The Meeting
WITH a feeling of overwhelming helplessness, she stared out the window, contemplating her next move. Her vision was clouded by the rain as she craved the arms of her dearly beloved, which were her haven of comfort and solace.
It had been only a few days since their last encounter, but those seemed like ages; and she could not stand to wait a minute longer for another of their ever so precious trysts.
His electric voice broke the silence when she dialled his number; but she hung up without answering, silently cursing her faltering courage as she heard a woman’s voice in the background.
Reminisces of the last encounter with him were somewhat quick, cold and intense; and when it ended, the silence was deafening, since neither spoke a word to the other after a week of quarrels and fights. Nevertheless, the smell of his cologne lingered in her memory; as did the feel of his skin against hers, and the barely audible sounds he made when he was asleep, which were slowly driving her insane.
She wanted him to herself, but she knew that was a monumental task — the man she loved had another woman. She was not happy playing second fiddle, but she persevered in the relationship because she was in love, and she had known that she loved him since they had first met.
She knew she wanted him in her life, but accepted the fact that he was taken; yet she wanted all of him. The thought of him being in the arms of another woman frustrated and angered her, but she had to contain herself psychologically.
She remembered seeing the woman’s clothes here and there at his house the last time they had met; and although it pained her, she tried to dismiss those images from her mind and concentrate on the task ahead, since those images were detrimental to her sanity.
They were expected to meet this week, and the anticipation was causing her emotions to run riot, making it difficult for her to do any work at the office. She paced restlessly as she waited on his telephone call. She wanted to look into those limpid pools of love that were his brown eyes; to feel his manly embrace, and to bask in his lovemaking, even as she mentally replayed their last meeting, which was loud and angry.
It was after she had told him what she wanted and how she had felt about him that he became livid. It had taken some time for him to regain his composure. As she reasoned with him, he had eventually swept her in his arms, and held her for some time suspended between ecstasy and apprehension there on the stairs.
She did not want him to choose, because she knew she had to be in his world, as she could not bear to live without him in hers. The nights spent with him were dear to her, and reminisces of them kept her alive.
It had been a spontaneous meeting three weeks ago, yet she had gone with him willingly. The romance had been fantastic, the sex terrific. From that first encounter, she knew he belonged to her heart, and that was all that mattered.