It’s Time

You said it wasn’t your intent to hurt me but you did.

You said it wouldn’t happen again.  But it did.

You promised that things would get better but they haven’t.

You swore you would change but you haven’t.

I love you but there’s a limit to what I can take.

I said that I would never leave you but it’s time I did.

By the time you come home, I will be gone.

Please don’t try to find me.  It’s really over this time.

 

This was written for the Ragtag Daily Prompts for today’s word, Intent.  If you’re interested in participating, click HERE for more information.

Back Together

“Good heavens, Atticus, do you want us to freeze to death?” Mrs. Sutcliffe exclaimed as she shot her son a reproving look.  “Kindly close that window.”

He turned to face her.  “It’s a bit fusty in here, Mother.”

“It is not!” she retorted indignantly.  “These rooms are aired out every day.  Now kindly close it before we all catch colds.”

Muttering under his breath, he shut the windows.  He remained standing there, his back to them, clenched hands buried in his pockets, looking out.

“It is a bit stuffy in here,” his sister, Birgit said.  “However, it has nothing to do with the air.”  She gave him a pointed look.

His lips compressed.  She was his sister but he couldn’t stand her.  She was always so smug and condescending.  “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve been in a foul mood since you broke up with that African woman.”

“That African woman.  You can’t even address her properly by her name.”

“Why should I?  She’s nothing to me.  I can’t say the same for you, though.  You’re still pining for her even though you know she’s no good for you.”

“Who are you to determine whether she’s good for me or not?”

“I’m your older and wiser sister.  Evidently, you agreed with my assessment because you broke up with her.”

“I thought we had put the dreadful business with that charwoman behind us,” Mrs. Sutcliffe interjected, agitated.

“So, did I,” Birgit said, getting up from the sofa and walking over to the fireplace.  “I thought my dear brother had the good sense to move on with his pathetic life but clearly I was wrong.  Here he is pining away for a charwoman when he could be out there meeting reputable women.”  She shook her head in disgust.

Addicus swung around and glared at her.  “For your information, Diarra isn’t a charwoman any more.  She got a job at one of the offices where she cleaned.  And even if she were still a charwoman, it isn’t anything to be ashamed about.  She’s making an honest living.   And how dare you make her out to be less reputable because she’s African and used to be clean offices for a living?  She’s worth far more than your stupid, snooty friends.”

Birgit glowered at him.  “Don’t you dare insult my friends.  And as far as you and that charwoman of yours, you can both go to hell.”

“Children, please,”  Mrs. Sutcliffe wailed.  “Let us stop this bickering.  Atticus, I don’t want to hear anymore about that woman.”

“I wasn’t the one who brought her up,” he was quick to remind her.  “Birgit did.”

“I only brought her up because I could see that you were pining for her.  She really got her hooks in you.  You poor lovesick fool.  While you’re here longing for her, she’s dating another man.”

In a matter of seconds, he was standing beside her, his expression tense as he demanded, “What are you talking about?”

She shrugged.  “I was coming out of the hair salon when I saw her with a tall African man.  She had her arm through his.  She didn’t see me.”

He grabbed her by the shoulders.  “Are you sure it was her?  Birgit, if you’re making this up to hurt me, so help me…”

Her eyes flashed at him.  “Yes, I’m sure it was her and I’m not making this up just to hurt you.  Now, let go of me.”

The color drained from Atticus’s face.  Jealousy clawed at his insides.  “I have to go,” he muttered more to himself than to them.  He released Birgit and turned away.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to see her,” Birgit said.

Mrs. Sutcliffe was alarmed.  “Atticus, can’t you see that’s it’s really over between you?  She has moved on with her life.  Why can’t you do the same?”

“Because I love her,” he muttered tightly before he strode out of the room.

*****************************************************************

Diarra had just finished making dinner when the doorbell rang.  After wiping her hands in the towel hanging on the wall beside the sink, she hurried into the foyer, wondering who it was.  When she peered through the keyhole and saw Atticus standing there, her heart leapt in her chest.  She pulled back the latch and opened the door, her eyes slipping over his tall frame.  It had been months since the break up.  The pain was still there.  “Hello,” she said.  “I never thought I would see you again.”

“I know.  May I come in?”

