Thursday, August 17, 2006
The Day After
The next morning, I had only the mildest of hangovers. I slept peacefully and the grey skies out the window gently roused me. I hadn’t set my alarm and had no idea of the time nor had I any concern that I was probably late for work; I was content to have Yulia right next to me. So many thoughts running through my head – how I had been so worried the day before about going to her birthday and that the question of whether I was straight now or a bisexual seemed stupid and simple compared with the feeling that I had made some great discovery, though the realization that perhaps now, I didn’t have to lie about my sexuality anymore seemed to potentially be a nice perk.
I slipped out of the bedroom to see that it was only 9AM and phoned to my office to tell Dildora that I would be coming in after lunch as I wasn’t feeling well. It was the first time I would ever be late to work. I started boiling water for tea and from the kitchen, watched Yulia in the bed; she seemed to be smiling with her eyes closed and when I turned away to pour tea, she had disappeared from the bed, later emerging from the bathroom looking fresh, wearing only my shirt which covered her up – something I’d probably seen in the movies. She lit up a cigarette and I popped in an Aerosmith CD and turned it up, it seemed appropriate. The moment needed rock and roll. I took her cigarette and kissed her on the lips, then taking a drag off the cigarette, then running my hand down her leg. “It’s so smooth,” I said and stupidly added, “girls here usually have such hairy legs.”
“I don’t know what kinds of girls you’ve been around,” she said smiling condescendingly, knowingly, perhaps, sipping the tea that I put out in front of her. I didn’t have much experience with women here at all or with women period and I had a strong feeling that she knew that…She disappeared into the bedroom and got dressed in her clothes which were lying on the floor, evidence, I suppose of last night’s drunken and reckless night. I couldn’t believe that it was over.
“When will I see you again,” I asked.
“Whenever you want,” she said. “I’ll call you.”
I wondered if this was a one-night-stand. Even if it was, I didn’t care. I felt so good about it, so good that I felt like I wanted to shout it around the city as I walked to the office, arriving there hardly late at all, but because I never showed up late – the heads of my colleagues turned and eyebrows rose as I walked in. Was I being paranoid, or did they suspect what I had been up to? I didn’t even care. When I sat down to work and when I’d look at the computer screen, I would just think of her. Every time my pants pressed against my crotch, I’d feel myself grow hard and aroused just by the thought of Yulia and the night before and I’d think about how much I wanted to see her again and how that night, when I got home, I would immediately call her to see me the following night. ¶ 12:17 AM
The next morning, I had only the mildest of hangovers. I slept peacefully and the grey skies out the window gently roused me. I hadn’t set my alarm and had no idea of the time nor had I any concern that I was probably late for work; I was content to have Yulia right next to me. So many thoughts running through my head – how I had been so worried the day before about going to her birthday and that the question of whether I was straight now or a bisexual seemed stupid and simple compared with the feeling that I had made some great discovery, though the realization that perhaps now, I didn’t have to lie about my sexuality anymore seemed to potentially be a nice perk.
I slipped out of the bedroom to see that it was only 9AM and phoned to my office to tell Dildora that I would be coming in after lunch as I wasn’t feeling well. It was the first time I would ever be late to work. I started boiling water for tea and from the kitchen, watched Yulia in the bed; she seemed to be smiling with her eyes closed and when I turned away to pour tea, she had disappeared from the bed, later emerging from the bathroom looking fresh, wearing only my shirt which covered her up – something I’d probably seen in the movies. She lit up a cigarette and I popped in an Aerosmith CD and turned it up, it seemed appropriate. The moment needed rock and roll. I took her cigarette and kissed her on the lips, then taking a drag off the cigarette, then running my hand down her leg. “It’s so smooth,” I said and stupidly added, “girls here usually have such hairy legs.”
“I don’t know what kinds of girls you’ve been around,” she said smiling condescendingly, knowingly, perhaps, sipping the tea that I put out in front of her. I didn’t have much experience with women here at all or with women period and I had a strong feeling that she knew that…She disappeared into the bedroom and got dressed in her clothes which were lying on the floor, evidence, I suppose of last night’s drunken and reckless night. I couldn’t believe that it was over.
“When will I see you again,” I asked.
“Whenever you want,” she said. “I’ll call you.”
I wondered if this was a one-night-stand. Even if it was, I didn’t care. I felt so good about it, so good that I felt like I wanted to shout it around the city as I walked to the office, arriving there hardly late at all, but because I never showed up late – the heads of my colleagues turned and eyebrows rose as I walked in. Was I being paranoid, or did they suspect what I had been up to? I didn’t even care. When I sat down to work and when I’d look at the computer screen, I would just think of her. Every time my pants pressed against my crotch, I’d feel myself grow hard and aroused just by the thought of Yulia and the night before and I’d think about how much I wanted to see her again and how that night, when I got home, I would immediately call her to see me the following night. ¶ 12:17 AM
