Thursday, August 6, 2015
More Surprises at the Thursday Deli
I felt bad that what prompted me to write this was an encounter with my ex, Sofia, and not by something that happened with my wife, Victoria. So, I’m adding an update of things with Victoria first. This turned out to be a longer post that I expected, so I left some thoughts out. I may post another one soon with my ideas of what's going on....
A few days ago I wrote about the dream I had when I had sex with Victoria. Well, the next day I told her about it, in what I thought was a totally innocent manner, and she snapped at me. I don’t mean she made one cutting remark, or anything like that. It was a real, full-fledged drill with yelling and the works. She told me how insensitive I was, that I obviously didn’t understand that she was in pain and could not have sex, because when she did she didn’t enjoy and was in so much pain afterwards that she could do nothing else… And she went on and on.
This was really hurtful and confusing to me, because ever since she told me about her problem, the only times we’ve had penetrative sex have been when she asked for it. I have not asked, and on at least two times, I asked her if she was sure before entering her. One of the times, she she changer her mind and said no, but the other one she rushed me into doing it.
I really think there is a missing link in our communication here, because apparently she feels that I’m pushing her into having sex when nothing could be farther from the truth.
Well, that’s that for Victoria. Clearly I have to have a talk with her.
Now, back to Sofia.
Today, when I walked to what is becoming the Thursday Deli to have lunch, I found Sofia already there. She was sitting on one of the outside tables, next to the one we sat on last week. She was fooling around with her phone, but put it away as soon as she saw me. She smiled as I noticed that she was wearing high-heel boots. The rest of her outfit was a very serious dark grey office set with a short skirt (since she is petite, all her skirts are short) and a white blouse, but I noticed the boots first because she was sitting cross legged so one of her boots extended beyond the table.
I said hello and was about to sit when she told me to stop, which I did, thinking that perhaps there was something on the chair, but there was nothing there.
“Kiss my boot first,” she said pointing to the tip of her black boot and waving it around.
I stood there like an idiot, stammering instead of saying anything. Why was this happening? For the first time in my life a woman had ordered me to kiss her boots and I could not do it. I didn’t know that I could sweat so fast on a relatively fresh day.
“I knew you weren’t going to do it,” she said lowering her foot to the sidewalk and laughing.
I recovered enough to ask her why she had done that and she reminded me of last week, when a hot girl from a nearby office had walked by on boots and I had mentioned that I would kneel and kiss her boots is she asked me.
“Well,” she said after I confirmed that I remembered. “I wanted to show you that you wouldn’t do it, and you should not say you would.”
We both walked into the deli to get food and when we came back, someone else had taken the table, so we sat on the other side and continued to talk while eating.
I mentioned casually that I hoped she had not gone and bought that pair of boots just to prove a point, and she said that I shouldn’t be silly. Why would she spend money to make a point? She explained that she had purchased them a long time back, but only used them for special occasions and rarely for work.
Then she asked me the question: “I knew you were not going to kiss my boots in public, but would have done it if we were alone?”
I had to think about that one. If she had asked last week, or even earlier today, I would have answered yes, of course I would, but after the feelings I experienced when she actually asked, I hesitated. I realized that the fantasy is not that a woman orders me to kiss her boots, but that Victoria does it. I know I can go pay a pro and she will make me kiss and lick her boots to my heart content, but that’s not it. I realized then that I would surely NOT have kissed that other girl’s boots last week, but I could not say outright that I would not have kissed Sofia’s if we were alone.
The difference is that even though we broke up years ago, there is still the connection of having been together and intimate for almost 3 years. This would have been much closer to reality than a pro or the stranger from the other office, but it would still not be Victoria. How would I go home to Victoria after kissing Sofia's boots? But on the other hand, How could I deny that I wanted to do it?
“I don’t know,” I confessed.
“I think you wouldn’t,” she said. “You feel like you would like to do it, but if push came to shove, you wouldn’t do it.”
“Why are you so sure?” I asked.
“Because that would be like cheating on your wife,” said Sofia. “And you never cheat”.
She paused for a little while, finishing her sandwich and gathering the trash on the tray.
“Remember Diana?” She asked.
I do remember Diana. She was Sofia’s roommate in her first or second year of College, if not both. A hot blue-jeaned blonde with a jerk for a boyfriend who treated her like crap.
“You didn’t cheat on me with her,” said Sofia after I confirmed that I remembered. “And I gave you the perfect chance.”
“You KNEW about that?” I asked, surprised.
“Baby,” she said smiling. “I planned it.”
Let me tell you what happened. This girl Diana had been talking for a while about how she wanted to cheat on her boyfriend and have a secret “adventure” to see how it felt. She never told me this. Sofia did. One day, she suddenly called me at home and told me that Sofia had given her my phone number. It turned out that she was stranded out of town and needed for me to pick her up and bring her over to their apartments. The university was a two hour drive away and I was supposed to head that way later that night, but she sounded really distressed, so I agreed to go pick her up right then.
When I reached the appointed location, I found Diana. She looked gorgeous in her form-fitting jeans and (yes) boots. As we drove away, she told me that she had come to town to have sex with an older guy she knew from before she met her boyfriend, and explained that she did it because she could not stand her boyfriend was wanted to cheat on him. Then she told me that the guy had another friend in his place and were doing drugs and both wanted to take her, so she had fled. During the 2 hour drive she told me how nice I was and how she loved the way I treated Sofia. She totally gave me the vibe that she wanted to replace the cheating goal with me. She even insinuated that her boyfriend and my girlfriend would never know. At her insistence, we stopped at a restaurant for food, and she insisted that she would pay me back, because she had no money. She really hit on me. The fact that Sofia would not be home until late in the evening (at which time I was supposed to see her) came up. I knew then that I could have gotten my way with Diana if I wanted, but I didn’t.
It turns out that Sofia planned it all.
“So it was all fake?” I asked.
“No,” said Sofia. “Diana really wanted to cheat with someone. I just offered you up on the condition that she had to tell me what happened.”
“Why would you do that?” I asked, looking at the time. I had to head back to the office soon.
“I was young and naïve,” she said. “I thought it romantic to test the love you professed. She was beautiful, available and I knew she liked you.”
“But, what if I had taken her on her offer?”
“My loss, I guess,” she said. “Although back then I thought that if you cheated I’d be better off without you.”
“I should have fucked her,” I mused, quickly apologizing for the language.
“Maybe you should have,” said Sofia smiling. “But you didn’t.”
“And I bet you have never cheated on your wife either,” she said.
“No, I haven’t,” I said, with a mixture of pride and embarrassment, although I don’t know why.
The conversation was kind of over, and I had to head back, so we said our farewells and she asked me to put the garbage away, since she was going to stay at the deli a bit longer.
“Should I wear the boots next Thursday?” Sofia asked with an impish grin.
“Only if you promise not to ask me to kiss them,” I said.
“Promise,” she said, a hand to her breast.
And that, as they say, is that…