Part 4


“Wow, Sofia commented. “Your life is so different than mine.”

Yet, here we were, two totally different but, so completely sexually compatible people from opposite walks of life. I couldn’t help but smile thinking about all the fun we could have, discovering each other’s secrets, pushing each other’s limits. I had been waiting for someone like this to come into my life and although it had only been one night, the romantic in me already knew that this is what I wanted.

We finished our admittedly overly luxurious meal, plates polished, several rounds of cocktails downed, and signaled for the check.

“What an incredible meal!” Sofia chimed. “But really, this is too fancy for me. You don’t have to do this to impress me.”

“I want to do this,” defending myself, but not allowing my self to sound disappointed in her modesty. “You deserve this. It’s nothing really. You enjoyed the meal, right?”

“Yes,” she nodded as sheepish smile stretched across her lush lips.

“Then good,” I exclaimed. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. Don’t even worry about it.

We left the restaurant and Sofia asked if I could call her an Uber. She was having a wonderful morning, she insisted, but she really wanted to change out of her dirty clothes. I was disappointed—I wanted to spend the rest of the day with her, eager to find out what other types of trouble we could get ourselves into—but I understood.

“Can I see you again?” my genuine excitement at the prospect betraying my usually cool demeanor.

“Of course you can. Don’t be silly. This has all been incredible. I’m so glad I met you,” Sofia gushed. “Give me your phone so I can put my number in it.”

I handed her my iPhone and she quickly typed her number in it and pressed send. Something in her purse buzzed.

“Now I have your number too,” she said matter-of-factly before handing me back my phone and embracing for a kiss. Our lips locked one last time, her suppleness giving way to my pressure, and her impossibly proportioned body pressed against me right before a black car pulled up.

“Goodbye, beautiful.”

“Goodbye… thank you for the wonderful time… It’s nice to know someone in this big city.”

I watched the car pull away filled with a mixture of joy and immediate sadness. The past 24 hours had been incredible, possibly life altering. I was truly excited about where this could all lead, yet forlorn over her need to go home. I was still drunk on her presence and I wasn’t ready yet to face the withdrawal of her not being there.

I strolled slowly along the waterfront, the previously invigorating summer sun now feeling oppressive adding to the weight of my isolation. Sofia filled a space in me that I could only be aware of in contrast to the fullness I felt when with her. I hoped and imagined Sofia felt the same way, both in the emotional and literal physical sense. After all, it was only a few hours since I had filled her with my manhood.

“C’mon man,” I chided myself. “Don’t let her get to you. She’s just another chick.”

But, I was lying and I knew it. She wasn’t just another chick and my need to be with her was real and visceral. She affected me and made me believe I could have everything I wanted. She was the missing piece.

“Slow down,” my thoughts continued in a meager attempt talk myself out of what I knew I wanted. “You haven’t even known her for 24 hours yet. You’re being fucking ridiculous.”

I was being ridiculous, but so what? I knew better than to fall in love in just one day. I had made that mistake before, confusing the lust and the excitement of something new for something more sustainable. But, this was different, right? How could two people connect so intimately, metaphysically even and not be meant for something more?

I waited one painfully long day before calling Sofia. No amount of effort would facilitate my futile attempt to coerce the clock to move faster. As restless as I was to speak with her again, to confirm that she wasn’t a figment of my imagination, I knew better than to not give her at least a little space. Finally, on Monday night, when a sufficient amount of time had passed, I scrolled through my phone to the place where her finger—fingers that were capable of enacting immense pleasure—had entered her number and pressed send.

“Hello?” the rasp of her Catalan accent immediately sending a wave of warmth over me.

“Sofia? I hope it’s ok to call you so soon.”

“Don’t be silly,” a phrase I had already noticed she liked to call me when teasing. “I’m happy you called.”

“You are?” I inquired more excited than surprised.

“Yes! I’ve been thinking about you. The other night was so much fun, really. I had been feeling so alone here. You reminded me that New York was supposed to be an adventure, not a challenge.”

“I’ve been thinking about you too—a lot. In fact, I can’t get you out of my mind. The other night was, well… special,” dangling the word out there hoping she would bite.

“It was special,” she echoed emphasizing the word to show that we were indeed on the same page.

“Good, I’m glad you feel that way. So, when can I see you again?”

