For years, Shark Week was like a holiday in our family home. At first, I was resistant. Why didn’t dolphins have a week?! Dolphins are far superior to sharks! They’re beautiful, fun, playful, intelligent, entertaining; how did sharks get a whole week? But, eventually, the continuous stream of mesmerizing shark footage and fascinating education sucked me in – I became hooked. The great white’s hunting methods were particularly intriguing and quite terrifying. They spotted their prey, looming from below, circling patiently until the perfect time to strike with a burst of speed. The shark then crashes into its target while simultaneously ripping into it with several rows of sharp, serrated teeth. The poor, oblivious prey doesn’t see it coming until it’s too late… How does one survive that?!

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                He looked at me earnestly and said, “I want you.”
Words you don’t expect to hear while making buttercream at work.
                “I don’t know what that means,” I replied hesitantly.
                “It means that I want you,” he spoke with such conviction; it was almost overwhelming.
                “You want me how? Because I think that you mean sexually, and I don’t do that.”
                “No, I want you... I’ll take whatever you give me.” He stepped back as if he’d just dropped the mic.

This is how it all began – with passion and ambiguity; two qualities that remained throughout our duration. No one had ever pursued me with such ferocity, and it staggered me. I didn’t see him coming; I thought we were co-workers who were possibly becoming friends. Also, I was in no position to be pursued. My life had recently imploded, and I’d somehow lost myself in the wreckage. I didn’t feel like I had anything to give and nowhere to put anything given to me.

                “I’m celibate,” I proclaimed, as if I’d just taken his queen.
                “Wow” [pensively] … “Okay” [definitively]
                “What do you mean by ‘Okay’?”
                “Okay, I still want you.”
                “And I’m a virgin!” Checkmate.
                “Really?!” [mix of shock and disbelief] “Are you serious?”
                “I am. So, this isn’t going to happen.”
                “Well, I’m gonna have to wrap my head around that. But I still want you… And there’s tons of stuff we can do before we get to sex… I’ll never go further than you’re comfortable with.”

I think I heard my soul gasp!

Still experiencing PTSD from the violent collapse of my life, I was not equipped to deal with his level of persistence – or his shoulders – or his arms – or the delicious contour of muscles teasing through the back of his shirt as he walked away. I stood frozen, flabbergasted, willfully ignorant of the tiny lust grenades the man implanted in my mind; sadly realizing that I’d never even gotten close to his queen.

                I needed reinforcements, so I sought the counsel of one of the wisest women in my life. We sat on the floor of her son’s playroom as I relayed the whole, sordid conversation. I had become familiar with her brand of advice and prepared myself for a perspective that matched the rabid apprehension within me. After I poured my heart out, my wise friend looked at me and said,
                “If you’re ever going to do something like this, this is the guy you do it with!”
Being speechless isn’t a problem I often have. My response sounded something like,
                “What?! Wait. You… What?!” I then slowly slid her wine glass away because she was obviously inebriated.

                At this point, I didn’t know what to think, but I knew I had to nip this in the bud so that he and I could go back to co-workers/friends, and life could go back to normal. So, when he sent a text containing nothing more than the three words, “I want you,” I left my former wise friend’s home and headed to his. I was sure that once we sat down and had a rational conversation, he’d see how crazy this all was and forgo his mission. In retrospect, the excitement in his voice when I called to say that I was on my way over should have sounded alarms. It never dawned on me that he may have had other plans.

                When I got to his place, things seemed pleasantly friendly. We discussed work; I gave him a manicure; we even played a couple of games of chess. I knew this was all we needed!  Spending time as friends would squash all the lustful tensions and get us back on track. Who needs wise counsel? I’m freakin’ brilliant! As my plan rolled along smoothly – as I knew it would – I figured we should get to the heavy stuff. I told him that I wanted us to be friends, to which he agreed. I told him my definition of friendship, of which he agreed. I told him my rules for friendship, number one being complete honesty; he happily accepted.

                We quickly grew comfortable with one another, laughing and joking like old friends; it was perfect. Seriously, I couldn’t believe I was ever worried. I had everything under control! Sigh… why do I even doubt myself?

As I reveled in my self-proclaimed brilliance, he got up to play music. I probably wouldn’t have noticed, but the honeyed melodies were firing at my most intimate parts like heat-seeking missiles.

                “What is this music?” I asked.
                “Oh, it’s just Pandora.”
                “What is the station?”
                “. . . umm . . . it’s called Beats Between the Sheets.”
                                WHAT??!!!
                “Okay, you need to change that.”

                He walked over and sat down next to me, ignoring my demand. As Beats Between the Sheets billowed through the room, there was a palpable shift in the atmosphere – as if something was looming from below.

He eyed me with a hint of trepidation, underscored by an emotion I couldn’t quite identify.
                “So, we’re friends, right?” he asked.
                “Absolutely!”
                “So, we have to be honest with one another?”
                “Yes…” I answered nervously, wondering where this was going.
                “And I can ask you anything?”
                “Yes, we’re friends. You can always ask me anything.”
His expression changed in a way I can’t describe, and he said,
                “So, what would you do if I climbed on top of you right now and started kissing your neck?”
   
