Stories

Finding Erotica Book One

Chapter 2: First Good bye

They agreed to meet at three behind the pot bellied stove. Nerves jangled his judgment throughout the day. Simple decisions grew complicated: what should he wear; would his good bye gift be too much; when should he tell her his good news?

He arrived early, a bit too early, early to the point where doubt seized every opportunity to unravel his excitement. Ms. E arrived late, radiant, but late. “Sorry MK, traffic…” She kissed him on the cheek and then sat down across from him. They ordered drinks and chatted, warmed by each other’s presence, warmed by the fire of the stove. This was their spot—hidden, away, quiet, a place where they could just be two ordinary people enjoying each other’s company, a place where they could simply be alone.

Animated conversation ensued. Laughter punctuated engaging stories. She wore a form-fitting simple black dress that accentuated every graceful movement of her gloriously fit body. A silver necklace pressed against her breasts and grazed over her nipples each time she swayed with laughter or lifted an arm to emphasize a point. “This is glorious,” he remembered saying to himself, “absolutely glorious.”
His mind went to the first time he saw her naked in the pictures she sent online. He got aroused remembering the golden globe of her right breast, erect brown nipple standing at attention in the middle of an eminently delicious areola; her womanhood hanging between golden thighs as she squatted in her bathroom for a selfie. Oh how he wanted to dive between those parted legs and taste her delight; oh how he wanted to do the same at that very moment!

They sauntered down the hill to a restaurant where reservations at a secluded table awaited. A familiar hostess seated them and brought a bottle of wine he had ordered in advance, an Oregon pinot noir, the one that made the state’s wine industry famous. They each tasted the small sip offered by the waiter for their approval. Her broad smile said it all: scrumptious, so good you want to drink it with a spoon. He poured them both a glass and they toasted. “To us.” They clinked glasses and savored deep drinks of the nectar they held in their hands.
“I have to tell you something,” he said after setting his wine glass back on the table.

“I need to tell you something first,” she said.
“OK, you go first. What is it?”
“You know I went down to LA to interview for a position with a film company, well, I got the job!”
“That’s wonderful. Great news, way to go! I never had a doubt. Another toast!”
They raised their glasses and drank heartily.
“And that’s not all,” her look indicated something big was to follow.
“I’m on the edge of my seat; you found a place to live?”
She inched closer to the table. “I met a man.”
The world as he knew it, as he wanted it to be, fell away. The table began to spin. There was not enough room in his body for both her words and for air. He felt sick.
“You OK?” she asked.
“A bit too much wine in that last toast,” he scrambled to regain his composure like a boxer trying to make it to the bell after suffering a first round knockout blow. Feigning a cough he grabbed a glass of water sitting untouched next to his wine and gulped half of it down. “I’ll be OK.” He didn’t want to know the answer to the question he was about to pose. “Who is this lucky man?” Each word deadened his soul. He felt himself drift away.

His reaction didn’t dampen her palpable excitement. She described a Hollywood Don Juan: sleek, blinged out, a man on the make poised to chew up the most beautiful woman My’Kuyah knew.
The rest of the evening was a blur. He never gave her his gift; never shared his good news. Reality ambushed his dreams and left town in her backseat. He tossed them all away when he kissed her good bye.

For years he chastised himself. He should have known better. He never should have fallen in love with a younger woman, never should have indulged in fanciful dreams about her, never should have created a future based around his puppy dog feelings.
And now she’s back along with every feeling he’d fought to keep suppressed for the last quarter century.
A persistent nightmare returns along with her. No matter how he tries he can’t make it go away. They’re together: happy, laughing, about to make love. Something happens, different things in different versions of the dream. Tonight’s has him getting up to blow out a candle. When he turns back to kiss her, she’s gone.

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Chapter 1: A Song of Beatific Erotica

Thank you W.S. Merwin

He lies between her thighs; his face inches from her most sacred place and takes in every detail. He sees her beauty in the nuanced delicacy of her brown sugar lips and his quest for Erotica begins with that single simple detail. The detail hangs like a musical note in the air, a solitary note so resonant that it makes his heart ache, a note so rich he never wants it to end. When it does he pines to hear it again. To his delight, the single note is accompanied by another and the new note enhances and extends the initial sound. Such is her beauty.  A single detail, glistening moisture gathered on delicate lips, echoes between golden thighs and leads to orchestral splendor. Each time is like the first time his eyes beheld her, naked, lying before him offering herself entirely at that moment and she let him breathe her touch her taste her; each time offering more details, more notes. The notes blend into a melody; the melody into a song; the song into a symphony. The symphony is a concert celebrating her beauty and it vibrates through him, touches the untouched recesses of his soul and leaves him with a simple single utterance: oh my God how I love this heartbreakingly beautiful symphony of a woman, my Beautiful Ms. Erotica.

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