Lying here beside you I watch the moon play across your face as you sleep. Would that make you cringe self-consciously? I know it would. Perhaps I will tell you in the morning. I do love to make you squirm.
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Rounding a bend in the unsealed narrow country road, I was disappointed to see that the last few hundred meters were uphill. Weary from our third consecutive day hiking on the southern Turkish coast, I grabbed Jack's hand, trying to get his help pulling me forward. I felt him wrapping his fingers around mine, and upping the pace a little which was assisting me to move.
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I walked over to where she was standing, and she turned to me and took my hands in hers. She looked into my eyes and softly said, "I would like very much to kiss you, Dear. Would Diane like Georgia to kiss her?"
Although it wasn't entirely unexpected, I wasn't really prepared for it. I was surprised when, without hesitation, I took a step forward so we were almost nose to nose with our mouths about two inches apart. We each leaned forward slightly, and our lips met very gently.
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... You're kidding me.
... Nope, dead serious.
... So . . . I've been flirting with a girl for . . . like . . . 45 minutes and she could drive here
in under an hour.
... Yup. How about that?
... Gee. What are the odds. I mean, the World Wide Web implies . . . wide . . . world.
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The beach was clean that morning, as it was every morning. Throughout the night, the caress of the surf had swept away all the sandcastles and pock marks left by the sunbathers and scampering children of yesterday. The broad expanse of sand was as smooth as a woman's inner thigh. At the edge of the wave's reach, a dark line of detritus had been deposited by those same waves.
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To set the scene, we were staying in one of two villas that were situated on a hill among olive groves and exotic wild flowers with a beautiful vista overlooking the sea; we shared a swimming pool with the villa next door and a private beach could be found down a few rickety steps.
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"Hi. What are you doing here?" I heard the familiar voice as I felt the tap on my shoulder. It was the girl who serves coffee to me every day at the local Starbucks. I instinctively stood as I turned to face her.
"Hello. Well, I came to the restaurant for dinner, and since my table won't be ready for a while, I thought I'd come in to the lounge to have a drink and relax. How about you?"
She laughed lightly. "Well, my date was supposed to meet me here over fifteen minutes ago."
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I sat on the couch and impatiently exhaled on a low-tar cigarette. Glancing at my watch, I noticed she was late. I took a slug of wine and looked over at Dave. He stood at the counter with his back to me, mixing a scotch and water with ice. For a moment I thought he sensed my anxiety as then he turned around and met my gaze with smiling eyes.
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Shortly after I turned thirty-nine my mother died suddenly of a coronary thrombosis. Dad had died seven years earlier. So since my brother Kenny, a journalist and my only sibling, was living in London at the time, and my daughter was in her second year of college, I was left alone with the task of going through my mother's things and deciding what should be kept and what should be thrown away.
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Hello, my name is Linda, I'm 28 years old. I have an online girlfriend, two years younger than me, on the other side of the globe. I wrote this story for her but she allowed me to publish it here. It is a story about how I wish our lives could be... sharing one special night of our lives with you. I hope you enjoy it.
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