Baby come back – Saturday 22nd September

When we had got back from Bulgaria, I had a coffee mug made that changes from a solid black appearance to a photo printed on it when the mug reaches a certain temperature. I had the photo of us at Khan’s Tent emblazoned on the mug. I added an inscription that read “I love you” in red. I was planning on presenting it to Baltic Babe when the time was right. It arrived after our blow-up and I didn’t know what to do with it, so I posted it to her, without any kind of written message included.

I had no use for it and hoped that she would put it somewhere in a cupboard and each time she saw it, she would think of me. Perhaps with the passing of time she would forget what it did when it was heated and would use it one day in front of a boyfriend. Perhaps she might even give it to him in hand and he could watch the picture reveal before his eyes, seeing me smiling back at him.

On the 22nd September at 11.26am I got an unexpected text message from Baltic Babe that read:
What a wonderful present, thank you!

I decided that I wanted to win her back, but I knew that it would take time. I decided that I would learn some Russian and take singing lessons. The singing was part of my plan of inviting her out to a restaurant that had karaoke facilities. Not many classy eateries would have this, so I was prepared to hire the equipment. I would organise matters with the restaurant management in advance.

When the time was right and upon a signal from me, music would start playing. I would produce a microphone and start singing the following song to her. As long as I live, I could never find words better than these.

Player – Baby Come Back

Spending all my nights
All my money going out on the town
Doing anything just to get you off of my mind
But when the morning comes
I’m right back where I started again
Trying to forget you is just a waste of time

Baby come back, any kind of fool could see
There was something in everything about you
Baby come back, you can blame it all on me
I was wrong, and I just can’t live without you

All day long, wearing a mask of false bravado
Trying to keep up the smile that hides a tear
But as the sun goes down
I get that empty feeling again
How I wish to God that you were here

Baby come back, any kind of fool could see
There was something in everything about you
Baby come back, you can blame it all on me
I was wrong, and I just can’t live without you

Now that I put it all together
Give me the chance to make you see
Have you used up all the love in your heart
Nothing left for me
Ain’t there nothing left for me

Baby come back, any kind of fool could see
There was something in everything about you
Baby come back, listen, you can blame it all on me
I was wrong, and I just can’t live without you

I was wrong, and I just can’t live

“There was something in everything about you.” That perfectly captures how I felt about her. She knew nothing of my plan.

Tears in my tea…and rhyming couplets leads to a polite fuckoff?

On the Tuesday morning, I got the following text message from Baltic Babe:

Very nice poetry! You have a talent for writing.

I took her answering as a sign that the lines of communication were still open, so that night I phoned her. I was hoping to clear the air and see if there was any hope for us. We had a brutally honest conversation. Baltic Babe had a massive problem with my being a freelance worker. She wanted a man who went off to a 9-to-5 job all year round. That admission told me everything. The outcome of the call is perfectly encapsulated in an email that I sent to a friend the following day.

Baltic Babe and I had a long conversation last night. Her trust issues with me stem from my never exhibiting any kind of permanence to life. I’m always moving about. She’s looking for stability. Understandable.
In essence she’s looking for a little bird that flies between the nest and the wide world, bringing back what the nest-dwellers require.
What’s in it for the little bird?
So, I concluded that she is not interested in me, but more interested in what I can do for her.
I want to be with someone who loves me, not the benefits of being with me.
We wished each other good luck and said goodbye.
C’est la vie.

After I had sent the email above, I found myself sitting at my keyboard, tea before me, with tears in my eyes. For the second time in less than a year a woman had broken my heart. I wrote the following poem and sent it to Baltic Babe.

Tears in my tea

It’s breakfast, with tea I’m at my table
You said found my way of life too unstable.

My feelings for you were strong
Now overnight you are gone.

I didn’t want to love so soon
I was afraid of looking like a buffoon.

But you crept inside my frozen heart
I knew loving so soon wasn’t smart.

But you are as gentle as a dove
You, I couldn’t help but love.

