It’s her. It must be her. On the other side of the road, a blonde woman wearing a white top and I wonder if she recognized me. This is not Yahoo Messenger and I don’t have my nickname printed on my forehead.
All she had was two pictures of me and an illusion of whom I might be. This is the only way I can explain myself why a married woman would come and meet a stranger at the traffic light in front of Stockwell Tube station.
The traffic light is still red and I am surrounded by people waiting to cross the road. But I am the only one who is waiting for the green light to sex. Because that is what we have agreed to; just sex.
I am trying to be cool and only now I realized that I haven’t thought of what am I going to say to her. The light change before I can remember a good line from a film or something to inspire me.
People are rushing off to the other side of the road before the light will change back to red and I am left behind. I can see her looking at me and I know she knows it’s me. There is no way back now and I walk towards her with a smile on my face, hoping that she will not guess that I am nervous.
‘Hello’ she says when I am in front of her
‘So what do we do now?’ she asks avoiding looking at me
I feel like laughing. I laugh often when I am nervous. That’s why I, most of the time I can not lie without laughing and I hate that.
Instead of answering, I take her in my arms and kiss her, thinking this is better than any lousy line that I might come up with. She responds to my kiss with such passion that I am starting to feel dizzy.
Last time I have been kissed like that it was years ago and that kiss was the most memorable kiss in my life.Perhaps it might turn out to be the best sex ever.
‘Let’s go this way’ and I point towards the bridge.
I am holding her hand and we both pretend that we are a normal couple yet I am surprised that people don’t pay attention to us in a funny way, and for a moment I wish I had come by car. I notice that she is looking at me when she thinks I can’t see her.
‘There is a hotel not far away from here. But we might have to take the bus as I think its about 20 minutes walk from here.’ Shall we? ‘
‘Smokers, please ‘ I answer to the receptionist’s question. One minute later, I take the card key and we head towards the lift as instructed. The walls in the lift are dressed in mirrors and for the first time I can have a good look at her. She must be a size 12, I reckon. Blue eyes, blond hair and an obvious nervosity that I feel through her grip of my hand. She is good looking and I am thankful for that, as I know I wouldn’t dare to back off now.
For few seconds I am having trouble finding the right way to swipe the card key to open the door and I begun to feel uncomfortable thinking that I might swipe the ‘sex meeting’ the same way as I am doing with the card. I am turning the card the other way around and I try again. To my relief, the door opens and I let her get in first.
She leaves her hand bag on a chair and waits for me to close the door behind me. When I turn around she is looking at me:
‘Please. Do it’ she says
I put my hands on her shoulders and push her gently on her knees right in front of me, wondering if I did it too gently. I can see desire in her eyes and that turns me on. Waiting, she follows my hands movements and few seconds later, a warm sensation takes over me. It feels so good and I don’t want her to stop. She did not stop and few weeks later, she whispered:
‘ I love you’
For a moment I thought I didn’t hear right so she said it again, this time louder and looking into my eyes.
‘I really do love you. I don’t expect …’
I didn’t let her finish so I kissed her once again ,hoping that this is just one of those moments that will go away if I ignore it. Later I went to take a shower and I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I was covered in sweat and lost into my own quilt. When I got back into the room she wasn’t there.
Few years have passed since then and every morning I make myself a coffee and connect to the internet. On Yahoo Messenger, people log on and off sometimes without saying hello or bye.
Her nickname never light up again from that day when she said that she loves me. I still talk to people on Yahoo Messenger; it’s so easy to imagine them in front of their computers with a coffee and trying to remember if they spoke to me before.