Finding Ethan

UN-believable. I hadn't known him for very long and already I was conjuring up images of what he might feel like making love to me. I knew his first name, I knew he had a girlfriend, I knew he was once my boyfriend's best friend, and I knew that he'd gone to the same university as the rest of us, and since he'd been friends with my friends through high school and college I was amazed that I hadn't met this guy yet. But I didn't know anything else. And yet I very badly wanted to wind up in his bed.

I met him for the first time at a party a couple of weeks ago. Several of my friends from work had begged me to come, even though they knew that it was a reunion of sorts for their school friends and I wouldn't really know anybody besides them. "We just want you to come, Devra, please. You'll have fun! We promise," they said. "Oh, and you can also meet Ethan," they added.

Well, since my boyfriend, Marty, was part of that crowd I'd heard a lot about Ethan just from him, to say nothing of what everyone else was saying. Apparently Ethan was this incredibly amazing guy who'd decided to work on forest fire studies around the country instead of becoming an engineer, like the rest of us, and was doing very well with his work. He had managed to remain friends with my friends despite being miles apart from them in distance and profession.

"Oh all right, I'll go," I said after a more than sufficient amount of arm-twisting.

And that's where it began. When I met him that night, I had no inclinations toward him whatsoever. Sure, he had the combination of looks that usually does it for me, light eyes, medium brown hair, strong jaw, and a light complexion and he was taller than I was, but he seemed...I can't explain it...not my type somehow. He didn't pay me any undue attention that I noticed, and I was polite and made idle chit-chat with him, but there weren't any sparks that I noticed. So I was surprised to find myself unable to stop thinking about him later on.

*****

We were all at a sports bar one evening a few weeks later watching our alma mater's football team get its butt kicked, and Ethan showed up, to everyone's surprise. He was supposed to be out of town on a survey, but of course, we were happy to see him. His girlfriend was with him but his eyes went straight to mine, and then to the red and blue feathered clip that I always wore on the back of my head on game days.

He reached around my head, tousled the feathers and said, "Cute!!" And gave me the warmest smile I'd seen in a long time.

His girlfriend looked daggers at me. I shrugged and gave her a look back that said, "What?" She turned her back on me.

For the rest of the evening we hung out, chatted, spent time joking and laughing with everyone else. Again, nothing out of the ordinary, but something felt different to me this time. I shrugged it off and soon forgot about it.

As the game was coming to a close Ethan's girlfriend started whining that she was tired and wanted to go home. Ethan obviously didn't want to and, much to her annoyance put her in a cab and said he'd follow her later. The rest of us went out wandering aimlessly around the city, which is about all there is to do at that time of night, even on a Saturday. As people got tired, they turned around to walk back to their own apartments or got their own cabs, and after a disagreement between Marty and me over whether or not we should go home as well, he, too, said goodbye to us and suddenly, Ethan and I found ourselves alone.

"Any place in particular you'd like to go?" he asked.

I shrugged and said, "No. Besides, what's open at this hour?"

He chuckled and said, "Good point!"

We kept walking, pulling up our jacket collars against the cool night, and each of us gazed around the steel and concrete canyons that form the heart of the city. We marveled at the lights and how the clear, cloudless sky seemed to enhance the way things looked. The scene was very romantic and I was beginning to notice it, but I was afraid to say anything. The conversation slowly died as we each became too nervous about saying anything that could be misconstrued.

Suddenly we stopped, and he said quietly, "Here we are."

I looked around and said, "Yeah. But just where is 'here?'"

He said simply, "My building."

I looked up, and up. This was a skyscraper with a curved façade made of nothing but blue mirrors, more than sixty stories tall, and was reflecting the night sky absolutely beautifully. He lived in one of the most expensive buildings in the city. Corporate executives and celebrities lived here, not people that would hang out with an ordinary person like me. I continued to stare up the side of the building, almost dumbfounded.

I said the only thing that came to mind. "They must be paying you one hell of a salary if you can afford to live here."

He laughed softly and said, "They actually gave me the apartment. It's one of the smaller ones and I have to move if I ever lose this job. I can't really afford to live here otherwise."