“Sure.”  She stepped aside for him to enter and then closed the door.  She turned to face him.  “Let’s go into the living-room.”

After he removed his shoes, he followed her into the living-room.  He remained standing with his hands in his pockets.  His expression was tense as he watched her.  “I know I have no right to be here or to ask you any questions but there’s one I really need to ask you.”

“What is it?” she asked.  How she longed to reach up and touch his face.

“Are you dating someone else?”

She shook her head at once.  “No, I’m not dating anyone.”

“My sister, Birgit said she saw you with a man.”  He told her where.

“That’s my brother, Khaan.  He had taken me for lunch to celebrate his promotion.”

Relief washed over him and he sank down onto the sofa.  “I’m sorry.  When Birgit told me that she saw the two of you together, I was out of my mind with jealousy although I had no right to be.  I lost that right when I broke up with you.  Oh, Diarra.  What a bloody fool I’ve been.  I allowed my family to come between us.  I shouldn’t be here. I should leave.”

“Have you eaten?” she asked.

He stared at her blankly.  “Eaten?” he repeated and then, shaking his head, he added, “No, I haven’t eaten.”

“I just finished making dinner.  Why don’t you stay and have some?  There’s more than enough for two.”

“All right.  Thank you.”

“I’ll go and share it out.”  She was about to walk away when he caught her arm.  Her eyes were wide as they met his.

“I’m not dating anyone.  Diarra, is there still a chance…?”

“Let’s talk about it after dinner.”

He released her arm and sank heavily down onto the sofa.

After dinner, he was standing at the window, watching the flickering lights when she joined him.  “Promise me that you will never let your family come between us again,” she said.

He turned to face her.  “I promise.”

She took his hand.  “Good.  Do you want dessert?”

His eyes darkened.  “All I want right now, is you.” Reaching out, he unwrapped the scarf from her head.  After it fell to the floor beside her feet, he buried his fingers in her hair as he lowered his head and kissed her.  His mouth moved passionately on hers as his love and desire for her raged inside him.  She put her arms around his waist and kissed him back as her need for him consumed her.

After a while he broke off the kiss to mutter, “I don’t deserve you.”

“We’ll talk about that afterwards,” she gasped.  And grabbing his hand, she pulled him towards her room.

It took a while for things to return to the way they were before the break-up but time, effort and patience kept them on track.  And at the end of the following year, against his family’s impassioned objections, he married Diarra.

You are my other half. And when you left, a great part of me was missing. And now that you’re back, we are one and I am whole again – Love Quote Messages

This was written for the Ragtag Daily Prompts for today’s word, Fusty.  If you’re interested in participating, click HERE for more information.

For Better or For Worse

“How long are you going to continue looking out that window?  She’s not coming back.  Sooner or later you must accept that.”

He didn’t answer.  Her words cut to the core but he refused to believe that Brittany was gone forever.

“She got tired of waiting and decided that it’s time to move on.  Can’t say that I blame her.  I too would get tired of waiting for a man to make up his mind.”

“Marriage isn’t something you take lightly or rush into,” he replied, sounding a tad defensive and resentful.  “I wanted to be sure before I took that step.”

“And are you sure now?”

“Yes!  I’m ready to take that step with Brittany.”

“Well, as they say, too late, too late shall be the cry.”

His mouth tightened in annoyance.  If she had nothing good or helpful to say, he wish she would keep silent.  “Are you going to be much longer?” he asked.  He wanted to be alone to wallow in his pain and misery.

She looked at him.  “Trying to get rid of me, are you?  Well, I’ll be gone in ten minutes.”

Good.  He turned away to look out of the window again.  Any minute, he hoped to see her walking up the street and hear the key turn in the lock.  He had imagined and dreamed of it so many times.  She had to come back.  The night she walked out of the flat and out of his life was still raw and fresh in his mind.  The place felt empty, lonely and dark without her.  He missed her lying in the bed next to him and always fell asleep hugging her pillow.

They had been together for five years and they had been happy years until the subject of marriage came up.  She wanted to get married but he wasn’t ready.  He had seen too many marriages fall apart.  Love wasn’t a guarantee for a lasting marriage.  He had seen couples who loved each other split up.  Was it unreasonable for him to be cautious?  Was it foolish of him to want to wait until he was ready and willing to make that final commitment?

