Whispers

Autumn

For years we knew. The simple draw of attraction. No build up. No slow realization. From the moment we met. That jolt of energy through the body. The feeling that starts in the chest. It’s warm and full. It spreads to the stomach along with the spread of a smile. Excitement and belly flips. 

It all started with a friendly introduction.

“Hi. I’m Dan. You’re pretty.”

Such a simple compliment. Gentle praise and the warmth spreads further.

Back then it was just an acknowledgement. It was there and it was fine. We are safe and secure enough within the confines of our own relationships that the attraction had no traction. It felt adult and friendly to flirt at times. To smile. To grow closer in our friendship and bonds. Nothing would happen. Not until the other one was single. Or as we joked—until I was widowed when “the old man bit the big one.” 

My therapist asked me to pay attention to the “whispers’—what were the first whispers that things were not well with me and my ex?

We wanted to escape the flatlands of the midwest to explore mountains and camp amongst the forests, so my ex and I moved to Portland, Oregon. We learned a few months after our arrival that Dan was moving to the same city. He’s got family here. The ex, myself and Dan, we all had mutual friends here. The social group and connection seemed to happen so naturally. Weekends filled with Star Wars movie viewings and a spur of the moment courtroom marriage between me and my now ex. We were all the best of friends and it makes sense that we would spend these days and nights together. 

But not long after our move, my exes substance abuse deepened and I found myself struggling to keep up. I wanted to party along to stay connected. He was always into LSD and powders. MDMA and cocaine. He liked to collect his drugs. Some people collected baseball cards and my ex collected drugs. A fun party guy that liked to have on hand what he needed quickly turned into an obsessive personality that would do anything to add to his collection. It was taking a toll on me and my anxiety had worsened. I found myself searching for anything to feel like my old self again. 

Running became my escape, and Dan ran with me. 

Winter

We trained and we ran races. I finished my first half marathon with Dan. I accomplished some of my longest miles with him coaching me and rooting me on. He would take pictures of me, running in the snow, later telling me that this determination and focus was what got me to my goals. 

Then one race he tells us he has a girl coming to cheer him on. They have been seeing each other. He didn’t pick her up off of Tinder like before. They met naturally—at a dog park—their two dogs introducing them to one another. We’d meet her and love her. They sing together in the car and they stand up for what they want, whether it be respect or a poster they want to steal from a bar. We all see the growth and change within Dan and sense this relationship is going to be the one. 

I remember one late night after a concert, when the drugs are wearing off, we ask Dan, 

“Do you think you two will get married?” and he says,

“I’m one hundred percent going to marry that girl,” and we all smile and feel the swelling in our hearts with happiness and pride for him and his growth. But there was another feeling that I felt, too. Whispers. A strange feeling of loss. I was so happy for him but at the same time, what was this other tightness in my chest?

We are all now a crew of friends. Dan and his new girl. The mutual friends we all had in the city. This same crew attends the wedding that me and my ex throw a few years after that courtroom. We ask Dan to officiate. I remember feeling nervous at my vows, public speaking is a bitch. And Dan putting a hand on my shoulder, like “you got this.” I felt that surge of encouragement and pride. Like he was coaching me again.

What were the first whispers that something was between Dan and I? The whispers point to when the friendly attraction grew stronger. When curiosity led to fantasies. I remember one morning after a group trip, Dan sitting with his toiletry bag out. He was looking at his phone as one tends to do. I had briefly glanced into the toiletry bag and seen a Magnum condom. “Oh, well is that what you are packing at all times?” I said. Dan just looked at me. Serious and intense. Not a hint of a smile. I almost thought I had gone too far or had said something inappropriate, but he would have called me on that. He never held his tongue and would love the opportunity to put someone in their place. But no. He didn’t say anything. He just stared into my eyes. And I think I looked away first. 

Spring

A few months after my wedding, the pandemic hits. What happens next feels totally out of my control. Anyone’s control. A force of nature. All of us were doing what we could to hold on to comfort and sanity in a questionable time of quarantine. Yes, we all started to drink during the weekdays and stay up later on a Tuesday partying with different powders because who knew what the state of the world was going to be the next day. I had started to notice that my ex had a little tooter of cocaine that sat by him at his work desk. I started to notice how it wasn’t just at night anymore, that he was doing bumps throughout his work day. He ordered multiple cases of nitrous cartridges online and had begun to collect more opiates and ketamine to add to his collection. I was even more depressed and anxious than before. Hopeless thoughts plagued me and I had no idea how to slow any of it down. I needed to get away from the source and the environment. 

We did a camping trip together all as friends before I left for my Mom’s across the country for two weeks. I look at pictures I took from this trip and I think: This was the last time we all hung out and everything was ‘normal.’ It’s a strange thing to see—my ex looking haggard and Dan squeezing into pictures with us both. 

