I imagine that that's what anyone reading this probably wants to know. If there's a pool anywhere speculating on who'd be the first to spread his/her legs, then I suppose whoever had me can collect - although there's about a dozen other people who haven't reported in and might have done the same thing.
I barely slept a wink Thursday night. I got home late, wrote my last entry, watched some TV, then walked into the bedroom where I just sort of stared at Raymond lying there. I really didn't want to get in there next to him. I'm not going to say sharing a bed with him has become no big deal over the past couple months; it still stands my hair on end. But what I had planned for the next day took it from being a big deal to a big deal; I couldn't get into the bed next to him. I went back out into the kitchen, booted the computer back up, pondered erasing what I'd written, instead tried to do some research on the Inn, but even if I couldn't sleep, I couldn't concentrate. I don't know what time I finally did conk out, but I was woken up by Ray locking the door on his way out.
I tried going back to the bedroom and flopping down on the now-empty bed, maybe giving myself the excuse of sleeping through my "lunch date", but apparently I'd gotten all the rest I needed. I started pulling clothes out for the day, thinking that I'd just treat it like a normal day, maybe pop in on Jake, when my hand touched the letters from the real Liz at the bottom of the dresser drawer. I felt a little stab of guilt at that, and then the laptop made its "you have mail" noise. I walked over and saw that it was from Jeremy. Not much news out there, just a couple attachments with notes and a chapter from the ghost-writing job I'd been contracted for. I sighed opening them. His writing, quite frankly, sucks, but at least he's trying. I'm not one to believe in signs, but the timing of that was certainly fortuitous.. If that kid can try to write to keep my life warm for when I get back to it, I supposed I could do something for Liz.
So I went to the bathroom and got into the shower. I did the works - shampoo, conditioner, leg-shaving, perfume, make-up, lipstick. I didn't look as good when I was done as when Jake did them for me, but I looked better than okay. I made sure my bra and panties matched, pulled on some pantyhose, and went for a turtleneck and skirt.
I looked at myself in the mirror. Definitely do-able. I wasn't sure I liked that analysis, but I put on some shoes and went outside anyway.
Stewart and I had agreed to meet up across the river in Boston proper. It keeps us from being seen by co-workers, and the Fenway/BU area is far enough away from downtown to make it unlikely we'll stumble across Raymond or anyone who knows Liz that way. We do actually have lunch at Fresh City, where we gossip about work, compare what we've been buying at the local Tower Records's going out of business sale. It was nice, not nearly as tense as I'd feared, and at some points I actually managed to put what we'd come to do out of my head.
Of course, that couldn't last forever, and we eventually walked back to his place. It's got a very settled-in look to it; while I think Ray and Liz have been where they are for less than a year, it wouldn't surprise me if Stewart had been living there since college. It was a single, at least, so there would be no awkward roommate moments with someone else bursting in.
And... We did it.
It was kind of a surreal experience. I hadn't even played with myself since the change, so it was kind of a shock to find that I still had nerves running directly from my groin to by brain's pleasure center. That wasn't the first experience that made an impression; just getting each other undressed was weird. I have to admit, he's kind of good at it, but in part because he knows Liz's body. He knew where I was ticklish, for instance, which took me completely by surprise. He must have seen that I was tense and maybe just assumed because it had been a while for "us", so he found that spot in the small of my back and while arched my back and laughed involuntarily, he pulled up my turtleneck and started kissing my belly. He laid me down on the bed, then pulled the top all the way off so he could work his way up to my breasts. I was shocked to see my nipples getting stiff, and more than a little alarmed - I wasn't supposed to be enjoying this, and even if it was just a physiological reaction...
I felt like I was supposed to be doing something, but I really didn't know what. I mean, his head was down in my torso; I was kind of pinned. I ran my fingers through his hair, but it wasn't really doing anything for me. Neither was feeling his musclar back or bottom; I settled on reaching behind my back to undo my bra when he lifted me up a little. Then we shifted a bit and I could feel that his penis was hard against my leg. Out of a weird sense of self-preservation I reached for my purse and extracted a condom, which probably sped things up a bit. As soon as he saw me doing that, he dropped his pans and oh my god.
I'd like to be all macho and say mine was bigger, but, honestly, it wasn't. Especially considering that I'd never seen mine from a foot away while trying to put a condom on it. Which I did quickly, like I was trying to hide that thing. Then down came my panties, and in it went.
And, like I said, the groin nerve is connected to the happy part of the brain, but... It felt good, but not quite good-sex-good. I liked the sensation, but something was missing, even beyond the obvious. The force of someone thrusting must take some getting used to. I could tell when he came, but I didn't (I'm pretty sure on this - my girlfriends always seemed to know).
Afterward, he made a comment on that, said he was sorry. I made a quip about being out of practice, not immediately realizing that was the perfect set-up for him to request a return engagement. Which he of course did, and I agreed to, even though we both realized our schedules wouldn't overlap again until after Thanksgiving. I felt a little weird saying yes, but if I was going to keep this going for Liz, it was never going to be a one and out thing.
Then I got dressed, and we went our seperate ways until meeting up again at work, where we acted like there was nothing going on. Kind of weird, that. Not quite as weird as spending the weekend with Raymond afterward. I kept expecting myself to feel guilty, but he wasn't my boyfriend, so I wasn't really cheating on him. I guess I'm helping Liz do so, but the way I'm doing it is just to abstract and weird to really make me feel bad on a gut level.
Maybe that'll come if I start really getting into the sex - I mean, you don't feel guilty about just having a little fun with someone else, right?