What Love Looks Like Read online

  “That’s sexy.” He was still staring into my eyes. “Maybe you could teach me about the body.” Of course he was being suggestive, but he seemed so relaxed that all I could do was giggle.

  “I’d be happy to.”

  “In New York?” he asked, winking at me.

  “So we’re still on that subject?”

  “Yeah. I really want you to come and see how I live. I think you’d love it.”

  “Okay.” I was unable to disagree with him about anything at that moment. He could have told me the world was flat, and I would have said okay. He wanted me to see how he lived. There was something so passionate about his request. His eyes did all the convincing needed for me to succumb to his invitation.

  “Really?” he asked.

  “Really. You’re here, and I see that you aren’t a psychopath, so I’d feel comfortable making the trip.”

  “That’s awesome. We can start planning it when I get back.”

  “I do want to get to know each other better,” I said.

  “I’m glad you feel that way. This isn’t something I’ve really done before.”

  “What isn’t?”

  “The long-distance thing. In fact, I don’t have a whole lot of experience with the relationship thing, period.”

  “Why do I find that hard to believe?” I asked, smirking.

  “Don’t get me wrong, I’ve dated. A lot.”

  “You don’t have to explain.” I involuntarily put my hand up in the air. The last thing I wanted to hear about was all of the women he’d bedded before me.

  “Well, I felt a connection with you, and I’m just glad we’re to see each other again,” he said. I half thought that his words sounded like just another line from a bona fide smooth talker, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt.

  “Me too.”

  “Going out for dinner one night just isn’t enough to really get to know someone, so New York will be great.”

  Of course I knew that one dinner wasn’t enough. I also knew that I was hooked on him, and I hadn’t even kissed him yet. I got a rush just from being at the restaurant with him. I observed other women at the bar trying to make eye contact with him, and I felt so powerful as the woman that Jay Conrad had decided to spend his evening with. He could have had any of the single girls in the restaurant and probably some of the married ones too. For the first time in my life, I had something that every woman around me wanted.

  After two glasses of wine and three cocktails between us, he finally inched closer to me. “I’m having a great time tonight,” he whispered, placing his hand on my bare right thigh.

  His hands were cool on my even chillier skin, and we were talking so intimately that his flawless face was practically glued to mine. We talked for hours with intermittent touching and very few lulls in the conversation. We talked about things we already knew about each other from endless hours of communicating in the weeks leading up to that night. It felt as if we were a bona fide couple, even though our date was the first real time we’d spent together.

  And then, out of nowhere, he kissed me right there at the bar, in front of the other patrons, with his hands in my hair and his eyes closed. I was so lost in the moment that I forgot to close mine. When Jay kissed me, time stood still. Nothing else mattered. I lusted after every inch of him. Every cell in my body was blazing, and I was so turned on that my nipples became erect and I was wet between my legs within seconds of our lips uniting. I hadn’t felt that in ages, at least not from just a kiss. I instinctively leaned into him, placing my hand gently on the back of his head and twirling my fingers through his rippling golden hair. The kiss lasted long enough for me to foresee what it could lead to. I envisioned physical satisfaction beyond comprehension.

  Dinner consisted of minimal eating, a lot of touching and kissing, and being told to get a room by a drunk girl and her even drunker friends. The check took forever to arrive, or maybe it just seemed like it because of how badly I wanted to get out of there and into somewhere more private with him.

  Jay paid for dinner when the bill finally arrived and led me out of the restaurant as if on a mission. He took my keys and drove my car (though probably he shouldn’t have) back to the hotel in ten minutes flat. He whisked me through the lobby and pulled me into the fancy elevator, kissing me the entire way up to the ninth floor. His hands wrapped around my waist, he pulled me in, tilting my chin gently upward as his mouth made love to mine. He kissed with complete control, and his slender body melded seamlessly with mine against the elevator wall.

