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dreams
July 2009 
Assignment: Hotel (Parts I and II)
Posted on Jun 5th, 2008
by 
michaelsits
michaelsits
Assignment: Hotel
I had been waiting for this night for so long. I think since the first time I leaned over to see the top of a girl’s naked breast. Exposed because of the way she was sitting at her desk in the third row just in front of me in science class with Mr. Sobieski.
She finally agreed to do it. I am not even sure what she has agreed to do really. But it doesn’t matter. We are going to do something.
When we spoke on the phone one last time before meeting there, I asked her again, “Are you sure you are ready? We don’t have to do this yet. There is no rush, well, expect for how badly I want to touch you, feel you and love you to pieces.”
She hesitated like a little girl before she answered. I panicked during those few seconds and thought she would change her mind but in a soft, shaky voice these words escaped her mouth, “I want you. I am ready; you just have to be gentle with me. Remember I have never done this before.” Her voice cracked a little and trailed off at the end of the last sentence. I thought I heard her sniffle once too.
I think this is the night I was waiting for and dreaming about since my first wet dream as a ten year old boy waking in the middle of the night wondering what and why my penis was pulsing and spurting out this gooey, creamy stuff all over my blue and orange NY Knicks pajamas. Yeah, I think this is that dream. She is that dream. Lisa is that dream.
We met at a N.I.A. class two summers ago at Main Street Yoga studio. The first time I saw her in that purple dance outfit that clung to every magnificent curve of her body; I wondered how many did she have to try on to find one that fits her like that? I forgot how to breathe. Fortunately, she did not see me yet. She has a body that all men and woman like to look at and she enjoys them looking at her, a lot. After the dancing and moving was done, we made eye contact for a split second and both flinched and turned away. She then looked back, stuck out her right hand inviting me to shake her hand and said firmly, "Hi. I am Lisa. Have you ever been to a N.I.A. class before?” I knew she was gong to be a Lisa.
“Once. I did it last Friday for the first time. I saw the article in the Eastside News and thought a class with modern dance, Yoga and Thai Chi two blocks form my house seemed to good to not try. So, I showed up last week and am back again today.” I was impressed I was able to speak while sheepishly looking at her soft brown round eyes, olive skin and perfectly oval face with the thick, long black her that only Italian girls have. Was she Italian?
“Wow, that is so cool. I am so glad you came back. I hope to see you again.” She said, nodding affirmingly and walked away smiling, maybe grinning, before she looked back once more as she left the studio and down the steps to the exit downstairs.
Done. I was sold. Lisa was the fantasy I have been looking for since I was waking up in the NY Knicks pajamas. Now she is live and in person with that body and the same smile with the exact Soul I dreamed of. I could not wait till next Friday at 4:00pm to move and dance with Lisa again.
I arrived about ten minutes early for class the following Friday. She was there along with a few other women. The two previous classes I was the only guy, it looked that would be the case again on this day. She was wearing black this time, low cut displaying her chest. Breathe Michael, breathe. I signed in so I could have something to do that didn’t include rudely staring at her and dreaming.
At 4:00 she said loud enough for everybody to hear and respond, “OK, let’s get started its four o’clock.”
Oh my God, she is the teacher this class. Badun, Badun, my heart pounded, veins showiing on my arms and I cold feel my eyes opened and wide like I had never seen a woman before. The class was a blur of fantasies and a concerted effort to not have an erection. After that effort failed, the new goal was to conceal my small but probably still visible erection in my Champion blue cotton shorts. I was wearing a white tank top that was a little sweaty from dancing and had a small bright red stain from the fresh strawberries I picked and ate just before riding my bike to the studio.
After class, I was putting my sandals back on in the other room when she walked in, smiled, asked if I enjoyed the class, picked up her bag off the floor and entered the little changing “room” before pulling the purple curtain closed for privacy. I could hear her black dance outfit hit the floor as it came off her body. Lisa was naked about four and a half feet away from with just a purple curtain separating us. What a pervert I am! Then I heard her slip something else onto her body. What was she wearing now? About 30 seconds later the curtain opens and Lisa walks out in a sleeveless black dress that covered everything the law says she has to cover with gold sandals, heels and a black strap around her ankles. Her hair was no longer in a pigtail but long, full and beautifully straight parted in the middle and shiny. When did she brush her hair? Was I that lost in my fantasy that I missed that part? How could I miss Lisa brushing her hair?
