I can't say I expected the kiss. I could say I was hoping for it and thinking I was deluding myself into feeling something that wasn't there. I can say I almost couldn't believe it when he said he felt it, too. I can't do it justice, describing what it felt like.

The feeling snuck up on me. Kurt was easily one of the most gorgeous men I'd ever seen. His body was perfect, and his angular face godlike. I could stare at him all day and never get tired.

I could tell myself my feelings for him at that moment were pure animal attraction. I could tell myself it had nothing to do with his strength and his bravery and that he saved my life. I could tell myself I had no interest in him as a person, or his past.

I could tell myself whatever I wanted. That is, until the kiss.

The kiss was transcendent. For a moment, I was transported out of my body. I was a non-corporeal being of pure erotic energy that could no longer exist within a physical form. And yet, I managed to make my way back to reality because I didn't want to miss a moment. If I was a poet, I could have devoted a sonnet to every millisecond of the kiss.

I am not a poet.

Instead, the feelings existed only in my mind and, even then, only in the moment. They were so powerful and yet so fleeting. The first kiss we shared together could only happen once and it was impossible to recreate or properly revisit. The memory like a photograph in a sense, in that it only recreated part of the moment. A photograph doesn't fade, though. And no matter how much I'd want to hold onto the memory, it just wasn’t possible.

And that ephemeral quality was what made these moments so special. You can't plan for them. You don't expect them. You're not ready for them. And you spend the rest of your life trying not to forget them.

Here's how it went. He told me he wanted to kiss me. And when he said it, I knew I wanted the same. Then he moved forward, and we closed our eyes, and his lips, surprisingly soft for such a rugged man, grazed the surface of mine. He leaned forward, opening them just a bit and I slid the tip of my tongue to the inside of his top lip.

Then he pushed forward, gently, and I matched him, leaning on top of him. The spell broke when I remembered I’d just tended to his gunshot wound and I didn't want to hurt him.

And from that moment on, I had no idea what to expect. This wasn't a usual hook-up. This was something different. This was a man who just saved my life and I could tell myself that was the reason. That wasn't the real reason. The real reason was he was a person and not just a warm body for me to share an evening with.

When we went in for a second kiss, he was more relaxed. His body was solid beneath me and I could feel his confidence. His movements were less jerky, less deliberate and, instead, had a fluidity to them, as if he wasn't thinking about every move he made.

I, too, was able to lose myself in the moment. Kissing had always seemed like an obligatory prologue, designed to bridge the gap between a standard social interaction and two people giving in to their inner desires. It always felt like a combination of offer and invitation. A way of checking compatibility with someone else.

This wasn't like that. I enjoyed kissing him. I could kiss him all night and never get tired of it.

At the same time, part of me grew excited and wanted things to move along. It was like a fine dessert, best savored if you had the self-control. I wasn't sure how much self-control I actually had.

Kurt let the kiss finish and gave me a chance to catch my breath. He looked me in the eyes. "I'm not sure where to go from here," he said.

I wasn't sure either. In terms of what we could do, anything was possible. The private rooms were equipped for almost anything, within reason, though there was the slightest inkling of fear shooting adrenaline through my body. Where do we go from here? Everything felt so right. How could we continue that feeling?

"Don't worry about it," I said. "Don't think about it. You know what to do. Your brain's just getting in the way."

I kissed him again and slipped my hands into his robe, feeling his chest. His pecs were firm in my hand and his nipples hardened as I moved my fingers over them.

"Can you move over to the couch?" There was a white leather couch in the corner of the room, large enough for two. It provided a nice middle ground between the counter and the bed.

"Yeah," Kurt said.

A display case beside the couch had a few tools inside. Whips and handcuffs, sure, but we weren't ready for that. Instead, I grabbed a blindfold.

"Move to the couch and put this on," he hesitated. "You know the safeword?" I asked.

He thought for a second. "Mothballs?"

"Yeah. Just say, 'mothballs' if you want me to stop."

He nodded, leaned back on the couch, and put on the blindfold.

"Here we go," I said.