They say there’s a defining moment in everyone’s life when you recognized the significant second that changed you and rearranged all your molecules to somehow make you into a better person (or a worse one if you’re a scumbag)

These defining moments are what made us.

Mine came four years ago.

I know this for definite. It’s a fixed moment in history. One that can’t be changed.

The best kind of love, my momma would say, came with a healthy dose of fear attached to it. Fear the other person held the power to irrevocably hurt you. But she also said that the fear came with knowing you found something special. I’ve always seen that in Noah.

I let myself get swallowed up in the first time I ever saw the love of my life.

 

There was no reason why I went into a club called The Frosty Nip other than the name amused me. I paid my money and was directed in by a bouncer who called me sugar. Music loud enough to cause permanent damage to my hearing greeted me.

I was not in Kansas any longer, Toto.

The first place I headed toward was the bar. I ordered a long island ice tea. With my first sip a guy sitting four places away caught my eye.

Actually, he caught my whole body.

He’s fucking perfect! Ohmigod.

You know the kind of man that make you think all kinds of porn thoughts.

It’s an instant physical reaction.

He must have sensed me taking in his frame covered in the dark clothes and thigh length wool coat and right up to his shaved head because he eyed me from the side and I flashed him a smile.

He looked away, dismissing me. Rude.

If this was going to be how New Yorkers behaved with my little southern self, then it was going to be a problem.

I forget his rudeness in favor of subtly staring.

Jesus on a turnip truck, he was stunning. Beautiful. So handsome I want to throw myself at his feet and worship a little. With a sly look down at myself I see my boobs are looking good, there’s no overspill we girls get with bits of boob popping out of the bra making it look like we have four tits.

“Let me save you the trouble. I’m gay.” He informed before I could say a word. Mister psychic had a hoarse-rough voice that sliced down to my kidneys. Oh, god. So hot! But gay? I almost laughed and yelled over the music that he was joking right?

I go on staring, I mean how could I not, he’s delectable with a murderous face, deep, potent eyes and I can’t stop hearing that rough speaking voice. I’d seen more campness on a wilted lettuce. I know it didn’t mean anything about a person’s sexuality, but I liked to think I was a good judge of body language and this guy did not look like he’d had a dick anywhere near him (besides his own) let alone in his mouth!

He was gay? Damn. Now I was crushed momentarily. What a waste (for me, not the gays. Lucky bastards having him on their team) My shoulders folded in and I shuffled on my stool. “I’m Sena and I’m an IT genius.” He looked at me confused and I smiled impishly. “Oh, I’m sorry, were we not throwing out useless information about one another? My bad.”

I watched him smile. Well, it was kind of a lip twitch, but on this villain, he’s practically beaming at me.

“She has claws. Touché, kitten.”

That’s it, he’s given me a nickname, I’m flirting with him again!

“What’s your name, or should I just refer to you as the gay?” He should know how hilarious I am if we’re going to be married, right? Sipping my drink, I kind of forget I’m in a club with hundreds of people, because now I’m engrossed in looking at a beautiful, stern face and making up stories in my head why he’s sitting here all alone with a wide berth of space around him like everyone in there knew to stay out of his orbit. He’s attended to with speed by the bar-people without having to wait in a queue like the rest of us, so he’s known.

Only I’m the one to approach him and he seemed both pissed off and confused about it, but he hasn’t told me to fuck off yet.

I moved down one seat to better hear him.

He eyed me powerfully, as if searching out my deep, dark secrets, his brows bunched in the middle, but he said nothing to the contrary. “Noah.”

I beamed. “Nice to meet you, Noah.”

“Let me guess, you’re not from around here?” He addressed, glanced briefly but barely paid me a lick of attention, like I’m not all that fascinating, which I know to be not true because my momma told me how wonderful I am.

“What gave it away?” I laid my accent on a little thicker, I’ve found these past few days the New Yorkers love it. One hot dog seller said I sounded sexy and gave me free mustard.

My soon-to-be boyfriend grinned, and I swore I felt it tug my uterus.

This was my baby-daddy!

He is extraordinary.

I’m so happy I chose this club with its silly name, for my first night out in the city. “Everything, kitten.” He replied, rimming a long finger around the glass edge. I watched and become mesmerized for what else those hands of his could do.

Rip pleasure out of me I just bet.

“If I’m a kitten, that must make you a lion. You look like king of the jungle.”

He just smirked his reply.

I begin to wonder if he really is gay or he’s tired of women throwing their vagina’s in his lap? I bet it’s the latter. No way is he gay.

“Are you sure you’re gay?”

His brow popped up arrogantly regal. Yep, he had the king of the jungle vibe about him. “Since birth.” He gruffed, his voice stroking over my nerve endings all hot and sexual. “Are you sure you’re a computer genius?” He countered wryly, and I laughed. Oh, I love a man with wit.

“I’m Bill Gates with better aesthetically pleasing knees.”

And didn’t he just look down at my knees. My whole-body clutched begging for his attention. Oh, I like him. Something happened inside me and I don’t just mean with my sexual organs, though they are barking loudly.

My heart. It’s my heart.

It’s racing and fluttering and stuttering and jack-rabbiting around in my chest.

All my other organs seemed to rearrange to house my growing heart.

I liked him.

I liked this strange, grumpy man.

