B&c's Colombian boyfriend was visiting this weekend, and that was a lot of fun because he's cute and friendly and, well, cute. He speaks very little English, and I speak almost no Spanish, so communication was somewhat complicated. I can sort of decode written Spanish since the etymology is so similar to French, and when I tried to explain that to him, he said that he spoke a little French, and then we had a perfectly decent conversation in French, after which he either decided that he would rather not be understood or he lost confidence in his French skills. Most likely the latter, which was unfortunate since his French was better than his English, and my French is miles ahead of my Spanish. But whatever, he was still cute.
Throughout the weekend, he kept staring at me, with some intensity, and at first I figured that he was wondering whether I resented his presence in the house. I would have liked to reassure him, but how do you pantomime "I have no problem whatever with your fucking my partner; in fact, I would greatly appreciate your fucking him since I'm not fucking him any more, and it would certainly help his mood; furthermore, feel free to sleep with him, just give me a heads up so I can move my reading glasses to the other room"? And don't tell me there's a video of someone pantomiming that very thing on YouTube: do you think I didn't check? By the way, if you've lost your voice but still need to tell your butcher that you'd like him to trim another quarter-inch of fat off the pork loin, I can hook you up.
But then, occasionally, he'd be next to me to show me something or for me to show him something on the computer, and he'd push against me forcefully enough that it couldn't possibly have been an accident, and I started to think that maybe he was flirting with me. Which seemed slightly odd, but not really all that odd, and, besides, it felt really, really good. B&c and I are pretty much physically estranged these days, and he was never all that good at cuddling or anything like cuddling, and the sort of body contact I get when I hook up (which, in any case, has been happening rarely) is very different from, say, the sort of enchanting-but-not-necessarily-erotic body contact that you might get from a friend who is more physically expressive than I am. I should probably work on being more physically expressive in non-overtly sexual ways, but the list of things that I should work on is already very long, and "be more physically expressive in non-overtly sexual ways" is simply too cumbersome to be on a list with items like "exercise more" and "stop losing socks." As if.
Anyway, Saturday was a very frustrating day. On Friday afternoon, I'd been driving home with YFU, and I'd heard the noise I'd been hearing in the front of my car, but it was much louder than it had been. So on Saturday morning, after b&c, M. and I had stayed up until nearly 1 watching Milk (with the Spanish subtitles on), I got up at 6 to take my car to the shop where I spent five hours and $801. getting new brakes. I'd hoped to spend at least part of Saturday at the office, but between the shop and then shopping with YFU, the day got away from me.
B&c and M. got back from tromping about DC around 6:30, and we all had dinner, YFU disappearing to her room to watch old episodes of Bones on the Internet. We sat at the table draining bottles of wine (most of them were more than half-empty to start with: we were just cleaning up, really) and chatting for a while, then M. and I did the dishes. B&c claimed exhaustion and went to bed, and M. and I retired to the den. He picked up a Spanish novel that EFU had left behind and began reading, and then we chatted a bit. We had to keep looking up words in the dictionary, and when he'd find a word, he'd sit on the arm of the armchair and lean into me and show me the dictionary, and then I'd say "Si" and we'd smile. I thought, "Okay, he's interested," and he was still sitting on the arm of the chair, so I slid my arm around him and squeezed a little bit, and he leaned in against me again, and then he stood up, smiled, and said, "Buenos noches" and went up to his room, stopping to look back at me and smile as he turned the corner. And then I thought that he was simply being friendly and that was probably just the way Colombians are. It was a little confusing, but so much fun. I'd enjoyed the flirting a great deal, and I wondered briefly whether that's why people date. I've always assumed that people date out of some sort of defect of character, but I suppose there is an upside.