Someone like you the world causes pain
Yes, you have every right to complain.

You feared that I could be inside your mind
The truth is, our hearts are almost two of a kind.

I could look at you and know what you feel
I know you won’t accept that this is real.

I couldn’t wait to read your every letter
Fool! By now I should have known better.

Life has never been that kind to me
Now there are tears in my tea.

Within a couple of hours I got the following response…

Interesting reading from wiki:

“In sociology and psychology the degree to which one party trusts another is a measure of belief in the honesty, fairness, or benevolence of another party. In psychology, trust is believing that the person who is trusted will do what is expected. Perception of honesty, competence and value similarity (slightly similar to benevolence) are essential. There are three different forms of trust. Trust is being vulnerable to someone even when they are trustworthy; Trustworthiness are the characteristics or behaviours of one person that inspire positive expectations in another person, and trust propensity being able to rely on people. Once trust is lost, by obvious violation of one of these three determinants, it is very hard to regain. Thus there is clear asymmetry in the building versus destruction of trust. Hence being and acting trustworthy should be considered the only sure way to maintain a trust level.”

You see, on the basis of the above, one can conclude that trust comes with time and there is no other way. If one does not act in a trustworthy way, the level of trust will be low. The trustworthiness of a person can only be confirmed by facts, not someone’s beliefs or understanding as that someone could be under a delusion. Therefore, proving facts is essential. People who obstruct the process of getting the facts cannot be considered trustworthy as obstruction to getting the facts will be perceived as a sign of dishonesty. I believe that there are people who, perhaps, naturally and unintentionally behave in the way that makes them look not trustworthy. And it has nothing to do with the people who, on the basis of their reasoned judgment, perceive them in this way. I cannot argue about this issue anymore.

I am really sorry that it ended in this way… I hope that we both will make some people very happy.

Her response made very little sense in the context of what was said between us. Her trust issues were paralyzing. Once again I found myself asking, “Is she crazy?”

I went to work cancelling our upcoming travel arrangements. I managed to get the hotel booking cancelled (thanks Expedia), but the airfare was non-refundable, so I lost several hundred Pounds there. Thanks Ryanair. All at a time when I was having to watch every penny.

Fallout bigger than Chernobyl…or WTF?!

After the massive blow-up, I drove home to lie on my new sofa and fume. Nothing is impossible, but some people are…and Baltic Babe definitely could be.

On the Sunday I was befuddled, shaken and confused Why the hell did yesterday happen? What had I done so wrong? Why would she push me away like that? In fact, she had done similar things when we were on holiday in Bulgaria. Was there something wrong with her? Why did it seem that after many hours of having fun that she just had to start acting up and wreck everything? Why couldn’t she just let the good times keep rolling?

Did she believe deep down that ugliness and disappointment was inevitable? Before it all came crashing down on her when she was least prepared for it, that it was better to fuck it up at a time of her choosing when she was ready? Did her childhood experience condition her to have emotional separation anxiety in adulthood?

I decided to leave her alone on the Sunday. I wondered if she would make contact to apologise for her behaviour. Of course she didn’t.

If I hadn’t touched that bloody tap, we wouldn’t be in this situation. If I said sorry first, would that make it better? Why did she never seem to say sorry? That line of thought made me remember this song:

Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word – Elton John

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5w142CaROC0

What have I got to do to make you love me
What have I got to do to make you care
What do I do when lightning strikes me
And I wake to find that you’re not there

What do I do to make you want me
What have I gotta do to be heard
What do I say when it’s all over
Sorry seems to be the hardest word

It’s sad, it’s so sad
It’s a sad, sad situation
And it’s getting more and more absurd
It’s sad, so sad
Why can’t we talk it over
Always seems to me
That sorry seems to be the hardest word

What do I do to make you love me
What have I gotta do to be heard
What do I do when lightning
Strikes me
What have I gotta do
What have I gotta do
When sorry seems to be the hardest word

On the Monday morning I wrote a poem and emailed it to her. I wasn’t hoping that it would lead to any kind of outcome. I just wanted her to know what I was thinking and feeling. Here it is:

The Suspicious Angel

I met an angel at a Tube station
She was from a distant nation.