It’s been a minute since I felt sexual attraction, so it stole my air. I’m so into my own head I missed the god rising from his throne, but then there he is, before me, regally stoic and more beautiful than a man should be.

A moment goes by and it appeared he was going to kiss me, or maybe ask me to marry him. Yes, yes, yes! I will have a yellow bouquet and five …no, six bridesmaids.

He sort-of smirked, maybe reading my mind and he thinks his future wifey is so silly.

I grinned to myself because I can’t even blame being drunk on my behavior.

“Come with me,” he issued. It’s a command I followed.

I’m off my stool. I don’t ask. I trailed blindly through the crowd, he never looked back I kept my eyes trained on his slim back, the long coat formed perfectly. God, he’s gorgeous. I moaned, and the noise is swallowed by the music.

He led me up a set of stairs and that’s when I finally felt a twinge of apprehension. I’ve seen Lifetime movies, this is how hapless women fall into sex slavery, isn’t it? He directed me into an office, it’s airy and bright, with a long window that overlooked the entire club, two black sofas and a white carpet covered the floor. When he closed the door, the music is instantly dimmed.

Maybe we’re going to make out?

My lips tingled. My boobs tightened. I inhaled a little heavier and subtly tested if I have good breath to kiss him.

But he didn’t make a move towards me, just waved his arm to the desk with the Mac sitting on top. “Do your thing, genius, and your drinks are on me all night. It died earlier, and I can’t do a thing with it.”

Oh. Several things occurred to me. He had access to the manager’s office. It said so on the door, I belated recall. So, Noah -to be determined if he’s gay or not- is the manager?

“You work here?”

“Owner.”

Oh. Damn. A businessman. He’s immediately hotter. I love a man who has his shit together. He shrugged out of the coat and I’m taken aback by his build. He’s not bulky in any way, in fact he’s lean and lithe like a swimmer, just big all over. Beautiful. He sees me staring because he grinned. “Still queer, kitten.”

“How fucking unfair.” I muttered and moved towards the computer, because I’m curious.

I fixed his problem quite easily, as I told him I’m a genius and he did buy all my drinks and snacks the rest of the night. We ended up talking for hours. And right there in an ostentatious club called the Frosty Nip I fell in love.

It was that quick.

And that complicated.

 

I come back from the memory of that first night with Noah. He’s still sleeping, his hand had stolen between the sheets and found a resting place on my lower belly, almost touching between my legs. I continued watching him, my eyes drawn to him inexplicably, hypnotized now as I was back then.

I can’t make sense of anything we’ve done. Because if I try to my brain might detonate.

My connection to Noah, one of only friendship I’d assumed, began that first conversation. And the same for Noah as he later told me. It was why he entertained me for the whole night rather than telling me to fuck off as he did with others coveting his attention. It felt natural and over the years we grew as close as two platonic people could.

Only now we’ve blurred lines and I’m unsure where this leaves us.

When he woke neither of us said a word.

He kissed me, and I kissed him back just as feverishly and before I knew it I was under Noah, my fingers gripped the bed sheets and he fucked me stupid until there was no room to think.

We ordered takeout hours later. We ate noodles and chicken-broccoli naked in his comfy bed. We talked and kissed and touched so often it was almost as easy as breathing, like our hands couldn’t stay part of our own bodies. We made love countless times. I did anything he asked. Every kinky thing he wanted to explore together, we tried, and it was amazing. I’m in awe of both his stamina and enthusiasm for giving me orgasms. I swear It was the most sensual night I’ve spent with anyone.

I’m careful not to move, so as not to wake him. He’s been asleep for hours while I laid watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

I’m not calm. I should be, what with all the orgasms. I should be pure jello in my skin. But my mind is a buzz, recounting every action.

His lids flipped open when I was mid-freak out.

I’m going to lose him.

That’s the first and biggest thought.

Putting sex in our friendship meant we’re on a countdown to the end, doesn’t it?

And I’m consumed with sickened dread.

I’m scared to lose him even if it meant being demoted back to bestie.

My vagina wasn’t magical, but it might just ruin my life.

“You’re thinking too loudly. Stop it and get over here.”

He nipped teeth on my neck, hands spanned my waist, holding me in place like he thought I’d escape.

I’d glue myself to him if I could.

“What? No kiss for your fuck-master?”

Heat and fire and brimstone. Blood poured into my cheeks. Groaning, I burrowed into his shoulder. God. I vaguely remembered calling him that in my third orgasm stupor. You are so my fuck-master, Noah.

Worries buried. I laughed into his mouth and it was the most we talked for the rest of the day.

As for the rest of the weekend. It was rinse and sexual repeat.

Work was ignored.

We ate and napped but what we did most of all was attack each other.

It’s probably going to go down in history for being the best weekend of my life. Every inch of my body was cherished and satisfied.

My very queer friend fucked my brains out until we were sore and spent.

At no point did I ask Noah; so… still gay?

It seemed simple and I couldn’t bring myself to ask him what did we do now?

Yet the happiness filled me like buckets of soap suds.

It was a weekend unlike any other. And he’d ruined me.

It’s euphoria.

It’s unadulterated joy.

“Roll over, kitten,” he issued mounting me from behind, he caught my wrists and pressed them to the floor.

Sighing into a smile, my eyes closed bumping him with my butt.

My euphoria caught on fire.

Noah’s lips skimmed my throat.

I purred.

And reality took a back seat.

It’ll return soon enough.

It always does.