"I'm so sorry, Ian!" I begin again and he stops me with a finger to my lips. I'm startled into silence, blinking up at him.
He takes a moment and then says in a low voice, "I love it. It's the best birthday gift anyone has ever given me." He finally releases my hand, and placing both hands on either side of my face, he leans in and gives me a very soft, very sweet, very long kiss.
I'm breathless when he finally pulls back and in an utter stupor. My body has gone on high alert, every nerve attuned to his touch. He smiles at me and it is all I can do not to launch myself at him. I manage to smile back and turn to the paperwork. I fill it out in a fog, preoccupied by Ian's body beside mine.
Tony comes back in a few minutes later. "Ready?" he asks.
"We are," Ian says with a smile at me. I grin back like the pathetic lovesick fool I am.
For the next two hours we work on our pieces. Tony is a wonderful teacher and I was able to get him to do a private lesson in between his already scheduled classes, so it is only the two of us. I try to make a vase, colored blue and green, like the pictures in Ian's living room. It is rather lopsided, but Tony and Ian are very encouraging and we decide to say it is avant-garde. Ian makes an orb, purely decorative. It too is blue and green, but he throws in some orange; it's gorgeous.
Tony thinks Ian is a natural and encourages us to come back again. We thank him and head out to Ian's truck, our masterpieces in hand.
"That was so fun!" I gush. "I've always loved blown glass and it was awesome trying to create some myself. Can you imagine how hard it would be to make something really complicated? Did you see that crazy ocean scene he had on the side wall? With all the fish and coral, and that octopus?" I look over at him shaking my head in wonder. "I can't imagine how many years of training it would take to make something like that."
He's smiling, sitting quietly in the stop and go traffic as we head back towards the 10. "Did you have fun?" I ask in a small voice.
He looks over at me and rewards me with a breathtaking grin. "I haven't had a day this great since my mom was alive," he says.
I nod, smiling, and look ahead to the traffic. Tears are threatening, yet again, and I'm tired of crying. So this time I lean forward and turn up the music. He switches the CD to Metallica and we crawl home on the freeway head banging. Being dinner time on a Saturday night, it takes us over an hour to get back to Santa Monica.
"You in the mood for some dinner?" Ian asks as we finally exit the freeway.
"Sure," I say, not wanting this day to end. "What are you in the mood for?"
"Well, I had planned to just hang out and watch a movie, so I grabbed some steak, broccoli, and potatoes. We could eat that," he says cautiously.
Eating dinner at Ian's place. Was that tempting fate? No, I decide. He's made it very clear he doesn't want anything to happen between us, and if he can hold himself in check, I can too. "That sounds perfect, as long as you do the cooking. I could probably manage not to screw up the potatoes, but the rest, well, I refuse to be held liable for ruining your birthday dinner."
He laughs and says, "I'll cook. You open the wine and look pretty."
"I can handle that!" I say enthusiastically.
When we arrive at Ian's, we take a moment to find the perfect spots for our works of art. "You really don't need to put mine out," I say, looking at it and seeing how unsightly it is compared to the other pieces. "It ruins your aesthetic," I say, pulling it off the shelf.
Grabbing it out of my hand and placing it back on the shelf, he says, "I love it. Leave it the fuck alone, it's my birthday present."
I laugh at his vehement defense of my vase and say, "Fine, we'll agree to disagree and since it is your birthday, you win."
"About damn time you let me have my way! Now come on, let's get our grub on," he says, leading the way to his kitchen.
It's fun making dinner with Ian, and I quickly spin off into fantasy land where this is a normal night and we are a happily married couple fixing a meal together. It is scary how easy it is to imagine it, and how comfortable and right it feels.
Conversation is limited but it isn't awkward. The meal is fantastic and I sit back after finishing my last bite and pat my full stomach. Ian is watching me.
"Satisfied?" he asks with a smirk.
