- Holly Searle
- London, United Kingdom
- Holly Searle is a writer and an artist who was made in Soho and thereafter born in the heart of London. She has been blessed with two quite remarkable children and grandchildren whom she adores. She enjoys the company of her friends and the circus that is life, has a degree in Film and Television, and has exhibited her artwork in several exhibition.
Sunday, 25 November 2012
The KIss By Holly Searle
It's been a while since I was kissed.
I don't mean in the fond sentimental way that your children will kiss you or the way in which you say hello to your friends with a quick peck on the cheek.
No, I am talking about one of those kisses that ignites your sensual recall and reminds you of something that you haven't encountered for a very, very long time.
When I think about it, I would have to say that it has been quite possibly years since I was kissed like that by a man, and it was in all probability one of the best kisses I have ever had.
And I shall tell you this for nothing. It has woken me up and it has rebooted my emotional hard drive.
The kiss is the deal breaker isn't it? It's where it begins. It's the litmus paper test of a promise of the possible passion that may follow later.
If the kiss isn't right, something instinctive tells you that the person delivering that kiss is holding back in some way or that they just aren't on the same primeval wave length as you.
I have kissed a few men like that and I can tell you this for free, my instincts were correct. Those kisses delivered nothing. They weren't exceptional in any way and neither were the men that gave them.
It is quite an important moment that first kiss. It cannot be repeated so the moment it happens, it must be savoured. It must be special. It is a gift as long as it contains all the essential elements required to make it so.
So way was this kiss so special.
Well here's the thing.
I wrote about all that I looked forward to in Hope. Since I wrote that (and in the time that led up to it), I became aware of the fact that I had come so far, but that the one thing that was missing from my life was the shared intimacy of another person.
I had become accustomed to my single life. It is fine. Time passes pretty quickly, life moves on and I am happy with it all. I pat myself on the back at all I have achieved. I meet old friends and I make new ones and pretty soon the idea of ever meeting another soul like me fades.
It doesn't fade in a sad way, it just dissipated and its void is consumed by my day to day life.
That was until I received a text message and that was how it all began.
The text was from a friend of whom I hold in great esteem. She asked me how my new job is going and casually throws in to the body of the texts the fact that my name had been mentioned.
I reply with avid curiosity as to whom the mentioner of my name might be. She replies with his name and I am blown away.
A man from the past and one of whom I had always had a soft spot for. She asks me if she would like me to adopt a Cilia Black guise and instigate further proceedings. I think she is being funny, but the following day he contacts me.
I suddenly realise that it is real and I am so flattered that he has. He asks me if I would like to meet up. A date I think? He is only the second man to ever ask me this question. I mentally blush and accept.
The following day it all dawns on me that I have a date. Not a cyberspace date, but an actual date with someone I had liked. My excitement buffer starts to fill up and I get it all straight in my head with regards to the reality of it all.
It has been over twenty years since I have seen this person. We are both older and have been through those life mills. I worry about all those stupid self deprecating things I worry about like looking older and fatter. I start to stress a bit. But then I tell all of those negative thoughts to do one and just relax and decide to just go with the flow.
I think to myself “Look, if it is nothing, then you have seen an old friend. If it something, then deal with that as and when.”
I put that thought in my pocket and focus on the positive.
On the day, I end up with some time to myself. I am excited and I want the day to pass so I can go and meet him.
The latter part of the day speeds up and eventually I am ready to go. I realise I am slightly flustered as I leave.
My fears start to return. I tell them to sod off and tap my pocket and walk forward.
I meet him and it is easy and comfortable. We talk about recent life events. We laugh about the nonchalant dog that my family had had.
We are having great evening and I think to myself I really want get out of this pub and to be alone with him as I want to kiss him.
We leave and he offers me his arm. It is a nice gentle thing to do. We walk and we find a spot. We sit. It is cold. He puts his arm around me. It feels familiar and right. And then he kissed me. And then he kissed me some more. And then a bit more.
It wasn't odd or weird or out of context. It was perfect. He is just lovely and he takes my breath away. I feel dizzy.
We conclude the evening with him walking me home and with the joint agreement that we shall meet up again for a second date.
Before he goes. I am torn as I actually don't want him too. I just want to kiss him all night. I like the way he touches me. It feels right. It isn't about sex, it is something much more intimate than that. It is something I think we have both missed.
I'd like to be alone with him, away from the world, just us, but I realise that I must be satisfied with the kissing for now as I don't want to spoil the moment. I want to look forward to the next kiss rather than let the first overwhelm me.
We are both older and a little raw. Life has left it's scars on each of us. Life can affect sensitive people like that, I know this for a fact and I think he may well know this too.
But those kisses. They were quite incredible. They kept me warm throughout the night. I embraced them and so did he and I am glad that we both did. And I can't wait for the next date and more of those kisses.