I Am Number 2

No, I don’t have super powers.  No, I’m not a piece of crap, at least not literally.

I’m the second person in the whole world to have sex with a lovely woman I met this week.  She’s also one of the few people I can say I had sex with the same day I met her. 

I wanted her the moment I saw her come into a room where I was speaking that morning.  As I shared my thoughts about our profession from the pulpit, I caught myself looking at her more frequently than the other attendees.  We didn’t introduce ourselves to each other then.

At the evening networking event, she was busy talking to group of a few women and a dapper man, so I entertained myself by talking to the other attendees, including a young lady who would have been my second choice, but was apparently the first choice of many other people, judging by the attention she received. 

After a couple hours the room had started to wind down, and I found she was at a table for 4 where only 3 were seated.  I was pleased that she introduced herself energetically, but concerned to find a wedding ring on her finger.  However, that’s never deterred me, and I don’t frequently find it’s a deterrent for the ring wearer either. 

Just as soon as I made that observation and introduced myself to the other 2 people at the table, I found out that one gentleman was in a business I was particularly curious about, so I ignored the ladies for 20 minutes or so while I picked his brain.

When I was ready to turn my attention back to the woman who’d piqued my interest, the staff in the banquet room was ready to kick us out, so it was on to the cocktail lounge.  I was pleased that she agreed to continue the evening there with another 10 or so of us.

After standing around in the cocktail lounge for a while, a seating arrangement opened up allowing some of us to sit down.  One seat happened to be a 2-person bench, and when she took half, I, of course, took the other.  Being more comfortable, it wasn’t long before the topic of relationships came up.  And therefore, it wasn’t long before I had espoused my relationship philosophies, shocking most of the listeners with my frankness, but simultaneously entertaining them.  Out of 5 people, 4 of us had been divorced.  I intent to remain so forever, one in a steady relationship with a member of the same sex, one lonely divorcee, and one remarried. 

Only my romantic interest was still married to her first husband, but when she’d first been asked the question, she answered in a way that, to me at least, said her facebook status might most accurately be listed as “it’s complicated.”  I teased her about that for the rest of the night.  She wouldn’t provide me with the details, but she also didn’t deny that my observation was correct.

As the night went on, more shockingly honest information flowed from me, and more alcohol into her.  Our thighs rested against each other.  She brushed my pants and my jacket with her hand.  With our hands each on our own thighs that bordered each other, I let my pinky overlap hers.  She pulled away.  Later she put it back.  Later she grabbed my hand.  Then she had her other arm around my shoulder, then she got up without letting go of my hand and we went back to her room.

—

She grew up in one of those churches where you can’t dance, listen to music, drink alcohol, etc., etc.  On some level, she recognized that some of the restrictions were crazy, even as a kid, but she accepted them.

She met her husband in her early twenties, and for the first several years of their marriage, he was a paid minister.  Ultimately, they both recognized they weren’t cut out for the holier-than-thouness or false compassion of a preacher and his wife, so they left, and haven’t been particularly religious since.

He’s a great dad, an heir to wealth, blah, blah, blah, but she’s been unhappy for at least half of their marriage.  He’s not particularly motivated or ambitious.  He blames her any time there’s a problem of any kind within the family.  She doesn’t come when they have sex.  He doesn’t seem to care.  She stays with him for her kids.

—

We kissed for a long time, which was fine by me.  She debated about whether or not she wanted to move forward.  I didn’t push it.  I asked her to imagine asking me to leave, and then tell me the probability that someday in the future she would regret that decision.  She wasn’t able to offer a number.  I told her I thought it was a 75% chance of regret, and she agreed.

We had sex.

She has a great body, and I really enjoyed fucking her.  Even so, not surprisingly, she had sex like someone who had forgotten how to enjoy sex due to a decade of viewing it as a duty; like someone who didn’t want the kids to hear what was going on; like someone who assumes that her partner doesn’t really care how she regards what she’s experiencing. 

Admittedly, I initially misinterpreted her passivity as not being impressed by my skills, or as dwelling on her guilt in a way that prevented her enjoyment.  I made an effort to come quickly so as not to drag on the experience for her.  But when I was done, she came alive again, really savoring the tenderness of the afterglow and showing great affection.  Since she seemed to enjoy the afterglow so much, it didn’t seem appropriate to ask about whether or not she wanted me to employ other methods of making her come.  We talked some more, and we fell asleep as I spooned her.

When we had sex the next night, I tried to bring out some of her sexual energy by having her be on top so that she couldn’t just passively take it.  This worked well, and we fucked hard for quite a while, during which she moaned and sighed and moved in very erotic ways.  When I felt she was getting tired, I threw her on her back and rocked her until I came, and got the impression she might, too, but it didn’t quite happen.  This time, I did ask if she would enjoy it if I continued to play with her until she came.  She said she would. 

Do I have any regrets for being the man who caused a faithful wife to cheat on her husband for the first time?  Not in the least!

While I fingered her, she told me that she might be having the best experience of her life.  After she came, she said I’d changed her life.  I hope she does find the strength to leave the marriage that is strangling her, or at least the strength to more frequently find pleasure for herself that will slow the creeping insanity that invariably takes hold when a person persists in a miserable life for the sake of everyone else’s happiness. 

I hope she really meant it when she said I’d changed her life.

Categories :Whording