I met Derek at the bistro where I was a waitress. The day we met, we shared a late-night spontaneous make out session in his hotel room, one of the best I ever had. The chemistry between us was almost visible in the air, a palpable current of sexual energy. We were magnets, powerless to stop the attracting forces that hung in the air between us. My friend Abby and I had joined Derek and his friend in the room, and we all hung out while they all drank. It started out a weird evening with mine and Abby’s feet being washed in the bathtub. We had just gotten off work from the bistro together and our feet were sore and tired. The foot bathing turned into massaging other innocent body parts, like hands and arms, while we all lounged on the king-size bed together. The scene was one kiss away from becoming an orgy, but no one crossed that line. I was dying for Derek and I to be alone together, and finally the others left. He was drunk, but not sloppy. His was a steel personality, polished and snapped tight at the seams, all Park Slope style. When he was drunk, it was only visible by a slight wavering, wobbliness at the edges. It certainly didn’t affect his sexual performance. The way he interacted with me sexually was the same- withholding and distant, at the same time intensely present and very much in control. This happened in 2003 and I still remember vividly the details of our encounter, though others since have long faded.