“Hmmmm… let me think… well, I have classes this week and I really need to finish getting everything organized around here before I go out. What about this weekend?”

I was disappointed. I wanted to see her now, to feel her against me again. I was craving her and the thought of not being able touch her right there and then sent a sinking feeling to the pit of my stomach.

“Oh. Ok.” I replied trying to mask my discontent

“It’s not that far away, silly,” she playfully quipped clearly able to see through my ruse. “The wait will be worth it.”

“Do you like the beach? We could drive out to Rockaway this weekend.”

“ I love the beach!” She squealed with delight over the prospect.

“Good, then it’s settled. I’ll pick you up Saturday morning—just text me your address. I’ll be thinking about you.”

“I’ll be thinking about you too,” she replied with an obvious suggestive tone. “Goodbye, silly.”

The phone clicked and immediately I was aware of the erection that had developed in my pajama pants. “Fuck,” I said to myself. “This is going to be one long week.”

—–

Saturday couldn’t have arrived soon enough. I don’t think I had jerked off that frequently in that short time period since I first discovered porn. Every time my mind wandered to Sofia, my cock would swell and inevitably I’d have to take care of it. Although it felt like the clocks had stopped and the earth was standing still, eventually, Saturday did in fact, come.

Dressed in my swim trunks—a pair of Olebar Brown board shorts with a hem that lands a few inches above the knee—a linen shirt, and a pair of Soludos, I packed up my car, an Audi R8 convertible that I kept locked in the garage attached to my building—am indulgence that only really saw the light of day when the urge for a road trip would hit me. Admittedly, having a car in the city was a luxury, but on days like today, when the sun is shining and the air is warm, the little convertible was a luxury I was glad to afford.

I whizzed through the early morning Brooklyn streets devoid of traffic during these pre-breakfast hours. I passed new coffee shops, boutiques, and bars where the workers were still sweeping up from Friday night’s festivities. On every block it seemed a new hip business had sprouted up over night. I had heard that old Italian men still played bocce in Carrol Gardens on mornings like these, but as a flew down Flatbush Ave, the signs of Old Brooklyn were few and far between. At least Junior’s was still there.

I turned down DeKalb, zipping past the elegant Brownstones that line Ft. Greene Park, and headed towards the address Sofia had texted me the night before. I turned left on Washington Ave and pulled up in front of an old Brownstone, not as elegant as the ones I had passed earlier—a little run down perhaps, but nevertheless stately and filled with character. I knocked on the door and an elderly woman dressed in a floral housecoat, with her hair in rollers came to the door.

“Ohhhh!” she exclaimed with the type of wonder that is reserved for old people who seem to have reached point in life where somehow everything and nothing are both surprises. “You must be the boy Sofia was telling me about. My my… you’re even more handsome than I thought!”

Blushing: “I’m sorry, Ma’am. I didn’t mean to disturb you so early in the morning.”

“Nonsense, sweetie,” she replied in a warm tone. “At my age, I’m lucky of can sleep at all. I’ve been up for hours.”

Just then, Sofia appeared bouncing down the steps. She was a vision, more beautiful than I had remembered. Her white tunic reached mid thigh, covering her curves, yet clinging just enough to allude to all her slopes and valleys. Her tan skin contrasted nicely with the light fabric. She wore a wide straw hat and pair of oversized 1970’s style sunglasses with hexagon frames. A pair of stacked espadrille wedge sandals and a large wicker tote completed her ensemble. In her hands were two cups of coffee. As she reached the bottom of the steps she gave me a quick friendly kiss.

“Hi silly,” she smiled. “Here… I made you café solo, like we drink in my country.”

“Beautiful and thoughtful,” I smiled, taking the cup from her. The brown liquid inside was thick and bitter, more like an espresso capped with a small amount of foam. “Mmm… delicious.”

I stood by the passenger side of the car as she backed into the low seat; her long tan legs swinging around allowing me shut the door behind her. I took my seat, pressed the ignition button, and we were off. Top down, we coasted along Flatbush towards the Marine Park bridge, the wind in our faces, Sofia hanging onto her hat, her flimsy tunic fluttering in the breeze. As we drove along Prospect Park, Sofia told me about her week and her classes all the while my hand resting on her bare thigh.