He was hot, passionate,
full of promise. It was one of those affairs that burn with white-flame
intensity. Ignoring the instinctive warning that hit my stomach at first touch,
I smiled coquettishly.
Waves
of electricity shook my body with his responding grin of anticipation. Yes! As
a 39er (many times over) I wasn’t dead yet!
We
began like many other couples; a chance encounter through friends formed an
instant, tenuous bond. At first hesitant, we fumbled for words. He held my hand
just a bit too long on first touch. A red flag tried to rise, but I shoved it
back down.
One
brief moment led to more; sometimes with friends, but more frequently, we
escaped on leisurely walks down darkened roads. Soon we chatted with the likes
of old chums. Morning coffee links lead to early evening happy hours. Eventually,
we turned to late night smooches with our favorite libation.
It didn’t take long. In mere weeks, I
couldn’t deny it … to like him was no longer enough.