I looked at him, and then shook my head. "In that case, nice perk."

"Indeed," he agreed.

We gazed at each other for a few minutes and then he cleared his throat. "Would you like to come up and see it?"

I was tempted. Oh, I was tempted. But I didn't understand what I was feeling and I was confused by it. I was afraid he'd kiss me at any moment and I knew I would kiss him back, all reservations fleeing from my head, my thoughts driven by my body's response to him, and I didn't know what kinds of consequences that would have.

So I said, "I'd love to, but I really should be getting home myself."

"Sure," he said easily, as though he knew that was the response I'd give.

Neither of us was really willing to leave, though. We gazed into each others' eyes for a few minutes more, both of us wanting what we knew we shouldn't, and then I finally managed to tear myself away.

"Good night," I said quietly, and turned to leave. He caught my arm and said, "Good night," and gave me a small peck on my cheek that sent such a thrill through my body that the shudder was almost visible.

When I got home my boyfriend was already in bed and asleep, and I was glad because I wanted to be alone with my thoughts and feelings. Thoughts and feelings that were swirling around Ethan, and I felt like I couldn't make them stop. I wasn't sure I wanted to.

Another couple of weeks went by and I was still thinking about him, but I hadn't heard from him at all. Part of me was relieved and part of me was hurt. I knew we'd had a bit of a moment there in front of his building, but I also knew that it was wrong for me to feel what I was feeling. Sure, I could easily break up with my boyfriend, in fact we were heading in that direction anyway so it wasn't him that I felt guilty about. But I didn't know the status of Ethan's relationship with his girlfriend and because of that, I knew that wanting anything with him at all wasn't right.

I had just made the decision to keep Ethan in the realms of fantasy when he texted me in the middle of my workday. I was standing over the plans for a new skyscraper with an architect arguing with the building's would-be owner about much needed structural support on the lower levels, and he wasn't listening to either of us. He was one of those types who had a vision in his head but knew nothing about engineering; he thought the picture in his head was sufficient and we needed to listen to him. In short, he wanted what he wanted and that was what he wanted when it came to the building. He was giving me one hell of a headache.

My phone vibrated in my pocket and I excused myself from the table, relieved to have a reason to get away from the guy for a moment. It was short and to the point, "At the airport waiting for a flite. Delayed. Want 2 meet me here when u get off work?"

I studied the number for a moment, not sure whose it was, and then I suddenly felt hot and flushed like I'd developed a fever. My heart started pounding as his name flashed through my mind.

"Sure," I pecked back. "C u there @ 6," and I went back to my argument with the very adamant and equally stupid rich guy.

I spent the trip to the airport wondering how I was supposed to get past security, because I figured he'd be at his gate. I decided I'd call him when I got there and have him come outside to ticketing, so I was surprised to find him already waiting for me in the ticketing area. He smiled a huge, gorgeous smile when he saw me and we approached each other like we were going to hug, but stopped short and grasped each other's upper arms instead.

"Shouldn't you be at your gate in case your flight leaves earlier than they've said?" I asked.

He shook his head, a dark cloud of frustration crossing his face. "It's been cancelled. I can't get another flight till morning, which means I'll be late for my meeting. They already know about it but they aren't happy either."

I squeezed his arms and said, "Well, everything should be okay anyway. It's not like you have any control over what the airlines do."

He seemed to relax, as though that thought hadn't occurred to him. "Yeah, you're right. C'mon, let's go get some food."

We went to a restaurant downtown that the both of us knew, and had a lot more fun than I thought we would. I found that I could talk to him about anything and everything, and our conversation lasted well beyond dinner. We left when we realized that we were probably going to get kicked out soon, and once again we found ourselves outside his apartment building, staring at each other in awkward silence.

I couldn't deal with it anymore, but I also couldn't do what I wanted to do most, which was kiss him.

"Do you want to come up this evening?" he asked, a joking lilt in his voice.

Before I could even think, I heard myself say, "Yes."

We went inside the red-clad, lavishly decorated lobby and stepped into an elevator that was already open. As soon as the brass doors closed and he'd hit the button for his floor, he pressed me up against the red and gold wall at the back and said, "Are you attracted to me?"