Her smile and laugh made my day
Would we go the same way?

I thought her heart was filled with love
Had she fallen from high above?

Relationships, she had a few
Mistakes, I’d made mine too.

My touch made her purr like a kitten
In less than 2 months I was smitten.

We spent a week by the sea in the sun
It was good, clean glorious fun.

A few of the nights were intense
The arguments made no sense.

But we found a way to hold hands again
Sure, every romance involves a little pain.

On the plane back I envisaged her giving me a son
With any other woman I would have wanted to run.

But her expectations of people was too high
At times her demands made me and others sigh.

She would struggle to believe a word I said
A lack of trust leaves a relationship dead.

Other men had disappointed her in life
Could someone without trust be my wife?

Others’ relationships in her world met without success
Thus she treated everything like a game of chess.

She was more interested in the state of material dealings
She didn’t seem too concerned with my feelings.

So this angel had a suspicious heart
any relationship this would tear apart.

I made the mistake of touching her tap
and now I feel like crap.

How love breaks down – Saturday 15th

Baltic Babe was my first and last thought of every day. I had never been so taken with anybody or anything in my life. I was aware that I was rapidly falling in love with her. She had a way about her that I found irresistible. Everything about her resonated with me and our chemistry was intense. I’m not embarrassed to say that my days were filled by a giddy feeling, a lightness to how everything felt, a positivity to everything and everyone that I encountered. My heart would skip at least one beat when she sent me a text message during the day. I looked forward to hearing her voice every night when we would talk and laugh for ages. Many times each day my thoughts would drift over to her and I would feel a yearning to wrap my arms around her and hug her. At the end of some days my face would hurt because I had been smiling so much. Can you imagine what that’s like?

On the Saturday morning I arrived at 10am as agreed. I’m as punctual as she is not. Baltic Babe greeted me at the door just wearing a fluffy, white dressing gown and nothing else underneath. Her hair was a little wild and I knew we were running late, but her smile made me soft inside. Her eyes were shining bright as she turned to go upstairs to go prettify herself as all women feel the need to do. I grabbed her lapels and pulled her closer to me, her eyes widened but they relaxed as I gently kissed her “hello”. I let go of her, we stared at each for a moment, she gave me a beautiful smile and made an approving murmuring sound before excitedly running up the stairs.

She seemed so perfect in that moment. How I felt about her in that short interaction is how I always wanted to feel about a woman, my woman, my other half, the missing half. Right then and there I knew I could be with Baltic Babe for the rest of my life. I had never felt that way before. It was a wonderful feeling.

We drove to a shopping complex on the outskirts of London. It had a collection of shops that she wanted to visit to buy things for her home and take advantage of having me providing a car to transport it all. She was a typical Londoner in that regard; totally reliant on public transport, which in London is no big deal. I didn’t mind being her driver and laying on a car. There was very little I wouldn’t do for her.

It was interesting again to watch her go about her decision making process in the shops as she chose cushions, utensils and an enormous mirror that just fitted in to my little car. She did indeed assess all the options, then narrow it down to two contenders before making a choice. “Hmm…was there another man on the scene?”, I wondered.

As we walked in to a massive Sainsbury’s, it occurred to me that this was our very first grocery shop together. I thought it was a bit of a landmark for us. I pushed the trolley as Baltic Babe filled it up, once again taking advantage of having a car to get it all home. It was late afternoon when we finished unloading the car at her house.

The next part of the day involved me making a barbecue for us. I had brought exotic meats for her to try: ostrich and zebra. In case she didn’t like them, I also brought a leg of lamb. I still wasn’t earning any money and there wasn’t any immediate prospect of me doing so, but I felt that the expense was worth it…she was worth it.

