As I watched him walk away, I knew it wasn't the last that I'd see of him, but I also knew that things wouldn't be the same. Our relationship now had a new dynamic; the acknowledgement, no matter how subtle, of a deeper connection. It was something that went beyond lust and surpassed sexual gratification. And while it likely wasn't there yet, it was biting at the heels of real emotional attachment.

I pondered my own laughable self pity. Of course, I couldn't have him. Not really. Because he wasn't mine. He belonged to someone else. In every way imaginable, I wanted him. And I'd have him again...but I was no free bird myself.

As human beings, we are comprised of approximately three cubic feet of blood and meat and bone and guts. It's all just compacted into this neat little package, and sometimes it feels like the heart takes up far more than it's fair share of room. And sometimes, with all of it's valves and chambers and pumping and pulsing...it just breaks. For no apparent reason. It just breaks. And the reptilian part of our brain says it's no big deal. Move on. Slither slither. But the soul part of our brain, the part that rules most of my organs...says no. Not yet.

A connection with another human being is something that doesn't happen as often as we like to think it does. A real connection. Certainly we make aqcuaintances and friends and lovers....but a connection...one that is so strong you can almost see it in the air, now this is special, and should not be squandered.

So, what to do? This was the question I asked myself that night as his form became a distant shadow in the waning light. He'd told me that he wanted me. He'd told me I was dangerous. He'd told me that he was afraid. These things did nothing to lessen my affection. Rather, the fact that he sought limits to our encounters meant that he clearly did not see me only as a receptecle for excess lust. I meant more to him than that. Just as in poker, his hesitation was his tell.

Now I was left wondering if I'd revealed too much. In a moment of girlish melodrama had I made him more afraid? Had the sting in my eyes uncovered something that he had hoped he wouldn't see? Or was there some satisfaction that he had in my clear desire to keep him near me? These things we didn't discuss in detail. But that just added to the strangely romantic cloak and dagger manner in which we'd always conducted our business.