A Well-Lived Life - Book 8 - StephieChapter 14: Moving Forward, Part I free porn video
February/March 1983, Chicago, Illinois
On Monday after history class I went to the clinic and picked up the results of my tests, which were, as expected, negative. I tucked the form into my bag and headed to meet Stephie for lunch. The rest of the day was routine, and I hoped that the next two weeks before Spring Break would be uneventful. I needed two weeks of calm routine at this point, but I suspected life would not cooperate, since it rarely ever did.
On Tuesday afternoon I headed to Anala’s as usual. After slipping off my shoes I handed her the test results form and she scanned it and handed it back. We sat down; Anala poured tea for both of us and then began to tell me her story.
She’d grown up in a very conservative, devout Hindu household in Woodridge. Neither she nor her sister Papiya had been allowed to date, and their parents had seriously limited where they could go and who they could go with. When she’d come to IIT, she’d insisted on living on campus, managing to overcome her parents’ objections. For the first semester, she’d pretty much kept to herself and stayed in her dorm room when she wasn’t in class.
During her second semester she started going to campus events and eventually met a guy who she liked and who asked her out. They dated casually for the rest of the semester, and then after summer break, when they came back to campus, they became serious, and eventually, just before Christmas, they went to bed together. Anala said she was somewhat disappointed by the experience and by the start of the spring semester of her second year they had broken up.
At that point, because the sex had only been satisfactory, she began to read the Kama Sutra, looking for insights. That had led her to other texts and a love of philosophy. She’d started seeing a yogi at a temple out in the suburbs and that had helped her to open her mind to different ways of thinking and other ideas. She’d gone on a few dates during her junior year, but mostly focused on her own studies. It was during her senior year that her sexuality had truly developed.
She met an Indian graduate student who was in his late 20’s who she started seeing regularly. After a few months, he invited her to his place, seduced her, and she discovered just how pleasurable sex could be with the right partner. They’d continued to see each other until he finished his doctorate and moved to California. She had hoped to see him in the future, but shortly after he moved to Palo Alto, he’d met a girl and a year later they’d gotten engaged.
“When he left, I decided that I’d look for the right guy, and honestly, I didn’t find anyone I liked. I graduated and moved to this apartment because Papiya had gone on a rampage on campus, bedding anyone and everyone she could. She had sex the first week she was here, and once word got around, guys were hitting on me right and left. It was just easier to move here when I started graduate school.”
“What made you want to start talking to me? I mean if I’ve been with your sister, isn’t that exactly the thing you wanted to avoid? Not to mention my, uhm, track record.”
“Remember, I bumped into you by accident and knocked your books flying. You were kind and didn’t get upset, and something in your eyes told me that you were a guy who was worth knowing. When I figured out who you were, so to speak, it was a compliment to you that you told my sister you weren’t interested. Most of the guys she’s been with beg for more and she just laughs at them. You had her fit to be tied.
“As for your track record, I’m not sure what to make of it. In one sense, it’s a private matter between you and the girls. The larger issue is whether or not it’s moral or ethical, and that’s a really subjective question. You clearly don’t see any moral or ethical issues with it, and if you’re telling the truth about your relationships with these girls after you were with them, which I suspect you are, then it certainly isn’t wrong of you to have done it. By your standards.”
“I agree,” I said, nodding. “But really, what matters in this case, is what you think, not what I think or society thinks. At least if you want to progress past where we are now.”
“I’m not quite sure what to think. Or quite sure what I want. Well, that’s not quite true. Physically, I’d love to have you right now. However, mentally and emotionally, that’s a different question that I’m not quite sure of the answer to. Honestly, we could go into my room right now and probably have a fantastic time, but I don’t want to just have sex. I want a deeper experience than that. I want our spirits, our Atman, to merge, not just our bodies.”
“That’s a pretty tall order, Anala,” I said.
“And yet, that level of bliss is possible. I’m guessing, because we’ve not discussed the details, that we are compatible. I am vadavas and I suspect you are vrisha.”
