Redefining Love

As she took off her dress and walked over to her next client sitting naked on the futon, she caught a glance of his body and the lines of time etched deeply upon his skin. This man was old, really old, and his hunched bony physique spoke to her of a life of many wounds.

She gently took his hands into her own, his palms held and supported by hers, and guided him to breath with her. As she breathed in she raised his palms up and as she breathed out she lowered his palms down, reminding him to breathe in and out in unison. She could feel the texture of his palms like little splinters on her skin, dry and rough. The tension in his body was also obvious, spreading through his heavy hands with an energetic jolting into hers.

As his breath washed over her face the most pungent smell of death came streaming into her nostrils, invading every inch of scent within her, and she found herself contracting and wincing her face. Every impulse in her system wanted to get up and run away. Urrrggggghhhhh, she thought, this is disgusting, I don’t want to do this. But while she grimaced and contracted her body she also reminded herself of his humanity. This man was a real living being, with a need and desire for touch, just like herself. She was also acutely aware of her role as tantric practitioner and how her contraction might feel to this man in her arms. So while she squinted through one eye to make sure he wasn’t watching, she turned her head to the side and gasped for air.

Over time, with each new breath that washed over her face, she turned away with less and less contraction, until eventually she found a way to breathe easy while remaining relaxed. She guided him through various pranayama practices, all of which were just too much for him to comprehend, and so she kept it simple. She knew that all he really wanted was some tender loving touch, tantra was just a fancy word meaning something sexy to him. She then lay him on the bed and began massaging his body, spreading it with warm oil and approaching it with the tenderness of a lovers touch.

Each fold of skin felt weathered and lackluster, his body bone hard in its rigidity and immobility. As she swept her hands all over him he began to breathe heavily and sigh with relief. She pulled the bucket of warm water that was next to the bed closer and rung out a wet towel from within it. She then gently began washing his body from head to toe, breathing and sighing in unison with the old man. After bathing him she pulled out a feather and teased his senses with a mixture of the feathers touch, her breath, the sound of her voice, the scent of her body and the taste of her fingers. As she moved around his body she spontaneously began to dance around him, embodying the goddess in every move. The mans eyes remained closed, however his body responded to her movements as if he were watching her with intensity.

She placed her hand on his heart and guided his hand onto hers so that it was cupping her left breast. She asked him to breath in and open his chest up while supporting him to arch his back up against the bed. As he did she circled his chest in a figure eight with her palm and breathed in opposition to him, creating a circle breath of giving and receiving energy. As he breathed out she slid her palm down his arm and onto the hand that was cupping her breast while breathing in and expanding her chest, pushing her breasts out and inviting the mans palm to gently caress her. As he breathed in, she breathed out, as he breathed out, she breathed in.

“Breathe in” she whispered, rubbing his chest

“Breathe out” she moaned while pressing his palm firmly into her breast and across her nipple.

They continued like this until she could feel a beautiful circular rhythm between them. And with each deepening breath she began to feel the pleasure of their breaths, dancing together and awakening their desire. The heat in her genitals was always an indicator of what her clients were feeling. With every breath the heat increased and the next breath came quicker, their bodies moved faster.

“Haaaaaaa” she moaned.

“Ahhhhhh” he groaned.

As his body began to unwind so did his mind, as he slipped in and out of what seemed like flash backs. He began talking in tongues and moaning and groaning as if speaking to a long lost lover of old. He kept calling out this woman's name.

“Tessa” he cried

“Tessa, come back to me. Tessa, oh Tessa, I love you” he moaned.

This broke her trance a little, as her brows came closer together and she wondered whether this was actually possible to ignore. Just go with it, she thought, as she quickly regained her composure, breathing and moving her body around him and placing herself at the foot of his hips. She climbed into his lap and pulled him up into her arms, placing one hand on the base of his spine and the other in the middle of his back. He pulled her closer and held her slightly nervously, resting his cheek against hers.

“Breathe” she reminded him.

Again, they found their rhythm within a tightly held embrace, his body soft yet still quite stuck in it’s inability to move the hips or arch the spine beyond a millimeter. Her initial observations of his bad breath and wrinkled wounds had melted into the past. In and out with the breath, back and forth with their bodies, until both of them were pulsating with intense amounts of pleasure sensations.

Every now and then she would slow him back down, but for the most part there was this timeless presence between them. She could feel his desire spreading and expanding as she too could feel the tingles and heat within her body begging for more. His breath felt like a warm kiss upon her ear, and as she spiraled her body around in his lap, eyes closed, she could have been anywhere. She felt deeply erotic and full of love for the man in her arms.

And then it was over. The session had finished. She lay him back down on the bed and covered him with a blanket, reminding him to rest and allow the sensations in his body to settle. She went to the shower to wash off all the oil and sweat that was smeared across her body. She then returned to the old man who was finishing tying up his left shoelace and escorted him out of the building, two strangers once more, albeit with a newfound closeness exchanged.

As she waved him goodbye, noticing the old man she had initially seen on that bed, she was a little shocked at what she had felt. Not in a million years would she have looked at this man with desire or love if they passed each other on the street. Not the kind of lovers love she had felt in that room.

This was the moment she lost her faith in love. Love became something she knew was possible with everyone and anyone. Love was nothing special except in and of itself. It was not a reason to stay with someone, and definitely not a reason to remain monogamous. If anything this experience strengthened her resolve to explore polyamory and end her marriage.