“I had fun not having sex with you,” The Real T leaned over and kissed me. “Good morning.”
My lips barely touched his before I pulled away laughing.
“It was definitely the best… not having sex I’ve ever had.”
“The rules were fun, really fun,” he said, kissing me again.
The night before, he walked me home after we left Miss Whiskey’s. We kissed on my doorstep, and I invited him inside. I made us glasses of water, and we drank and talked on my living room couch. We covered his music snobbery, my affinity for bad action movies and our mutual love of foreign policy before he pulled me to him.
After a few heated minutes, I disentangled us. “You’re welcome to stay here,” I began. It was 3:00am, and he lives in Arlington; I wasn’t going to make him cab home. “But,” I put on my best stern face. “Two rules – no sex and no nudity.”
“I already forgot the first one. What were they again?” he joked.
“No sex -”
“And no nudity!” he teased, a look of mock smugness for ‘remembering’ them on his face.
“Wait here,” I instructed.
You know that moment when you realize you’re going to have an unexpected overnight guest, and there are panties strewn around your floor? Oh, you’re not that big of a slob? Yeah, I am. I did a three-minute frantic cleaning and was impressed with the results. It would do.
I met him back in the living room, where he raised an eyebrow at me. “Just had to, um, change,” I said, looking down at my now bare feet. “Take off my shoes.”
He nodded, pretending to believe me.
When he stood up, I kissed him and moments later we landed on my bed, his lips on my neck. For a moment, a shot of nerves ran through me. Was he going to try to break or bend my rules? I said them teasingly, but I know the sentiment came across serious. Was he going to use inebriation as an excuse to push the boundaries I set? Was I going to regret this decision?
To my surprise, he pulled away after a minute and mischievously commented, “I think I like the rules. The rules just make it more fun.”
Over the next hour, our outer clothes fell off but those underneath never did. He kissed down my body, and back up it. We laughed about the entire situation being a giant tease but continued on anyway. We camped out at second base, and he never tried to steal third.
I shouldn’t have been impressed or surprised that he respected and even made me feel good about my rules, but in the past few months, I’ve been given reason to be surprised. But The Real T didn’t ask for more, plead, beg, push me or try to persuade my “no” into a yes. In fact, he never questioned it but embraced it. It was wholly refreshing and reminded me that good men, the right men to be involved with, respect the rules.**
We fell asleep bantering, and I woke up to that good morning kiss.
“You know what I remember from last night?” he asked. “You’re a phenomenal dancer.”
I may have guffawed. “Only because you’re a fantastic spinner.”
He groaned. “I did do that, didn’t I?”
“I dragged you on stage, we’re even.”
We reminisced about the rest of the night.
“I didn’t know what to expect when we decided to meet,” I admitted. “I just really hoped you were cute.” I ducked away blushing, and he laughed.
“I hoped you were cute, too. Looks like it worked out well.”
I called him a cab soon after, and we kissed goodbye.
I shut the door with a smile but couldn’t get a faint whisper of doubt out of my head: Was this a one night wonder?