My mind instantly jumps to sex and I feel acutely how not satisfied I am. I look at him and see he's followed my train of thought. I'm reminded of how when we first met he could always tell when I was thinking about sex. Of course, in hindsight, I suppose it wasn't all that difficult considering whenever I saw him, I thought about sex.
Trying to remind myself that we are friends, just friends, I say, "I suppose. But shouldn't there be dessert? It is your birthday after all, and I have a wicked sweet tooth."
Ian stands and walks over to clear my plate. I jump up to help, thinking it rude to have the birthday boy clean up.
"You want dessert?" he asks.
"What do you have?" I respond, moving to his freezer and opening it to see if there's any ice cream. The next moment I've been spun around, my back now against the refrigerator and Ian's body pressed against me. His lips crash onto mine and I open my mouth immediately, allowing his tongue inside.
The moment his tongue touches mine, I let out a loud, long moan. It has been too long since I've felt Ian like this, and the feeling instantly overwhelms me. My body ignites and I'm desperate for him. I grab at him, pushing my body into his, trying to get us as close as physically possible. He too is swept up in the moment, and he's pushing me against the fridge, his pelvis rubbing mine in hard, swift thrusts. Our mouths are locked in a deep kiss, each consuming the other.
I pull back to breathe and moan, "Ian." It's all I can say, but it is enough. He knows what I want and he stops, gently touching my face.
"Just this once," he says.
I nod. "For your birthday."
He smiles then. "Happy 30th to me."
"Happy 30th to you," I repeat, nodding vigorously.
He steps back, taking my hand, and leads me to the bedroom. I'm overjoyed, and terrified. I'm not entirely sure if this will end in sex, but as long as Ian and I are naked on his queen-sized bed, I don't care.
Trying not to jump the gun, I allow him to place me beside the bed and I stand there without moving. Facing me, he reaches out and grabs hold of the hem of my blouse. I raise my arms and allow him to remove my shirt. He drops it on the floor, one hand starting at my shoulder and gently sliding down over my breast. I have on a black lace bra and my hardened nipple is visible through the fabric, crying for attention. Ian looks up at me as he lowers himself to sit on the edge of the bed, twisting me around so I'm straddling him.
In our new position he's perfectly aligned with my breasts and takes my left nipple into his mouth sucking long and strong. The immediate tug on my core has me arching into him, my head thrown back. For an instant I wonder if we should be doing this. Making love to Ian will be the most incredible experience of my life, I have no doubt about that. But will leaving him in the morning crush me? Will I be able to recover after giving myself to him so wholly?
The doubts are driven from my mind when he pulls down my bra strap and captures my right nipple in his mouth at the same time he shoves his right hand down my pants, grabbing my ass and pulling me towards him. I cry out at the rough demands of his hand and mouth and give myself over to the moment. No matter how much it will hurt, at least I'll have this night and I plan to enjoy it to the fullest.
Reaching behind me I unfasten my bra and push it off my chest. The next moment, I grab Ian's t-shirt and begin tugging it off him. He pauses in his assault to get it over his head. The connection broken, he uses the opportunity to stand up, turn around, and crawl with me still in his arms into the middle of his bed. Laying me down gently, he kisses his way down my torso, spending ample time at each breast before starting a trail of wet kisses down the middle of my stomach. He pauses at my navel, sticking his tongue inside, causing an oddly strong corresponding surge of moisture between my legs.
His tongue still in my navel, he unfastens my jeans and finally removes his tongue so he can finish disrobing me. He slowly peels my jeans down my legs, taking my panties with them, and leaving me naked on his bed.
Kneeling in between my legs, he stops and observes me, running his hands up and down my thighs. I'm normally self conscious, but not right now. With every fiber of my being I know I'm his, and I know I have no reason to be self conscious or insecure. He stays looking at me for a long time, as if he were memorizing me. Finally, he pushes off the bed, and quickly removes the rest of his clothing.