This is a true story but for some reason I have had a hard time writing about it. I am not sure if it is because I feel embarassed about what I did or if it’s because I know deep down I did it only for a man I desired. I will do my best to explain what happened and why I think it happened. I believe the more we tell our why’s, the more empathetic we can become together.
I once changed my entire career path because of a bank account manager who gave me goosebumps. Ashley was her name. Like all good sales people, she made my time at the bank a good experience. Ashley made me feel more confident and positive. She was genuinely sweet and complimentary. Ashley’s attitude was infectious. She helped me develop a desire to make other people feel the same way. I applied for an account managing job shortly after I met her and pursued a career in finance for several years. I never had an attraction to Ashley, but she did give me goosebumps.
There are some people that have a special talent for making others feel warm and fuzzy inside. I think women tend to come by this skill more naturally than men. Perhaps it is the feminine flair that adds the warmth to our ability to connect and touch someone in just the right way. I have had the pleasure of connecting with some readers through comments on Medium. The connection I have had with other women that have similar feelings about sex and relationships has had quite a meaningful impact on me. Some comments have even given me that same warm and fuzzy feeling.
I’ve made a lot of decisions based on desire. I’ve made bad decisions that brought bad things, bad decisions that brought good things, and good decisions that brought bad things. Whichever path you take, it can end either way. I do not wish to alter our moral ground based on this knowledge but I do want to create a dialogue about it. Sexual desires are strong desires. These desires can influence us more heavily than anything else in our lives. I am going to tell you about a time I made a bad decision based solely on my desire for an unavailable man. I will leave it to you, the reader, to determine whether this influenced my life positively or negatively as a whole.
He was 45. I was in my late 20s. His face was weathered but tanned. His shoulders were broad and built. His chest and arms scattered with tattoos. His face was covered in a scruffy beard and messy hair. He had a dangerous air to him. He was so.fucking.attractive. It was undeniable. From the moment I shook his hand there was literally nothing in this world I wanted more. I was infatuated. I fantasized about sleeping with him all day long. Different positions. The sweat. The moans. I wanted him to throw me against the headboard and torture me.
There were two problems: he was married, and he was friends with my boyfriend (now my ex). He would not allow himself to touch me. I knew this. But I pursued regardless. I pursued relentlessly. I would send him nudes, asking his opinion. I would spend nights drawing up sexual fantasies and text them to him. I would pitch ideas for a threesome with his wife, perhaps if I could coerce her to sleep with both of us it wouldn’t be cheating? A hundred carefully positioned nudes sat on his phone… screaming for him. My efforts proved futile. He kept his distance and I obliged.
He frequented massage parlours. All kinds. Upscale, sketchy and craigslist personals. To keep the conversation going I would curiously inquire about his ventures. I genuinely wondered if there were any options for a woman to exchange money for sexual play? He advised me that there were several upscale massage parlours that have women who would play with female clients. I was surprised and not interested but I playfully went along with our fantasy talk.
“Do you want me to take you?” he asked.
I paused. Could this be it? Finally my opportunity to engage in sexual play with him?
Two weeks later I booked myself in to see Jennifer at an upscale massage parlour in the west end of the city. I did it for him. I couldn’t wait to tell him and I couldn’t wait to meet him there.
I need to pause this story for a moment because I need you to realize how out of character this moment was for me. I lost my virginity at 20. I had slept with a total of five men at this point in my life. I was terrible at handjobs, but decent at blowjobs. I don’t even think I realized that anal play was a thing. All I could think about was fucking this man. I convinced myself that going out of my comfort zone and getting naked with another woman and paying her… was just another step in the process of accomplishing my goal.
Now don’t get me wrong. I was excited about the opportunity to experience something new, but a lot of that excitement was due to the voyeur possibility with him. Thinking about him getting hard while watching me and another woman turned me on. I wanted to please him. I wanted to excite him, which became an entirely new thrill for me. Suddenly, voyeurism was exciting to me. It opened my mind to a new pleasure seeking venture.
I was ready.
It was Saturday night. My appointment was at 11:15pm and he promised he would meet me there. I was tingling from head to toe with nervous excitement. I dressed myself in black lingerie, black leather pants, black stilettos, and a loose black tank that barely covered the back of my bra. I drove to the location in perfect timing. His black truck was in the parking lot waiting for me. I left my car and jumped into his for a quick pep talk.
“Are you ready?” he smiled. I was pumped with so much adrenaline I could barely keep my hands off him after I leaned in for a hug.
“Yes I am,” I replied.
He swiftly opened his door and exited the car. There was no turning back for me.
Jennifer greeted me at the front entrance. Her body was perfect. Her skin was soft. Her face and voice were sweet. She guided me into her room and we left him waiting at the front reception. He refused to tempt himself with joining us. Sitting outside and fantasizing about what was happening behind closed doors was enough for him. And if it was enough for him, it was enough for me. I was wet at that thought.
She closed the door to our room. She complimented me on my outfit and told me I looked like a model. She looked at my face like she wanted to kiss me. She asked me where I got my shoes and we made girly talk. She told me she would leave the room for a few minutes and that I should get undressed and go under the covers.
When she left I examined the room with curiosity. It was upscale. A glass shower stall was in the corner. A leather chair right beside a luxury massage table. The room smelled like vanilla. It was ripe for sexual play.
I briefly thought about redecorating my room at home.
I took off my clothes but left my panties on. I got under the covers as I heard the door handle click open. Jennifer entered in and sweetly asked if I was warm and comfortable. She placed her soft fingertips on my exposed shoulder and pressed down. As she began to massage my back I felt her bare arms gliding across my skin. I wasn’t used to this sensation. Men typically have rougher skin or hair on their arms. This felt surprisingly nice.
“Your skin is so soft,” I whispered.
She complimented me in return immediately. “Your body is so tight.”
I was getting wetter and wetter. Her body was getting closer to mine and I felt her heat. She asked me to turn over. I flipped over and my breasts were exposed to her.
She brought her lips close to my nipples, but didn’t touch. I felt her hand on my bare pussy. She slipped a finger inside. Her lips over mine. She breathed close to me as she massaged my wet clit. I was close. I closed my eyes and inhaled one last gasp before bursting into a million tingles.
I never told anyone about that night. I kept it my little secret. I often debated with myself whether I had taken a course of action that went against my own values just so I could “impress the boy.” But to be honest I am not really sure of the answer to that. Initially, that was my reason, but other than doing something out of character for myself… did I devalue myself to myself? Isn’t that what ultimately matters? What I think about myself? But perhaps I let myself change just because of a boy, and maybe I wasn’t true to myself at the end of the day? It’s confusing. I know. But I have a question for you.
How far over your own line can you cross until it’s just devaluing your own self worth?
All that being said, when I reflect on it today, I don’t see anything wrong with what I did. In fact, my views of massage girls and strippers have changed dramatically. I don’t see them as anything less than anyone else. So when I discuss my feelings of devaluing myself over this incident, I am essentially speaking for what I imagine are others’ views of the situation. So what matters? I know I can’t go through life ignorantly putting my hand in the face of anyone who has a different opinion than me. Other people and their opinions matter, not just my own.
I did something that day that would upset people I care about. I did it because I lost control of my desire. Everyone’s lines are different. What are your lines? More importantly, how far have you pushed them since 10 years ago?