We walked out together and talked on the way to her silver-black Audi. I asked her what she did for a living. She said in a more professional serious voice, “I am a child psychologist. I work with youth that have severe mental and emotional issues. How about you?” And she looked directly at me waiting for my response.
“Wow, that is so cool! I am counselor that works with kids too! That is so cool.” We talked about our work and why we do what we do and how we ended up doing it. She then told me she was from upstate New York, near Rochester. I shared that I was from Jersey. We briefly told our unique stories of landing in Madison. I didn’t even hear anything she said. I was so lost in the discovery and acknowledgement that standing before me was the woman I had been dreaming about since the first wet dreams in my NY Knicks pajamas. She exists and is standing in front of me right now! And, she is a child psychologist, smart, dances like a goddess, from the ny/nj area and is full-blooded Italian.
When we got off the phone at 4:35pm and made plans to meet there at 7:00pm, the only thing that crossed my mind was what would happen if I had an orgasm before I got there or while at dinner or dancing or anything before we got to our room.
Wow. Our room. We are gong to be in a room with a bedroom, a large black and white marble bathtub and a bed. Lisa and I will be in a private room with a bed. A big bed with Royal blue Egyptian cotton sheets. I went and picked out the room on Tuesday to make sure everything would be perfect for our first night together.
Together, my and Lisa.
I wonder if she will be wearing that same sleeveless black dress that she wore after class and changed four and a half feet away from me behind the purple curtain?
How did she make it to thirty-three, go through college and grad school, become a successful child psychologist, be gorgeous with that body, a dancer and not yet have a man inside her?
How did that happen?
Why me?
Why now?
Holding hands with Lisa while walking has always provided such a soft, full, smile on my face; I can even feel it myself. It was a warm summer night in Madison last night with a gentle breeze off lake Mendota cooling and brushing our faces, legs and whole bodies as the night was doing its ”nightness” thing. There is something different about an after-dinner stroll in the summer at night when there are enough stars to see and feel to cause a flutter in the belly but not completely filling in the night sky as to make the stars, not the company kept and the moment shared the focus of attention. Last night was one of those nights
We both enjoyed dinner in the hotel. She had Eggplant Rollitini and I Chicken Florentine; of course we shared everything including the Clams Oregonatta appetizer. It was a risk for two Italians from the NY/NJ area to order Italian food at a Madison hotel restaurant. Fortunately, we were not disappointed. It was not what we grew up used to eating but tasty and as good as it will get in the Midwest. Breadsticks, salads, clams, eggplant and chicken were not the highlight of the meal- staring, smiling, laughing, twinkling eyes and holding hands under the table were. That and Lisa blushing when I complimented her on displaying another amazing black sleeveless dress, with an open back this time. I asked her, “How do you look so good no matter what you wear? You make every garment look like it was made specially for your smile, hair and body.”
She said, when her face returned to its natural olive tone, “You think that because you love me so much, not because I am any prettier than the other women here.” She was sort of correct. Even though the restaurant was mostly full, her attention to our time together blinded her to the fact that the room of men and women could not take their eyes off her and that smile. My heart jumped every time I noticed another couple staring at her. Although I did laugh when that one guy was staring at her and his wife lightly slapped him on his cheek.
She wanted to relax from walking and sit on the stone steps off the Union that lead to the lake’s edge. We sat two steps up from the water line. I could feel the mist of the water hitting against the cement wall onto my legs every few minutes. Lisa reached over and took my hand into hers, stared me straight in the eyes and said without flinch, “My mother was killed in an auto crash by a drunk driver when I was almost eleven. She would have really liked you Michael.” She looked down and then returned her gaze to me with some effort and smiled, but this was not the smile I was accustomed to. This smile had eyes softened and sad and loved but not the kind of love that fills you up, the kind that make your hands shake, eyes twitch and heart leak. I knew she didn’t want me to say I was sorry; she wanted me to just be there, hold her hand, look her back in the eyes and not recoil. So I didn’t.
