Jane and I enjoyed the view from Cadillac Mountain. We took a small hike and had lunch at a sleepy seaside lobster pound. She fell in love with the place almost immediately. Lots of walking hand in hand, arms around each other. Little things: Offering to rub coconut oil on my feet. Holding my hand the entire time in the car… even kissing it – that’s *my* move. She melted a little I think, when I first did that. Now she’s doing it to me. She talks about us renting a place here for a few months. She’s an artist, and there happens to be an art festival that weekend, in the park directly across the street from our inn. We spend hours shopping for everything and nothing. She grabs a few things for my new place (matching lobster pot holders and mugs for both of us). We shop for my kids. Lots and lots of just laughing at the same little things. The same dark slightly warped sense of humor.
Best moments: After drinks at lunch on Sunday, we spend a couple of hours on our bed just talking and laughing. She lets me peer a little more into her and us – talks about when she decided to let me in, all about the cardinal rule of never engaging a client via email, text, etc. outside of an appointment. She’s frequently had to let clients go because they got too close, wanted to chat outside of appointments. Clients have disappeared because they realized they were getting too close. Apparently it happens a lot. I asked her when she decided to break that rule with me. New York – our first trip. That was also when she realized her feelings for me. I ask her who knows about me, apparently a number of her friends and family do. She explains that when she’s texting me, she’s got a huge smile all the time that gives it away.
I get a brief glance at her phone – seeing her real name in print for the first time, no boundaries.
Taking pictures of her at sunset sipping on cocktails looking out into the bay, I let her decide which I can keep. She hates most of them. Laughing hard at how bad she looks in most of them. Laughingly she says: “How are you even with me?”
I’m stunned. Did she just ask how a guy like *me* is with someone that looks like her?? Did she just imply I’m out of her league??? That I could do better??? What???? I suspect it’s a peek into her natural self, she’s let her hair down around me, and some of her insecurities are visible. Incredibly cute and endearing. Talk about an ego boost.
Lots of moments like that together. Lots of badly needed phenomenal hours-long infinite-orgasm sex. Lots of beautiful looks from her – I have at least 10 different personalities of her face in my head – just now she looked at me with #9, one of my favorites. We’re in our own world.
I’ll be attending my nephews wedding in her home state, and ask if can swing by to spend the weekend with her. No answer on the spot. However, Monday morning on the ride back to the airport, she tells me that we’re good for the weekend, and I don’t need to worry about it. I’m not sure I understand, so I ask her to clarify. She tells me I don’t need to worry about booking session time. She just wants to see me. Did that just happen? Did we just have the dreaded OTC conversation? Apparently so, and like that, it’s resolved. I expect we’ll continue to navigate that issue, carefully. It’s delicate, and fraught with emotion for both of us.
At the airport, I introduce her to a Fuzzy Navel and decide to join her. She loves it, and I’m equally enjoying it, even though I haven’t ordered one in more than a decade. I never order sweet drinks like that anymore. Reminds me that it’s always about the company, never the meal.
The flight back was wonderful, first time flying together. She was on my arm the entire time, leaning deeply into me, holding it and kneading my muscles, while we cooperated competitively in a word game. Best flight I’ve ever had. Also the quickest.
She wants to return to Maine, declares it the best trip ever and wants more like it. Her connecting airport is my final destination, so I hang out with her until she boards her plane. More hanging, holding. She’s sad, doesn’t want to leave. I’m sad that she’s sad, but also a little elated about it. She will miss me. Makes a half-joking comment about ignoring me for a couple of days after getting back to deal with the sadness. She processes some emotions by disconnecting. I understand it. I want to help her through them instead. My protector/provider side kicking in. Maybe I’ll have the opportunity to be there for her that way some day. Another peek into her real self. I feel honored to see these things that I know she doesn’t show anyone else. They feel raw and tender. I’m touched she trusts me enough to let me see her softer side underneath her well-protected shell. A very nice long kiss goodbye, and then I steal a final look at her as she disappears into the jetway.
The few days afterwards, she is texting me much more frequently than normal. How am I doing? What am I doing? Lots of interaction around my move. Very impressed with my furniture choices, etc. I’m glad she decided against disconnecting.