“Sorry, I don’t remember those terms,” I said.
“You are about average size, not huge. I am average size, so we should be compatible.”
I chuckled, “I’ve been told by a lover that I was slightly above average in size, so yes, I suspect that’s accurate.”
“I also suspect that given your track record, you understand the rhythm and pace of sex - that it is easy for the man to climax, but usually more difficult for the woman, so it’s vital for the man to pay attention and take his time.”
I nodded, “I’ve been told that I focus only on the girl’s pleasure when I have sex, so I think I have that part down. At least, nobody has ever complained. And I know how to listen.”
She nodded, “You have claimed to be long-timed, and I suspect you tell the truth, though men do tend to brag.”
“When you’re ready, I’ll show you,” I said.
“All 64?” she giggled.
“Some of those looked impossible!” I said with a grin.
“Yes, well, I think those artists had a good imagination. But, we’re not there yet. Are you willing to try something with me?”
“I think you should tell me what it is, first.”
She laughed, “A valid point. Synchronized breathing. It’s a small step towards my goal.”
“Which is?” I said.
“True intimacy. What comes after that, we’ll leave for later, but I think we both know at least one place that road will take us.”
“Sure, I’m game. How do we do this?”
“Move your cushion and sit on it and lean against the wall.”
I did as Anala asked and she came and sat between my legs and leaned back. This was the first time we’d touched since she’d knocked my books from my hands, and the feeling was intense.
“Put your hands on my stomach,” she said.
I moved my hands to her firm stomach and she placed her hands on top of mine.
“Now, breathe in when I breathe in and breathe out when I breathe out. Slowly and smoothly.”
I felt her take a breath and matched it, then let it out slowly when she did the same. Anala built a slow rhythm of breathing in and out and I matched it. After about five minutes, she moved to kneel and face me.
“What did you feel?” she asked.
“Calm and peaceful, and I guess in-tune with you.”
“Did you feel our heart rates match towards the end?”
“Yeah, that was kind of odd, it wasn’t perfect, but it was very close. Mine was beating just a bit slower than yours.”
“You exercise a lot, don’t you? So I think your pulse is naturally slower than mine. Let’s try one more thing. Please kneel facing me. Get close, but don’t touch.”
I knelt directly in front of her, with less than an inch separating us. Anala put her hands on my hips and I put mine on hers.
“Now, breathe with me and look into my eyes,” she said.
It was a very strange experience, being that close and not touching except for our hands on each others’ hips, our breath mingling as we exhaled and there was something very special in her dark brown eyes that seemed to just draw me in. After a few minutes, Anala leaned her head slightly forward and made it clear that I should kiss her. I gently pressed my lips against hers, which were covered with blood-red lipstick. We held that for a moment, then she sat back, and I did the same.
“What did you feel?” she asked.
“An intense desire to pull you close to me. Your eyes were drawing me in deeply.”
“And yours were drawing me in as well. And the kiss?”
The only word I could think of was ‘communication’ - that kiss conveyed all the hopes, desires, and fears we both had about the path we were traveling.
“Communication,” I said.
“Yes. I felt that, too,” Anala said. “And you wish to continue down this path?”
“Yes.”
“And you know where it leads?” she said, cocking her head to the side.
“The path is long and has many twists and turns. I have no idea where it leads. There will be forks in the path where we’ll both be forced to choose. The end-point is unknown. Or did you have a fixed destination in mind?”
“I do, but I don’t know if you are the one to take me there, or if the path leads there. Do you foreclose any possibility?”
“No. Not at this point. Life has taught me some hard lessons over the past seven years.”
“That was clear from your story last week! Come back to the table and let’s have some more tea.”
We moved back to the table and she poured tea for both of us. We talked about our stories until it was time for me to leave. I was acutely aware of her standing very close as I put on my coat, but I wasn’t going to make the first move. When she didn’t make a move for a hug, I simply said goodbye and that I’d see her next week.
