The pool on the roof was still open, but the chairs and tables were chained together and covered. The bar was shuttered, the ashtrays put away, and the doors allegedly locked.
But when we pushed on it, it opened, and together we snuck out into the cold night to see the steam rising off the water. The party inside was too loud for me to think, and you were always more mischievous than social.
I’d like to say I winked at you before stripping off my clothes and launching myself into the water while you looked on and laughed. But the truth is I didn’t have the nerve until you lost your last shred of cotton and stepped slowly into the pool without looking back. I checked the door, finished my drink, and then hurriedly joined you, my skin pickled from the cold.
You wrapped your arms around my neck when I came up for air, and you kissed me on the nose.
“So tell me,” you said not letting go. “Will your morality get in the way of fucking me or have you discovered that some things are worth the guilt?”
I laughed as I pulled you closer with two hands on your ass. And at that moment, as your wet and naked body pressed into mine, as your lips grazed my own, and as my cock hardened against your stomach, I thought I knew the answer.
“And where would I be without my puritanical ethics?” I asked, not letting go of you. “If we fuck, how could you look me in the eye and not feel betrayal?”
“I was hoping you’d be behind me,” you whispered, resting your forehead on my shoulder. And then more seriously, “I don’t care if I like you less. I don’t care if I lose some respect for you because you decide to say yes. I don’t care if I can’t look at you again.”
You stepped away from me, turning to rest your arms on the edge of the pool. Stepping up behind you I could see the lights of Soho and the financial district. The towers stood tall and bright, and when I looked up into the night sky, I watched a lone snowflake fall into darkness.
I kissed the back of your neck, and you rubbed your ass against me. My hands on your hips under the water held you still, and a sigh escaped your lips as somehow I slid between your thighs.
“It would be so easy,” you whispered, lowering your head as you parted your legs. “It would mean nothing.”
“It would mean everything,” I said, wondering if I was holding back out of fear or some unexamined and misguided sense of right and wrong. Possibly I had a fetish for denial, or maybe I was so attached to the desire that I didn’t want to satisfy it. And just as likely, there was something hidden within me that knew if I said yes I’d make the horrible mistake of falling in love.
Beneath the water your hands were warm and deft as you touched me softly, teasing us both without ever pushing too far. And in the middle of it all, of wanting you more than anything I had ever dreamed of and knowing that you wanted me also, I realized the second truth, which was that you would never allow me the freedom to not decide.
As much as I longed for you to push back and take me inside you without asking again, as much as I ached for you to choose so I might later pretend there was nothing I could have done, I knew you’d always leave it up to me. And how I hated you for that.
“Close your eyes,” I said, reaching under the water as the moment of indecision hung in the air.
“They are.”
You let go of us both, and you breathed out steam and longing in equal parts.
“I love you,” I said, wondering if it might change the world.