The First Kiss

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Ok, so my girlfriend Karen thinks I am insane. Maybe I am. I mean what else would you call a thirty six year old woman, a working mother, a career woman even, who would agree to do what I plan on doing tomorrow? Oh my God, it is tomorrow isn’t it? You would think it would stick in my brain better than the name of my first born child, the way I have been dwelling on it for these last three months. What is that kids name anyhow? Ok…so I joke around when I am nervous. I can’t help but be nervous. You would to, if you were gonna meet the person who has been reaching into your body and imprinting on your soul for the first time, like I am going to tomorrow. Yes, you heard me right. For the first time! Yes, I know this man. Sometimes I think I know him better than I know myself. I can see you are still confused. Alright, let me spell it out for you a little more clearly.

My name is Paige. I have been divorced for seven years now. Yes, I have dated on and off, but with the way times are nowadays, just climbing into a guys car, makes them think you’ve agreed on the type and color of condoms. There is NO more romance left in the world. At least that is what I used to think. That was before I was in that chatroom back in August. I can still remember the day because it was the same day my son left for his dads. He goes one month every summer, and usually I dread his going. It leaves me all alone for a whole month, me and the dog. I get through any projects I had set aside in the first week and after that the boredom sets in.

I had just waved goodbye to Jeremy. As I wandered through my now empty apartment, I saw that yet again, Jeremy had left the door to his room wide open. How am I supposed to keep the dogs hair off this bed if he practically invites Scruff in. I went to go close it and I saw that not only had he not closed the door but he had left his computer on. Another bone of contention between us, I assure you. Little did I know that Jeremy’s faults would end up bringing me the most fulfilling relationship I had ever had.

Instead of wandering into his room tripping over tossed clothes and basketballs, I was able to walk directly in (that is what withholding vacation money until the room is clean will win you. I only meant to shut down his computer, but as I slid into the chair, I noticed that Jeremy had been surfing (I think that is the term) the chatrooms again. I always worry about him when he does that, but he is a smart kid, his screenname is vague and he doesn’t tell anyone nuthin (his words!) I sat there for about 20 minutes just reading the comments that were scrolling past me. This was a teen room for sure. They talked about music, shopping, girlfriends, boyfriends. It wasn’t very interesting but somehow I just sat there transfixed, reading and waiting for something to happen. The time just flew by. Now I knew why that kid rarely got the chores done I assigned him.

Shaking my head in wonder, I reached for the mouse. Upon closing the chatroom window, I saw under it, a listing of choices for other rooms. God, I had no idea. There seemed to be something for everyone. Scrolling through the list, I suddenly was tempted. I clicked on the 30something room and in I went. Tentatively I typed hello. Immediately I was bombarded with hi and hellos from everyone in the room. I returned a few and then sat there reading comments about husbands, wives, sex!!!, anything and everything seemed legal to chat about. I tossed a few comments of my own in now and again and was surprised to find people typed responses back to me. One person asked what a teeny bopper was doing in the room, and I had to laugh. I forgot I was using Jeremy’s name still. I quickly explained that I was Jeremy’s mother. I had no name of my own. Nor did I know how to make one.

Suddenly up popped a new window. It was a private message from a good samaritan in the room willing to instruct me on the making of my own name. She walked me patiently through the process, the room scrolling past me beneath. Within minutes I had a name of my own!! But what the heck was I going to do with it? That night I signed off wondering what I was thinking. Everyone knew that the internet and chatrooms were for kids. I wandered into the kitchen, got a cup of tea and headed for bed.

It was several days later I was doing laundry when I wandered back into Jeremy’s room. I had only meant to put away the last of his clothes and there sat his computer. I stopped in front of it and thought to myself, what the heck. It wasn’t like I had anything other than matching socks waiting for me.

As I signed on, I went into the same chatroom I had been in before, hoping to run into a name or two I recognized at least. No such luck. I said the hellos, and then settled down to chatting with whomever would respond back to me. I was getting into the swing of it, having a reasonably good time (or at least a better time than would have been had, had I gone the sock route) when one person in particular started chatting bahis firmaları with me. He (or at least it seemed like it was a he) was so easy going. It was so simple just to sit back and chat and chat with him. The rest of the chatroom scrolled past me unaware. I found myself not even reading their conversations, so busy was I watching for what his next response or question was going to be.