As much as he was in love with Brittany, he was going to let her pressure him into getting married before he was good and ready.  He didn’t regret that decision but he missed her so much that it hurt.  It had been weeks since she walked out but it felt like years.  Yet, hope continued to burn in his heart.  One of these days, she would return and he would be there, waiting for her.

“Well, I’m off now.  Your supper is in the oven, nice and hot.  Your laundry’s done.  I’ll see you in two weeks.  I’m going to visit my daughter in Manchester.”

“Have a safe trip, Hannah.”

“Thank you.  You take care of yourself.  And stop moping about the place.  There are plenty of women out there.”

“I know but there’s only one woman for me.”

“Aye.  Well, I hope for your sake that she’s worth the trouble.  Good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon.”  He got up and saw her to the door.  He reached over and kissed her on the cheek, smiling as she got red in the face.  He watched her walk down the hallway and turn the corner before he closed the door.  He returned to the window.

It was around half-past seven when he decided to get up and have his supper while it was still warm.  As he headed toward the kitchen, he heard the key turn in the lock.  He froze, his heart pounding.  He stood there and watched as the door slowly opened and Brittany step into the foyer.  She closed the door and locked it before turning to face him.  She stood there, watching him.  Beside her were two pieces of luggage.

For several minutes they just stared at each other.  The only sound was the ticking of the clock on the wall.  Then, he was standing in front of her, his eyes restless on her upturned face.  “You came back,” he muttered. 

“Yes.  It was a mistake for me to leave.  I’m sorry.”

“It hurt when you walked out on me.”

“I’m sorry…”

“I was hoping that you would come back.  I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you too.  That’s why I came back.”

He moved closer.  “It’s-it’s good to have you back, Brittany.  My life and this place are so empty and miserable without you.  Please promise me that you won’t leave me again.”

“I promise.  And I’m willing to leave our relationship as it is.  If you don’t want to get married, that’s all right with me.”

He pulled her into his arms and hugged her tightly.  “Oh, Brittany…”

She put her arms around his waist.  “I love you, Cedric.”

“And I love you, Brittany.”  He lowered his head and kissed her with passion and longing.  It had been so long since he had held her in his arms or told her that he loved her.  It was like the bright sunshine after a storm.

Several minutes later, he took her hand and led her to their bedroom where they made up for lost time.  Afterwards, they shared the supper Hannah had left for him and it was while they were relaxing on the sofa watching a movie, that he told her that he was ready for marriage.  “I meant it when I said that I was fine with our relationship the way it is.”

“I know you did and I love you for it but I’m ready to take the plunge with you.”

“For better or for worse.”

“Yes.  We’ve been through the worse.  It can only get better from here on.”

She smiled and gently squeezed his hand.  “I believe so too.”

Marriage does not guarantee you will be together forever, it’s only paper. It takes love, respect, trust, understanding, friendship and faith in your relationship to make it last – Marriage.com

This was written for the Ragtag Daily Prompts for today’s word, Continue.  If you’re interested in participating, click HERE for more information.

The Lapel

“The interview will commence in ten minutes so you need to go over there and fix his lapel.” 

Rhea was mortified.  “I can’t,” she protested.

“Don’t be silly,” Angela snapped.  “You’re responsible for making sure that the guests look good in front of the camera.  Now get over and fix the lapel or you can kiss your job goodbye.”

“All right,” Rhea muttered under her breath.  “There’s no need to threaten me.”

“I’m not threatening you.  I’m not the one who will fire you if you don’t do your job.”

Rhea took a deep breath and smiling apologetically, she approached Ciaran Dankworth, the popular British television actor.  “Mr. Dankworth, I’m sorry but, I need to adjust your lapel.  May I?”

He smiled and nodded.  “By all means.”

She leaned over and fixed it, catching a whiff of his cologne.  It was unnerving and thrilling at the same time being that close to him.  She was a big fan of his.  She followed him on Facebook, read and watch all of his interviews.  When she learned that he was going to be here today, she was beside herself with excitement.  She wished she could ask him for his autograph or have a photo taken with him but she didn’t want to be a nuisance and her boss, Beth would come down hard on her like a ton of bricks.  Beth always reminded her that she had to be professional at all times and never bother any of their guests with requests for autographs or photos.

