Thursday 1 January 2015

The Best Is Yet To Come

Inspired by @cazzwebbo and her New Year Writing Challenge.

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He: Larger than life gentleman GSOH WLTM outgoing and witty lady for visits to country pub. We can go in my Merc.

Oh Dear! What a collection of clichés! Overweight, balding, and laughs at his own jokes! Merc! Probably understaffed in the trouser department! Well so long as he isn’t in leather trousers or a ponytail like the last one, he’s worth a try.

She: Attractive professional lady wishes to meet gentleman for fun, food and fine wines. Loves cinema, country pubs and animals.

Hmm! Between the lines she wants someone solvent. Cinema? Not like the one who took me all the subtitled rubbish. Who wants to read at the flicks? And if it’s all rom coms then she probably lives with her mother and collects cats. Well as long as she isn’t spray tanned orange like the last one, she’s worth a try.

They meet.  

Under the station clock.

Another cliché.

The last one.

A city wine bar, not a country pub. Sauvignon blanc. Chilean. Good choice.

An hour becomes two, then three.

Wine almost untouched.

His humour entrances. Not contrived, not smutty. Natural, in the flow of conversation.

She giggles, laughs, smiles at his innocent charm.

He is deeply sensitive. She can tell in his eyes, in the timbre of his voice. He has been hurt before, he is wary, but he won’t admit it.

She recognises something she hasn’t seen before. He is able to care.

Shall we move on?

No. A little longer is fine.

Her hand brushes his. He doesn’t resist.

He drops his head a little. She lowers her eyes then looks up, through the lashes. Doe eyed.

The moment.

They both realise. Instinctively.

Her heartbeat quickens. She feels the flush in her cheeks.

He keeps the eye contact, lowers his voice, leans in.

‘You’re beautiful!’

She grasps his hand.

‘You are too!’

He reaches with his free hand, strokes her face. Like fine porcelain.

She does the same. The faint beginnings of stubble, soft and textured.

She moves first. Surprises him. He tastes the gentle sweetness of her lips. Two, three seconds. She pulls back. Their eyes lock. They know.

He returns the act. Strong, but gentle. Her lips part slightly. Their eyes close. Oblivious to the rest of the room. Time freezes.

They know when to stop. She still holds his hand.

They know. They just know. The best is yet to come.


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