Becoming Hers Ch. 01-2

As we began picking up speed in the tunnel the driver turned to me, “If you don’t mind me asking, sir, what is it?” I caught his eyes in the rearview mirror.

“I’m not sure, I can’t get it open. The ribbon is-“

“Oh, right! I was supposed to give you this.” He held up a retractable box cutter.

“Ah.”

Odd. I extended the blade and cut the ribbon off. I began unwrapping and lifting the neatly folded paper off, revealing a little white card resting on a small, wooden, black box. I opened the card:

To: S

L,

C


I smiled as I set the card aside and, lifting a little metal clasp, opened the box.

Immediately, I felt my face flush and my the muscles in my neck tense. It was a shining silver buttplug and a tiny bottle of lube nestled in a fabric cushion.

“So…?”

The driver’s words startled me and I snapped the box closed. Our eyes met again in the mirror and I felt dread kick me in the stomach.

“It’s, uh, a watch.”

“A nice one?”

“Not really,” I said, trying my best to sound disappointed, hoping that that would end the conversation. It did.

After a few moments of silence, the adrenaline and edge wore off. I took a few deep breaths and looked out the window as the wall of the tunnel zipped by in a blur.

So that’s why the ribbon was so hard to take off. I looked back down at the box.

“This ok up here on the next block?”

I looked out the window and could see the sign for the restaurant glowing up ahead. I checked my phone and saw I had a few minutes to kill, which was good because I wanted to take a little walk to collect my thoughts. 

”Here’s fine,” I said as I took out my wallet. “How much do I owe you?”

“Oh, don’tworry’boutit. The lady took care of everything.”

I offered him a ten-dollar tip.

“That’s nice and all but really,” he turned towards me, flashing a smile that was partly gap-toothed and partly golden-toothed, “she took care of it.”

I got out of the car as the light turned green and the car behind us laid on his horn. I jogged through a lane or two of traffic and was on the sidewalk, back all alone in the sea of people. Although the…gift had thrown my balance off, the car ride had been an opportunity to organize myself. I felt ready. My thoughts didn’t feel clouded by lust (love?) as they had before, but instead, felt sharpened and focused. Focused, in particular, on recapturing the sensations and desires I had felt the first moment I saw Clarissa, the first moment I touched her, the unthinkable moments that were to come.

By the time I completed the full walk around the block and was standing back in front of the restaurant is was 7:58, so I waited a few minutes for her to show up. At 8:04 I got a text on my phone from Clarissa that read: “?”

After a brief face-palm, I opened the door to the restaurant and stepped in. Immediately, I was confronted with the face of a woman with a plastered on smile and make-up that made her face shine in an unnatural way.

“Reservation?”

“Yes, it’s for 8:00. I’m getting someone here I think they already sat do-“

“-Last name?” She was looking at me, but in her eyes, I saw that she was not registering me as a fully conscious human, an effect that most service jobs have on a person.

“I’m, uh, not sure. Her name is Clarrisa.” The smile cracked and dropped into a curt frown as she scrolled through her iPad looking for the name.

“Hmmm, I don’t see any reservation for that name, maybe-“

She was interrupted by a waiter that appeared from behind her and gently grabbed her shoulder, pulling her ear towards him. He whispered something that managed to lift the smile back into place.

“Right this way, sir.”

The dining room was intimate, servers stood at each of the 4 walls waiting to be beckoned over for another $30 glass of wine. Business partners slapped backs and finely dressed women crossed legs. However, amidst the sea of people, all I could see was Clarissa. She was sitting at a table in the center of the dining room, the light from a chandelier pouring onto her as if the scene had been staged for her. Her very appearance muted the bustle, causing it to slow.

An ocean of calm were the words I thought of as I sat down across from her.

“Did you get my present?”

“I did,” I said, knowing she’d ask this question but still feeling caught off guard, “Thanks. I suppose.” I awkwardly raised the box.

“It shouldn’t still be in the there.”

“You want me to…?”