She straightened away from him, her heart thudding.  “It’s all fixed now,” she said.

His eyes met hers in a direct gaze.  “Thank you,” he said in that amazing voice of his with the posh British accent, most commonly known as the Queen’s English.

“You’re welcome.”

“What is your name?”

“Rhea.”

“Well, Rhea.  I would like to properly thank you for getting me all fixed up for the camera.  Would you object to having dinner with me?”

She gaped at him.  “Dinner? With you?”

“Yes.  After the interview.  I will have my driver take us to The Ivy.  That is if you don’t already have plans.”

“No, no.  I don’t have any plans at all.”

“So, we’re set for dinner at The Ivy?”

“Yes, yes.”  She heard Beth’s voice and quickly left the stage.  It was all a haze.  She couldn’t believe it.  She was going to have dinner at The Ivy with Ciaran Dankworth.  She was so tempted to tell Angela and Beth just to see the expressions on their faces but she held her tongue.  She stood in the wings, waiting for the interview to commence.

It turned out to be the best one she had seen so far.  Beth was beaming and when the cameras were shut off, she shook his hand again very enthusiastically.  “That was a smashing interview,” she gushed.  “I can see the ratings going through the roof.  Thank you so much, Mr. Dankworth for taking the time out of your very busy schedule to do this.  We are very appreciative.”

“It was my pleasure,” he replied.  “I wouldn’t have gotten to meet you, lovely ladies,” he said looking at her and Angela.  “Or your assistant, Rhea who has agreed to have dinner with me.  I hope you don’t mind me whisking her away,” he added when he saw the expressions on their faces.

Beth shook her head.  “No.  I shan’t be needing her any more for the evening.”

“Wonderful.”  He turned to Rhea who had the satisfaction of seeing the red faces of her boss and Angela.  “Shall we go?”

“Yes.  Good night,” she said to Beth and Angela.  “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Have good evening, Ladies and thank you again.”

They walked away and into the mild evening.  A stretch limo was waiting for them.  The driver opened the door and she got in first and then he.  As the car pulled away from the curb, he turned to her.  “You know, even if someone else had fixed my lapel, I still would have asked you out for dinner.”

She smiled.  “I’m very pleased to hear that.”

He smiled in return.

Dinner turned out to be lots of fun, despite the attention they got.  When he took her home, he asked her on a second date which she happily accepted.  And they have been dating since.

This was written for the Ragtag Daily Prompts for today’s word, Commence.  If you’re interested in participating, click HERE for more information.

Source:  The Evening Standard; B2

My Father

Ever since I was a child, I used to gaze at my reflection in the pond or in the looking glass and wonder what was wrong with me–why my father didn’t love me.  He has never shown me any affection.  How I longed for a kind word, a tenderness in his manner toward me but none was forthcoming.  There were times when I feared that he hated me and I could not comprehend why.

After my mother died I thought that things would improve between us but unfortunately they did not.  I hardly saw him.  When he wasn’t at the office, he was locked away in his study, permitting no one to enter unless summoned.  He never summoned me.

We had our meals separately.  And when he roused himself from his solitude to go on a trip, he never asked me to accompany him.  He would be gone for days or weeks and never wrote nor inquired after me.  And upon his return, he never sought me out and I was afraid to seek him out for fear of his temper.

The affection I failed to receive from my father, I secured from Susan, my personal maid, Mrs. Lewis, the housekeeper and my half-brother, Robert.  Perhaps, Robert’s affection for me was on account that Father no longer looked upon him with favor.  It had to do with Robert’s choice of profession.  Instead of taking over the family business as Father expected, my brother wanted to be a solicitor.  Enraged, Father threw him out of the house.  Robert found lodgings near to the law office where the kind Mr. Watson employed him.

I have visited my brother at his lodgings frequently.  The room is quite small and the street which it overlooks is rather noisy but he seems to be managing well.  I hold my peace regarding how things are between Father and me but Robert could see from my countenance that all is not well.  On more than one occasion he offered to appeal to Father on my behalf but, mortified, I beg him not to.  It will only made matters worse, I tell him and reluctantly, he would respect my wishes.  And we would talk no more about the matter.