Night after night, he and I continued our conversations. It wasn’t long before we compared marriages and divorces, dating disasters, and parenting techniques. We talked about the news, we talked about the weather. We talked of joys and disappointment. He seemed able to tell when I was having a shitty day, and even was able to jolly me out of a bad mood, something my ex was never able to do (perhaps that is why he became my ex eventually).

I enjoyed the time I spent typing to him. I even think he enjoyed it as well. He made me feel special in a way not to many people had ever been able to in my life. I would shake my head at times, wondering what I thought I was doing. I mean you hear about people who meet via the internet, but you never think you, a reasonable person who even has a life would ever get lured into something so silly. But I did and I was and I was loving it!!

I guess I didn’t ever think of where any of it would lead to. I don’t know why I thought that I could sit down and spill my heart out to another person night after night, weekends too, and not being to feel something for that person. He was so supportive, so funny, so intelligent. God, if he had been my next door neighbor I would have been offering sugar and flour by now just to lure him over. But even though I felt like this man knew me better than most of my family members or good friends, it seemed odd, awkward even to think about meeting him. He was from the internet! What if people ever asked how we met? Oh my God, I found myself realizing I did want to meet him. The more I thought about it the more I wanted to.

Our conversations went on. Both of us seemed to avoid the mention of meeting. Now that I wanted it, I could tell more clearly that we were definitely not bringing it up. If the conversation turned toward a topic that might remotely end up with us discussing it, we quickly changed directions. Him as well as me. I began wondering if he was as weirded out about it as I was, or perhaps he just didn’t like me enough to think about meeting. Was I just some pesky woman he put up with? I just couldn’t believe that. He seemed to enjoy chatting with me, he was always available when I would say hello, he never made excuses that I could tell, in order to get away from me. I ended up doubting myself at times. Wasn’t I good enough to meet?

It really bothered me that he wasn’t bringing it up. I wasn’t about to do it. I was the woman. We aren’t the aggressors. We never ask another person out! I sounded like my mom to myself. Hell, I was a divorcee, raising a child as a single parent. I wasn’t like her. Please don’t tell me I was! So, night after night I told myself that I was going to bring up the subject, and night after night I sidestepped chances to do so. I was just plain afraid. That was the long and the short of it. I didn’t want to risk losing this wonderful man by pushing too hard. I was afraid if I insisted upon meeting, he would move on to someone new. Someone who wasn’t so pushy. I ended up dropping a few veiled hints and that was as brave as I got.

But mine weren’t the only veiled hints being dropped. It was incredible how some of our conversations effected me. Yes, I know, I can be a horrible flirt sometimes, but really, who isn’t? Sometimes I couldn’t help myself. He practically would set me up. It was as if I were the comedienne, and he my straight man. I won’t lie either, we both got into it sometimes. After all, we were both grown adults (oh my god, I hope he is a grown adult!!) and sometimes our conversations would go from friendly to downright HOT! It started out rather innocently. A comment thrown in during a bland conversation, double meanings, sexual innuendo. But then it became not so veiled anymore.

Ok, go ahead and call it cybersex if you must. But to me, it was more than words. Sometimes sitting there in Jeremy’s room (if you tell him I will hunt you down and kill you) reading the messages as they appeared before me, with him describing how it felt for his tongue to be sliding across, well, ok, we already opened up this can of worms, so I may as well not try and gloss over the good parts. He had a wondrous way of describing things, that just made me shiver.

He would (with words) run his hands over my body, and as I read his descriptions, I could feel his warm hand, sliding over my breasts, could feel his fingers parting the lips of my pussy, his index finger dipping in to pull moisture up against my clit and press against it. I could feel his tongue as it licked me, how his lips would suck against my clit, sliding up and down upon it, stroking it. kaçak iddaa I had no idea that people did some of the things in real life he described to me in words. I went to bed most nights, wet and yearning for fulfillment. Damn good thing Jeremy was still at his fathers, or he would have heard my moans from down the hallway as I stroked myself to orgasm as I imagined myself in my internet lovers arms, leaning back against him, his arms around me, his fingers sliding over my clit, dipping into my now hot and aching cunt.