After a long silence, maybe two or three minutes, she squeezed my hand hard enough to alert me to her continuing again and stared directly into my eyes, “And when I was junior in high school on the cheerleading team, three football players, two of them captains, jumped me, held me down and took me on a Friday night after a home game behind the bleachers. Nobody hear me scream or cry, nobody. It was almost 11:30 by then and everybody else had already gone home. My father and older brother could tell something happened when I walked straight to the laundry room to wash my cheerleader uniform without saying Hello or anything. I never told them but they wee different after that night. They never let me out of the house by myself anymore and when I went to college, my brother transferred so we could share an apartment together. So Michael, I have lied to you by saying that no man has ever been inside me or with me, three have. Just I have never been with a man, they were just with my body. I have never felt like I could do it with a man or trust one enough to try. I tried making out with a couple of different girls in grad school but that is not what I was looking for or wanted really. I wanted to be safe, loved, cared for by a man I could trust enough before I could make love for the first time. I am so sorry for deceiving you but I was so scared you would not respect me any more or even want me.”
Tears were dripping off her cheeks and chin just above the bare skin above her breasts. I was frozen and did not know what to say. How does a counselor not know what to say when the woman he is in love with just poured her soul out to him with quiet tears cleansing her face?
I took a couple of deep breathes, let out a sigh, prayed for help, strength and courage, held her right hand with both of mine tightly and said with my voice cracking from my own tears, “I love you Lisa. I have since the first time I saw you in your purple workout outfit. You are the woman I have dreamed about since junior high. I love you. You are such an amazing, brave and strong woman. I know that somehow you think this will make me love you less but I love you more than ever at this moment. Please! Just let me know how I can best support you and love you and I will do it. I love you Lisa. I love you.”
It was 7:20am and light was shining through the beige, fabric vertical blinds into our hotel room. I moved slowly as to not wake her up. I wanted to put on my glasses to see her clearer but decided not to. I wanted to see her just as she was without them discoloring or distorting anything. Lisa was lying next to me with one hand lazily resting across my chest and naked. Her rumpled hair still looked like that of a movie star- full, black and splayed across her back, shoulders and chest. Her olive skin contrasted beautifully against her hair and the Royal blue Egyptian cotton bed sheets.
We did not make love last night. At least not the way most people would define making love, but love was definitely made. No, last not was not the night for my penis to be in her vagina or for orgasms. Last night was the night to make love, adore and admire each other’s words, hearts, naked bodies and touches. I am not a big fan of air-conditioning but last night while our bodies were holding and learning where and how they belong together, the hot cool air felt like Heaven. Last night was Heaven for me and by the way she looks sleeping peacefully, for Lisa too.
I had been waiting for this night for so long. I think since the first time I leaned over to see the top of a girl’s naked breast. Exposed because of the way she was sitting at her desk in the third row just in front of me in science class with Mr. Sobieski.
She finally agreed to do it. I am not even sure what she has agreed to do really. But it doesn’t matter. We are going to do something.
When we spoke on the phone one last time before meeting there, I asked her again, “Are you sure you are ready? We don’t have to do this yet. There is no rush, well, expect for how badly I want to touch you, feel you and love you to pieces.”
She hesitated like a little girl before she answered. I panicked during those few seconds and thought she would change her mind but in a soft, shaky voice these words escaped her mouth, “I want you. I am ready; you just have to be gentle with me. Remember I have never done this before.” Her voice cracked a little and trailed off at the end of the last sentence. I thought I heard her sniffle once too.
I think this is the night I was waiting for and dreaming about since my first wet dream as a ten year old boy waking in the middle of the night wondering what and why my penis was pulsing and spurting out this gooey, creamy stuff all over my blue and orange NY Knicks pajamas. Yeah, I think this is that dream. She is that dream. Lisa is that dream.
We met at a N.I.A. class two summers ago at Main Street Yoga studio. The first time I saw her in that purple dance outfit that clung to every magnificent curve of her body; I wondered how many did she have to try on to find one that fits her like that? I forgot how to breathe. Fortunately, she did not see me yet. She has a body that all men and woman like to look at and she enjoys them looking at her, a lot. After the dancing and moving was done, we made eye contact for a split second and both flinched and turned away. She then looked back, stuck out her right hand inviting me to shake her hand and said firmly, "Hi. I am Lisa. Have you ever been to a N.I.A. class before?” I knew she was gong to be a Lisa.
“Once. I did it last Friday for the first time. I saw the article in the Eastside News and thought a class with modern dance, Yoga and Thai Chi two blocks form my house seemed to good to not try. So, I showed up last week and am back again today.” I was impressed I was able to speak while sheepishly looking at her soft brown round eyes, olive skin and perfectly oval face with the thick, long black her that only Italian girls have. Was she Italian?