Things between Father and me have gotten worse and they came to a head when one afternoon, upon my return from a walk in the park, Robert came striding out of the study, his expression thunderous.  I inquired as to the cause of his fury, but he brushed past me and out of the house.  Without thinking, I rushed into the study where Father was pacing, his face red with anger.  He fixed upon me a gaze that should have warned me not to interfere but I dared to venture further into the room, my expression earnest.  “Father, what ever the matter is, please do not let it vex you so.  Why don’t you have a seat while I ring for Nellie to bring you some tea.”

He brushed my suggestion aside.  “Don’t be foolish, Girl. What good would tea do me?”

“I’m sorry, Father.”

He ignored my apology.  “What a bloody fool your brother is.  He came here expecting me to give him his inheritance so that he could marry Miss Price–Miss Price, a banker’s daughter.  Well, I informed him that if he persists in this unsuitable match, he will have no inheritance.”

“Oh, Father.  I’ve met Miss Price and her father.  They are good people–”

“Their goodness doesn’t make her a suitable match for your brother.”

“Father, please don’t disinherit Robert.”

“This is the second time he has thwarted my plans.  First he has turned his back on the family business and now he’s marrying the penniless daughter of a bankrupt father instead of Miss Wright who is a lady of good breeding, constitution and means.  Whatever happens to your brother is of his own doing.”

Overcome with deep concern for my brother’s situation, I took hold of the sleeve of my father’s coat, my eyes beseeching him.  “Father, please, have pity on Robert–”

He shoved me roughly aside and I fell onto the floor, hurting my hand as I tried to break the fall.  “If you’re so concerned about your foolish brother, why don’t you go to him and leave me alone?”  With that, he turned on his heel and quitted the room.

For several minutes, I sat there, dazed, my wrist throbbing.  Tears sprang to my eyes.  I shuddered when I recalled the fury in his eyes as he looked at me.  Why did he hate me so?  What had I done to arouse such malignant feelings in my own father?  Brushing the tears from my pale cheeks, I slowly rose to my knees and then with the aid of a close by chair, I stood.

I quickly left the room and the house.  I ran all the way to Mrs. Turner, my mother’s former lady’s maid who had been like a mother to me.  As soon as she opened the door, I dissolved into tears.  She took me in her arms and exclaimed, “Oh, Dear Child, whatever is the matter?”  She drew me inside the warm, welcoming home she once shared with her daughters and son.

Over hot tea and scones, I explained what had happened and she shook her head.  “I never understood why your father treated you the way he did.  It grieved your mother.  God rest her soul.  Well, you’re welcome to stay here for as long as you like but we should let someone at the house know that you are safe and sound.  I will send one of my neighbors’ son with a note.”

“I don’t think that Father would care.”

“All the same, it would be best for him to know where you have run off to.”

“I suppose you are right, Mrs. Turner.”

I ended up spending a fortnight with Mrs. Turner and then was summoned home.  Upon my arrival, I learned that Father was gravely ill and was not expected to last the week.  Horrified, I rushed to his room.  I froze in the doorway.  I yearned to go to his side but was afraid of distressing him.  Doctor King beckoned to me.  “Come, Miss Adelia.  He has been asking for you.”

Heart pounding, tears running down my cheeks, I hastened to his bedside.  Horror and shock gripped my heart when I saw how ghastly my strong, proud father looked.  His eyes shifted to me as I stood there gazing down at him.  He mumbled something and stretched out his hand.  I took the thin, bony fingers and knelt beside him.  I leaned over so that I could hear what he was trying to impart to me.  I barely made out the words, “Forgive me…”

“Oh, Father, all is forgotten.”

“My Dear, dear Girl…”

Unable to speak for the lump in my throat, I rested my wet cheek on our entwined hands.  At last, my father had shown me some affection.

The doctor was right.  My father didn’t last the week.  It was a cold, grey morning on which he was laid to rest.  Many people came to pay their respects.  Robert was there with Miss Price and so was Mrs. Turner.  I suspect that they were there for my sake.  Upon the reading of the will, I was shocked to learn that my father had left the house to me.  He had turned the business over to his trusted assistant, Mr. Shaw.  And he had left Robert’s inheritance intact.  Robert was free to use the money as he saw fit.