  Jay slid the key card into the tiny slot and opened the door of his hotel room. He led me inside and seized me again by the waist. Before I knew it, I fell effortlessly down onto the bed, with his hands all over my body and mine all over his. Both of us were still fully clothed but exploring one another’s God-given crevices. Our lips found each other’s once again, and he kept one hand cupped on my rear end while the other held my face, seemingly fixed there permanently. I hadn’t felt that turned on for as long as I could remember, and I savored the sensation of his tongue digging into my neck, thrust after thrust, each time more stimulating than the last. His scent was incredible. It was clean but a little naughty, a fresh-from-the-shower essence with a hint of his natural pheromones. The slight stubble of his five o’clock shadow gently scratched my face, as if to remind me that he was a man and I was a woman. He began to slip his hand up the inside of my thigh, but I intercepted it before he made it all the way there.

  “I hate to sound like a cliché,” I said breathily, “but I think we should take this slow.”

  “You’re so fucking hot. I want you now. And I can tell you want me too.” He grabbed between my thighs forcefully, indicating precisely how he knew I wanted him. I was primed and ready for him, and he was aware of it.

  “I do want you,” I said, gasping for air.

  “Okay, then have me. I’m yours, baby.”

  His mouth was inches from mine, and he kissed me vigorously between every word. Every nerve in my body was on alert. My nipples were upright, and I was drenched between my thighs. My body temperature rose as I contemplated how to react. His words, I’m yours, baby, were enough to send me into the female version of premature ejaculation. We were close enough that I could feel his erection through his clothes. He pushed it into my leg, causing my objections to fade away more and more with each passing second.

  He touched all of the most sensitive parts of my body, not just the obvious places. He was playing me like an instrument and hit every note with perfect pitch. I felt him still throbbing beneath his pants, and I suddenly needed him inside of me. As if on cue, he lifted my dress up and peeled it off my body, revealing just my undergarments. I kicked my shoes off, flinging my legs through the air. He kissed the whole of my neck and shoulders, and in the dim light I saw goose bumps all over my skin. He unhooked my bra and pulled the simple black thong I’d worn down my legs and tossed it into the darkness. He kissed me from my décolleté all the way down to my navel. Then he performed seven minutes of rapturous oral sex on me, which resulted in the purest orgasm I’d ever undergone.

  “Holy shit,” I said weakly.

  “Did you like that?” His voice deep and raspy, his head peeking up from between my legs.

  “Uh huh.” I was at a total loss for words.

  He took a moment to remove his pants and underwear. He was naked now. His body was incredibly sculpted and the only thing that protruded from it was the bulge between his legs. He flipped onto his back, pulling me on top of him. I sat on his lap, his erection beneath me, and after a moment of kissing and stroking each other, I willingly slipped him inside. His penis was what I expected for the size of his body. He wasn’t enormous, but he certainly got the job done. He squeezed my breasts together hard and said how much he loved them. He aggressively guided my hips as I moved up and down on top of him. I loved being so close to him, and when he finally finished, his gratified look was enough for me to know I’d satisfied him.

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sp; The hour that followed was positively dreamy. We lay in between the sheets together, completely entwined. My legs had no strength left, and his thin, well-formed arms encircled me as he traced circles up and down my spine with his fingers. Every now and then he’d plant a cool kiss on my cheek or my shoulder, and he repeatedly told me how incredible he thought our sex was.

  “I knew it would be, though,” he said.

  “You mean you thought about sex with me before tonight?”

  “Well, yeah. I’m a guy, Elle.” He laughed. “I just thought you were so hot, and I kicked myself for not seeing you last time I was here. I figured it had to happen this time because of the connection we had.”

  I shrugged off that he was so confident he’d get me into bed because he was so sweetly distraught when I told him I wouldn’t be spending the night. I had a strict policy of always leaving guys wanting more. I wasn’t sure if it was too late for that (after all, we’d already had sex and pillow talk), but I certainly wasn’t going to linger around for a sleepover. I wanted him to think I wasn’t too emotionally invested—even though I utterly burned for more of him.

