"What is success? I think it is a mixture of having a flair for the thing that you are doing; knowing that it is not enough, that you have got to have hard work and a certain sense of purpose."
-Margaret Thatcher
If you have the right people around you and can exhibit a lot of patience and perseverance, you can make a lot of progress in a short period of time. When I started this particular phase in my journey of self-discovery in August, my primary goal was and continues to be, "Be capable of pleasuring future girlfriend through learning and experience." Thus, everything I do has centered around that specific goal. Books have been purchased and read, exercises central to being more effective during that experience are performed, and multiple countries have been traversed to learn under the tutelage of brilliant and beautiful teachers (for a nominal fee). I have had very positive experiences so far, but I have had yet to experience a "successful" one. Perfectly valid explanations find themselves muddled into the same proverbial psychological brackish water as excuses and constructive criticisms play back in my head like a loop of ineffectiveness. Learning, coaching, planning, trying, all center in on one goal, winning. I hadn't won yet. Though I'd only been with two people, I still felt like I was a well coached, fundamentally sound, 0-26. I needed a victory, damn it. I needed a "1". My "1" was experienced on a chilly November evening in Chicago, my "1" has some of the softest porcelain skin imaginable, and my "1" appreciates alliteration as an effective marketing tool. My "1" is Rose.
I found Rose twice, actually. Once while traversing the the Twitter-verse's "Similar To" section where a thumbnail of a leggy brunette eating grapes caught my attention enough to see a picture posted with the slogan, "Save a lollipop, suck a dick." That brand of humor would have garnered an immediate booking but I had already booked an appointment for my first trip to Chicago. Sadly, I had to wait. The other time was while looking for information on another provider on a review board. Someone created a year-end best-of list and someone else chimed in, "I would give an honorable mention to Rose for best rim job." Any woman willing to do that (though not my particular cup of Earl Grey), is a woman I'm willing to research a bit further. Lo and behold! A leggy brunette, a bunch of grapes, and a funny picture about using fellatio to preserve candy quantities. We have a match, and I have a new provider.
I set my appointment with her for November 2nd. I would fly into Chicago, drop off my things at the hotel, get dropped off at her incall, and have a nice time. A bird somewhere over East Texas decided that plan wasn't filled with enough drama, so it became a tragedy of modern convenience. R.I.P. bird, R.I.P. right engine, R.I.P. hour or so buffer to a layover in Houston so they can switch out planes. I call to explain the situation when I land and was able to get our tryst postponed another hour but once we make it to the hotel, it is a mad dash to get there on time. I do, I call, she lets me in, and she looks so beautiful, all new client hyperventilation is met with acceptance and understanding.
She leads me to her condo in a very cool Chicago suburb, offers me a water, and I begin to walk the tightrope between whining about my day and simply expounding on my journey and why/how it led me to her. She then led me to her bedroom where we discussed a lovely portrait of Josephine Baker she bought for a song, and was followed immediately by us kissing like high school sophomores and lying down on her bed for a good ol' fashioned romp between the sheets. I did everything in my power to ruin the moment by searching throughout my personal effects for the condoms I bought with me, only to realize after the search they were in my back pocket. But after that debacle, we were ready to go.
I knew of a few of her tattoos. Though with me not being a tattoo guy, per se (as I discuss in "I Can't Stop Watching..."),I knew this was going to be an interesting experience. As I asked about each tattoo and its story, I found them to be disjointed if using the body as a canvas, yet in perfect locales if going from one to the next in a "Rose's Markings & Meaningful Moments" tour. I got to hear every story except for I believe the left shoulder because I got sidetracked with allowing my lips/tongue to delight in every contour of her petite, curvaceous frame. When she had enough of my reveling, she took to her favorite position and grinded out a masterpiece that left her body slacked and our breathing heavy. The day was November 2nd, 2013, the attempt was my third, and I, Rashad Clark, was finally responsible for a woman's climax. We rolled over, we kissed, and I asked her if she could believe she was first with which I experienced tangible success. She giggled, "I find that hard to believe." The smile couldn't leave my face.
Though an important milestone was reached, familiar problems were finding their way back into my life. At this point, Rose took matters into her own hands...and mouth...and introduced me to the world of the female condom. Once it was inserted, and subsequently, I was inserted, a pas de deux took place that in my very limited mind's eye rivaled anything put together by Robert Joffrey himself. I WORKED, America. Not only did I work, but I worked when I needed to work. There was this vision of perfection looking me in the face, I had to perform, and for the first time, I finally did. Spoiler alert: It was awesome. We fucked. When we didn't fuck, we kissed. When we didn't kiss, we talked. When we didn't talk, we made love passionately. We flowed together pretty effortlessly, give or take a time or two where she told me "Don't stop." and I had to fight through a Charlie horse. Or the very bittersweet moment where she gritted her teeth because I went too deep. Mea culpa, Rose. We left her bedroom and turned her living room couch into our very own Elysium. With a few minutes left in my time with her, she knelt in front of me and did everything within the power of her dominant arm to get me off. I responded in kind. What happened next was a whirlwind of lust, heavy breathing, passion, and willpower as the lactic acid buildup in my forearm almost trumped my desire to see her climax one last time...ALMOST. She professed her intentions, shuddered appropriately, refocused after the wave of orgasm traversed through her body, and went back to work on me as best she could until her arm got tired. I kissed her like she succeeded anyway. Rose rules. We got dressed, took a picture together that my parents wouldn't be able to comprehend, and as my ride was double-parked, I kissed her farewell.
