

"OK, I guess your hands are red enough," I said
jokingly.  "How about going back to my place for some coffee?" I
asked. 

"That sounds like a great idea, I still have some time before
I go," he replied.  We walked to the corner and hopped into a cab, and Tristan
began rubbing my arms to warm me up.

"Would you like your coffee with milk or do you take it black,"
I asked Tristan, after returning to my apartment. 

"Milk please, I could never drink it black," he
answered. 

I was learning very quickly that he was set in his ways and his
responses were sometimes curt.  Most of the time it translated into sarcasm but
I could see how it could become combative.  Despite his charm, he would be a
tough one to deal with, that was becoming quite clear.  There was something
about him that made me know that things would always have to be his way.  And
things could change when I least expected it, but I never knew which way he
would go.  He was unpredictable when it came to his needs.  Or maybe he was
just moody. 

What was it about him that I sensed was being hidden, but I could
not yet put my finger on,
my mind struggled. 

Part of me told myself to explore him but be very cautious and the
other part said just let him go.  But there was that part of me that was
addicted to the high, the thrill that he made me feel.

 
Two more hours, just enjoy it,
I thought,
and figure it
all out when he leaves
. 

"Is skim milk alright, that's actually all that I have,"
I asked him with trepidation. 

"Skim milk?  Oh, you Americans, how can you drink that stuff
when it has no taste?" he teased with a strained smile that put me
unexpectedly on edge.  "Well," he continued, "if that's all you
have, I'll drink it," he agreed, trying to conceal his distaste.

As we drank our coffee I handed Tristan a picture book that I
thought he might find interesting. 

"Have you ever seen a copy of this book?  It's called,
A
Day in the Life of America
.  There are photographs in here of places in New
York, that I thought you might now recognize," I said. 

"No, I've never seen it, but I would love to look through it,
may I?" he asked, this time acting a bit more genteel. 

I had brought out the book as a conversation piece but didn't
expect his fixation.  While he looked through the book, his attention was
consumed, and I felt like my existence had become irrelevant.  Half an hour had
passed with the book in his lap, and based on his character over the past
twenty-four hours, I had anticipated a slightly different farewell.  I had seen
him oscillate in subtle ways, but was more than a little surprised that in our
last minutes together, his focus was not on me.  He knew that he was leaving in
an hour or so, yet his behavior did not reflect it.  I pointed to the picture
that was displayed on the page, and offered my input reluctantly.

"This is that unique building located on the corner of Fifth
Avenue, called the
Flatiron
building - you've seen it before, I'm sure,"
pretending that I was interested just to become a part of what he was doing. 

"Yes, I think I have," and suddenly with a look that
said he had seen enough, he closed the book and kissed me.

His hands found their way to my face and my lips, investigating
every inch.  The moisture from his mouth lined the nape of my neck and as he
used his tongue skillfully, I felt my defenses escape.  He licked his fingers
as I watched them get wet, then he fondled the inside of my ear.  His fluid was
warm and it enabled his fingers to slide seductively, arousing me further as he
explored.  The moans and groans I had suppressed earlier that day, began to
surface all at once.  I arched toward him with burning desire letting him know
of my erupting passion which, at that moment, had forced me to forget my
concerns of his erratic ways.  With his arm around me, he placed his hand on
the small of my back and gently lifted me to the floor.  We slid off the couch
onto the soft teal rug and he pressed his body against mine. 

"Look at what you are doing to me," he said smiling, as
he took my hand and wiped it across his forehead showing me that he was
perspiring.  "I can't seem to get enough of you or hold you tight enough
for that matter," he added. 

On his last word I felt his mouth join mine and felt the weight of
his body as if he were inside of me.  Although we were clothed, I felt as if
our bodies had been physically merged and were moving as one, together.  His
hands sifted through my hair, caressing and pulling, as he literally brought me
closer to him and attempted to bring me to a level of need that I would not be
able refuse.  His alluring fingers stroked the sides of body, my shoulders and
everything below it.  His gentle but firm touch probed my waist, hips and
thighs, as I felt his urgency get stronger.  His hips tilted toward mine and I
felt him clearly and his hard defined lines were easy to imagine. 

"I feel as if I can't breathe," I said to him, feeling
my heart race as well as the need to take a breath. 

