[Phil was driving half way across the country to our hometown in a hurry in the middle of the night, trying to get there before his dad died.  I was talking with him, helping him stay awake.  This is the last part of the conversation.  I am stretched out on my bed talking with him.]

I asked if he would stop to rest and he said he’d try not to, that he didn’t want to lose the time and have his dad die before he got there.  But that if he did get tired, he’d pull over a rest stop and sleep for an hour or so and that would perk him up enough to go on.  He knew what he was doing.  He was eating sunflower seeds to get energy, and they take a certain amount of work to keep his mind going.  It sounded like he knows what he’s doing and knows his limits. 

He talked about never having been in my bed or even upstairs as a teenager.  I told him about my canopy bed.  And how I wished it had been him the first time.  That my first time wasn’t bad, just kind of dull.  How he was always so… considerate and would have made it good for me.  He said that was his main goal, seeing me happy made him so hot.  He marveled again at how I would let him hold me so close, press against me, but not touch him.  I told him about the whole reputation thing, the slut thing.  About how a boy in school told everyone I slept with him when I hadn’t even kissed him, and how that made other boys think I was easy and how I had to wrestle with them, even fight with some of them constantly over sex.  He allowed as how people did believe boys, that it was easy to damage a girl’s reputation.  And how he was different.  He never talked about anything we did.  It was his special secret.  Just like now.  We talked about the chemistry, then and now.  How special it is… how hard it is to understand it.  

My husband decided he wanted to go to bed, so I shifted back to my desk chair in the living room.  Phil talked about how he didn’t lose his virginity until he was older, back home on leave from the military.  About how his other girlfriends were so puritanical, never let him touch anything.  About how he had been a good boy, never whoring around in the military. About pulling his buddies out of the whore houses all over the world.  About how his neighbors are swingers and go to the Caribbean twice a year to fool around with other people, how the wife is always coming on to him and how the husband encourages him.  I asked why not do it?  He was puzzled.  I said, “why not sleep with her?”  He said he just didn’t feel like it – the whole neighbor, best friend’s wife thing.  I asked why he slept with me, why was I different.  He was puzzled.  So I repeated, “Why did you sleep with me when you haven’t cheated with anyone else?”  He paused, as if he wasn’t sure or didn’t want to tell me why, then took a deep breath and said, “Well, partly…three things.  It’s the history.  How I promised myself I would carry through if I ever had a chance.  And… the chemistry, how you make me feel like no other woman. And….our emotional connection.”  

He asked if the sex was good for me, that women never say.  I begged to differ, saying that I had told him numerous times how fabulous he is.  How he is different from any other man, how he makes me so forward when I’ve never done that with any other man, makes me want to do wild things in public places.  How I wanted to fuck him up against the car at the rest stop on the way back during his visit.  That he made a really good windbreaker. 

He stopped at the first Thruway rest stop in NY, kept talking as he took me into the Men’s Room with him!  He said there was a big wet spot on the front of his jeans.  I said cover it with your jacket!  He said, “What jacket?!  I’m from the Midwest now.”  HA!  He said he went out yesterday in the snow in hiking boots, shorts and T-shirt to walk the dogs.  (I bet his neighbors loved that.)

Then he walked across the skywalk to Denny’s to get breakfast.  As I listened to him order breakfast, I marveled at how friendly he is to each and every person he meets.  He said it looked like the Syracuse basketball team was there – all these 6’5” guys in orange jackets.  He got black coffee and a fried egg/bacon sandwich and ate as he drove and talked to me.  He said he’s spilled egg on his pants and I offered a couple of racy ideas on how I could help clean that up.

He said that doing stuff in the car is tricky, requires a lot of flexibility, that the arm rests are problematic.  I told him in my mind there are no arms rests, why let reality get in the way of a good fantasy?  I asked him if he’d read any of my erotic stories.  He said he had started them but they’re too long to read on the phone, that it cuts off the message right as he “gets to the good part.”  He said he had not had access to his computer since the move.  I told him I’d mostly lost my nerve about sending the latest one, and he said “Come on, one of our first chats was about a foursome!  I still mull that over and enjoy it.  It should be fine.”  I told him how incredible it was that I told him about the wildest moment of my life and he didn’t judge me, jumped right in, made himself a part of it and made it better.  He said the idea of the four of us together made it “over the top hot” for him.  And that he loves the beach.   

We talked television – about the Mentalist actor, how amazing his American accent is, and how great House is, too.  He talked about how his parents came from different parts of the same country in Europe, but from different regions, and sometimes they can’t understand each other because of the accent or different words.  I told him about having to pass for Southern in N.C. with my cousins to avoid being harassed as a Yankee.  He said he’d never been any good at accents.  I told him I hear certain words he says, and know he’s been in the South awhile, and definitely his manners give it away.  He said he hoped being in the Midwest would get rid of the Southern stuff quickly!

We talked about him being in Italy and how the northerners look down on the Southerners and how they all stay away from the Sicilians.  I told him about a boyfriend who had tried to teach me Italian but it was mostly swear words.  He said he’d tried to get me to swear but I didn’t.  I said that my mother would not tolerate it, notices vulgarity in movies we don’t even hear, lets it ruin them for her.  How she’s just like Queen Elizabeth, so proper.  He said he remembered that.  I told him about how the mother of a boy I dated for more than a year always called me “That Protestant girl.”  Not how I thought of myself, but it was all she could see.

We figured out where he was at that point, almost to Syracuse.  We talked about people we know from that area, what we’ve done on visits to the Finger Lakes.  I told him about canoeing on Lake Ontario, how odd it is to canoe where there are waves.  He told me about canoeing with his son and how there were snakes, and the kid managed to tip over the canoe and dump Philip into the water with the snakes!  And how the campers laughed at them as they scrambled to the shore in record time. 

He said it was time to start calling his family, checking on arrangements and making plans.  He said I had made a real difference, made the trip go so fast, kept him from having to stop.  I told him how awesome it was that he let me help, and that he had to know I’d do anything for him.  I told him I knew it wasn’t possible but I wanted to get in my car right now and drive to our home town to find him and hug him, try to take away some of the hurt.  He thanked me, sounded really touched.  Said again I’d made a real difference.  He said he’d definitely call me on the trip back.

It was so hard not to say “I love you” but I really didn’t want the first time to be associated with this bad day and long drive, so I just told him to take care, that I’d be thinking about him, to call me anytime.  He hung up just after 5 am.

I collapsed into bed, my mind racing with all the ground he had covered overnight, and all that we had shared.  There were several questions I had been waiting forever to ask, and he had answered them all!  I prayed that he would make it safely, and get see his dad once last time.  

9:09 am text Me: made it? In time?  Xxoo

9:20 am text Phil: Yup