  We put our clothes on, and he walked me down to the lobby. His unbuttoned shirt looked so sexy that I was half-tempted to take him back upstairs and have my way with him again. But that would have defeated the purpose of leaving in the first place. He had to think, at least for a while, that I had better things to do than just spend time with him. We held hands all the way down the elevator and to the hotel’s front exit, where my car was valet parked. He faced me, holding me by the rear end, and kissed me goodnight. “I’ll see you in New York,” he said.

  “Yes you will. Thanks for dinner.”

  At home, I walked Luna, who had been dropped off by the dog sitter a few hours earlier. In the dark of night, everything was clear. Jay and I would be something significant. Upstairs, I crawled with Luna into my bed, imagining I was still in bed with Jay. To some degree I regretted not staying with him, but I couldn’t have left Luna alone all night anyway. It would have been nice to hold onto him for hours, but I rationalized leaving when I did as an investment in the longevity of our relationship. By not staying with him that night, I was ensuring that I’d sleep with him again in the future. If I’d stayed for an awkward waking up together, preceded by the mandatory morning sex, than he would have believed that I was wrapped around his finger. Instead, I'd left him in the throes of pleasure and hopefully wanting more.

  And then I realized I wasn’t making any sense. It was all just a bunch of words. Every ounce of my flesh and blood hungered to see him again, and if I didn’t, my heart would be broken.

  6

  Following Jay’s visit, I lost any desire to eat or drink to fill my void. In fact, had almost no appetite for anything other than him. Whenever I met a guy I was even a little captivated by, I’d lose my hunger for anything consumable. With Jay, this was extreme. My hollowness had been eased when part of his body entered mine. I felt as if I finally knew the meaning of the phrase falling in love. Falling alluded to the involuntary and inevitable vulnerability of one’s heart; in this case, mine.

  I wanted to be my paramount self, because the best version of me, Elle Coppola 2.0, was the only version that was worthy of Jay. He deserved so much more than the former outcast with emotional issues left over from an agonizing adolescence. And I never wanted him to know who I used to be.

  Jay made me want to be impeccable in everything I did. Consequently, I was meticulous at work, and my event sales directly reflected my diligence. Maureen watched as I perfected myself in the name of love. She suggested that I should be the one being chased, the one on the pedestal—not Jay or any guy for that matter. While I appreciated her opinion, I couldn't pay much attention to anything other than improving myself for him.

  I repeatedly played back the night of our tryst in my mind. I closed my eyes and returned over and over again to the heights of bodily pleasure he’d taken me to. He’d dominated me and made me go against a rule that I followed faithfully. I’d slept with him on the first date, but I didn’t care. Given the opportunity, I’d have submitted to his every whim. As far as I was concerned, he was calling all the shots, and that was exactly how I wanted it.

  In addition to pursuing personal excellence, my new agenda included ensuring that Jay found me interesting and exciting. He was out doing something all of the time. His constant comings and goings took me outside my comfort zone. While I’d always scored high on the introvert scale, I found myself wanting to seem just as popular as he was. Jay also spent an inordinate amount of time playing sports and exercising at the gym, activities that were the foundation of his absurdly lean and sculpted body. I didn’t want to be soft the next time I saw him, so I ran several miles every morning before work and started working out at the gym three blocks away. It was as if Jay had awoken a dormant overachiever in me, one that I never knew was there. My quest for superiority was for him and him alone.

  From the moment we left each other in the hotel lobby, Jay and I communicated every day, though if I’d had my way he would have phoned more often rather than sending a never-ending stream of text messages. I didn’t think a solid relationship could be built solely on text messaging. But he did call on occasion, and at least he was consistent in his attempts to get a hold of me. On good days, our text conversations went on for hours at a time, each of us sending a message when we had a free moment at work. On bad days, I heard from him only very sporadically. I questioned why he texted me more some days than others, but I chalked it up to his busy work and social schedule.

