Intimum

 

He was only a friend, staying at my place for the night. The kind of man you can tell everything to without ever expecting grand gestures, even when you find yourself drawn to him. The kind of man you know you will never have anything more with, because somewhere between friendship and desire there is a final boundary you are both too afraid to cross.

I showed him to the room where he could leave his things and get some rest, though it was already fairly late. Then I excused myself, telling him I was going to take a shower and that the bathroom would be his afterwards. I usually locked the door, but that night I forgot to turn the key.

I stepped beneath the shower and let the lukewarm water run over me. The last few days had been difficult, and for once I didn't want to feel anything at all. Not even for a moment. I closed my eyes and let the water fall over my face. For a little while, I imagined myself beneath a waterfall somewhere in the wilderness. Alone. Free. Untethered. There were no worries there, no weight of the world pressing against my shoulders. I was simply part of the beauty around me, unseen and unclaimed. I wasn't an intruder. I belonged.

Then the door began to open, slowly. I pulled on a T-shirt almost instinctively. I don't know why. Perhaps some part of me had already understood what was happening before I did. I remained beneath the water, reaching for the shower gel, and glanced over my shoulder.

My friend was there, setting his towel aside. My heart stumbled into a faster rhythm. He had wrapped the towel around his waist, and for a moment neither of us said anything. I could have asked him to leave. I could have turned away. Instead, I let him step into the shower with me.

„I am afraid that when I come again my God will humble me before you, and I will be grieved over many who have sinned earlier and have not repented of the impurity, sexual sin and debauchery in which they have indulged.“ - Corinthians 12:21

He came close enough for me to feel his breath against my neck. A shiver travelled across my skin as his arms slipped around my waist. I felt his erection slipping between my pussy lips. Everything suddenly seemed unbearably close, the water, his body, the warmth of his breath, the things neither of us had ever dared to say aloud. He moved against me again, deliberately enough to make me close my eyes. I had spent so long trying not to cross that invisible line, and suddenly it seemed almost impossible to remember why. A sound escaped me, quiet and helpless, almost a plea.

If I had been watching the scene from somewhere outside my own body, I might have thought I was looking at a painting: a woman surrendering to the charms of a Greek warrior, a man who had somehow conquered not only her body but the part of her heart she had spent so long defending.

“I've wanted you for so long,” he whispered.

And then I leaned forward. I needed him. My conqueror. My savior.