Short Story


The tall, lightly tanned woman swept past him. One long braid swished down her bare back. Something attracted him. Sure, she was beautiful, but he saw beautiful women every day. He studied her. "Excuse me..." he began, and when she turned to look at him he felt his face light up. She glowed. "You're beautiful," he finished breathlessly, and she sat down.
"Mon amour," she purred, "you're not so bad yourself."
He stared.
"I can't believe it."
"Please do, I'd hate to have to pinch you."
"You've changed so much."
She winked. The way she exuded sex appeal was incredible. He'd never seen her so confident. He wanted her. Desperate to keep her near, he flirted. He watched her, charmed and charming, and ordered her lunch. They touched. The years fell away but it was different this time. She wasn't hurt and he wasn't afraid.
"How long are you in town?" he ventured. The laughter left her eyes. Shit, he thought.
"I'm leaving tomorrow. For England. The restaurant is doing well and they want me to live there for good," she replied. Silence settled on them. Uncomfortably, he offered to buy drinks. She looked disappointed and she said, "I thought you stopped that shit." He nodded tensely and fidgeted with his fork. She laid her hand on his and smiled suggestively. "We still have tonight."
The instant hard-on must have shown in his face. She giggled and waved the waiter over. "Check, please." She knew precisely how to drive him crazy.
They took a slow, leisurely walk to her hotel, his hand stroking and exploring her body. She strolled, holding his other hand and he practically danced around her. He could see her delicious, perky nipples waiting for his tongue. Her ass was firm and round, and soft to his gently groping touch. She moaned. He rubbed her sides and tickled her. She pulled him behind a nearby column and pinned him to it, her lips hovering a hair's breadth from his, her deep blue eyes studying him suspiciously, ready to leave him standing there if he made one false move. He kissed her, gently. She relaxed and his hands went to her back, trying to undo her dress. She gasped and pulled him into the hotel.
He fell back onto the bed and she straddled him, hurriedly pulling off his tight grey shirt. "You are incredibly sexy," she groaned with his skin between her teeth. Then they made love, and he took time to enjoy the luscious body he had missed for so long. He moaned for her, and when they came he writhed with the overwhelming pleasure.
Afterwards, this confident, incredible woman gave into her vulnerability and laid on his chest like she always used to. He held her and stroked her hair, cuddling her and keeping her safe. "Don't go," he pleaded quietly. She looked up into his eyes, which were bright with tears. "Please," he begged, "stay with me. I love you. I've always loved you."
"I have to go," she said, flatly, "our time passed long ago."
"Be my wife," he said, his hands trembling as he played with her hair.
"You had your chance."
"Give me another. You don't have to be afraid anymore. I won't hurt you again. I promise."
She squeezed his hand. She said, "I'm not on birth control anymore."
He looked at her in alarm. "Why didn't you tell me?" he demanded. "I have condoms!"
Half-whispering, she said, "I want to have your baby." For a long time he said nothing and they laid in silence. Her tears made slow tracks down his chest and he curled a lock of her hair around his finger. Finally he kissed her forehead and gently told her to go to sleep. She closed her eyes, and when he cried in the night she held him close and murmured loving things. They slept peacefully.
In the morning when she woke alone, she didn't bother crying. She packed her bags and boarded her flight to England. She'd done enough crying.


Emily Keer
11/11/2002

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