Of the time when I lost my soul to a tequila shot

11 Oct

The waiter brought the two Patrón shots, because it was a night of indulgence.  He licked his finger.  Touched my neck.  Licked it again.  Dipped it in the salt, and smeared it on my neck. He latched his mouth on to my neck.  His tongue licking, sucking, torturing, sucking some more.  Electricity coursing through my body.  Knees getting weak.  Body heat rising.  An impulse to just jump him and passionately kiss him right there, in that restaurant’s terrace where we were on our first official date.  I did just that.

He’s a dangerous boy.  Has had a thousand lives in the same time span that I’ve had my small, almost inconsequential life.  He’s intelligent, educated, wild, sexy, funny.  There’s even a little dimple that forms on the top corner of his oh-so-hot-n-crooked smile.  But I didn’t know any of this when I decided to send him a message on the dating site.  All I knew was that his smile looked delicious, and I couldn’t pass the opportunity of letting him know that mine was too.

We agreed to meet on a Sunday, but it never happened.  I was about to not give a shit about him, but I texted him.  He answered by asking what was I doing.  I offered two options:  pedestrian truth, or fantasy.  His choice started a chain reaction that has been exhilarating and incredibly revealing.  I sent him a story with a sexy setup, and he responded with an unexpected but seamless continuation of the same story.  That night the story went back and forth, between us, gathering each others contributions and taking the shape of a very hot, steamy, sexy, and naughty story.  It has evolved into something worth publishing.  Writing it has felt like making love with our minds, at a distance.

This was the click we needed to make our first meeting a necessity.  We met the next Sunday at his place of work.  After the first half hour, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other.  To stop kissing felt unnatural, and we had to say goodbye too soon.  Pilot Guy lives on a different island, so he had to leave.

The next weekend we had our first formal date.  There was a lightning storm out at sea, while we walked the cobble stone streets of my island’s colonial city.  The electricity was undeniable.  There was even a moment where the whole world disappeared, and it was just us in this dark plaza hugging and dancing like we couldn’t let go of the other.  Amidst all this magic, the tequila shot happened, and I simply lost my soul.

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One Response to “Of the time when I lost my soul to a tequila shot”

Trackbacks/Pingbacks

  1. The queen of first dates, the mistress of desertion | caramelolimon - October 28, 2013

    […] I met Pilot Guy.  I can’t even recount his story.  It’s a fresh wound of which I have written three posts already.  Every logic in the world […]

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