“When we don’t put the brakes on our self-absorption, we have nothing stopping us from total self-destruction. We become the fruits of our actions.”
-Zeena Schreck
The only responsible thing I can compare the next events to is the feeling generated from seeing Peter Parker strutting to "Stayin' Alive" in Spider-Man 3. As far as I was concerned, I had this thing figured out. I was an arrogant jackass that didn't need to do any of the things I had done with any regularity anymore. "Perfectly Functional Sexual Partner" could be crossed off the list and now we can move on to advanced classes, parlor tricks, things of that nature. Good teams don't tear down the goalposts when they go 2-14. You have to win consistently & I forgot that. I had another weekend in Chicago and since I'd never been with the same woman twice, I made another appointment. No reading, no exercising, no brushing up, no nothin'. After only three experiences, I got this. I am a walking definition of hubris and I was an unstoppable force of unwarranted confidence that was about to have a head-on collision with an immovable object.
"Momentum is the next day's starting pitcher."
-Earl Weaver
She opens the door and of course looks astonishing in a lacy white dress and blush pink heels. We sit on the couch and talk music and laugh about politicians and run the gamut of potential topics before once again kissing up a storm. Within two kisses...TWO...DAMN...KISSES...my body reacts. But there is no need to rush because I got this. We head into the bedroom and she removes her dress to reveal an understated but unbelievably sexy (I believe it was but the room was candlelit) burgundy bra and panty set that contrasted brilliantly with her alabaster skin. She lies back on the bed and before her panties can fully uncover her unmentionables, I turn into Steve freakin' Zissou...because I got this. Her coaching turned what would have been an overzealous exercise in futility into a pleasurable experience for the both of us. After some trial and error, I found a rhythm she could enjoy and after utilizing that rhythm for a while, her body tensed...and crescendoed with shuddering convulsions. That's another one off the "I've never done THAT before" list. I totally got this.
Because Rose is a lady, she begins to reciprocate in a similar action to how I pleasured her. It feels exactly as amazing as I expected it to but the facts are what they are. At this point in my life, I don't have a substantial grace period between "I got this." and "I ain't got a God damn thing." As she gets on top, not only is the bloom off the flower, the flower is wilting, and I ready my concession speech. That night was simply not to be. We kiss and cuddle. She gives me an incredibly caring back massage. We simply connect some more and overall have an awesome time. But the reality remains that my hubris cost us an opportunity to do something special. I bid her a fond farewell and proceed to go to Molly's Bakery & binge eat six cupcakes like the fat girl that I am.
"Healthy discontent is the prelude to progress."
-Gandhi
One of the coolest parts about a really good kiss is the moment where both parties, for lack of a better term, "recalibrate". They catch their breath, reopen their eyes, assess what happened, and figure out their next move. The longer that moment takes, the more indelible that kiss was. I felt it some years back in a seedy motel with a beautiful young woman in Tennessee and God knows I felt it with Mona. When Rose and I kissed, there was a ton of recalibrating. The air in the room was thick with undeniable chemistry and, in my opinion, a touch of regret. We clicked too well to only have such a short period of time to appreciate each other the way we did. If money weren't an issue, I'm sure she'd forbid me from acquiring her for less time than an overnight. There's too much to talk about and listen to. There's too many places to touch and to taste for 180 minutes to be enough.
When you're around someone worth opening up to your very core for and there's only enough time to scratch the surface, it's disheartening; and her tone when she told me I had BETTER let her know when I made it back to Chicago let me know that she felt similarly. She doesn't offer a "girlfriend" experience. She offers a "Wait...there's a world outside of this room?" experience, and one of those times my arrogance and subsequent lack of preparation got in the way of that experience. We will see each other again because I am not content with how I left that condo. I owe it to myself and to her, I owe it to that look in her eyes and mine when I couldn't stay longer. But for no other reason, she deserves to see how good I could be and I look forward to getting there.
We want me to win.
When you're around someone worth opening up to your very core for and there's only enough time to scratch the surface, it's disheartening; and her tone when she told me I had BETTER let her know when I made it back to Chicago let me know that she felt similarly. She doesn't offer a "girlfriend" experience. She offers a "Wait...there's a world outside of this room?" experience, and one of those times my arrogance and subsequent lack of preparation got in the way of that experience. We will see each other again because I am not content with how I left that condo. I owe it to myself and to her, I owe it to that look in her eyes and mine when I couldn't stay longer. But for no other reason, she deserves to see how good I could be and I look forward to getting there.
We want me to win.
"Success consists of going from failure to failure without loss of enthusiasm."
-Winston Churchill
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