“I do.” She said softly as she took a sip of wine and looked deeply into me.

“Now? Here?” I looked around for the bathroom but only saw the sea of people in the crowded dining room, talking low and clinking ice around in their glasses.

“Now. Here.” She repeated without the inflection of a question, “Frankly, I’m already disappointed it wasn’t done in the taxi. But I’ll deal with that later.”

I scoffed a laugh because that’s all I felt I could do. I was almost certain this had to be a joke until she gave me a look that said otherwise.

“Ok,” I said as I pushed out my chair and stood up, “If you’ll excuse me.”

She smiled at that.

I clutched the box close to my ribcage as if I was fearful at any moment it could leap out of my grasp and shatter, revealing the contents inside.

“Excuse me,” I said to an approaching waiter, “where’s the restroom?”

He raised his available hand, “Oh it’s just around the corner-” he paused for just a moment as he looked at the box in my hand. I released my iron-grip, hoping to make things look a bit more natural. “-and down the stairs.”

“Thanks,” I offered as I walked away, sensing that his eyes were on me for a moment or two before I turned the corner out of sight.

I opened the large door to the bathroom. Stalls, great. I walked down to the last one, thankful that I didn’t spot any legs poking out from the others.

I had only experienced having anything up my ass on a few occasions when I had my first girlfriend in college and we both wanted to try things out. I set the box down on the top of the toilet tank and opened it up, pausing and looking at the contents. I squeezed the bottle and the lube felt cold on my hands, but not as cold as it felt as I rubbed it on. I prodded myself with one finger to test things out and could feel myself tensing. I have to relax, I thought to myself, wondering how that would be possible considering the circumstances. I squeezed a bit more lube onto my fingers and closed my eyes, taking a few deep breaths as I gently slid one in, trying to get as well lubed as possible.

The noise of the door opening and the approaching footsteps launched thoughts into my mind that I couldn’t escape Am I fucking crazy? What am I doing here?

I shook my head to rid myself of those thoughts for now. It was too late and there wasn’t much going back at this point. It would be more of a hassle to take it out and put everything back then just continue on. With my eyes clenched shut I took a deep inhale and pushed the rest of it in. A jolt ran threw me as the thickest part entered me, causing my legs to momentarily buckle, that subsided as I settled around it. I lifted my hand cautiously, half expecting it to slide out as soon as I stood up. But it didn’t, and I bent back over slowly to grip my pants from around my ankles and pull them up.

I unlatched the stall door and opened it carefully, walking with short, quick steps to the sinks to wash the lube off of my hands. Just as the water began to flow there was a flush behind me, and a man walked away from the urinal he had been using. I felt the red rise in my face again and looked intently down at my hands, praying there wouldn’t be even a brief moment of eye contact. As soon as everything was washed off of my hands I darted out of the door, skipping the dryer completely, shaking my hands and rubbing them on my pants.

I forgot the box, the thought stopped me in my tracks, fuck it, I’m not going back in there. I walked with a stunted gait through the dining room, gripping the top of the chair and the edge of the table as I eased myself down. Clarissa sat swirling her wine gently in front of her face, watching me just above the glass.

“No box?”

I shot her a look that tried to tell her that I was reaching my limit, and in response she tipped the glass back, taking a sip through a smile.

“How is it?”

“It’s…fine. Sorry, I’m just a bit jittery. Someone came in as I was…”

Her eyes flashed with excitement.

“Oh?”

I could sense that she wanted more from me. She wanted me to reveal more to her. But I wasn’t going to. Maybe it was the thought of how embarrassing it would be if someone should overhear, maybe it was a little bit of defiance from her for making me do this.

Was I ready for all of this? I couldn’t piece together answers to the questions that had been popping into my head. Clarissa demanded your attention.

“Have you decided on anything?”

“Yes. I’ll have the pickled daikon to start and the sashimi sample menu. He’ll have the edamame and unagi-don.”

The waiter bowed and took our menus.

