Waiting/Yearning #writephoto

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Photo by Sue Vincent

I drift from memory to another, yearning for you.  Why did it have to end?  I thought we were so happy.

You said that you loved being with me.  Being in my arms was where you longed to be.  You said it made you feel safe.  My kisses warmed your heart.

My love was like a thick blanket you wrapped yourself in.  I thought we had something really special.  Why did it have to end?

You and me, it was sheer magic.  We were two souls knit together.  I thought we would last forever.  Why did it have to end?

The darkest day of my life was when you told me that it was over.  I felt as if my heart had been ripped out.  There were tears in your eyes as you explained that you wanted to give your marriage another chance.  I watched you walk out of my life.

I hate that you’re back with your husband.  What kind of man is he?  Is he anything like me?  Does he bring you breakfast in bed?  Does he dry your hair after you shower?  Does he cover you with kisses or buy you gifts?  Does he hang upon your every word?  Does he know your dreams, the desires of your heart?  Does he really know you?  Does he even love you?

I think about you everyday, hoping that you would leave him and come back to me.  I’m waiting for you to walk through that door.  I’m a patient man.  I will wait forever if I have to.

 

This was written for two prompts, the first is the #writephoto Prompt – Yearning at Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo.  The second is the Ragtag Daily Prompt for today’s prompt, Drift.  If you’re interested in participating, click HERE for more information.

More Space?

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Here I am on a beautiful tropical island and instead of relaxing in the shade with a good book, going for a walk or a swim, I’m texting him.  What’s the matter with me?  I told him that things were moving too quickly and that I needed some space.  He wasn’t happy about that but he respected my wishes.  I promised him that when I got back from my vacation, I would call him.

So, why am I texting him now?  I guess absence makes the heart grow fonder.  I miss him and wish that he were here.  I keep my message simple.  Am having a great time.  The weather here is lovely.  Hope you’re doing okay.  After I send it, I walk to the water’s edge and wait for his reply.  The water looks really tempting.  Maybe I will go for a swim after I hear from him.

Twenty minutes later, he replies.  While you’re there having a great time, I’m missing you like crazy.  So, I’m not doing okay. 

I immediately texted back, I lied.  I’m miserable here without you.  I don’t need any more space.  I’m going to cut my holiday short and fly home.

No, don’t do that.  I’ll come to you.

When he showed up hours the following day, I was deliriously happy.  We have been inseparable since.

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This was written for the Ragtag Daily Prompt for today’s prompt, Island.  If you’re interested in participating, click HERE for more information.

Invasion of Privacy

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PHOTO PROMPT © Susan Eames

“Whatcha you doin’ up there?” Vonetta asked Carlo, her big brown eyes wide with curiosity as she looked up at him.

“I’m trying to make a phone call,” he answered shortly.  “Now go and play or something.”

“Is the call important?”

Kids!  He sighed.  “Vonetta, I want to be alone.  I don’t want to be disturbed.  You know what privacy is, don’t you?”

“Yeah.  I know what it is but I just don’t understand why you had to climb up dat tree.”

He climbed down the tree.

“Where you goin’?”

“For a swim.”

“What ‘bout your call?”

“It can wait.”

 

100 Words

This was written for the Friday Fictioneers challenge hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields For more details, visit Here.  To read other stories based on this week’s prompt, visit Here.

Our Second Date

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I didn’t feel that spark on our first date but we had such a great time together that I had to ask you out again.  And I’m thrilled that I did.

It turns out that you were the one I was meant to be with.  Fifteen years and three children later, we’re still going strong.  And as for that spark–I felt it on our second date.

This was written for the Ragtag Daily Prompt for today’s prompt, Spark.  If you’re interested in participating, click HERE for more information.

KISSING My Professor

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I don’t know why I came over to your flat.  No, that isn’t true.  I came because I couldn’t wait until Monday to see you.  You’re surprised to see me which is understandable but you’re still polite and pleasant.  You invite me in.  As I follow you through the foyer, my eyes travel over you.  You look very handsome in the black shirt and trousers.  Your hair is slightly damp.  How I long to run my fingers through its thick, silky tresses.

