“Yeah, like the New Yorkers do!” I laughed, realizing that it was unlikely that every New Yorker would just wander around on any given summer’s day and indulge in lunches and cocktails.

“Listen,” he said, “I’ll let you eat and come back later to harass you.” Off he was, leaving a brief smile for me to capture.

‘Come back later to harass you’ was melting on my mind. My eyes followed him leave. He had a rhythm in his moves. Just ever so slightly. He really had said that: Harass you. I thought that was so inappropriate – and so incredibly sexy. I liked being harassed by him and fantasized about many more ways in which I might like to be harassed by him.

I continued with my burger and those magic fires. The slow eater that I am, the food was getting cold, but it was too tasty to not let a single bite of it swim in my belly. I was working it. Breathing. Chewing. Why did chewing take so much time? It took forever, or maybe my jaw had just gotten lazy. Fork and knife rested on the plate. Fork to the left, knife to the right, both facing each other in an upside-down V-shape, fork slightly tipped over the knife. Breathing. Chewing. Enjoying. I know, eating a burger with cutlery is not very American, but eating it by hand would have meant burger and special sauce spilling all over the plate, and me. This baby here had onions, tomato, cheese, sauces, a big beef patty and then the two roasted halves of buns – no way I would eat this by hand.

“Fork and knife. Very European,” I heard him speak, while again, he passed by behind me. He sure was busy at this corner of the restaurant, and it wasn’t just a coincidence. He was curious about me, and I, for sure, was curious about him.

“Well, I am!” was all I could come up with. He looked back at me and flashed a teasing grin. Boy, did I enjoy the way he got in contact. It was so open, so fresh, daring, and always so very debonair. Yet, he radiated adventure and excitement – even danger, yes. I knew that he knew that he wasn’t going to get tipped by me, so his charming attention was just because – and just because, I was flattered even more.

***

 A few weeks earlier, I’d fantasized about what I would do in the city, about how I would let my freshly discovered, more daring and curious side discover it this time. Would I have the courage to simply walk up to someone and say, ‘Hey, I find you attractive!’? Would I dare to make a move? Would I dare to get down with someone if I wanted to? Would I dare to make love? Or fall in love? Be loved?

One thing was for sure: after the last experience I’ve had with a man, I knew that I never again wanted to live without sex. That might not sound ladylike or even appropriate, and I would have had the same understanding not much long ago. However, the last sexual encounter I’ve had was nothing I ever imagined existed. It was sex, and yet it wasn’t at all. Being with that man was like praying, physically, mentally, emotionally; it led me to another state of mind, heart, soul, and body. It was so divine, so pure, so innocent, and yet so alive. It was so different and so much more than I’d ever experienced.