Anna sits on the floor with her legs spread wide as she sorts through a stack of papers in front of her. The sun is just beginning to rise, casting beams of white and yellow light into the room through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Anna is still wearing her nightgown, a sheer, white garment that glows in the sunlight. She looks relaxed and peaceful as she works.
She is alone, with no plans or appointments for the day. She takes slow, deliberate sips of her coffee, savoring the rare, quiet moment to herself. There is no need to rush today, and no one depends on her or demands her attention. She can simply sit and enjoy the peaceful solitude.
Pinning up her hair, she thinks she hears a noise. She sits attentively and cocks her head, listening. The only noise she can discern is the ever-present sound of the street below: cars speeding away from red lights or honking and people greeting each other over the din. The sound had become all too familiar, and she had, over time, learned to ignore it.
There it is again. Not in the street, but right there in her apartment. In her hallway behind her. The muted sound of footsteps approaching. How can this be? She lives alone, she’s single, free of attachments, and has plenty of acquaintances but few friends. She has never been one to ask people to her apartment, save for her friends, and this is an intruder.
Her first instinct is to turn around and face this unexpected presence — but she doesn’t. There is no malevolence in the footsteps. Their gentleness signals that there is no danger, and that this person will not harm her. She’s filled with euphoria and panic at the same time. It must be him; she thinks. But how? They’ve never met other than the occasional video chat with her spiritual meet-up group.
She knows only that his first name is Christian; last names aren’t allowed in the group chat. She had never even seen his face. She reveals herself to the camera, but he does not, so only his voice is known to her. They had often talked of philosophical and spiritual matters, both intrigued by the scope of each other’s reading and the depth and quality of their minds. Yet there was an energy on a level beneath that conversation, their minds and spirits touching even with the substantial distance separating them. After many hours of chatting with Christian over the days and weeks, she had been touched by his patience, kindness, sensuality, and respect. Anna has tried to think of the right words for everything she feels about him, but some have probably not been invented yet.
She could never have imagined herself in a cyber-romance. It’s far from real, but certainly doesn’t feel that way. She feels the same as she had in past romances, with intense feelings of tenderness, elation, closeness, and even occasional disappointment. She enjoys her free time and living alone. But at the same time, Anna is grateful to be touched by a soul who lives more in their own interior world and can understand her beyond words, without physical touch. It hurts when she thinks that it will remain at this distance.
Anna let herself be driven by his energy. She would love to feel his hands embracing her from behind, but every chord of his that touches her has the same effect. She feels protected, but also free and encouraged to feel.
She imagines Christian on a precipice, facing an approaching storm, clothes clinging to his body under the force of the wind. But the storm is no match for his power within. He is stronger, more confident, and more capable of realizing all his potential all at once.
When she chats with Christian, she enjoys knowing he looks longingly upon her face and her body. He often asks her to reveal herself to him, and she does. She relishes his sighs when he realizes he can see but cannot touch, cannot smell that scent that is uniquely hers. She enjoys this power she has over him. But now it’s his turn. He has found his way to her.
But wait! He’s a gentle soul, but it can’t be him—he’s a world away. Thousands of miles separate them. She starts to turn, but it’s too late. He is behind her; his legs parallel hers and his body pressed against her back. Christian’s hands hold her face forward to prevent her from turning, but gently; just enough to tell her she is safe, that it is him, and that now he is in command. He wants her to surrender to him. Now that he is here in her apartment, she doesn’t care that she feels naked, as if her life and all her secrets are laid at his feet.
How can this be? She feels his warm breath on the back of her neck. It’s an inviting warmth and her body stirs in response. It is a stirring she has not felt for some time, if ever. The exquisite feeling starts at her neck and then spreads to her breasts and down to her root chakra. As Christian holds her, it is as if he is holding on for the life inside them. No words are exchanged. Wait, it can’t be him. It’s not possible.
He suddenly kisses her. It is a tentative, innocent pressing of the lips. She understands at once that in accepting and returning that innocent touch, she has crossed a boundary. She has passed through a turnstile from which there is no way back. Nothing in her life will ever be quite the same. And, realizing it too, grasping the weight of her feelings, he quietly laughs.
Anna gives herself permission to succumb, and she embraces him with all of her being.
He moves his hands along the sides of her body. She melts, no longer in control. Her gown is thin, and she can feel every micro-movement. She can feel his muscles and his strength as his arms press against her—muscles that do not come from his job sitting at a desk and typing. His hands lightly touch the sides of her breasts, and she gasps. Anna wants more than anything to feel the uncompromising sexuality that washes over her as she presses herself against him. This is the proverbial decisive moment, both spontaneous and ephemeral. In the past, she had let the moment pass until it was lost, never to be found again. Not this time. Anna gives herself permission to succumb, and she embraces him with all of her being.
Her breathing quickens as his right hand moves across her stomach, then along the top of her legs. His breath continues to lie upon her neck, becoming shallow now with his own arousal.
His hands reach the inside of her thighs, starting at her knees. He moved upwards, and she began to arch in anticipation. In the past, she would not have enjoyed this seduction. Too much would be swirling in her head: shame brought on by endless indoctrination that sex is bad or worrying about this man’s intentions. In the past, there was only muted joy in the act. Not this time — not with him.
She feels the moistness between her thighs increase as he inches closer. He suddenly grabs her by the arm and twists her toward the floor. She instinctively closes her eyes. Her fear is gone. He has made love to her before — with his words, with his poetry, and with his music. No one quite understands her like he does.
Christian lays her gently on the floor, her eyes still closed. She feels his hands move her nightgown toward her stomach. He kisses her thigh, again and again, and she can feel his hot breath on her pudenda — but he passes and moves to her stomach. Anna knows that he knows she wants him, but he lets the anticipation build. Right then, Christian kisses her squarely on the mouth. It is a gentle kiss, a prolonged kiss.
She can feel Christian’s manhood between her legs seeking its destination. She reaches down and grasps its enormity as she gently guides it into her. At first, their movements are slow, back and forth, then quicker. Her breath becomes deeper and louder and faster. Her body aches as the pleasure and pain of his thrusting rushes toward her and converges into a body-shattering orgasm.
Bang! She opens her eyes. Anna sits up in bed, disoriented and confused. She hears a trash bin lid slamming shut and realizes it was just her neighbor in the alley. As she comes to her senses, she realizes that Christian was just a dream. She sighs, feeling a sense of disappointment wash over her as she remembers their deep conversations and the strong connection they shared, even though they had never met in person. She lies back in bed, trying to recall the vivid details of the dream and the energy that had flowed between them.
She lays her head upon her pillow once more and desperately tries to recapture his presence. Anna falls asleep easily, the way sleep used to come to her as a child, innocent and dream filled. There is no remorse and no doubt that being with Christian is good and right. She still feels his arms around her, her head cushioned against his chest as she drifts off, her body completely empty of tension.
When she wakes later and rises to face the day, to shower, to work — she thinks of him again and cannot bear the thought that this seduction was just a dream. She needs the physicality of his touch. Christian is animalistic in his innocence and ethereal in his purity. Anna can feel it surrounding her, and it makes her strong.
She must see Christian, she thinks. She must directly experience the passion that his sensuality has stirred in her. She smiles knowing she can make it happen — it must happen. Until then, she will reluctantly settle for Christian’s words, his poetry, his music, and virtual visits in cyberspace — and in her dreams.
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