The Chief, part 4

We finally arrive at his apartment and unload my luggage from his truck. Once inside the apartment, he drops my suitcase on the floor and pulls me into a tight hug. His lips are pressed against the hollow of my neck. I melted right on the spot. Chief knew where my weak spots were. I had instantly become his slave.

I pulled away from him to look into his eyes. His hands were on my hips as I brought his face towards mine. I kissed him like I had never kissed him before. His lips felt soft under mine. I closed my eyes to muster my deep-rooted passion. His hands traveled around my waist, to my buttocks and lifted me off the floor. Chief tore his lips from mine and began kissing my neck, traveling down to my chest.

He kept one arm around my waist as his other hand slid up my shirt to fondle my breast. My nipple grew harder as his thumb flicked over it. All I could do was moan. I could feel his hardness pressing through his pants. The beast was begging to be freed from the constraints of fabric. I knelt before Chief and released him.

Stop looking at me like that. You’re not getting the juicy details. Okay, I gave him the best head of his life. Then we had sex. I insisted upon the missionary position. I was hoping that if I laid there like a dead fish, he’d get turned off. Most guys do get turned off with that, don’t they? I had no choice but to lay there and fake an orgasm. How did I fake it? That’s my little secret!

Have you seen “Forgetting Sarah Marshall”? There’s a scene in it where the guy is having sex with the black girl. She moans a couple of times then tells him she came. That’s very close to what I did that night.

The next morning, I woke up in bed alone. The apartment was unusually silent and it took me a few moments to remember where I was. I got up and made my way to the bathroom. I felt like someone had slipped me a Mickey but I knew better. I hadn’t even drank last night.

The following Monday I was on a plane to my next station. I realized when Chief didn’t call, that most women have a certain expectation of the men in their lives. I didn’t. By the same token, I didn’t call Chief. I guess I could have but I knew that we both were busy with work.

He called a couple of weeks later. I was sitting alone in my room, debating with myself about dinner and going to a movie when he called. I felt out of sorts in the conversation. I didn’t love him but I had sex with him. It’s quite possible I felt used. I was still young and not wise enough to discern what my feelings were. I just knew that I didn’t love him romantically.

“So, how’s it going?” He asked. It was a typical question but I did appreciate how he was concerned about my welfare.
“It’s busy. It’s freakishly cold here.” I couldn’t really think of anything else to say.
“When are you coming back?”

Damn! I think to myself.

“Didn’t you get enough of me a couple of weeks ago?”
“No. A weekend with you only leaves me wanting more. So much more.”
“I don’t know when I’ll get back. I only know a few days beforehand where I’ll be for the next project.” I lied through my teeth and prayed he wouldn’t call me on it.
“Oh, ok. If you come here will you call me?” He sounded disappointed.
“What’s the deal?”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“What’s your fascination with me?” I was getting aggravated and exasperated.
“You’re so open about life. Your free spirit and the fact that you don’t take crap from anyone. You have boundaries. You’re loyal and fierce. You know when to protect and when to let go…” He paused for a moment. “You have this incredible quality that makes you beautiful and sexy. Let’s not forget how smart you are and you never allow anyone who is less intelligent to feel dumb around you.”

I sighed. Chief wasn’t saying things to placate me. He was telling the truth. It’s something about me that I didn’t understand and wouldn’t comprehend for years to come.