#1: Awakening – It started on a Sunday

Sunday

An early May weekend in southern England…

Sam sits, leans back, eyes shaded, hands clasped behind his head. Sweat beads on his pale chest, bared to blend with weathered arms and neck. Not a vain man, he just likes to think ahead, to a day or night he gets lucky; he hasn’t had much yet. Beads turn into rivulets, gather pace and glisten. Abs not flab defines their flow down to his faded combats.

There’s a buzz, a throbbing in his thigh; his left hand goes to his pocket. He grips his smartphone, oddly, between thumb and unoccupied ring-finger. G-mail ‘M’ on screen; he needs to go inside to read. Not just because of the glaring sun, but base instinct, and half-open eyes nearby. Effortlessly he rises; her senses tune to the rhythm of his flip flop walk to and beyond the kitchen door.

He opens the single unread mail: ‘Dream Arousal Site Alert – From Blond & Blue’, and logs in. The message box shows ‘One New’. A click reveals:

I’m here, you’re here, what are we waiting for?

Next to it there’s a thumbnail photo, a young woman, coyly posed, stunningly attractive. “Why would a woman who looks like that message me? Why is she on here at all? She could get any man she wants” he lip syncs as if to a song. He looks at her in disbelief, her natural smile and easy style radiating almost innocence. So different from others on this site, exposing boobs and bum and more, as if to compensate and say ‘Look at me not her.’

He fires off a reply, but it doesn’t send. “Sod it, how do I pay?” Turns out it’s easy, too easy. He charges a handful to his smartphone, to be discretely billed as ‘DAservice’. This time his message goes.

Wow, you look absolutely stunning. I just have to say hello, I’m Sam and spell-bound by your smile.

Exhilarated, he feels he’s been inside for ages, yet the oven clock shows just three minutes.

Back outside, she’s how he left her, eyes closed; her slow-breathing, mesmerising him.He kneels, their shadows merge as one. He strokes her upturned palm, gently traces her heart-line. Electrified she grips his fingers, earth’s them on her exposed thigh. Her wild eyes he fails to read within a blink re-adjust to the familiar ‘don’t push your luck’. His fingers lift, his prints fade; her day-dream moistness lingers.

He sits back on his heels. “Sorry, Amy, a message I had to deal with”. That smile, that face of his, magnetic, pulling at her core, his blue eyes cool, confusing her, as always. All too quick she says “That’s okay Sam, I should be going anyway.”

Without words, they stand. He holds her hand, walks her slowly to her car. Eyes steal stares as they kiss cheeks, their lips untouched as ever.

She says, “Good to see you”

He says, “I’ll call you”

Amy quickly drives away before her eyes betray her.

Sam looks up the road, till all sight and sound of her has gone, his hand holding air as if hers is still there. He shakes his head, so many things unsaid.

The evening sun goes down; there’s a slight chill, so he slips a polo shirt on. Woman bought, it’s a well-worn shade of pink, as is his sun touched skin beneath. He sits, restless in the chair that held her. His fingers caress its wooden arms; he feels a prick … a splinter.

Standing, he squeezes the shard free. A single drop of blood falls, smears, as his still muted phone gyrates across the glass topped table. ‘Blond & Blue’ replies:

Oh my goodness, do you really mean that? I’m Erin by the way.

Monday

Sam:

Hello, Erin, I can’t quite believe you got in touch. I’ve not done anything like this before so I’ll just be me and write the way I feel … is that alright with you?

Erin:

I like the way you write – it’s refreshing to find a guy who seems interested in me. Most men on here are only interested in one thing!

 

Tuesday

Sam:

I wonder how many lives your smile will light up today, how many pulses you will raise, how many will stumble for words on speaking to you, asking how you are, how your evening was, wishing they had been with you. I’m smiling now, thinking all these things too.

Erin:

You have made me smile that’s for sure – I wish I could be that infectious!

 

[EDC Writing©2017 – ‘Their Days’]

 

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