At the beginning of the day I had been thinking that our day would turn out something like this: fun at the shops, I dazzle her with my barbecue skills, I do a few diy chores for her that she needed my muscles for, then we snuggle up in front of the television to watch a romantic movie, then I pick her up and carry her to bed, making sweet, mad love like we’ve never made before.

Stupid boy.

Stupid, stupid boy.

The meats were sizzling on the barbecue when I said to her, “Right, that’s all going nicely. Which diy chore do you want me to do first?” Time for me to be macho and manly.

“There’s that garden tap whose fitting needs to be changed,” came her reply from the kitchen where she was preparing a green salad for us. I don’t eat green salad, but I didn’t tell her. I’m wasn’t going to ruin our happy mood with a bit of pettiness.

We had spoken about the tap before and during the week I had stopped in at a hardware store and bought a new fitting for her. The tap (faucet to my American cousins) was old and rickety. The fitting was rusted on, but I got it off. The tap had come off of it’s housing in the wall, but I had fixed that too. I was pleased with my handiwork. When Baltic Babe came out to inspect it, she didn’t like what I had done.

“Oh no, that won’t do. It looks terrible,” she began with a sad face.

“Erhm, well that’s the best I can do with what I’ve got to work with. Besides, what’s the problem? It’s far sturdier against the wall than what it was before,” I responded, at a loss as to what more I could do.

“It looks so ugly. Can’t you make it look better?” she continued.

“With what?” I responded, a little irritated at her ingratitude.

“There’s a bag of cement in the shed. Why don’t you use that?” she implored.

Not a hope in hell was I going to spend hours to mix up a batch of cement and do cementing as the sun was going down. The meat might burn. That was far more important.

“Sorry, but that’s just going to have to do,” I retorted, intent on ending the discussion there. What I had done was infinitely better than what was there before. The fitting had been changed and I had secured the tap better to the wall.

Baltic Babe skulked off, unimpressed, perhaps even slightly pissed off that she didn’t get her way with me. I wasn’t going to have her bossing me around over every little thing.

Earlier in the day she had told me that she was having to take a day’s leave to be home when a refrigerator repair man was going to be visiting. It had taken her more than a month to get the service agency to agree to send someone out, even though the fridge was less than a year old and still under guarantee. The issue? The drawer for vegetables had a temperature of three degrees Celsius while the manual said it should be two degrees. I remember thinking to myself, “Are you mad?” when I heard her tell me this. It wasn’t the first time I had asked that question in my head.

The meat was ready and I gave her the best cuts. We sat in her garden on foldaway chairs that I had brought. There was a dreadful stony silence between us.

“Oh my god, no!” she suddenly exclaimed.

“What’s the matter?” I naturally asked.

“I can’t eat this. Look at that. There’s blood on the plate! Oh no!”

I leaned over to her plate and saw that the zebra was slightly underdone in one section and a drop of blood had squeezed out on to her plate. She had asked for medium-rare. Oh, the drama.

“Not a problem, I’ll put that piece back on the fire and bring you another piece that is well done,” I said as I took her plate off her lap and walked over to the fire, getting her another piece of zebra.

We sat in silence eating our food. I could tell that Baltic Babe was highly agitated and seething inside. I wasn’t exactly happy either. I had done so much for her over the course of the day and did not deserve her behaviour. Nothing I did was good enough. Because of how I was feeling, the meats tasted like cement and the salads like cardboard. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be!

I was now getting worked up inside myself too. Her ingratitude and small-mindedness was breath-taking. My frustration bubbled over. I turned to her and said, “Do you want me to stay or do you want me to go?”

“I want you to go!” Baltic Babe said instantly and angrily.

Equally quickly I got up and started collecting my belongings. I was angry, but said nothing. I carried stuff out to my car while she collected my other things into a neat little pile in the kitchen. We didn’t say a word, not even making eye contact.