My father left a letter for me in which he explained why he was so unkind to me.  For years he had believed that I wasn’t his daughter because just before I was born, my mother had been having an affair with an acquaintance of Father’s.  Father found out about the affair and threatened to turn Mother out.  She begged him not to because she was in a family way.  My father relented and allowed her to stay but he never had conjugal relations with her again.

It wasn’t until recently that he discovered that the gentleman whom he believed was my father was unable to have any.  That was when he realized that I was his.  The shock is what had brought on the illness.  I felt no bitterness toward my mother.  She had made a terrible mistake and paid for it for the rest of her life when she witnessed my father’s disdain and treatment of me.  She died an unhappy woman who had married a man twenty years her senior.  And I pitied my father because he had raised a child whom he believed was another man’s despite her mother’s protestations that such a belief was contrary to fact.

As I walk on the grounds of the estate which now belongs to me, I am thankful that the truth of my parentage was made known to my father and we enjoyed a renewed, albeit brief relationship before he passed away.  Every week I visit his grave and spend hours, sitting there and although, I know that he cannot hear me, I talk to him as I used to long to when he was alive.

For as long as I live, I shall never forget when my father called me, “My Dear, dear Girl…”

This was written for the Ragtag Daily Prompts for today’s word, Reflection.  If you’re interested in participating, click HERE for more information.

Source:  Modern Monastery

His Type

It was an elaborate dinner for just the two of us, something I hadn’t expected at all.  When I showed up at the mansion, I expected to find other guests but I was the only one.  I was escorted by a butler who walked with his back straight as a rod to the dining-room.

She was sitting at the head of the table but rose gracefully when I entered.  The red shimmering dress with the V-neck flattered her figure and the high slit at the side revealed a pale, shapely thigh.  Her auburn hair tumbled about her shoulders.  Her red lips parted to reveal even white teeth as she reached up and kissed me on the corner of my mouth.

“Her gaze traveled slowly over me.  “You look amazing in that tux,” she remarked, admiration flickering in her eyes.

“Thank you.  And you look ravishing.”

Color suffused her cheeks.  “Thank you.  I hope you don’t mind that it’s just the two of us,” she said when she drew back to look up at me.

“Weren’t the others able to come?”

She studied me for a moment, her green eyes twinkling before she sashayed back over to her seat.  “They were never invited.”

My eyebrows arched.  Amused, I waited until she sat down before I did in the chair on her left.  “I’m flattered,” I said.  “If you wanted to have dinner with me, all you had to do was ask.”

“Would you have accepted if I had?”

“I might have.”

“You don’t sound sure.  Am I not your type?”

*************************************************************

“Well, is she your type?” Jayla interrupted.

He shook his head.  “No.”

“Did you stay and have dinner with her?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Why?”

“She went to all of that trouble.  I couldn’t just leave.”

“She got you over there on false pretenses.  You weren’t obligated to stay.  Once you realized that she had tricked you, you should have left.”

“She didn’t trick me.”

“Well, she deceived you, then.  You should have left.”

“Maybe I should have.”

“If she had asked you to have dinner with her, would you have accepted?”

“Maybe.  I don’t know.”

“And did you answer her question?”

“Which one?”

“The one about her not being your type.”

“No, I changed the subject.  I told her that I was working on a new novel.  She asked me all sorts of questions about it.”

“And what happened after you finished having dinner?”

“We went into the drawing-room where we listened to music while having after dinner drinks.”

“And is that all you did–have drinks and listen to music?”

His lips twitched and he said, “You know from this angle that picture looks a bit crooked.”  Putting his glasses down on the counter, he got up and went over to adjust the frame.  When he turned to face her, she was glaring at him.  “Jayla, nothing happened between Vanessa and me.  After the drink, I thanked her for a lovely evening and then left.”  He returned to the stool and sat down.

“You said she looked ravishing.”

“She did.”

“Are you going to see her again?”

He shook his head.  “No.  Before we parted company, I made it very clear, in a tactful way, of course, that I wasn’t romantically interested in her.”

“And how did she react?”

“She was disappointed but there were no hard feelings.  We parted on good terms.”

Jayla got up from the sofa and walked slowly over to him.  “You said she kissed you.”

