Boy asked, “Why, why are you here? Why?”
Woman looked bored, “Why not? You bring me pleasure.”
Boy laughed, genuinely, “Yes, we’ve only just met. It’s as good as any.”
Boy tried to sound deep, “I’ve not felt this way ever since I was with my ex. I couldn’t help it. I am afraid that I’m obsessed with you.”
Woman looked at the ceiling, her usual bored monotone kicked in, “Don’t get obsessed. No one deserves to be obsessed over. This shall pass.” Women wanted to comfort the boy.
Boy would not give up. “When was it the last time you laid on the bed and talked for three and half hours with anyone?” He asked.
Woman was taken aback by his comment, she thought deep and hard, she had a horrible memory, she barely remembered how she met this boy and ended up striking this connection. “I supposed that would be years ago. I had often just fucked and fallen asleep after, or I got up and just left.”
Boy was finding his assessment to be of merits, so he advanced, “This is a relationship, whatever form it is, this is a relationship. You can’t deny science. We have chemistry. You like me. More than you let on.” Boy stared at the woman’s face. His green eyes no longer masked by his glasses, which he had taken off and set aside, like the woman’s lover often did. He stared at the woman’s face, and he started to shake his head.
"Is everything alright? What’s wrong?" Woman asked the boy. She had appeared to be far away and lost in thoughts, now she was concerned.
Boy held the woman, and said, “You really don’t know, do you? You are so pretty. I want you.”
Woman was dumbfounded. “Why? I could be as old as your mother.”
Boy started to laugh. Boy had a very young voice. He was only out of college for two years. He was new to this world that the woman had inhabited for years.
"You are very pretty. When I first met you, I thought you were my age. I can’t stop looking at you. I can’t even pretend that I was only half interested. I can’t play games with you. I just want to spend as much time as you want to spend with me. I want to wait for you. I can’t believe this." Boy was shocked by his honestly, moreover, boy was shocked by how little his words affected the woman, this older, mature, mysterious woman who was so captivating and mesmerizing to him, that all he could do was to follow her order and do the things she commended him to do. She was calm, unimpressed with the compliments he paid to her. She was genuinely unaware of her affect on him.
He was the Casanova and he was the one who called the shots, but not here, here she wore the pants, and he was powerless and helpless under her gaze, her touch, or her dismissiveness. He wanted to do anything and everything to please her. It was that pure and simple. He did not realize that under his alpha male exterior was this submissive little boy who wanted to be dominated. This woman, this mature, petite, tiny woman had something over him, he did not know what it was, but he gave in. It was an instinct that led him to her, now he was under her spell.
He knew something was not right the moment he met her. She was drinking a glass of red wine. She liked wine but had low tolerance. She had to drive so she insisted that he finish hers, after she had already taken a few sips. “There, drink mine.” She pushed the glass over to the boy. Without saying a word, boy took the glass from her and drank obediently. Then, he was shocked. He took her order without hesitation and that surprised him. He had no free will under her spell. He wanted one thing and one thing only. He wanted to serve her. She was caring, like a dom should, and she gave orders naturally, and he listened.
She had a good teacher. Once she was like that, she was the submissive one and the dominant one abused his power one too many times, he was careless and overplayed his hand, so she walked away and never looked back.
This time, this time was different. She liked to be in control, and she took care of her sub. She knew the rules now.
When the boy did not listen, she punished him, by being silent with him for days, boy was afraid of that, he wanted her affection. He needed her affection to feel alive. He did things for her because he knew that bringing her pleasure made him happy. When she was satisfied, she would reward him, with that gentle touch, the returned kiss in the darkness, the noise sometimes she made when he aroused her, but mostly she rewarded him with dead silence, quietness, and icy cold demeanor. She was methodical and she was distant, she showed little emotions but when she did, she ignited the room. Boy wanted to be part of her world, boy counted the ways she impressed him.
The walking wounded woman. Her eyes filled with sorrow, her emotions subdued, her voice soft and her body glided. This made the boy wanted to sing for her. He sang well, he was a Base II, he sang beautifully. He performed on stage, he took voice lessons, he was at ease with the camera, he was good looking and charming. He was witty and charismatic. Yet with her, he was speechless half the time, the other half he just stared at her. He was smitten by how pretty, how poised she was. An older woman with experience and maturity, and she was full of stories.
Boy remembered everything he did with the woman. Boy remembered how he tried to kiss her many times and she brushed him away, until one night they were out at a vista, middle of nowhere, on a wooden bench overlooking the bay, she sat quietly and watched the fog rolling in with the boy. The boy was telling jokes, and finally she was laughing at his joke and his face was all of sudden inches away from hers. Unexpectedly she pulled him closer and kissed him just so, and his world was turned upside right there and then. For a brief second, she allowed herself to be close to him, and the boy became grateful and hopeful.
He wanted her to stay with him always, he wanted her to sleep with him, wake up with him and put her head on his chest so that he could protect her in a way man would, not a boy but a man.
Woman looked at this boy, this terribly swept away boy who thought she was the best thing that ever happened to him.
Woman knew every move this boy was about to make. Women anticipated and laughed at his childishness. But woman adored the boy in a strange way. This boy reminded her the love of her life, who had ceased to exist, who declared that he loved her and then disappeared, leaving her walking wounded.
"We are alike, you and I." Boy said.
"I can’t even pretend that I only half liked you. I can’t. I just want to be with you." Boy eagerly declared his like for the woman.
Woman stretched in his bed, her fully clothed body was carefully preserved by this boy, who would not dare to touch her bosom or her waist. She had not wanted this to be a sexual relationship. Woman was clear at the very beginning, yet the boy remained cautiously optimistic in his pursuit of this woman.
A walking wounded woman, a hopeful boy, a story yet to be written.