>>>>>MAY-DAY!!!! SOS!!! MAN DOWN!!!! RUN, GET SOME HELP!!!!!!!!!!!!!<<<<<

I didn’t know what to say, so I just erupted with hysterical laughter.
He wasn’t laughing.
I began typing on my cell phone.
                “What are you doing?”
                “I have a quote book, and I write down the crazy things people say to me – I’m writing that crazy thing you just said.”
                “Okaaay… So, are you going to answer?”
                I thought a while and replied, “Well, my answer depends on how good you were at what you were doing.”
                “How so?”
                “Well, if you were bad at it, I’d simply ask you to stop. But, if you were good at it, I’d have to get the heck outta here.”
                “Why would you leave if I was good at it?”
                “Because, although you don’t believe me, I don’t do that stuff!”
                “So, what dictates what you do and don’t do?”
                “THE BIBLE! Do you even own one?”
                “Actually, I do!” he beamed.

                He leaped from the couch, into his bedroom to retrieve proof of his alleged spirituality and proudly handed me his bible. I lovingly thumbed through the precious anthology, looked at him, sincerely, and said, “Just so you know, I try my hardest to live according to the teachings of this book.”
                He leaned in closer to me, slowly pulled his bible from my hands and placed it on the coffee table.
                I gasped and asked, “Are you taking the bible away from me?”
                Leaning in so close, I felt the heat of his body ; he groaned, “You won’t need that tonight. You can go back to it tomorrow.”
                Stunned and suddenly feeling a little naked, I couldn’t stop staring at the bible on the table.
He noticed – seemed there wasn’t much he didn’t notice – so he took the bible back to its hiding place. With him preoccupied; I jumped up, grabbed my bag, and moved towards the door.

I couldn’t hear it, but somewhere the Jaws theme played in the distance.

                “Woah! Where are you going?!”
                “It’s late, and I should go.”
                “Now? No… Just stay a little longer, please.”
                “No, seriously, I need to go now!”
                Sigh… “Well… can I at least have a hug.”

                I opened my arms to give my new friend a friendly hug. Nothing could have prepared me for what happened next: He laid his hands low on my hips and slowly slid them around my waist to the small of my back, then caressed up my spine, past my neck, and into my hair, where he pulled, gently but firmly, while simultaneously drawing my body into his – I had never been held more perfectly in my life. My armor fell away as I rested, cocooned, and warm in his arms. Before I could fully register the onslaught of intoxicating flutters and tingles, his lips found their way to my neck. Mentally, I battled my body’s desire to yield to him: What are we doing? We yield to no man! This is absolutely unacc…  Without warning, the most extraordinary sensation radiated through my system. I didn’t understand what was happening to my neck; I could have sworn the man had four tongues!

                My bones melted like butter in the warm sun. If not for his arms upholding me, I wouldn’t have been able to stand. As I sank into the pure rapture of his mouth and muscles, I heard this deep, guttural moan bellow through the room, and dear Lord – it was ME! I had to get outta there! In my mind, I was screaming, “I gotta go!” but it escaped my lips as a faint, inadvertently sexy, whimper.

                He never came up for air. All 206 of my bones had dissolved and abandoned me; I had to do something. So, I finally mustered the strength to forcefully proclaim,
                “I have to go!”
                To which he responded, “Then you’ll have to take your nails out of my back.”
                Oh, sweet Jesus! I didn’t even know they were in there!!!
                He was back at it, and I was out of ideas.

                The unexpected feeling of his hand reaching under my shirt and landing on my left breast was the jolt I needed to snap out of my erotic blur. I immediately pushed him away and ran for the door!
Unfortunately, in my haze of arousal, I forgot how to operate door locks. Yes, that’s right; normal, everyday, use your thumb and forefinger to turn, door locks.
While I went into a full-on panic, hyperventilating and fighting tears, trying to unlock the door, he coolly strolled toward me with unflinching calm.

                At that moment, I realized… I was the baby seal. And if there wasn’t enough wetness going on already, I began to cry.

                Through tears, I blubbered and begged him to unlock the door. He coolly leaned himself against the frame, blocking my only escape, pulled me in, and re-melted my bones.

LAST RIGHTS: Well, God, I want you to know that I did my best! I held out ALL these years – many, many, frustrating years – and that ain’t bad. I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to fail you, but I have no idea how to stop this.

                As that last thought ascended from my heart up to heaven, a miracle took place. The man’s words came back to my mind and instantly gave me strength.
                Barely above a whisper, I muttered, “… remember when you said you’d never go further tha…?”
At once, he released me. I didn’t even need to finish the sentence.
When he unlocked the door, I took off like a rocket. Usain Bolt couldn’t have beat me to my Jetta.
                He yelled after me, “WAIT! I have to walk you to your car!”
                “That’s okay! I’m fine! Have a good night!”
I peeled out, Dukes of Hazard style, and raced home.

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He spotted his prey, circled patiently, struck, bit…
BUT THE BABY SEAL WON!!!!
I made it out!
Soooooo much pleasure, and I still broke free!
If I could survive a Great White, I can survive anything!
Maybe I deserve a Week!
With an overflowingly grateful heart, I thanked my God over and over and over again. . . .

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I went back two nights later.