When Jeremy came home, I found myself frantic. How would I stay in contact with my wonderful new friend. Jeremy was online so much of the time, either researching homework (yeah right!!) or chatting with friends, I would never get a chance to sign on and find him waiting for me. I was tempted to take Jeremy’s computer out of his bedroom and move it to a central location. That way I would at least get a turn when he went to bed. It might have worked except for the fact that I knew I would soon exhaust myself by staying up all night. There had to be a solution that would work.

I discussed it with Mark, (yes, by now I knew his name), and while he couldn’t do more than commiserate with me over the computer dilemma, he did have a suggestion that we both got butterflies in our stomachs thinking about. I was thrilled and terrified at the same time. It took quite a bit of beating around the bush for us to finally agree that one possible way for us to continue our relationship was to break down and become more like real people. We decided to take our friendship up a notch and yes, I know, unthought of in this day and age, talk on the phone!

We agreed that he would call me to start with. I waited on pins and needles for the phone to ring. Jeremy had returned about 2 days earlier, and Mark and I thought it best to give me some down time with Jeremy. It wasn’t hard to be excited about him coming home. I mean, for years he was my reason for living. I stayed up well into the night talking with him about what he did and who he met and so many other things, I barely even thought of Mark. Well, barely, until I went to bed.

In bed, lying there on my back, staring at the ceiling, I would yearn for Mark’s words. For his sexual expertise. My fingers would slip down the front of my pajama bottoms, and push my underwear off to one side. While I reran Mark’s words through my head, my fingers played out the drama on my body. I would slide two fingers between the folds of my pussy, and after moistening them from deep inside the folds, I would drag them up, one finger on each side of my clit. At first I would just rub across it, but once I felt it grow beneath my fingertips, felt it peaking from the hood, I would softly grip it between the two fingers and slide them up and down the tiny shaft. His mouth would take over in my mind and I would feel my hips lifting up off the bed as I pressed my clit against his tongue. I trembled in ecstasy as I came for him, and he never even knew it.

After a week of no communication, I have to tell you, I was becoming a person no one wanted to be around. I can’t blame them. Even my oblivious son asked what my problem was. What was I supposed to say to him, or anyone else for that matter? I certainly couldn’t tell them the truth behind my moods. I couldn’t tell them that I was in withdrawal from online chatting, and that my sex life was suffering for lack of cyber sex. I found it laughable myself, so go ahead and laugh out loud, or LOL in online jargon. I knew that Mike and I were going to talk on the weekend, but while that excited me to no end, it also scared the shit out of me.

By the time the weekend rolled around, I had turned down three offers to go out with various friends. They were worried about me. I hadn’t left the house or taken part in any of our usual get-togethers in weeks and weeks. My best friend Karen even called me on it. She took no for an answer easily enough, but she prodded at me trying to dig out what was going on. While my other friends worried for me, asking if there was anything they could do for me, and patted me on the back to try and shake me from my apparent decline into depression, Karen knew that there was more to my becoming the hermit I seemed than unhappiness. She could see the look of excitement in my eyes, she knew I was keeping a secret of some kind.

I eventually ended up telling her after a grueling half hour of nagging on her part. I was never any good at keeping secrets, especially good ones, from her. At first she thought I was a fool. She told me that he could be married, cheating on his wife, or a toad masquerading as a prince. I assured her he was the genuine article, that he wouldn’t lie to me. What was to gain by his lies, I asked her. She laughed and said a good fuck for starters. I made light of it by saying we all needed a good fuck now and then. Inside I was defending him. I couldn’t believe that someone who I had been communicating with for more than a month, and kaçak bahis whom I had shared intimate thoughts as well as thoughts of intimate deeds could possibly be a predator.