“Wow, that is so cool. I am so glad you came back. I hope to see you again.” She said, nodding affirmingly and walked away smiling, maybe grinning, before she looked back once more as she left the studio and down the steps to the exit downstairs.
Done. I was sold. Lisa was the fantasy I have been looking for since I was waking up in the NY Knicks pajamas. Now she is live and in person with that body and the same smile with the exact Soul I dreamed of. I could not wait till next Friday at 4:00pm to move and dance with Lisa again.
I arrived about ten minutes early for class the following Friday. She was there along with a few other women. The two previous classes I was the only guy, it looked that would be the case again on this day. She was wearing black this time, low cut displaying her chest. Breathe Michael, breathe. I signed in so I could have something to do that didn’t include rudely staring at her and dreaming.
At 4:00 she said loud enough for everybody to hear and respond, “OK, let’s get started its four o’clock.”
Oh my God, she is the teacher this class. Badun, Badun, my heart pounded, veins showiing on my arms and I cold feel my eyes opened and wide like I had never seen a woman before. The class was a blur of fantasies and a concerted effort to not have an erection. After that effort failed, the new goal was to conceal my small but probably still visible erection in my Champion blue cotton shorts. I was wearing a white tank top that was a little sweaty from dancing and had a small bright red stain from the fresh strawberries I picked and ate just before riding my bike to the studio.
After class, I was putting my sandals back on in the other room when she walked in, smiled, asked if I enjoyed the class, picked up her bag off the floor and entered the little changing “room” before pulling the purple curtain closed for privacy. I could hear her black dance outfit hit the floor as it came off her body. Lisa was naked about four and a half feet away from with just a purple curtain separating us. What a pervert I am! Then I heard her slip something else onto her body. What was she wearing now? About 30 seconds later the curtain opens and Lisa walks out in a sleeveless black dress that covered everything the law says she has to cover with gold sandals, heels and a black strap around her ankles. Her hair was no longer in a pigtail but long, full and beautifully straight parted in the middle and shiny. When did she brush her hair? Was I that lost in my fantasy that I missed that part? How could I miss Lisa brushing her hair?
We walked out together and talked on the way to her silver-black Audi. I asked her what she did for a living. She said in a more professional serious voice, “I am a child psychologist. I work with youth that have severe mental and emotional issues. How about you?” And she looked directly at me waiting for my response.
“Wow, that is so cool! I am counselor that works with kids too! That is so cool.” We talked about our work and why we do what we do and how we ended up doing it. She then told me she was from upstate New York, near Rochester. I shared that I was from Jersey. We briefly told our unique stories of landing in Madison. I didn’t even hear anything she said. I was so lost in the discovery and acknowledgement that standing before me was the woman I had been dreaming about since the first wet dreams in my NY Knicks pajamas. She exists and is standing in front of me right now! And, she is a child psychologist, smart, dances like a goddess, from the ny/nj area and is full-blooded Italian.
When we got off the phone at 4:35pm and made plans to meet there at 7:00pm, the only thing that crossed my mind was what would happen if I had an orgasm before I got there or while at dinner or dancing or anything before we got to our room.
Wow. Our room. We are gong to be in a room with a bedroom, a large black and white marble bathtub and a bed. Lisa and I will be in a private room with a bed. A big bed with Royal blue Egyptian cotton sheets. I went and picked out the room on Tuesday to make sure everything would be perfect for our first night together.
Together, my and Lisa.
I wonder if she will be wearing that same sleeveless black dress that she wore after class and changed four and a half feet away from me behind the purple curtain?
How did she make it to thirty-three, go through college and grad school, become a successful child psychologist, be gorgeous with that body, a dancer and not yet have a man inside her?
How did that happen?
Why me?
Why now?
Holding hands with Lisa while walking has always provided such a soft, full, smile on my face; I can even feel it myself. It was a warm summer night in Madison last night with a gentle breeze off lake Mendota cooling and brushing our faces, legs and whole bodies as the night was doing its ”nightness” thing. There is something different about an after-dinner stroll in the summer at night when there are enough stars to see and feel to cause a flutter in the belly but not completely filling in the night sky as to make the stars, not the company kept and the moment shared the focus of attention. Last night was one of those nights
We both enjoyed dinner in the hotel. She had Eggplant Rollitini and I Chicken Florentine; of course we shared everything including the Clams Oregonatta appetizer. It was a risk for two Italians from the NY/NJ area to order Italian food at a Madison hotel restaurant. Fortunately, we were not disappointed. It was not what we grew up used to eating but tasty and as good as it will get in the Midwest. Breadsticks, salads, clams, eggplant and chicken were not the highlight of the meal- staring, smiling, laughing, twinkling eyes and holding hands under the table were. That and Lisa blushing when I complimented her on displaying another amazing black sleeveless dress, with an open back this time. I asked her, “How do you look so good no matter what you wear? You make every garment look like it was made specially for your smile, hair and body.”