Summer

I got back from the time away at my Mom’s and nothing had changed at home. Dan invited us over to hang out and my ex declined, he wanted to stay at home in the dark with his friend and blow lines. I remember sending the response to the group invite.

Me: It doesn’t look like we are going to make it out tonight, friends.

Dan’s response was: “Typical”

I was livid. I had a physical reaction. I went to my ex and told him I was going over to Dan’s to hang out without him. 

Over at Dan’s there wasn’t much different going on, we were all going to be partying. I remember I didn’t do as much as the others, I didn’t want to since I had just left my house to avoid this exact activity. I had worn a dress though. A dress that I had never worn before. It was a flowy black sundress, covered in little pink flowers. The shoulder straps were wide and the front cut of the dress was low. The back of the dress was bare and the arm holes gave a little skin showing off some side boob. It was appropriate summer wear, but it would have been hard to sit down anywhere without part of me coming out of the dress. I don’t know why I chose to wear it, but then maybe I do. It was not a conscious decision. But I do know that I haven’t worn that dress since.

It’s getting late. Dan’s girlfriend goes to bed and people begin to leave for the night. Then it’s just him and I. It seems there have been so many times it’s just been him and I, but maybe there weren’t. Maybe this was the first with all the elements adding up. The alcohol. The drugs. The music. The jokes and the talks. The cigarettes and the bonding. As we are passing each other from coming back in from the patio, we kiss. It happens in passing, so natural it feels like breathing. 

We kiss. I feel it in my stomach now just writing it. I feel the lightness in my head. I put my hand on his chest and push him away slowly. We look at each other. He says, “I’m sorry.” I say, “No,” I’m dizzy and amazed. Then he walks to the kitchen. I gather myself, then follow him into the kitchen and gently put my hands on his cheeks. I kiss him. This is intentional. Deep and passionate. Our lips giving way to our tongues exploring each other. It feels like this is where we’ve been meant to be for the past seven years, inside each other. We stop again. We go back out to the patio and talk about The Wire. It’s 3am. I’m buzzing. I have to go home. I call an Uber and he wants to wait for it with me outside. And when the car pulls up, we kiss again. Hard and crashing. Rushed and passionate. Breathless when it ends. I get into the Uber to go home. I can’t stop thinking about the kiss.

I go to the bathroom to be alone and touch myself. I grab my vibrator and slowly rub it along my clit. I let my wetness fuel its motions as I think of the kiss. I feel that familiar build up swell in me, then get shook by the fact that it really happened, and come back down. Despite the fact that what I’m doing feels so good, the origin of it is so wrong. It takes me a long time because of the drugs and alcohol, but I’m so wet and feverish. I hold the vibe to my clit and let the tingles rage through my core while I replay the whole scene, over and over again. Right when I think I’m there, the sensation is so intense, I have to pull the vibe off and breathe through the next waves and repeat this process. It is everything and too much. Tiring and overwhelming. I get myself off finally, a mild orgasm, taking into account all the thoughts in my head and the chemicals in my body. Then I go to bed. 

I tell Dan the next day what I did. He said he had done the same.

That day I touch myself again, thinking about the kiss. The attention and the attraction. I had felt his hands brush against the side of my hip, like he wanted to grab my ass but thought it would be too far. I thought of how I sucked on his lips and stroked his tongue with my tongue. Holding his face to mine in my hands. Filling in the spaces of what I wished would have happened. Wishing I could know what was growing inside him and under his belt. Wanting to know how his fingers would feel filling me up and rubbing on that spot that feels so good. I come hard. A powerful orgasm rages through me. Countless times a day I bring myself to climax thinking about him. 

Autumn

Months go by and everything is fine. I have my moments of anxiety about what happened, but with time and space things begin to settle. I spent time with my ex by the water, and did mountain getaways with friends from out of town. Dan had a birthday coming up and we were all going to surprise him. I was very excited for the birthday and to spend time with Dan again. In the deepest channels of my desires, I wanted something to happen again. 

It was a big weekend celebration and there was a moment where we were one on one and we growled at each other about how much we wanted one another. We pressed our bodies together and let our hands playfully roam until a dog came by or we heard another person’s voice and I ran away. That night I sat with him and one of his old hook ups, now a good friend of his, and they shared stories about their past. I wanted every detail and every instance of their involvement until the sun came up. I wanted to live vicariously through their stories. I wanted to imagine that I was the one he was with when he snuck away into a Vegas bathroom. I wanted to picture it was me that he was grabbing by the waist and lifting on to the bathroom counter. I felt like a voyeur. Like I was standing quietly in the corner watching them kiss, grope and breathe, able to rub myself the way I liked to be rubbed. 

He texted me later, telling me he was “distracted.”

Me: What’s worrying you?

Dan: I just have attention to give. To someone who wants it.

I told him I was distracted, too. This was the first time we moved our chats to a secret text app, Signal. The next year would have me wet at the mere mention of “Sig.” 

