This is the second part of my post from earlier this week. Once again, I apologize for my recent lack of an online presence. I'm trying to get back into the world and the online world. Thank you to all my readers who are patient with me.
I waited more than a week, thinking over my options, before I finally called Captain Craig. I was torn by my resurgence of idolization in the man, and the ugly fact that my memories of him had been irrevocably shattered. On one hand, I was still very attracted to him, even if he had lost some of his hair and grown a bit in the belly from too much drinking. He was still far from the ugliest man I had been with. On the other hand, he had admitted to being sexually attracted to me at an age young enough to make me sick to my stomach.
Honestly, when I made plans to meet with him (at a McDonald's, of all places), I wasn't sure whether or not I was going to punch him.
The meeting was made under the pretense of catching up with each other, but that was far from my actual intention, regardless of my conflicting feelings towards him. Still, I made an attempt at casual conversation while we ate crappy fast food. I have no idea what we talked about or what I learned about him, I was so detached from the conversation. For a moment I was actually worried about my lack of emotion towards him.
Then he laughed. I don't remember at what. And his smile was warm and cracked through the lines age had etched into him. His laugh turned him into my Captain Craig again, and I found myself pulled towards him. I decided to give it a shot while I still had the urge.
"Do you want to know what it would be like?" I asked.
"What do you mean?"
"You told me I used to turn you on. Is that still true?"
He squirmed uncomfortably for a moment before nodding his head.
"Do you want to have sex with me?" I was being blunt, and it seemed to shake him. I wasn't the only one of us getting his memories ruined. But he nodded again.
I was exhilarated. I wasn't used to having power over the men older than me. Not this kind of power, anyway. I was able to see, easily, the effect my words were having on him. He was uncomfortable, hopeful, nervous, a whole range of emotions written on his face in bold text.
"Don't worry, it's OK," I said. "I want to have sex with you too."
Soon we were outside the restaurant, making our plans where things were a bit more private and we didn't have to worry about being overheard. The plan was for him to get a hotel room near my dad's apartment, a place that I could easily get to by public transportation. I wouldn't need too big of an alibi, it wasn't strange for me to get dropped off at my father's place and then spend the day in the local bookstore before taking the bus back and getting picked up for dinner later.
When I arrived at the hotel and reached up to knock on the door to the room, I felt my heart in my throat. I was still of two minds about the situation, but the part of me that had always been attracted to Captain Craig was winning the battle inside. He opened the door, still fully dressed in the dimmed lights, and seemingly without thought I stepped in.
"Take off your clothes," I told him, grabbing his shirt, still exerting my newly found control over him. He looked at me with some mix of adoration and lust. Which one of me is he looking at? I thought, The younger me or the me here and now? But when he took his clothes off, I stopped caring. I quickly joined him in his nudity and raised up slightly on my toes to tentatively kiss him, testing the waters and then diving in. Who am I kissing? The man in front of me or the captain of my childhood? Again, I didn't care more than it took to ask the question.
I pushed him towards the bed. He wasn't moving fast enough for me. I got frustrated, then realized that if I wanted anything to happen, I had to instigate. I fondled him roughly, using my mouth to get him hard. I pinched his nipples and pulled his hands to mine, encouraging him to hurt them, to bring me pleasure. He almost felt like a virgin, new to sex, eager to learn, but afraid to act. That was OK. I could act for the both of us. I had been around.
The sex was clumsy, the angle was just wrong when I tried to let him enter me doggy style. Instead I was on my stomach while his bear gut pressed me with each of his thrusts. He wasn't particularly big, and the pleasure I got from the experience mostly came from the moments that he kissed me. He was a very good kisser, and I could feel his attraction to me in each movement of his lips. I've always said that one of my biggest turn ons is someone who is clearly attracted to me.
After we both came, I sat on the edge of the bed and thought about what had just happened. When I looked over my shoulder at him laid back on the bed, I could barely make out the man I remembered in his face. It was as if this final act between the two of us had killed what was left of my Captain Craig in him. Now he was just Craig, a shadow of himself.
If my life was a noir-style film I would have walked out onto a balcony between billowing curtains and lit a cigarette, not letting myself focus on the moments before, just feeling the cool wind on my skin. Very Marlene Dietrich. But my life rarely resembles any kind of film, good or bad. Instead of doing something cinematic, I just quietly put my clothes on and got ready to leave.
"Can we do this again sometime?" he asked me.
"I don't think so," I replied.
Looking back, it almost feels like what I did was crueler than if I had just punched him and gotten it over with. Instead of just being angry at the way he had taken my cherished memories from me, I had granted him one of his desires, than pulled it away from him. I'd given him just enough of myself to be a lasting memory and then taken myself away. Obviously this is assuming a lot about how he reacted to the situation, but if hurting him was my intent, I suspect I succeeded. Not an act I feel proud of, but one that I felt we both deserved.