by A. C. Bextor
Like I said – crazy.
Lust, sometimes confused as love, however, is an emotion I know something about. Overall, I love women. Their soft bodies, sensual dispositions, and often their willingness to share an erotic evening with a stranger after understanding they aren’t promised anything more than a sated goodbye the next day. These are the type of women I’ve spent my time with anyway.
In all my twenty-eight years, I’ve only come across one person that’s made me second guess all the lessons my father spent years trying to teach me. It was a brief moment in time, merely a few days that offered me a glimpse of what life may be like had I believed there was someone out there meant for only me. She was practically my equal in every way.
Her love of music competed with mine. There was no shame between us in admitting that a song, no matter the genre, has the ability to create a memory anchor that can take us back to a place in our lives whether we choose for it to or not. We both learned early that getting lost in a lyric was either a valuable escape or a painful reminder.
Leann talked of her friends with a pointed appreciation. She relived memories to me about her best friend since childhood and how, at times, her life at home was less than great. Yet, having Addie around made those rough and painful experiences almost bearable.
She didn’t believe in committing to one person for the rest of her life. She felt that unless you’re a child who daydreamed of a future, Happily Ever After’s didn’t really exist, not for her anyway. Her blatant honesty was admirable.
For once, I had met someone that I felt more than my usual animalistic attraction to. Her physical beauty served as an extra; an added bonus. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit it’s what first caused me to notice her, but it wasn’t what sustained the connection. Her eyes held mine with dare, her body moved in sync beneath me with desire, and her smile held my attention all on its own. But, for the first time that I could remember, it was the person she was overall that held me completely captive.
I met Leann on the beach near the pier while I was staying at my dad’s beach house. I use his place as an escape to get away from my life of my pathetic loneliness here. She was visiting from out of town, so she said. She and I had immediate chemistry – an undeniable attraction - and ended up spending the weekend together in my bed. I met her on a Friday afternoon and watched her walk away from me on a Sunday evening.
Unfortunately for me, she was so much my equal that she matched my play by leaving me “her” number. When I finally assembled the will to call it, I got in touch with a seventy-three year old grandmother of six, widow to a retired postal worker, and an avid backgammon extraordinaire. I know all this because when I called and asked for “Leann” I found the number was a hoax. I listened to Greta Marx explain her life in detail … for over a fucking hour. Although this was well over a year ago, my memories of that weekend have yet to fade.
*****
As I looked into those eyes, I knew I was pleading with hers not to go. I wanted more time with her. “Are you absolutely positive you won’t stay another night? I have all week and you’re still on vacation.” I shot her one of my signature “I’ve got you now” smirks, hoping to persuade her not to leave. I wasn’t ready to let her go.
“I’m sure, Hayden. I need to get back, but thank you. I had fun.” Staring up at me, she finished her thought with sarcasm. “You’re very talented.” Raising her hand to fix my freshly fucked hair from standing on end, she smiled. All weekend she enjoyed my talents as much as I enjoyed hers.
“Yeah, I had a good time, too. I have your number and I’m gonna call, so answer your phone when I do.” I really thought at the time that I had “her” number and I had every intention of making true on that declaration.
“You really think I’ll hear from you again, don’t you?” She, however, really thought I wouldn’t.
“You will.” I kissed her goodbye on the porch and watched her turn around to leave, taking some of my independence with her. Until that weekend, I had worked hard to maintain it, but after that weekend I was willing to forfeit any and all rights to it in exchange for a chance to be with her again.
*****
Although I haven’t seen or heard from her since that night, I’ve thought about her a lot. It’s ridiculous, really. We only knew each other for a few days, but in that time I felt a sense of what it may feel like to be content. She, alone, had my focus. I wasn’t looking at other women as we strolled the beach at night. I wasn’t questioning if we should bring another woman with us to my bed for our added pleasure. I hadn’t ever felt that kind of satisfaction before. It was a feeling of fulfillment that only one other person offered.
Ultimately, I gave up hoping that I’d ever find her and went on with my life believing I’d never be with her again. I made a promise to myself, though, and I had planned to keep it. If ever there was a woman that made me feel, really feel, the way I felt when I was with her – I’d fight to have her and never let her go.