Dan: Babe

Dan: I need it

Me: What do you need?

Dan: I want to taste it

Dan: I need you on my mouth

Me: How?

Dan: Meeting innocently. Looking over our shoulders. Finding a space alone. Pushing you onto the bed. I want to hold your thighs in my hands. 

Dan: Your thighs are so soft.

Me: Would you push me down face down? Or sitting up? So you can spread my thighs and I can look at you.

Dan: I want to look you in the eye

Dan: While I lean in and taste your clit

I read our sexts over and over again as I fell asleep at night. He sent the picture of me running in the snow. Only it wasn’t a note of encouragement that accompanied the picture like it had before. It was a message conveying a deeper desire.

Dan: This is what I want. 

He wanted me. Pushing myself to my limits. Breaking outside of my comfort zone. Someone to share intense moments of sweat and energy.  Not letting anything like a little bit of weather or the threat of someone else to disrupt my stride. He wanted a partner to run free with him. To indulge in the activities we both felt made us stronger. The activities that no one else in our lives could understand.

A week before Thanksgiving we went on a hike. My ex was supposed to be a part of this hike, to break him out of his opiate induced funk, but he decided to sleep in instead. Dan asked me if I still wanted to go. I did and we did. His dog was with him and we talked and hiked the mountains for the exercise we enjoyed sharing together. It was innocent actually and I remember leaving this hike thinking that all was safe now. Maybe our affair had been a phase—it felt good to know we had kept it all under control. The seas of passion seemed to have calmed, little did I know this was the eye of the storm. 

But the texting begins again. Sig. And we are back to exploring our darkest fantasies with one another. This time I ask him if he wants to hike again tomorrow. He says yes without hesitation.

This hike is different. He doesn’t bring his dog. He is more quiet, like he’s observing. Pensive. Like he’s looking for something. I feel like something is off, but the fact is something is building. 

I look a little closer now and believe he is looking for something. A space in the trees. A private space for us.

He leads me to a part in the woods a bit off the trail. When I follow him, he stops suddenly and turns around. Without a beat he grabs me and pulls us together. There is a moment of shock before our faces are together again. We are kissing. Hard and passionate. Teeth clashing and the wet sounds of our breath as we gasp in between the sucking of lips. Now he’s grabbing my ass and brings me closer to him. He shoves his hips forward and I can feel the hardness of him against my stomach. It’s big. It’s long. I wish I could shift myself so I can feel it against the seam of my pants to where it rides along my sensitive slit. 

There is a transition and I slide my hand down to stroke him through his jeans. We undo his belt, his pants and I reach down until I have his cock in my hand. He’s long and thick and I’m impressed by the length. It’s hard, hot and the heat of him singes my skin. It’s everything I had thought. My fantasies are true and my intuition is strong. My mouth drops open as I look down at it. Dan’s big beautiful cock. I want it. We kiss again and I pull back and ask him, not even sure I know who I am anymore, “If I suck your cock will you cum in my mouth?” 

He stares at me for a second and answers:

“If that’s what you want.” I drop to a squat and pull his full length out of his pants. 

I look up at him as he lifts his jacket so he can see me better and I take him into my mouth. He fills me up and I begin to suck and lick along the side of his shaft. I take my hand to stroke him while I suck him, stopping briefly to look up at him and slap his cock against my tongue. I go back to sucking and stroking with my hand, squeezing, matching the pace with my mouth. His breath turns ragged. I can see the movement of his stomach and chest speed up. Our eyes meet and he lets out an exhale. He says in a deep almost whisper, “Fuck that’s hot.” I feel myself get wetter at his verbalized approval. A mere mention of “good girl” has me melt a bit, but I’m focused on the blues of his eyes and the taste of his cock. It's not long before he tells me he’s about to cum. With some additional saliva and a quickened pace, I can feel the build and his imminent release. There is a slight pause in his breath as he shoves his cock into my throat. I feel his body tense, preparing to cum and his groan is what gets me. I’m ready to take it all, but as the first streams of his load come out, he pulls out and releases himself next to my face, as if he wants to be polite. Like he isn’t sure what my preference is. He doesn’t know how badly I want to swallow all of him. We are breathing heavily. He is still moaning and I’m panting to catch my breath. I come back up as he puts himself back into his pants. He smiles and laughs a little. It’s the most boyish I have ever seen him. 

We continue our hike. We are towards the end now and we are quiet, but he’s no longer searching. We are both thinking about what just happened. The whispers—asking the questions of ourselves of where we go from here. We get back to our cars and say our goodbyes, exchange a friendly hug and as I walk away I look at him and say “I’m sorry I made it weird!” and he shakes his head and says “No.” Not in a way like we shouldn’t have, but no—I didn’t make it weird, I made it final—this is the beginning of something.

Photo by ᜋᜎᜌ-ᜃᜎᜀᜏᜃᜈ