The next morning I was singing with the choir at church, so I only caught a glimpse of M. wrapped in a towel coming from the shower before YFU and I had to leave. I figured that M. and b&c would use that time to get horizontal, even though b&c may have said that their relationship had become mainly non-sexual. It's kind of hard to keep track: he works in several different countries, and he has something like a part-time boyfriend in most of them, and I'm not interested and/or diligent enough to remember which ones are dinner companions and travel guides and which ones are dinner companions and travel guides who also pound him senseless. I would like to think that most of them fall into the latter category, but b&c seems to be relatively happy not to have sex with any of his guys, except probably me.
Anyway, we got back from church, YFU returned to her computer, and I went off to the office for a couple of hours, then I took her back to her mother's, and came back home. I took a walk and then read some more, and M. and b&c returned -- after another day of tromping about -- around 6. B&c made dinner in the kitchen. M. and I were in the den, and every once in a while, he'd get up to go to the kitchen or come back, and he'd walk behind my chair and squeeze the back of my neck. Then we had dinner, and more wine, and b&c went upstairs to pack for his trip to Colombia. M. was already packed for his trip to NYC, so we sat in the den and attempted to chat for a bit. He asked me what my favorite song was. It seemed easiest to take him into the office and show him. I opened YouTube and showed him Patsy Cline singing "Crazy" and he showed me what he said was some typically Colombian music, and I showed him the opening scene from Diva with Wilhelminia Wiggins Fernandez singing an Aria from La Wally. He showed me Nat King Cole sining "Quizas, Quizas, Quizas," and I showed him a clip from Strictly Ballroom with the Doris Day version, and all through that, he was massaging my neck and then my shoulders and it really seemed as though he were being more than friendly, and when I stood up, he reached up and grabbed the back of my neck again, and I reached over and did the same to him, and then we heard b&c coming down the stairs, and we separated and I sat back down and pulled up "Girl from Ipanema."
B&c went back upstairs, and I stood up and leaned down and had one of those first kisses that would in any event have been awesomely delicious but which was made much more so by all that teasing. It surely didn't hurt that he has full soft lips, or that he's short and thin and dark and lovely. We stood there and made out, and there was a beautiful ebb and flow to it. He'd moan softly and then there'd be an increased urgency, and I'd suck on his immense lower lip, and he'd bite down on mine, and I'd pull him into my arms, and then we'd hear a noise from upstairs and separate. The whole teenagers-not-wanting-to-get-caught-by-Dad vibe made it all the more enticing. When we'd separate, he'd often sit in the chair at the computer, and I'd massage his neck and shoulders, and he'd melt a little and then lift his head to look back at me, and I'd bend down, and we'd meet in an upside down kiss, each sucking on the other's lower lip. I ran my hands down over his chest and squeezed his nipples through his polo shirt and then gently stroke the side of his face. I could see him tenting his jeans, but I thought it wise not to reach that far down just then.
We did that off and on for half an hour or so, and every moment of it -- the kissing, the roaming hands, the sudden separations -- was heaven. Eventually, b&c finished packing and asked M. whether there was anything he could take back to Colombia for him (M. will be getting back there while b&c is still there.), so M. went off to get a few things, and I went back to the Den and picked up my book. I figured that b&c would be tired and would turn in pretty soon, and then I'd have a chance to get M. into a more compromising position, but I also figured that a) that might be a little bit awkward, and b) I'd already had a great time, and it isn't often that I get really great clothed making out, so I was already ahead of the game.
B&c and M. settled in the living room to talk for a bit, and it got to be about 10, and M. appeared in the den and said, "Buenos noches" again. He blew me a kiss and went upstairs. B&c stayed up for a few more minutes, but then said he was exhausted and went to our room. I smiled, thinking what a fun evening it had been, and flipped on a rerun of whichever one of the Law & Orders Christopher Meloni is on. Christopher Meloni, mmmmm. It would have been nice, I figured, to get M. naked and find out whether he had the small, dark, uncut cock that must surely have accompanied his small, dark, smooth body, but the kissing really was all that.
Of course, half an hour later, he snuck downstairs in his underwear, and we had really tremendous sex -- and I'm not complaining about that, mind you -- but it was almost beside the point.