  When we did talk on the phone, subjects ranged from phone sex to watching TV together and beyond. For the first time in ages, I had something to look forward to. There was a man in my life, he was gorgeous, he was into me, and I was consumed with him. I was so concerned with Jay that I’d let my relationships with everyone else fall by the wayside—something I’d never done before. Fortunately, most everyone (apart from my mother) seemed to understand that I was in that honeymoon phase—when a relationship is fresh and everything feels shiny and new. I never wanted that feeling to end.

  Late one night, we gazed at each other through our computer screens during a rare but welcome Skype session. He sat before me, shirtless, smoking a cigarette, and I before him, wearing a lacy black chemise and sipping red wine. We were face-to-face for nearly ten minutes when Jay brought up what was taking place between us.

  “The way that I felt with you that night in Columbus . . . it’s almost scary how good it was,” he said. Of course I felt the same way, but double standards dictated that I couldn’t be so forthcoming.

  “If something feels good, then why label it with words like scary?”

  “Because it was scary. And I’m not sure that’s a good thing.” I was stunned. He didn’t think we were a good thing? He must have sensed my dismay, as he corrected himself almost instantly. “Of course fucking you was crazy good. That was off the chain good. But feeling this way is alien to me. I told you, relationships aren’t my thing.”

  “I don’t know what to say to that.”

  “It’s nothing against you. I just wasn’t looking for anything serious. This Skype shit, this isn’t, like, something I’d ever do with a girl.”

  “But it’s fun, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, it’s cool,” he said. “I like seeing your face, and that hot body of yours.”

  “I like seeing yours too.”

  “What I’m trying to say is that I think about you in a sick, irrational way. I just want to do things to you. Like it’s an obsession.”

  “Obsession’s a powerful word,” I said, trembling faintly.

  “It’s the truth, and it’s fucked up.”

  “What’s so fucked up about it?”

  “I can’t put my finger on it.” He exhaled smoke with his words.

  “I think that unquenchable lust that you’re referring to—that’s what all the great movies are made of. Romeo and Juliet. Harry and Sally. Ed
ward and Bella,” I said. Finally, he cracked a smile. “And I feel it too.”

  Our Skype meeting ended with both of us touching ourselves and saying erotic things to one another. Though mildly humiliating, it was better than Jay going out and finding real-life satisfaction somewhere else. It got me thinking more about obsession: the domination of one’s thoughts by an idea or desire, a compulsive unreasonable idea or emotion. Some of my favorite stories were based on obsession. Lolita and The Great Gatsby were examples. My feelings for Jay reminded me of such narratives. They combined the deadly sins like gluttony, lust, vanity, and pride. They were the very things I’d always been spellbound by. I was drawn to fixation. It drowned out my inner void. And though the focus changed (from booze to men to overconsumption), the tone remained the same.

  My days at the office seemed to keep ending later and starting earlier. It was a patter that I was growing increasingly tired of. I worked more and more every week, and yet my income didn’t change all that much. I tried explaining to Maureen one morning over coffee that there had to be a better way to make a living. But she was the more conventional of the two of us and insisted that we were both wise to play it safe in such a bleak economy and collect our measly paychecks. My mind drifted regularly into a vision of owning my own event-planning company in New York, one in which I’d make my own schedule and earn more money than I knew what to do with.

  Income was important, but even more than that, I longed for freedom from the constant drudgery of feeling like I was making rich men even richer. If I had my own company, I could actually enjoy my work and make more money. Plus, I’d get to do things my way. With the way that my job was structured East Coast Prime crept into every part of my life and didn’t allow for any autonomy. I had to face the facts: my life consisted mostly of connections made through my job: Maureen and Jenna, friends from work, and Jay, a guy that I’d met at work, and of course work, work, work.