The following is a brief excerpt from what I’ve been writing on for nearly the last 2 months. Does it intrigue you? Would you read more? Would sincerely appreciate comments! Thank you.
He opened his eyes eventually, staring at the canvas above his head. She lay next to him, one leg thrown over his waist, arm over his chest, stroking his skin with soft fingers. As spent as he was, empty, drained, he knew if she continued his need would build again soon. It was as if she had been created as a natural aphrodisiac for him. He didn’t understand it, never had, but he would always be grateful.
“I don’t think I’ve ever had a 30-minute orgasm before,” he commented to the air around him. He felt her laughter.
“I don’t think it was quite that long, but I appreciate the compliment,” she whispered into his neck.
“It was forever,” he replied. “You’re my forever.” The words slipped out before he could stop them, but he realized they were true. He knew that she was going back to Atlanta tomorrow. He knew that things would change again, his job or her job, his life or her life, and they would see each other even less as time went on. He knew it but he could not accept it. After last night and today, he knew that he could never let her go completely, that he had to find a way of keeping her with him from now on, even if it was on severely limited terms.
At his words, she raised up on her free elbow, looking down into his eyes with the gaze that had always seen him and accepted him for just who he was. He looked back at her without flinching knowing that he had spoken no more than the truth that was in his heart. He watched her watching him, and in a tiny moment he felt her draw away from him in a way he could not explain. She was utterly still above him, holding him with her eyes, looking right at him and yet he sensed suddenly that a critical part of her had left him. A tiny splinter of worry pricked the perfect balloon of the day. She leaned forward and kissed him again, the feeling of her lips on him a prayer but this time not a promise.
Before he could speak, she sat up and began reaching around for her clothes.
“It’s a good thing you have a cover,” she said, apparently trying to deflect any questions, “Otherwise, we’d be lobsters by now.” She sorted out their mingled garments and quickly got herself dressed. She sat on the cushion-less back bench and regarded him again. He felt uncomfortable with her eyes on him for the first time ever and he, too, gathered his clothes and got dressed. He picked up the seat cover and they got it fitted back on the bench and then they were sitting together again, but Harold felt a distance between them that had never been present before. He wanted to ask her what was wrong but dreaded what she might say.
“Are you o…” he started and she at the same moment she sat forward.
“Harold, I…” In spite of the apparent serious mood, they looked at each other and had to laugh a little.
“Our minds are just too much alike,” she said, shaking her head. She was leaning forward, her arms on her knees. He reached out tentatively and stroked her back.
“So what’s on yours, then?” he asked softly. She sat up and leaned back against the stern of the boat, looking forward into the cabin, not looking at him, not meeting his eyes.
“I met someone.”
The sun did not stop shining and go behind a wall of dark and raging thunder clouds. The winds did not pick up into gale force and the ocean did not suddenly become a deadly trap, full of dips and swells of waves that threatened to drown him and devour his boat in its wrath. The weather stayed the same bright and perfect way it had been before she spoke those three words. The tempest that engulfed him was entirely within his soul.
“Oh.” It was all he could utter. She turned to him then, her eyes bleak, and he knew that she understood everything that was in that simple word because he recognized it himself. It was the surprised sound a person makes when something very precious to them dies in their arms and they know that it’s gone forever.