"What?" I replied, completely taken by surprise.

"Are you attracted to me?" he said hoarsely.

I looked down for a moment and nodded. "I am," I whispered back.

He smiled just as the elevator came to a stop. The doors opened onto a long hallway with the same red and gold wallpaper that was in the elevator, and a red plush carpet that swallowed my feet. I glanced at the two of us in the mirror on the opposite wall and for just a moment, I could picture us as a couple. Then he put his hand at the small of my back and guided me to the right, towards his apartment.

As soon as the door was shut, he had my back against it and he was kissing me hard. He undid the belt on my coat and pushed it off of me, as I pushed his coat off of him. I slid my left arm around his side, and my right arm went around his neck, and I pulled him into me as hard as I could. All thoughts in my head about how wrong this was went flying out the window, and all I could feel was him, all I could taste, smell, and hear, was him. I got lost in the feel of his lips and his body. I let myself ride on the tidal wave of the faint but spicy scent of his aftershave mingled with his natural scent, and I explored the slightly salty taste of his mouth. I gave myself up completely to the moment.

He broke away and looked at me for an instant, then whispered, "I'm sorry." He let go of me and went into his living room. I followed, unsure as to what had happened between the moment we'd gotten in the door and this one.

I caught the sleeve of his shirt and turned him around. I looked deep into his gray-green eyes, which had been so full of passion a moment ago but now only held regret.

I said, "Don't be sorry."

"Why? I kissed you and I shouldn't have. I-"

I shushed him with a finger to his lips. "Don't be sorry. Don't ever be sorry for a moment like that." I stretched up and kissed him again.

He didn't pull away, and as our kiss deepened, he guided me to his sofa, where he lay me down on my back and began unbuttoning my black silk blouse. His hands were sure and steady, not at all like mine, which were trembling slightly. I felt my heart pounding against his as he exposed my dark purple satin and lace bra, and I shuddered slightly as his lips brushed lightly over my stomach.

I gathered his silver-gray work shirt in my fists and pulled it free of his pants, then pushed him up so I could undo his buttons. I was desperate to feel his skin against mine. I finished with the buttons and pushed the shirt down off of his shoulders, exposing his well-toned chest and stomach. Quickly, he reached behind me and unhooked my bra in one smooth motion, and I threw it out of the way and pulled him tight against me. He felt so good that I gasped slightly, and he buried his face in my neck and started nuzzling me, and placing small kisses along my collarbone.

I felt the hardness of his cock growing against me and I reached for it, completely driven by my feelings and blissfully ignorant of the rest of the world. I touched his hardness and his body went rigid for a moment with pleasure. Encouraged, I pressed my palm against him and wrapped my fingers around his shaft as far as his pants would allow, and I began rubbing slowly and gently, making him moan with pleasure.

He brought his mouth to mine and parted my lips with his tongue, and I slipped my tongue in his mouth and explored, tasting him, wanting ever more of him. I couldn't remember the last time a man felt so good to me; even my boyfriend had never felt this good to me. I had never wanted anybody so badly in my entire life.

His hands slid down my sides and went to work on the hook and zipper of my skirt, and I arched my back into him, giving him more room to work. He pulled my skirt off, leaving me there in my dark purple lace bikini panties, which were getting increasingly damp with my arousal.

I pushed him off of me into a sitting position, then down on his back. I kissed his cheeks, his neck, his chin, his chest. I let my hands wander over his skin for a moment, aimlessly, giving him chills and sending his nerve endings into apparent overdrive. He grabbed my wrists and pulled me down onto him and kissed me roughly, the intensity and the passion of it conveying his desire, his need for me. I responded with equal intensity, letting my physical and emotional feelings get the better of me.

I slipped out of his grasp and kissed down his chest, nuzzling my face in the dark strands of hair. I kissed his flat stomach, and undid the button and fly on his pants. I rubbed his now rock-hard cock through his briefs as I pulled his pants off of him, then I straddled him and ground my wet, tingling pussy into his throbbing cock. He grabbed my hips and guided me so that I was sliding up and down the shaft of his erection. I bent down and kissed him again.

