INTIMACY WITH A STRANGER - LESS ALONE - MORE ALIVE

He kissed me and nothing made sense - nothing about it was normal - everything about it was bliss.

We had met that afternoon at an espresso bar in Old Montreal on a sleepy Sunday when you don't want to leave your place or even get out of bed but as the day lingers on; you want to connect with someone - you want to leave so you can bring someone back with you.

I found myself doing the same thing, reading, writing, wondering when I was going to find the missing piece to the puzzle that had become my sunken love life.

He was lost in his sketch book and I was lost on my empty sheet of paper. 

We struck up a conversation and quickly moved our way through various topics including our past relationships, our jobs - his as a painter and mine as a writer.

He had sandy brown hair that he pulled back from his face only for it to fall back in place within seconds. His eyes were blue and he had a cleft in his chin that I wanted to nibble.

He held my hand from under the table stroking his fingers across the life lines of my palm. An hour passed and then two as the afternoon turned into early evening and as both of us knew we were leaving together.

My place was close by. We fell through the door in each other's arms undressing quickly while our tongues danced and our bodies collided the way bodies do when there is no turning back.

I smelled his cologne melting into my pores, the warmth of his lips waltzing along my neck, my breasts, down, down.






We made love in silence aside from the humming of the radiator. Time was sweet, time was sacred.

When it was over he kissed my eyelids and held me close against his chest where I felt his heart beat, where I felt safe.

It was as if we were suspended in air with all the day to day life uncertainties and challenges wallowing below unable to reach us - unable to disrupt our place in time.

I thought of how most of us live on a daily basis  disconnected at work spending more time with our co-workers than we do with the ones we love - worrying about money and health and relationships and change.

And the secrets we all think we have managed to lock away hidden under our sleeves that still manage to appear plainly visible through the lines on our faces and the depths of our souls.

There is that connection that we all long for - one that makes us feel wanted and needed and surrounds us with love and acceptance, warmth and certainty. 

And as I watched him sleep in my bed, I knew that he would soon be leaving through the same door we had entered intertwined as if we were meant to be together in some other place in time.

I slid under the covers and woke him up with kisses  that traversed down his chest all the way to where we would connect again - once, twice and then he was gone.

Peacefully and fulfilled I fell into a deep slumber as my eyelashes dreamed deliciously of a strangers wet beautiful lips kissing them ever so gently. 

I was less alone and more alive and that was all I could have hoped for. I knew sunrise would come and I would start all over again in search of a connection - one that would flow through me to someone else and with any luck - back again like a boomerang that never loses its sense of direction -  taking off into the air, always returning to that hopeful soul who stands there believing it will.