The first kiss from the Devil’s Mistress
Slumped on the couch, thinking about my past, I became more and more depressed. Why should this guy be any different?
The phone rang. I didn’t wish to speak to anyone and resented the intrusion into my gloomy thoughts. I was perfectly happy wallowing in my dark mood. Apparently my body had other ideas, and I found myself on my feet reaching for the instrument on the table. “Hello.”
“Hi there. How are you today?”
It was the man I had coffee with yesterday, the one with the unbelievable story. My stomach flipped into my throat but I managed to reply. “I’m fine.”
“My apologies for the last–minute notice, but two tickets for tonight’s production at the theatre just came to hand and I hope you are free to attend it with me. I can pick you up at seven.” His voice carried a pleading tone. I never game him my address…
“Yes,” slid from my mouth without my brain having a say in the matter. “I would enjoy seeing you again.”
“I am glad. See you then.”
The rest of the afternoon and evening blurred, until at seven on the dot the bell rang telling me he had arrived.
My bedroom was a clutter with sweaters, skirts, trousers and blouses. I finally chose a turquoise pair of pants in brushed cotton with a matching V necked silk blouse. My hoop earrings matched the gold belt. I opened the door. And stared. My memory had not deceived me. He looked as gorgeous as I remembered, with his glossy brown-black hair and deep pools of brown eyes. He wore a black suit in finely woven wool, as smooth as a raven’s wing. The cloth had obviously been hand tailored to his specifications. Though his suit was black, he certainly didn’t remind me of any undertaker I had ever seen. My cheeks warmed in response to his amused smile. I later learned that this was his normal work clothes.
The cab’s motor idled at the curb, waiting. He helped me into it. His hold on my arm felt warm, steadying and exciting.
Our seats, located in the centre of the auditorium, afforded us an excellent view of the stage. At one point, when I stole a glance at him, I caught him watching me, not the performance. I promptly turned my head, but could still feel his eyes on me. I couldn’t decide if I liked it or not.
The lights came back up signaling the end of the intermission. He leaned toward me. “I have to leave for a bit. The job is close by. I hope to return in time for the next act.” I dumbly nodded. This is what he meant by the “24/7″ he told me yesterday.
Restless, I wandered out into the lobby. No sense trying to use the washroom, the lines are always so long. Men don’t seem to have that problem.
“Hey! How are you? Are you alone here?” The squealing woman in a red dress two sizes too small peered around trying to spot my date. I recognized Melanie, the administrator’s secretary from work. What rotten luck to run into her. When she was around I became awkward like both feet were left.
“Hey Mel. I’m fine thanks. No I’m not alone. My friend is around here someplace.” He’s working otherwise I’d see your expression when you meet him. Damn! My colleague prided herself on having the most dates and enjoyed telling the women at work all about them. Her eyes would cross if she could see him. I chuckled to myself. “Nice seeing you Mel,” I said smugly as I about-faced and retreated to my seat.
About two minutes before the curtain was due to rise my escort returned. “I am back.”
“That was quick.”
“Yes, sometimes it works out that way.”
After the play ended we walked toward the exit. “Thank you I enjoyed that very much. I’m not one to go to live productions often.”
“If you enjoyed it, we will go more frequently.”
With his hand at the small of my back, he steered me to the car sitting at the curb. The rightness of his firm caress surprised me. It did not occur to me to ask if it was our taxi or if it was meant for someone else.
When we arrived at my house he got out, and walked me to the entrance, though the taxi did not leave. Once on the porch he cupped my face with his hands. “I have to leave for work again…”
I thought I heard the cell ping a text message on the ride home
“But before I do…” he bent toward me drawing me to him at the same time, my coat almost fell off in the process.
His lips on mine felt as sweet as a baby’s breath and I melted into him. Then his mouth danced its way to the base of my neck and back up to explore the length of my throat. Veering up to my closed eye lids his tongue, like a summer breeze, warm and languid, picked delectable little spots along the way to attend to.
My right arm wound around his neck while the fingers of my left hand tip-toed through the thick luster of his hair which was as delicious to the touch as it looked.
Finally his lips again claimed my impatient mouth.
His touch spoke to me, not with urgency, but with future promises, like no other ever had and together we roamed the beach of his youth, smelling the clean air, and tasting the ocean salt, in carefree exploration; I wanted to experience everything this man could offer.
His strong fingers gentled on my face, my breath laboured, the dampness between my legs increased and my heart screamed for release, even through my winter coat.
All too soon, he stepped away, lifted my palm to his lips and whispered, “I have to go.” Then he jumped down the three steps and vanished into the waiting car, whistling a mysterious tune.
I stood on the porch and watched the car’s lights disappear down the road into the night, stunned by my visceral reaction to his touch. I hadn’t seen the kiss coming and my mind and body’s reaction surprised me. Before tonight I hadn’t been interested in a relationship with any man, especially with this one. One thing I’ve learned is to listen to my instincts. I didn’t listen with my previous romantic encounters and look how they ended up. By rote I pulled the key from my pocket, unlocked the door and entered the house.
Later I would say, “And that’s how it really happened.”
Blogophilia week 4.5 – “…and that’s how it really happened”
(Hard, 2pts): Incorporate: ‘two left feet’
(Easy, 1pt): mention an oxymoron