The rest of the week was, happily, uneventful. I had my usual classes, coffee with Jackie, my night in Elyse’s bed, lunch with Becky, and my tutoring session. The only deviation was that I ran into Mike from Theta Xi. We hadn’t had any classes together so far this year, which was odd, but I’d seen him around campus from time to time. He said that Theta Xi was having a ‘Spring Break’ party on the 11th since most brothers weren’t going home until the 12th. I told him that Stephie was going home that evening, so I could stop by after I dropped her at the airport.
Our Friday evening dinner conversation was about the strange turn that Chicago politics appeared to be taking. The Republican candidate, Bernard Epton, appeared to have a chance of winning based purely on race. His campaign slogan was nothing short of offensive - Epton for Mayor: Before It’s Too Late.
“That’s just wrong on so many levels,” Dave said.
“Tell me about it,” I said. “I don’t like Washington’s politics, but the racist campaign against him really sticks in my craw. Hell, I’m tempted to vote for Ed Warren!”
“Who?” Julia asked.
“He’s the Socialist Worker’s Party candidate,” I said with a grin. “I mean if we’re going to go left, why not go ALL the way left! It’s more of a protest vote, kind of like John Anderson in 1980 - people who hated Carter but couldn’t bring themselves to vote for Reagan, voted for him. I’m just upset at the way the Machine is trying to use race to keep Washington out of office.”
“This reminds me of back home when people called blacks ‘uppity’ if they tried to do things people thought were for white folks only,” Stephie said. “I remember Red’s daddy talking bad about Wendell Scott being in NASCAR when I was little. The thing is, Scott WON a race the year me and Steve were born. Can’t argue with success. But boy, Red’s daddy hated him.”
“You expect that in the South,” Elyse said. “But I hear Boston is about as racist a city as they come! Katy told me a joke about the Celtics - she’s nuts about basketball. Anyway, the joke was ‘How many black players will the Celtics fans tolerate on the court together?’ ‘Two at home, three on the road, and five if the Celtics are losing.’”
Dave laughed, “You know, I never thought about it, but Larry Bird, Kevin McHale, and Danny Ainge do get a lot of playing time. Add in Jerry Sichting, Greg Kite, Bill Walton, Scott Wedman, and Rick Carlisle, and that’s a pretty damn white team!”
“Didn’t know you were a basketball fan, Dave. And to know the entire roster?” Julia said.
“I am, and I’m a Celtics fan. But that’s because I hate all LA Teams like every good resident of Cincinnati! And because our team moved about ten years ago.”
“Sounds like Yankee and hockey!” Stephie said.
“Yeah, he chose the Pens when the NHL absorbed some of the WHA teams but not Cincinnati. At least we’ve had some success in baseball and football.”
“You call not being able to score with first and goal from the one success?” Julia teased. “Pete Johnson should have laid off the coke and concentrated on football!”
“I blame Forest Gregg,” Dave said. “Pete Johnson four times in a row? With Ken Anderson completing over 70% of his passes, and being the best short-passer in the league? And with Bob Trumpy at tight end? Gregg lost us that Super Bowl for sure.”
“Do you think Epton really has a chance?” Eduardo asked, bringing the topic back to politics.
“I’d say he does. I think Washington will win, but it’s not going to be the pro forma election I expected, that’s for sure. Hell, there are rumors that Byrne will run as a write-in, but as much as I liked her before, that seems like sour grapes AND racist at the same time! I’ll most likely hold my nose and vote for Congressman Washington.”
“I don’t see what else you can do,” Chris said. “Two bad choices, so you pick the least bad.”
“And that’s why I hate politics,” Cindi said.
“Your politics are nothing like ours!” Eduardo declared. “We fought a civil war in the 30’s and there was an attempted coup a few years ago that King Juan Carlos put down. We have ETA bastards conducting terror operations against our government. The fucking Basques have no honor!” he concluded, looking like he wanted to spit when he said ‘Basques’.
Stevie
- 06.09.2020
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