Drama at a Glance #14 - R to the 20

We devour our migas with jalapeños on the side and a couple of glasses of mimosas.  Wondering what to do next I remember that my favorite SNL comediennes are starring in the new, "Friends with Kids," so off to Alamo Draft House we head for a chick flick.  Yes, a chick flick with my very own Mr. R.  


Jennifer Westfeldt writes, directs and stars in a poignant film that any woman between the ages of 28 and 45 will relate to while seasoning the film with enough male perspective to keep the men engaged.  It's realistic and funny without being too painful and at the end I'm caught off guard by a pinch of emotion.  R smiles sympathetically, grabs my hand and off we go, returning to the house on a most delicious spring afternoon early March in Austin Texas.  If you don't live here, I feel sorry for you.


He mixes a couple of Tito Vodkas with Sobe Water and off to the back yard we head.


"Cool, a hammock," I say with delight.  I turn to ease into it and as gracefully as I reached for the towel in the shower earlier I fall flat on my ass.  Christ, there is no end to my looking like a total dork.  I have bruised yet another part of my body but hey, I haven't spilled a drop of my drink.  Sometimes, all the energy that goes into looking good translates into total boredom and no one can say that about me.


For the second time today R asks, "are you okay?" without laughing out loud.  He walks over to hold the hammock still while I get in then he joins me.  It's two o'clock in the afternoon or so and the day lingers lazily.  Exhausted or drunk, we nap lightly swaying side to side, legs crisscrossed.  


"Let's go upstairs," he suggests at some point and I follow him anticipating what he has in store.  


He directs me to sit on the side of his bed without saying a word as he removes his company t-shirt and unfastens his pants.  R stands there in navy blue briefs.  "Pull them down for me," he directs.  I slip my fingers beneath the band in back and pull them down past his ass to the floor.  His erection meets me as I sit up on the bed and I am turned on to have him in front of me like this.  I take him in my mouth and he gasps ever so slightly.  "Not yet," he says.


He pulls my shirt up over my head and unhooks my bra.  Pushing me back he brings my legs and feet up off the floor to more readily remove my jeans and slide them over my butt. Tossing everything to the floor, he pushes me back on the bed and climbs on top.


We watch each other as we begin this journey again.  The room is silent except for the steady turn of the ceiling fan.  We move together, eyes fixated on one another.  Never in 13 plus years of being with my ex did this intimacy exist, not even in the beginning.  It wasn't just a financial disagreement or a "lack of sex" that lead to my marriage's dissolution.  It was a complete and utter lack of intimacy, of not being seen only ever criticized so that I felt I wasn't enough.  


I have no crystal ball to see the future with R.  The present moment - now - is all that exists.  Looking at him, watching him I begin to feel a tug of something primal.  This is not an orgasm, at least not the kind from this morning.  Rather, I feel a deep well of emotion opening up and it feels as if my heart might explode.  


It builds as R and I continue, a tear rolling down the side of my face to the bed.  Then there is another tear and then there is just the release... this uncontrollable sobbing.  R stops.


"What's wrong?"


"Nothing, I just haven't felt this in a very long time."


Laying down on top of me he kisses my cheeks.  "Felt what?" he asks quizzically.  


"Seen... touched," I hesitatingly share.  I feel mildly embarrassed but simultaneously lighter.  He wipes a tear away and I offer up a smile.  "I'm good... I'm going to be okay."


"You sure?"


I nod.  "Sorry to be a buzz kill.  Just what a guy loves to see while having sex, a woman having an emotional breakdown, right?"


"It didn't look like a breakdown."


I smile at him in response and we lay there for several minutes caressing one another.  "Do you want to... you know.  Pick up where we left off?" I ask.


Smiling, he rises from the bed and walks to the bathroom vanity to retrieve the magic wand, clean and ready to go once again.  "I want you to put this on your clit," he says, handing the wand over to me.  "I'm going to fuck you while you're holding it there, but I'm not going to come until you do twenty times."


"That's not going to happen," I insist flat out.


"Yes it is, or we'll be here all night," he states like it's his way or no way.  Seriously?  No one tells ME what to do.  Hmm, next thought:  maybe that's my problem.  


Pushing it aside, "No, you don't understand.  What happened this morning was an anomaly.  I never have had an orgasm with sex until this morning so I guarantee you that won't happen.  Certainly not 20 times.  Are you crazy?  I can't live up to that expectation!  It's too much pressure," I argue.


"Yes, you can.  And you better not fake it.  I'll be able to tell."


He wouldn't know that.  Give me a break.  "Look!  On my best day I couldn't rub it out on my own more than a dozen times."  He raises his eyebrows.  "Wait!  Don't give me that look.  That was a weird thing back then.  I was much younger and it was a carefree day where I had nothing else going on..."  Oh my god.  I'm turning red explaining my masturbation history.


"You can do this.  It will free you."


"Free me, huh?  By the way, is this a trick you pull out of the hat with all of your ladies?"


"As a matter of fact, no.  I've never done this before actually," he says with pride.  "I kind of like it though.  It's pretty cool, don't you think?"


"Oh my god you're nuts," I tell him.  I stare at him and he is like this kid, all wild-eyed and lit up.  Something tells me to yield to him, to trust him, to let go even further.  I turn the vibrator on and begin to mentally prepare myself for this marathon of pleasure.  "Okay, let's give it a go," I tell him.


With R inside and the vibrator in position I take a giant step into the unknown, letting go of doubt.  Only two minutes in the first one approaches.  I am shocked to feel one coming on so soon, but there it is.


"One," R says with a smile on his face.  "Only 19 more to go."  I hunker down for the road ahead of me, ahead of us perhaps I should say.  Another one approaches from off in the distance and one by one they roll in.  "Watching your face is so beautiful," he whispers. "Keep going baby."


And I go -- we go -- counting them off until number 20.  On the tail of 20 R releases everything he was holding back on to give me this most perfectly insane gift.  In 24 hours we've had more sex than I had in the last two years of my marriage.  I am spent and now I know for sure that I am one hundred percent re-calibrated, but not to some former version of myself.  I feel re-calibrated if not just plain connected to an aspect of myself that I have never known.