“What am I having?”


“Unagi-Don. It’s eel over rice. You’ll like it.” I did.

I liked everything about Clarissa. Even the first 15 minutes we spent together in this restaurant affirmed all of the questions that I had been plagued with since she left me on the sidewalk. I wasn’t romanticizing or remembering the best parts of her, she really was that person that so totally consumed me and made me unable to think about anything else. She was intoxicating, and spending time with her was like drinking hard: you could lose yourself in her allure, she had the power to transform an evening, even to transform a person.

Looking back on this night, I realize that I should address the age difference. Not because it’s so obviously an issue of some kind, but rather, because it was something that both intimidated me and excited me at once. The word “mature” comes to mind as one of the forefront characteristics that Clarissa exuded that I craved about her so much. She didn’t giggle, she laughed. She wasn’t afraid of herself. She leaned into discomfort where I shirked away. From the very moment I met her it was as if there was this connection that ran deeper than anything I had previously felt. Every moment had been exciting, felt knew, and maybe because of her age difference the thought of what could or would come next was something I couldn’t imagine.

“Everything alright?” The question snapped me out of a world of thought.

“Everything is…right,” I said, letting slip a bit of my corny romanticism.

Below the table, she slipped her foot out of her shoe and lifted it to rub the bulge in my pants. She placed her iPhone on the table and called a waiter over, unlocking the phone as he approached.

“M’am?”

“My partner wanted to compliment you on his dish,” she said, tapping her phone. A pulse shot through me that was so powerful I gripped the table, slamming my hands onto it. The plug was vibrating inside of me.

“It’s…Yes, it’s delicious. My first time having eel.” Was all I could manage as I tried to recompose myself. My voice sounded harsh and I couldn’t keep from moving. The waiter flashed the professional smile below confused eyes, and, after promising to deliver my message to the chef, excused himself. My back began to arch and my breathing was building.

“Please-” I said in a choked breath. She tapped the phone again and it was off. The sensation had a final ripple effect in my body then faded slowly.

She didn’t use it again, though she picked up a habit of slipping her hand below the table and drilling a stare into me. By the end of the meal, I was exhausted from the tension. We had a pleasant conversation. She asked me what I was reading and I asked her what she was watching. She paid the bill and we were soon out the door.

“Will I see you again?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Ok. Just-please- before you go.” My voice was strained and desperate. She paused, turning slightly and lifting an expectant eyebrow.


“Why me? Of all the people in the bar. Of all the people…in New York, why me?”

“Do you know when you just know? With someone, that is.”

I wanted to tell her everything. Tell her I knew exactly what she was talking about because it would have been an affirmation of absolutely everything I had been feeling but couldn’t articulate. But not here, not on some sidewalk, and certainly not after the first date.

So, instead of the whole truth, I gave her a half-truth, “I think I do.”

“Well, that’s you. I just know it.” And with that, she pulled me into her by my jacket pockets. I was taken off guard and reflexively grabbed her hips. I didn’t realize it but up until this moment that this evening she had been untouchable, something that seemed so precious and fragile that I was not allowed to feel her. But now that I could I was ravenous, and I tried to feel as much of her as I could, like this might be the last moment. She was everything I knew she would be, warm and soft. Her body almost vibrated with life and vigor. I felt her muscles move beneath her clothes and her back arch into me. She even tasted good…

And then, in a sudden, she pushed—no, shoved me back. I Read disgust on her face and everything melted.

“Oh, no, I’m sorry I-“

Her smile let me know that it was another little game. I couldn’t help but laugh and so I did. The night had been such a roller coaster, so many ups and downs and so many moments of anxiety.

As the car pulled away a gust of wind reminded me of December. I pulled the collar of my jacket up and dug my hands into my pocket. Although, when I did, I found something that wasn’t there before.

I pulled out a pair of black lace panties. They were still warm.

And so there I was, alone on the sidewalk yet again, but somehow, in some indescribable way, and all because of her, less alone than before.

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