After my second trip in to her house to collect the last of the things, I got in my car and drove off…

Friday – Feeling marooned next to the Black Sea

I fell asleep the previous night, not having found an explanation about the argument with Baltic Babe. My first thoughts as I awoke were a continuation of where my brain had left matters the night before. Was this a crazy bitch that I had on my hands?

It was 8am and all that there was to do was to have breakfast, so I went to the top floor, despite not being hungry. I arrived wondering if she would be there, waiting for me. Would she greet me with a smile and immediately start offering me an apology?

The breakfast room had hardly anybody in it and Baltic Babe was nowhere to be seen. As I ate my breakfast I asked a friendly waiter whom we had spoken to other mornings whether he had seen her or not.

“Yes, she was here. She was the first guest in today. She didn’t stay long.”

His words made it clear to me that she didn’t want to see me. Is this how it was with her? She just keeps pushing people away, always eventually finding herself alone?

With breakfast over I decided to spend the day by the hotel pool. It promised to be quieter, wind-free and my all-inclusive wristband offered me all the three-star food and drink that I could stomach. When I’m upset I do find a strange comfort in food. I suspect that many people do the same and that some are perpetually upset.

As I lay on a sun-lounger near the pool, listening to music on my ipod, cold drink to hand, my thoughts couldn’t move on from the events of the previous night. Had we both had too much to drink? What had I said that upset her so? Was her time of the month near? Was she still having trust issues with me?

One idea, belief, explanation, hope followed after another. I had to make sense of it because I still wanted her. She was too remarkable to walk away from so easily.

After much contemplation, I realized that she probably had a psychological scar from her parents giving her up to her grandparents when she was two years old. She might have abandonment issues that play out by way of her testing any suitor’s resolve. Did she subconsciously constantly test a man’s dedication to her? If so, walking away from her was possibly the worst possible thing that I could have done.

Of course there was no way of knowing what she was thinking or feeling. Was it over for good between us or was this the inevitable lover’s quarrel that characterizes most relationships in the early days? Over the course of this day my emotions rose and fell like the waves out to sea in the distance. For a few moments it felt lonely to be in the position I was in; sitting befuddled on my own, while happy holidaymakers thronged around me enjoying a carefree day. Isn’t it strange how we can feel alone in the middle of a crowd?

It was only when I had decided on a course of action that I allowed myself to relax and enjoy the day as best I could. I’m not a selfish person and believe that life is best when shared. Travelling solo just isn’t fun for me. I’m not all clingy and needy, it’s just that having someone in my life gives it an extra sense of meaning. Until the previous night it felt that Baltic Babe and I could be together forever.

When the sun moved behind the hotel late in the afternoon, I put my plan into action. I went to hotel reception and purchased time at the internet cafe in the lobby. I wanted to print off my LinkedIn profile and the email exchanges with Russian Rose to give to Baltic Babe. It would serve as a peace-offering to get communication flowing again, would show her that I still wanted her and would also hopefully kill off any mistrust issues. I had no idea if any of that would happen, but it was worth a shot. I had nothing to lose.

Unbelievably the internet cafe didn’t offer printing facilities and I hadn’t seen another cafe since we had arrived. I ended up doing a deal with the cute Bulgarian hotel receptionist to print my material off of a memory stick that she had. She claimed that she could lose her job over using her personal memory stick on hotel printers, but the equivalent of five Pounds allayed her fears. (I’m not sure whether I had been shaken down or had bribed her.)

Armed with my printouts, I went up to Baltic Babe’s room. By now it was getting dark, she might be back from wherever she spent the day. I knocked on the door, but no answer. I listened for sounds of life in her room, but there were none.

I slipped the papers under her door…

Thursday – A day I’d like to forget –

I woke up first and lay there admiring Baltic Babe, bushy hair and all. Memories of the previous night came speeding back and an uncomfortable feeling set in. How could our obvious sexual incompatibility be resolved?

She awoke, smiled at me, sighed, got up and glided to the bathroom. This woman moved like no-one I had ever seen. Even in a half-asleep state, she effortlessly glided in a feminine way that I found enchanting.