My eyes alight on the table set for dinner.  You’re expecting company.  The two wine glasses tell me that it’s a woman.  My heart sinks.  I scold myself.  What do you expect? I demand.  A man like you wouldn’t be unattached.  There has to be a special woman in your life.

You stop and face me.  You smile at me, making my heart stop.  You’re about to say something, when I mumble, “I’m sorry, Professor Carlyle.  I can see that you’re expecting someone.  I shouldn’t have come.”

“Don’t apologize, Annette,” you reply softly.  “I told you that you could stop by any time.”

My eyes shift to the table and then back to you.  “I should leave before your date arrives.” I turn to leave when you catch me by the shoulders.  I gaze up at you, my heart pounding wildly against my ribs and my breath quickening.  What beautiful eyes you have.

“I don’t have a date,” you tell me.  “The table is set for my sister and her husband.  They needed a quiet place to celebrate their anniversary.  So, while my parents are babysitting the kids, I offered them the use of my flat.  I prepared the meal and set the table for them.  They should be here at any minute.”

I couldn’t hide the relief on my face.  The dinner wasn’t for you and some woman as I feared but for your sister and her husband.  “Your sister is very lucky to have a brother like you,” was all I could think to say.

You smile.  “That’s what brothers are for.  Now, since you’re here, I was wondering if you would like to have dinner with me?”

Stunned, I stare at you for several minutes and then, I manage to say, “I’d like that.”

You are staring straight into my eyes as you inform me, “This is the first time I’ve asked a student to have dinner with me.”

“Could you get into trouble with the university for this?” I ask.

“No one has to know.  It will be our secret.”

“Yes,” I reply breathlessly.  You are still holding my shoulders.  Your fingers feel strong and firm.  Our bodies are inches apart.  I can feel your warm breath on my forehead.  In the background, soft music is playing.  The air is suddenly very charged between us.  I can’t tell if it’s your heavy breathing that I’m hearing or mine.

My eyes drop to your mouth.  I watch enthralled as it parts before it starts to move closer.  My eyes fall shut when it touches mine.  I feel the heat course through my body, making my head spin.  As our lips lock, my hands grip your shirt at the waist.

This feels like a dream.  I can’t really be standing here kissing you.  If it’s a dream, I don’t want to wake up.  Your hands leave my shoulders to cup my face as the kisses become more intense.

The sudden peal of the doorbell jolt us and we reluctantly fall apart.  While you go to answer the door, I try to pull myself together.  When you return with a pretty brunette and a tall, attractive dark haired man are in tow.  You introduce me to them.

“It’s nice to meet you,” your sister says as she shakes my hand.  “Did you help him to put all of this together?” she asks, referring to the dining table.

I shake my head at once.  “No.  He did it all by himself.”

She looks at him.  “I’m impressed,” she admits before hugging you.  “Thank you.”

You smile.  “You’re welcome.  And now, Annette and I will leave you two alone to enjoy your evening together.”

Your brother-in-law claps you on the back.  “Thanks, old Chap.  It was rather sporting of you to do all of this for us.”

“It’s my pleasure.  Besides, it gives me an opportunity to take this beautiful young lady out for dinner.”

I smile shyly up at you, thrilled that you think I’m beautiful.

“Well, have fun you two,” your sister says.

“You’re welcome to stay here for as long as you want,” you tell her.  “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.  It was nice meeting you, Annette.”

“It was nice meeting you too.  Goodnight.”

You take my hand and precede me to the front door.  We enjoy our own sumptuous dinner at a lovely restaurant overlooking the Thames.   It’s the first of many dinners and dates.   

This was written for the Ragtag Daily Prompt for today’s prompt, Sumptuous.  If you’re interested in participating, click HERE for more information.