She said, when her face returned to its natural olive tone, “You think that because you love me so much, not because I am any prettier than the other women here.” She was sort of correct. Even though the restaurant was mostly full, her attention to our time together blinded her to the fact that the room of men and women could not take their eyes off her and that smile. My heart jumped every time I noticed another couple staring at her. Although I did laugh when that one guy was staring at her and his wife lightly slapped him on his cheek.
She wanted to relax from walking and sit on the stone steps off the Union that lead to the lake’s edge. We sat two steps up from the water line. I could feel the mist of the water hitting against the cement wall onto my legs every few minutes. Lisa reached over and took my hand into hers, stared me straight in the eyes and said without flinch, “My mother was killed in an auto crash by a drunk driver when I was almost eleven. She would have really liked you Michael.” She looked down and then returned her gaze to me with some effort and smiled, but this was not the smile I was accustomed to. This smile had eyes softened and sad and loved but not the kind of love that fills you up, the kind that make your hands shake, eyes twitch and heart leak. I knew she didn’t want me to say I was sorry; she wanted me to just be there, hold her hand, look her back in the eyes and not recoil. So I didn’t.
After a long silence, maybe two or three minutes, she squeezed my hand hard enough to alert me to her continuing again and stared directly into my eyes, “And when I was junior in high school on the cheerleading team, three football players, two of them captains, jumped me, held me down and took me on a Friday night after a home game behind the bleachers. Nobody hear me scream or cry, nobody. It was almost 11:30 by then and everybody else had already gone home. My father and older brother could tell something happened when I walked straight to the laundry room to wash my cheerleader uniform without saying Hello or anything. I never told them but they wee different after that night. They never let me out of the house by myself anymore and when I went to college, my brother transferred so we could share an apartment together. So Michael, I have lied to you by saying that no man has ever been inside me or with me, three have. Just I have never been with a man, they were just with my body. I have never felt like I could do it with a man or trust one enough to try. I tried making out with a couple of different girls in grad school but that is not what I was looking for or wanted really. I wanted to be safe, loved, cared for by a man I could trust enough before I could make love for the first time. I am so sorry for deceiving you but I was so scared you would not respect me any more or even want me.”
Tears were dripping off her cheeks and chin just above the bare skin above her breasts. I was frozen and did not know what to say. How does a counselor not know what to say when the woman he is in love with just poured her soul out to him with quiet tears cleansing her face?
I took a couple of deep breathes, let out a sigh, prayed for help, strength and courage, held her right hand with both of mine tightly and said with my voice cracking from my own tears, “I love you Lisa. I have since the first time I saw you in your purple workout outfit. You are the woman I have dreamed about since junior high. I love you. You are such an amazing, brave and strong woman. I know that somehow you think this will make me love you less but I love you more than ever at this moment. Please! Just let me know how I can best support you and love you and I will do it. I love you Lisa. I love you.”
It was 7:20am and light was shining through the beige, fabric vertical blinds into our hotel room. I moved slowly as to not wake her up. I wanted to put on my glasses to see her clearer but decided not to. I wanted to see her just as she was without them discoloring or distorting anything. Lisa was lying next to me with one hand lazily resting across my chest and naked. Her rumpled hair still looked like that of a movie star- full, black and splayed across her back, shoulders and chest. Her olive skin contrasted beautifully against her hair and the Royal blue Egyptian cotton bed sheets.
We did not make love last night. At least not the way most people would define making love, but love was definitely made. No, last not was not the night for my penis to be in her vagina or for orgasms. Last night was the night to make love, adore and admire each other’s words, hearts, naked bodies and touches. I am not a big fan of air-conditioning but last night while our bodies were holding and learning where and how they belong together, the hot cool air felt like Heaven. Last night was Heaven for me and by the way she looks sleeping peacefully, for Lisa too.
Access: Public