She came back and started getting dressed. I felt the need to say something.

“Umm, about last night…” I began.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I’ll stretch,” she said matter-of-factly, cutting me off as she put her bra on.

I was surprised at this blunt, clinical view of things, but felt relieved that she didn’t see a problem.

“My hair’s a mess and all my toiletries are in my room, so can you meet me there in an hour?”

“Okay,” was all I could really say.

It was later than we both had realized and by the time I got to Baltic Babe’s room the hotel’s breakfast room had closed. She hadn’t noticed the time and wasn’t ready. It was noon and we were hungry, I remembered that at the hotel pool area there was a restaurant offering a lunchtime buffet for guests who had all-inclusive armbands. I had one of those but Baltic Babe didn’t, so I decided to smuggle her a few plates of food. She was somewhat uncomfortable with this idea, but I insisted that we try it. She liked sticking to the rules – I liked breaking them. We had found a table outside and I was returning with a plate of food for her when I noticed that she was looking at me with a peculiar look on her face.

“You know, you’re quite handsome,” was all she said as I sat down. I just smiled. She had never said that before. Why was she saying that now? Was she falling for me?

We made small talk, commenting on the people around us and their shenanigans. We didn’t stay long and made our way to the beach. A hairy relative of Quasimodo was the sun-lounger attendant this time and Baltic Babe wasn’t chatty with him for some reason.

We lay listening to music and talking most of the afternoon. Periodically we would go in to the Black Sea to cool ourselves off. We frolicked like kids and I couldn’t get enough of the sound of her laugh. There was a child-like happiness to it. There was a childish innocence to her that came out occasionally and I found it charming.

Baltic Babe especially liked it when she would grip my wrist with both hands and I would drag her through the waves or spin around on my heels, skimming her over the top of the water as if she was a rope. Many times we entwined in the sea, her legs around my legs, my arms around her body, her arms resting on my shoulders, kissing lazily and sensually as the waves lifted or splashed us. Then she would push off against me and say “chase me” as she swam away from me and I would give chase.

In the evening we were having dinner in the top floor of the hotel. My all-inclusive armband allowed me to get free drinks for us from the bar. We were sitting at a table near the bar area, enjoying our dinner. The conversation had been rolling easily and fruitfully all day again. It had been a good day.

I had never met anyone who enjoyed my humour as much as she did. Several times a day Baltic Babe would literally be crying with laughter. Tears would trickle down her round little cheeks. A few times I had wiped a tear from her face with my thumb and we would look at each other lovingly and smile. Her green-yellow eyes would sparkle at times like that. I loved her laugh and she loved my humour.

After quite a few drinks each, the conversation turned towards the topic of friends and the meaning of friendship. I took a serious tack by saying, “I have an acid test for friendship. I ask myself the following: if I were a Jew on the run from the Gestapo in Nazi Germany, would this person take me into their home and hide me? Would I do the same for them?”

“You mean there are circumstances under which you would risk your own family?” Her face became serious.

“For a few people in my life, yes, I would.” I meant what I said, with a few dear friends springing to mind.

“That’s outrageous. A real man wouldn’t risk his wife and children’s lives. That is unacceptable to me!” Baltic Babe was getting agitated.

“Do you mean to tell me that there is nobody in your world that you would risk your life for?”

“I would not risk the life of my child for anybody!” was her emphatic reply.

Silence fell between us like an uneasy truce. We sipped our drinks without making eye-contact or more conversation. It was very uncomfortable. All the goodness of the day was destroyed. I was annoyed at her over-reaction.

The bar area was getting noisy, so I suggested that we move to the outside balcony overlooking the town. We took our drinks and found a quiet table outside.

“Tell me, do you like wearing trousers so tight that people can see your genitals?” she asked, her face furrowed, seemingly spoiling for a fight.

“You don’t like the trousers I’m wearing tonight? They’re new. It’s the first time I’m wearing them,” I replied calmly, not rising to her bait.