Two Ships

Herieth-Paul2Ife saw him waiting for the elevator.  She tried not to make it obvious that she was watching him as she pushed the cart down the hallway.  She knew he was in no. 406, the Royal suite.  He was very handsome and a sharp dresser.  He must be rich, she thought.  This was a 5-star hotel he was staying in.

He was looking straight ahead and appeared to be in deep thought.  He didn’t notice her and when the elevator doors opened, he went inside.  After they closed behind him, she continued down the hallway to the different suites she still had to clean.  When she got to his, she looked around.  It was in impeccable order.  The bed looked like it hadn’t been slept in.  Out of all the suites on this floor, his was the one she didn’t mind cleaning.

As she got to work, she wondered how long he was staying in Kampala this time.  The last time it was for two weeks and the time before that, three.  He wasn’t the first Japanese businessman she had seen in the hotel or in Kampala.  More and more Japanese were flocking to the city to live, holiday or set up businesses.  Was he planning to live here or to set up a business?  What about his family?  Did he have a wife and children?  He looked young–in his mid to late thirties.

Well, it was none of her business.  A man like him would not be interested in her–a single mother working as a maid in a fancy hotel and living in a run-down neighborhood.  And they were from different cultures.  No, she would be better off finding and marrying a decent Ugandan man who wouldn’t mind being a step-father to her daughter.

Toshiro leaned against the tree, looking up at the hotel.  She was probably in his suite 62_ac32e335-d1d8-4e7c-bffa-e98b58858fd7now.  He knew that she was watching him as he waited for the elevator.  He could feel her eyes on him.  He appeared not to have noticed or acknowledged her but he had.   The temptation to look at her was very strong but he resisted.  She could be married for all he knew and he was in a relationship.

To be honest, he was staying at this hotel because of her.  The first time he saw her was last year when they passed each other in the hallway.   Their eyes met and held for a long time before she lowered hers.   Since then, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her or wanting to see her again.  Perhaps, one of these days, he would say hello to her.  There was no harm in that, was there?

Just then a taxi pulled up in front of the hotel’s entrance.  He glanced at his watch.  It was time to go to the meeting.  Moving away from the tree, he hurried over to the taxi and climbed.   As it drove off, he glanced up at the fourth floor.  Hopefully, he would see her again tomorrow.

This is a prequel to Ife’s Toilet Crisis.

The Flower Bed

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I had the dream again last night.  I was lying on a bed of pink roses and other flowers, my eyes were closed as I inhaled their sweet fragrance.  I was wearing a pink tee shirt.  It actually looked good on me although pink isn’t my color. In fact, I don’t own anything pink.  I think the tee shirt blended in very nicely with the bed of flowers, though.

As I lay there, not thinking about anything in particular,  I feel your hand touch my face ever so gently.  I don’t open my eyes.  I just want enjoy the feel of your soft fingers against my skin.  They awaken feelings in me that flow from my neck down all the way to my toes.  As you caress my face, you recite a poem.  I smile when I recognize that it is one of mine.   The words flow over me like a gentle river, submerging me in its prose and imagery.

When you’re finished,  I lay there, eyes still closed, waiting to hear your lovely, melodious voice again but my eager ears are met with silence.  My face suddenly feels cold because the warmth of your hand is no longer there.  Reluctantly, I open my eyes but all I see is the ceiling of my bedroom.  And I’m lying on my bed.  And you.  You’re not there.  You exist only in my dreams and imagination.

Suddenly, I feel cold and empty.  I pulled the cover up to my chin and try to go back to sleep but it eludes me.  I throw the cover and climb out of the bed.  Moonlight streams into the room, giving it a ghostly ambience.  I go over to the desk and turn on the lamp.  I grab a sheet of paper and a pen.  The words fill the page and when I’m finished I switch off the lamp and return to bed.  As soon as my head hits the pillow I’m out like a light.  On the desk, basking in the moonlight, sits my new poem, The Flower Bed.  And it’s dedicated to you, the girl of my dreams and imagination.

This was written for the Ragtag Daily Prompt for today’s prompt, Pink.  If you’re interested in participating, click HERE for more information.

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