Suddenly the phone started ringing. Ethan sat up and I gave him a slightly bewildered look. He glanced at his Caller ID and said, "I need to answer this, hang on."

I moved off of him and let him answer the phone. When he was off, he said, "I'm so sorry about that. It was my girlfriend. The last thing I want is for her to walk in on us. She'll be home soon." The look on his face was one of defeat.

I felt deflated; the mood was completely broken. I started gathering my clothes and getting dressed, and so did he. I went to the door where my coat still lay, and slowly picked it up. The disappointment I felt was so deep that I thought I might cry at any moment, and at the same time I wondered what right I had to be upset at all. This was a man with a girlfriend, someone he did seem to care about, and here I was trying to steal him away from her. I'd kill any woman who did that to me, so what was I doing?

He walked up behind me just as I shrugged my coat on and took my hands in his.

"I'm so sorry about this, Devra," he said sadly.

I just nodded, turned, opened the heavy oak door, and left.

*****

It was three months before I saw or heard from Ethan again. During that time I decided that it would be best to break up with Marty because I knew that what I was thinking and feeling for Ethan wasn't fair to him. I felt that our relationship had actually been pretty much over for quite awhile, but my night with Ethan had sounded the death knell for it and two nights later, I finally told Marty it was over. Marty was understandably hurt and angry, particularly when I told him why. He kicked me out of our apartment; I took two days off of work to pack my things and move in with my friend Jen. I didn't stay with her long, just long enough to find my own place.

Most people considered it strange that I felt no remorse over what I'd done to Marty, and that I wasn't at all affected by the breakup. I wondered how I could be affected by it when my dreams were filled with another man, but I never asked anyone that.

And so it came to be that one evening, we all found ourselves at our usual sports bar watching our alma mater destroy its opponent in basketball, and Ethan showed up, having just gotten in from a particularly long and grueling assignment.

He saw me and hesitated, and I quickly looked down at my drink, which I then finished in one swallow. I noticed that he was alone, but I hardly dared to hope that he, too, was now single. I just watched as he came over to the bar and ordered a beer, then stood watching the television apart from the rest of us.

I couldn't stand it. I walked over to him and said, "We should talk."

His gaze slowly met mine, as though he were in a trance, and said slowly, "Yes, we should."

We made our excuses to everyone and left the bar. As we walked into the freezing night air, he noticed the feathers on the back of my head and tousled them, saying softly, "Cute."

I looked up at him and searched his eyes, looking for some sign that our encounter three months ago had left as much of an impression on him as it had on me. He gazed back at me almost peacefully, as though he'd finally reached a decision he could live with. I wondered, not without some fear, what that decision was.

We walked in silence towards his building, each afraid to talk, each afraid to touch, each afraid to do much of anything. When we got to the front door I paused, unsure of what to do.

He came to me then and wrapped me in his arms, saying, "I never stopped thinking about you the whole time I was gone. I wanted to talk to you, to hear your voice, to see your face and smell your perfume. I wanted to call you so many times but I never could bring myself to. I have so much I want to say and do...I don't know where to start."

I was a little surprised at this sudden outpouring of emotion, something I didn't expect from him at all. I pulled away slightly and said, "Let's go inside where it's warm. We can talk more easily there."

We went inside and up to his apartment, but after closing the front door again, instead of kissing me he just led me to the sofa, where we sat in silence for a few minutes.

Finally I broke the ice. Putting a hand to his cheek I said softly, "Why am I here?"

"Do you want to be?" he asked.

I nodded and said, "But that doesn't answer my question. Why am I here?"

He said, "Because I needed to see you alone."

I swallowed hard, unprepared for the sudden emotion that ran through me. "What do you want tonight?" I asked.

He laughed, a brief, single, punctuated sound, and said, "I want you. All of you. Tonight, I want to make love to you."

I looked deep into his eyes and nodded. Then I slowly brought his face to mine and kissed him. The roughness, the urgency in his kisses had been replaced by a sweetness; a sensitivity that defied description. He kissed me slowly, carefully, and touched me the same way. I slid my arms around his waist and held him close to me as I sought out his mouth.