I looked down at the town and saw the variety of shops at street-level all light up in neon. I noticed a shop selling ladies underwear.

“Do you like lingerie?” I asked, for no particular reason, trying to open a new, neutral avenue of conversation.

“What is the meaning of this question?” she snapped.

“No meaning. I’m just wondering if you like lingerie,” I said honestly, trying to maintain my composure.

“No! You want me to give you a particular answer!” she barked, leaning forward, an ugly, aggressive look on her face. I had never seen her like this before and I didn’t like it.

I thought to myself “What the fuck is her problem?” A crazy, irrational mindset had taken hold of her. There was to be no reasoning with her. She was in an emotional state over nothing.

“You know what? I don’t deserve this kind of behaviour from you.” I stood up, took her room’s keycard out of my pocket and threw it on to the table before her and walked off.

I went back to my room where I spent the rest of the night trying to make sense of what had just happened.

Date #2 – Sunny Beach, Bulgaria – Monday 27th August – Part 2

“You’ve got it all so wrong. When we’re back home I’ll prove it to you. You are going to apologise to me and you’re going to feel foolish.” This seemed to destroy her sanctimonious attitude and she sat back in her chair, seeming not sure what to say next.

Before either of us could speak again the food and drink arrived. Eating and drinking wasn’t as good as it should have been because of what had just happened between us. Baltic Babe was probably a little confused, while I was angry and stunned. I eventually broke the silence that had shut out the warm air around us.

“Look, we’re here now. I assure you that you have totally the wrong idea about me and I can prove it to you. Until I can, how about we try and enjoy ourselves. Okay?”

Baltic Babe merely nodded in agreement.

With the mood slightly lightened I broached more neutral subjects like the hotels and the scenery we had seen so far. Eventually she started responding, having taken the time to digest what I had said earlier, probably deciding to give me the benefit of the doubt. It wasn’t too long before our normal engaging conversation resumed and she started laughing again. I was glad to hear her laugh; it could only come from deep within her and couldn’t be faked.

After dinner and a brief walk, we ended up back in her hotel room. I fully intended and expected to end up in my room in the hotel next door. I felt the need to calm the waters between us. I have always thought it great relationship practice to never go to sleep angry with your other half.

It was easily after midnight and we were lying on the bed, facing each other. Had my hours of choosing my words carefully settled her troubled mind? There was a surefire way to find out. I leaned forward and brought my lips to within an inch of hers, stopping there to see if she would reciprocate, looking her in the eye. She did and as passionately as ever.

Light petting gave way to heavier petting. I stroked her body and she liked it. Her breathing became heavier and her body shuddered under my slow caressing hand. I slid my hand under her blouse and felt her warm, clammy skin. It felt good. It felt inviting.

All the while kissing, her with her eyes closed, I ran my hand slowly over her stomach. Going down below the belt so soon wasn’t an option, so going up to her breasts was always going to happen. I gently cupped one of her breasts and she let out an approving, satisfied gasp as her tongue left go of my mouth for a moment.

Baltic Babe was getting very turned on and I wasn’t sure where to take this. I had been hoping, expecting to a small degree, that we would make love on this trip. It seemed natural and obvious, but what was she thinking? There was only one way to find out.

I slowly unbuttoned her blouse while her tongue went crazy in my mouth. To an extent she was turning herself on too, doing what she wanted with her tongue. What else could she do with her tongue, I wondered.

The sight of a woman lying with her blouse open, her bra or naked breasts revealed, is something that turns me on. It’s an image of confident, alluring femininity that stirs something within my being. It’s as if she is saying “Here I am, this is me. Take me.”

I took Baltic Babe’s blouse off as it was surplus to requirements. While kissing, our tongues entwined, I slid my hand under her back and fiddled with her bra-clasp. It had been a while since I had done this and it showed. She arched her back so that I could use two hands and eventually it unclipped. I tossed it to the side of the bed and took in the sight of her lying topless before me.

