It was a passionate kiss. He pushed me against the wall. Not in a violent way necessarily, but I pushed back. Passion is peachy, but violence is vile. Or maybe he was merely baffled. I have that effect on men, you see. He shook his head, and was that a tear welling up in his eye?
I will not wipe or wash my mouth for days. But he also sounded ecstatic, unreal, drunk with life. I knew he had not been drinking for real.
I would have smelled and tasted it. His enthusiasm was killing me. But it amused me at the same time. Val had a knack for being high on life. No drugs necessary. I envied that. I needed more help. I love New York! That takes away from the compliment you just gave me. We talked and talked in the booth of the Chinese Garden restaurant, a dive for drunks and doldrums.
When we came out, the first daylight was pushing out the dark of night and Val said he needed to get home, and get to work.
We shared a cab and I mounted him. It was June, as it had been with Pauline, who had taken the sexual initiative in their relationship. In the cab, he climaxed immediately and he apologized, which I appreciated.
