(These poems have all been posted elsewhere on the internet, years ago, but I decided to string some together to partly tell a story.)
I had dated Jackie David perhaps a half-dozen times before we went dancing. I had found her more and more attractive each time, but had gone slow with her in the hope of building something solid in the way of a relationship - since she seemed to have more substance than any woman I had dated for some time.
But the night that we danced I found her breathtakingly beautiful, and I found myself thinking about her after we said goodnight. I put my thoughts into words, partly to get them out of my head. We danced on Friday; I wrote what is below on Saturday morning and printed it out.
. For a Dancing Lady
I love the way you move so gracefully,
As if you had no weight upon your feet.
That liquid motion, beautiful to see
Is only one of all the ways you're sweet.
Your raven arm-length silken flowing hair
And how it moves about you as you walk,
The perfect skin you show with your arms bare,
The spritely and insightful way you talk...
I'd like to know, however, how you'd be
Held in a horizontal dance with me.
Do you as smoothly move in passion's throes?
Does grace stay on beyond the bedroom door?
Oh, lovely vision of the dancing floor,
I think you'd make a perfect boudoir rose.
Jackie met me at my apartment on Saturday evening, and found the page which I had printed out. I had no idea that I had left it in plain sight, but Jackie read it and put it in her purse. She thought about it on our date that night, and much more so afterwards.
On Sunday morning, I received an e-mail message from Jackie.
Thinking About You
Your kisses make me dream too much, you know,
And worse, it's while I lie in bed awake.
I think about the way you hold me close
And how you laugh, and how you talk to me.
And that is why I want to take things slow,
Slow and prudentially, for both our sake.
I fear we'll suffer from an overdose
Of passion's drugs without formality.
The love for you that's growing in my breast --
If that is what it is -- is much too strong
For such a vessel as I seem to be.
I want to ponder ev'ry step now, lest
We find that all this rightness is all wrong.
Yet still, each night I wish you were with me...
I tried to call her when I read that, but she was not answering her telephone. Clearly, this was something that Jackie was willing to write down but not to say to me directly. That was evidently a step too far for her. But that night there was another message from her:
For a Very Nice Man
I like the way you hold me in your arms,
The way you kiss my lips and brow and cheeks,
The peace I feel reclining on your chest,
The strokes that make me fall halfway to sleep.
I love the way your hands feel on my back,
Massaging muscles up and down my spine,
The way you look so deep into my eyes,
And how you touch me underneath my breasts.
We haven't gone as far as you might like,
Or as I sometimes wish that we had done.
I'm not sure what I want to do or when;
I worry that we'll do things to regret.
But this I want to tell you fervently:
You tempt me. All the time, and very much.
I only tried once to call Jackie at work on Monday. Her voice -mail said that she was busy all day - probably not true, but I did not want to push it. When I returned home on Monday night, there was a third e-mail:
Somehow your face is in my dreams each night,
And thoughts of you come with each morning's light.
You haven't done a thing to bring this on,
But still I find my heart is now your pawn.
You've only been polite to me, it seems,
So why are you so often in my dreams?
You're a good friend, but how I wish it would
Occur to you to be -- well, less than good.
I want to find out how your kisses taste,
To feel your arms come stealing round my waist;
I think I want to have you strip me bare,
From face and breasts right down to pubic hair;
To spend the night, all night, in loving you,
And have those dreams that trouble me come true.
That night Jackie also did not answer her telephone. To my e-mails she replied only that her head was too much in an uproar to talk to me right now, and asked me for patience. On Tuesday evening this was on my computer:
For a Man I Want to Know Better.
My conversation should be light as air,
But when I hear your voice or see your face
My mind is far away from all of this.
I'm daydreaming about the way your hands
Would feel upon my body as you stripped
My clothing from me and your hairy arms
Were wrapped round me. I wonder if your touch
Would make me half as wet as my mind does.
I think about your manhood filling me,
Expanding me and drilling through my core,
Until I feel a rush of ecstasy
And then the peace that comes after it all.
I'd better think on other lines or else
My knees won't hold me when I try to stand.
On Wednesday there was this:
. To My Great Temptation, from One Who Would Like to Yield
I want to feel you in me all the way,
To be filled with a carnal overload,
To have you stretch me till my senses sway,
Then find the pleasure still has more to swell,
To feel your manhood bulge and then explode
And flood me with a sweet and pungent rain.
I want to -- but I don't want to as well.
The fear and hesitation give me pain.
Far more, I'm sure, than I'll know at your hands
When passion conquers cowardice at last
And urges me to let you sweep on past
That inconvenient clump of skin that stands
Between my love and where he ought to be.
A woman's curse, this damned virginity!
This explained quite fully to me why she was acting the way that she was, that Jackie was a virgin trying to decide if she wanted not to be and if I was the one whom she wanted to have change that. Then on Thursday I found this:
I don't want you to think I'm casual
About this sort of thing; I'm not at all.