I smiled at him, needing reassurance for just a minute, that what
we were experiencing was reality.  His next few words to me obliterated my
doubt and surpassed my wildest expectations.

"In two weeks, I have five days off and I want to come back
to be with you," he said sincerely, as he rested his hunger, and stared directly
into my eyes. 

Somewhat caught off guard, I looked back at him as I felt his body
still heavy on mine.  I then ran my hand through his light colored hair and
pulled his head down to my chest.  I hugged him as if he were a child, knowing
that I was about to say something I feared would let him down.

"Tris, I want to be with you more than you know but the whole
situation is so unrealistic, isn't it?" I said, as the question in my
voice surfaced unexpectedly. 

Deep down, I hoped that he would tell me it wasn't hopelessly
unattainable, and that it would somehow all become possible.  Yet, I was
surprised at my own reaction to him, given the fact that I had done everything
in my power to experience even a few meager hours with him.  And to add to
that, it became more difficult to resist him as it appeared that he was finally
demonstrating some consistency.  He was making an effort to pursue our
relationship, yet despite my unsated need for him, I wasn't entirely certain I
could.  Not yet.  I had wanted to live under his spell for the day, but our
romantic interlude had limitations that I had cast upon us from the start. 

"Nothing is unrealistic if you want it," he said. 
"It's all within your reach," he added, making it suddenly sound so
easy and feasible. 

Oh, how I wanted him!
  I had toyed with the
notion of forever with Tristan, but it had all seemed so complicated that I had
made a decision to settle for the short time we had together before his flight
back to Germany.  Despite his desire and efforts to see me, I never even dared
to let myself think that he would have actually taken it to the next step.  But
he was.  I had honestly anticipated that in the two short days that he had been
in New York, our story would have begun and ended.  And not because I didn't
want it.  Or not because I didn't think he wanted it.  It was clear that we did
but I wasn't sure that either one of us were prepared to take the strides that
it took.  We had played out the last twenty-four hours pretending that we had a
future.  But given the difficulties that would have gone along with it, a
commitment between us seemed questionable.  We had allowed ourselves the
freedom to live out our passion and to at least taste the magic we would be
missing.  Well, I could only speak for myself but it was my assumption that his
reasons were similar to mine.  And because of that, there was no reason, in my
mind, to prolong the joy we shared or to experience the ecstasy any further.  I
was in no way pragmatic, and under most circumstances, my heart won out.  But
existing together for five whole days would strip us of our sensibilities. 
There was no doubt.  There would be no going back.  And I truly feared that it
would be a mistake.  But even if we could refrain from making any irrational decisions,
it would be torture for us, nonetheless.  It would be self-defeating to say
good-bye after sharing yet more time together, and more wonderful, intoxicating
feelings.  It would be difficult to spend a week side by side, regardless of
the ultimate outcome.  Yet Tristan was making it difficult for me, merely by
giving me the option.  Had he not initiated the idea, I would have mourned our
dissolution.  But I could have done it.  And I had reasons to.  Not only were
there promises I had made to Jordan, but I had fears.  Fears of the obstacles
that could easily destroy us, and fears, still, of the unknown.  If only I
didn't feel as if he were hiding something.  Or maybe he was suppressing it,
something he didn't yet understand himself.  But whatever it was, I didn't
underestimate the strength of it and therefore it was difficult for me to open
myself up and make myself totally vulnerable.

But his encouragement was so tempting, so hard for me to resist. 
He kissed me again, almost with the intent of enticing me and to let me know
what I could expect if we were to spend more time together.  His hands began to
wander over the curves of my body, this time seeking a little more adventure. 
I pulled him towards me as my hands ran down his back, tantalizing him, and
sending a signal that said I would be comfortable if he explored my body
further.

His fingers roamed freely the full length of my frame but had not
yet ventured beneath my outer layers.  I felt his body generating heat and mine
was responding all the same.  I suddenly yearned for the touch of his flesh, no
longer protected by the intrusion of our clothing.  If there was a chance that
we were saying good-bye, I wanted to touch him, just once.  And I wanted to
remember the feel of him, something I could recall forever. 

But just as I let my defenses down, he looked at me and said,
"I really have to get going."