“Yes, she did.  Right here.”  He pointed to the right corner of his mouth.

“Did-did you feel anything?”

“No.”

She hesitated for a moment and then, leaning over, she kissed him at the corner of his mouth.  When she drew back, their eyes met.  “What about now?” she asked, breathlessly.  “Did you feel anything?”

His eyes were smoldering.  “Yes,” he muttered.  “I felt something.”  And then she was on his lap and he was kissing her.

Jayla wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back, her head spinning as all sorts of sensations swept through her body.  She had always fantasized about kissing him but this was beyond her wildest imagination.

Several minutes later, he drew back to gaze at her, his breathing labored and his face flushed.  “I’ve wanted to do that for a long, long time,” he panted.

She smiled.  “Why didn’t you?” she managed to say in between breaths.  Her chest was heaving and her heart was beating so fast.

“I wasn’t sure how you felt about until today when I saw that you were jealous of Vanessa.”

“You’re right I was very jealous.  I thought you were attracted to her because of the way you described her.”

“She is a very beautiful woman but I don’t want her.  I want you.  I have always wanted you.  I think it’s time I showed you just how much.”

She slid off his lap and swallowed hard when she saw the expression on his face before he picked her up and took her to his room.

“You’re my type,” he said hours later when they were having dinner.

She smiled.  “And you’re mine.”

This was written for the Ragtag Daily Prompts for Thursday’s word, Elaborate and today’s word, Angle.  If you’re interested in participating, click HERE for more information.

All of Me

He had set the lofty goal of becoming one of the top five wealthiest men in the world and reached it at the age of thirty-five.  He bought a castle that once belonged to a Lord.  He had a large staff which took care of everything.  He had his privacy.  He had his own beach and could take long walks along its shore anytime.  The only thing missing was someone to share his life with.

He was tired of going on dates with women he had no interest in.  Most of them were only interested in his wealth.  He was lonely and longed for companionship.  Then, he had the idea of hiring a companion.  He was willing to pay for them.  He preferred that the woman be between the age of thirty and fifty.  She had to be attractive, well read and employed.  He had his secretary place the ad in the local newspaper and screen the calls and do the interviews.  Out of hundreds of applicants, only a handful were chosen for him to interview himself.

The woman he chose was a French university Art professor who moved to Brussels five years ago.  She was very attractive, engaging, shared the same interest in books and a love for the Arts.  She was forty but looked younger.  They got along very well.  She had made it very clear that she wasn’t doing this for money.  Most of her friends were married and her family was in France and like him, she yearned for companionship.  She told him that when she saw the ad, at first she was hesitant to apply but after thinking about it, she decided to do it and was happy she did.

They spent every waking moment together, learning about each other and sharing parts of themselves they had never shared with another living soul.  They swam in the ocean, went for walks, drives, went to the opera, enjoyed classical musics in his private movie theatre and enjoyed intimate dinners in the large dining-room or on the terrace facing the sea.

Then one terrible day, he got a call from her.  She sounded upset.  She informed him that she couldn’t continue seeing him.  Alarmed, he asked her why.  After being evasive, she finally informed that she had been diagnosed with chronic kidney disease.  She didn’t want to burden him with her illness.  “It wouldn’t be fair to you,” she said.  “I’ll be in and out of hospital.” However, he insisted that he wanted to be there for her and after they ended the call, he went over to her place.

He was there for her during the daily dialysis and several hospital stays.  He took her food and helped her to get dressed.  He spoke to the doctors, anxious to find out everything he could.

When he found out that she needed a transplant and after learning that her relatives couldn’t be donors, he asked to be tested.  Despite her protests, he was tested and it turned out that he was a match.  Both of them were tearful when they got the news.  They underwent the kidney transplant and on her forty-first birthday which was a couple of weeks later, he proposed to her.  She happily accepted, knowing in her heart that not only had she met the man who selflessly gave his kidney so that he could save her life but she had met the man of her dreams.  As they sat on the terrace gazing out at the sea one afternoon, she said to him, “I have your kidney and you have my heart.”

He smiled and reached for her hand.  “You have all of me.”

This story was inspired by one I read today of a man who donated his kidney to save his girlfriend’s life.  If you would like to read their story, click Here.

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

Source:  Leicestershire Live