Damn Karen for planting a seed of doubt. The rest of the day I would stop and wonder. What if I was wrong. What if this guy whom I had felt so special with, had a whole harem of desperate divorcees who dwelled on his every thought. What if he went from flower to flower, sprinkling us with promises, feeding us lines, all in an attempt to pollinate. As the time for our first telephone conversation rolled around, my stomach was in a knot. Honestly I was terrified. I didn’t want to answer it when it rang. What if Karen was right? How could I possibly know this man? How could I trust that he wasn’t going to hurt me? Did I dare invest emotions into someone who I met via the internet?

When he finally called, I had worked myself up into a tizzy. When I heard it ring, I sat frozen in doubt. By the third ring, my heart was pounding. By the fourth, though, I lunged across the room now scared he would hang up. Talk about torn feelings! “Hello” I blurted out, winded from my sprint. “Hello” he said, “Paige?” His voice was smooth, (too smooth? How often did he make calls like this?) “Paige, this is Mike. How are you, darlin?” (DARLING? What kind of thing is that to say to someone the first time you had ever talked to them?)

I guess I don’t have to tell you how the first call went. Karen had me so worked up that the man didn’t stand a chance. He was convicted without a trial. Sure, we talked for a while. Discussed inane things, how is the weather, how was your day, my son, his daughter, ex spouses even. If I hadn’t been poisoned with doubt, it might have been pleasant. I do have to give it to Mark for hanging in there though. I would have hung up after the first few minutes, if I had been him.

That night as I lay in bed, I felt so lost. Like something wonderful had been wrenched away from me. I had to laugh at myself at one point. Here I was, mourning a relationship with a person I had never met! But in all truth, I felt I was mourning. There had been something there. A connection between Mark and I had been torn. I felt sick to my stomach as I tossed and turned trying to sleep.

The next morning, I busied myself with housework. Laundry, dishes, vacuuming, anything to drown out my own thoughts. I cleaned my fears away, or tried to. As I passed Jeremy’s room, on my way to the linen closet with freshly laundered towels, I paused. Peaking in, I felt the pull of his computer. It seemed to even call to me. Jeremy was at his dads, for his every other weekend visit, and I had the house to myself for at least 8 more hours. Setting the towels down on his bed, I pulled out the computer chair from under his desk. Sitting there, my fingers already wrapped around the mouse, I realized, I had made a big mistake. I had blown it. I was even a little frantic as I pressed enter and sent my password across the phone lines, opening the door to where I had felt so at home for the last six weeks.

My breath caught in my throat as I realized I had mail. My fingers trembled as I clicked on the icon to open the mail. Had he written me, or was this just one more piece of junk mail that found its way into my mailbox for no apparent reason? I hurriedly scanned through the mail that had accumulated over the week, looking desperately for mail from Mark. Seeing his name, I opened it, and read what he had to say. I quickly realized that this had been sent prior to our telephone conversation. In it he said how much he had missed our conversations. He said he had come to rely on them to close his days, and without a goodnight kiss from me, he felt lost climbing into his empty bed. He also told me that there were times during the day, going about his normal routine that something would happen and he would store it in his “to tell Paige” file so he could relate it to me later. He mentioned his disappointment seconds later when he remembered that it would be the end of the week before he got to talk with me.

His excitement as he wrote of the upcoming phone call showed through his words. I sat there reading and felt myself a traitor. Here was a person who truly enjoyed me, and a more real me than anyone else had ever met. I felt I knew him so well, and I had allowed another person to cloud my judgment. I didn’t know what I would, or could do to make up for my behavior on the phone but I knew I had to do something. Sitting there, I began typing an email to him. One I hoped would explain my lack of feeling on the phone, apologizing for letting my friend work me up and make me doubt him. I had to tell him how I truly felt for him, my only chance at begging forgiveness lay in truth.

As I typed, I realized the truth, that this man, who while he started out as a pretend person, with whom I might flirt and act as I would otherwise not, was now an important entity in my life. I realized I needed him. I realized I wanted his interaction. I wanted his input, I wanted him. I was frantic over the thought that I might have blown it. I was scared he might have moved on, hurt but unwilling to allow me to try and make it up to him.

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