I want to have you touch me ev'rywhere,
All over me, from ankles up to hair,
Especially the parts halfway between.
No more delays; I'm giving you the green.
You've waited while I straightened out my head,
And now I want to have you share my bed.
I've never said this sort of thing before,
But then there's been no one I so adore.
I want to have your body possess mine
And make me shake in passion strong and fine.
I want you thrusting wildly, lustily,
Between my hungry thighs; make love to me!
There was a note with the poems reminding me that we were going to meet at her apartment on Friday at eight in the evening, but that she was willing to not go out... This time I sent a reply of another sort:
O little virgin, timid as a dove,
Consent today to let me make of you
A fulfilled woman, proud and knowing love
In all its forms. I long to give you new
Feelings and thrills mere opiates can't match.
Let me caress your hidden secret parts
And turn them to a soft and lovely patch
That my hard spade can dig with loving arts.
And when I meet the gate that sits across
The burrow that I seek to stretch and fill.
Then I will rage and ram and butt until
I gather force to pluck the fleshly weed
And cause a fire to bloom among your moss
And plow your garden with my liquid seed.
Jackie waited until I was asleep to call me, but a very nervous voice on my answering machine said "Yes! Yes! Yes!"
On Friday when I reached home to change and bathe before meeting Jackie there was am emvelope under the door with the door to Jackie's apartment in it - and this:
Point of Decision
Be careful with this note; my heart is here
Between these lines. I feel that we have gone
For too long now in little stops without
The final step. I want to have you love
Me totally, possess me all the way
And open up horizons new to me.
I want to have you touch me, fill me where
No one has ever gone, to ravish me.
So please respond before timidity
Asserts itself again and I withdraw
Into my virgin shell, there to remain
Perhaps forever. Save me from myself
And give me all you have; my body's yours!
I'm waiting for you in my negligee.
I opened her apartment door, I entered her bedroom, she opened her kegs, I entered her. But no, that it telling it too simply. Jackie was indeed waiting for me in her negligee, with open arms. As I walked to her, she opened her legs slightly to press against me, to place those wonderful breasts against me. Her hands danced all over my body removing the clothing I had put on freshly; I removed only her panties, and that after I had lain beside her for some time and let my hands explore beneath them. Her kisses were sweet, her moans were inspiring, and when I spread her legs and touched her untouched entrance with the end of my erection, and asked her to tell me again that she wanted me...
And she said to me: "The contraceptive gel that I have used is ready for you, and I am much more than ready. I want to have you deep in me and to be the man to show me what it is to be a woman. I want you very much!"
The pain that I gave her seemed (and she told me later) was very minor, but the pleasure that we gave each other was very great. She was sweet and tight and passionate, and became more so the further we went together and the further I went into her wonderful tunnel of love.
We both seemed to come forever when we arrived together. Sometime in the night she went to the bathroom and woke me to ask for more, which I gladly gave her. In the morning I found a sheet of paper and left this beside her while I fixed breakfast for both of us:
After We Began.
My sweet angelic love, so full of life,
(Though not so innocent as yesterday,
I say with joy). I am so fortunate
That you would choose to let me be the first
To enter you. Your breasts were soft and white
Beneath your gown and shivered at my touch
When I caressed them in your bed last night;
The hair between your legs was wet for me.
Then when you undressed me and I lay nude
Beside you, and you reached for me and held
The evidence upstanding of my love
And guided it to where it ached to be...
Then when it touched your hymen you surged up
And pushed me in and broke it for all time.
Then by her plate of eggs:
And More, and Again
Dear, when I joined you in your bed last night
And lay between your legs I did not know
The tigress I was letting from its cage.
I slid beyond the outer gate, prepared
And waiting for me, then the barrier
Was struck that blocked the way to womanhood.
Your hips leapt up to force me in; it gave...
And then I plumbed your tight and sweet hot depths.
I opened up Pandora's box in yours;
For as I stroked and stretched and filled you up
Your passion grew and grew without respite.
Your legs snaked round, your nails dug in my back,
And when we found release you gave a cry
That haunted me and made me love you more.
I never wanted to leave her, nor did she want me to. But eventually, on Sunday night, we parted. I sent her an e-mail as the last thing on Sunday night:
A Diamond in the Mud
You seemed a quiet, peaceful meek someone
The kind who hardly makes a ripple in
The sea of life, a bookish girl who waits
To marry to a quiet timid man and then
Have quiet timid children, or perhaps
Remain unmarried. When I smiled at you,
I thought we might perform some pleasant dance,
But nothing serious and nothing new.
Which shows how much I know. You had in you
A storm of passion that was well-concealed.
It only took a spark of interest
To light a blazing fire between your legs,
Consuming both our bodies, minds, and souls.
How much a simple glance at you revealed!