Her breasts were little a-cups, with cute little pink nipples. I would much have preferred a handful, at least c-cups. I obviously couldn’t say anything. What was the point? If you can’t say anything nice, say nothing at all. She lay there looking up at me, me looking up and down her body. She certainly wasn’t overweight and everything was firm. Neither of us said a word, expectation silenced us.

I leaned down and kissed the side of her body, just below where the ribcage ended. She looked up at the ceiling and closed her eyes, swallowing hard. I slowly, gently kissed further up her side, deliberately taking my time. I kissed tenderly to the side of her breast, making sure not to go anywhere near her nipple.

Reaching her armpit, instead of trying to kiss inside it, I carefully lifted her hand to the headboard and kissed above her breast, to the side of her breastbone. Baltic Babe’s breathing was deep and rhythmic, she was very relaxed. I kissed her elbow and slowly worked my way down under her arm towards her armpit. She was starting to make strange purring noises, a bit like a cat does.

I got to her shoulder and kissed along the top of it, her ear, her cheek and under her jawbone, along her neck, down to the centre of her breastbone. With each and every kiss she let out a catlike purr, all the while keeping her eyes closed. I shifted my body to the other side of her, making sure not to accidentally knee her in the groin.

Lying on the other side of her, I repeated what I had just done. Each kiss led to an approving purr. She was like a little kitten in my care and all I wanted to do was please her.

When I got to the centre of her chest again, this time I started kissing her breast, around the nipple, which was erect and hard. I circled my kisses around the nipple before moving across her diminutive cleavage on to the other breast. I kissed around this breast and, after circling the nipple with kisses, lightly kissed the nipple.

This led to a slight convulsion in Baltic Babe’s body, her back arching and the purr becoming more of a guttural exhale, yet she kept her eyes closed. With a little bit more force I sucked her nipple in to my mouth. A more intense purr resulted. I sucked the entire breast into my mouth (it wasn’t difficult to do) and slowly ran my tongue around her breast repeatedly. The purr had become a moan, a very satisfied moan.

I pulled my head back slowly, keeping the nipple in my mouth as long as possible until it popped out. Leaning over to her other breast, I kissed around it again and zeroed in on the nipple this time. Again I sucked the entire breast in to my mouth and slowly ran my tongue around the nipple. Her satisfied moaning and purring was involuntary and it told me that she was enjoying what I was doing to her, for her, with her.

After a little while, not wanting her nipple to become overly sensitive, I let that nipple slip out of my mouth. I looked at Baltic Babe to see the expression on her face. Sensing that the experience had ended, she opened her eyes, looked at me, smiled and said “I don’t normally like having my breasts sucked, but that was very nice.”

Heartened by the compliment, which I also took as encouragement, I ran my warm hands down her body along her legs and slid my hand between her thighs just above the knee.

“No, I don’t think we should go there” came her almost instant response. She pulled herself up away from me and propped herself up against the headboard.

So there I had my answer. She didn’t want to make love. I wasn’t too surprised given the revelations at the start of the evening. I decided not to push for lovemaking. She obviously wasn’t ready and I wanted our first time to be special for both of us. I cooled my ardour and propped myself next to her.

Baltic Babe sat there in her mini-skirt, topless, her pert little nipples tantalisingly close. We sat and chatted, about what I don’t remember. My thoughts drifted off to trying to make sense of the situation that I found myself in. Here I was with someone I was smitten with, but who had some unfortunate trust issues about me. I came to the conclusion that I needed to proceed slowly, very slowly.

It was now 5am and the sun was starting to pinch the horizon. The Black Sea was like a plate of freshly cut glass. The only thing moving was the occasional headlights of cars in the distance across the bay. The quietest time of our day together was indeed just before the dawn.

We cuddled up on the bed and I wrapped my arms around her, keeping her safe and warm. I finally got to feel her fall asleep against me. That moment made the drama of the past hours worthwhile.