This one is interesting. This story is actually no longer mine, but the new owner has graciously allowed me to publish it here. Below is the text of the note she wrote me in response to my request for an arbitrary, unromantic scene:

"She's walking along the beach alone during a sunset one late afternoon with so many thoughts going through her head. It's very peaceful and a very calm feeling runs through her..........."

"Think you can do anything with that? Don't necessarily word it exactly like that but similar if you don't like it. Do ya think I should change that? It's just that it's something I LOVE to do when I just want to be alone and think. The beach is the perfect place for that. Or should I go with hypothetically speaking."

The Final caveat was that I needed to end the story in a romantic, if not erotic, manner. Unfortunately for her she agreed that this product met the basic requirements before I took it as far as she wanted it to go...

...yeah, I know, but that little irony spawned a whole 'nuther short story that I can't even publish here!

Here is "Damn" as it was the moment I gave it to her.

"Damn," she thought. "Damn! Just once I'd like to see one of these things work out."

It had been a really long day punctuated by an even longer evening. "At least I didn't blow an entire Saturday evening this time." Sharon's fifth blind date in as many weeks had gone more poorly than the last, if that could even be possible.

"Either I have got to stop trying so hard or I have got to find friends with better taste in men."

Without even knowing how she had gotten here Sharon found herself on the beach a little south of the pier. Somehow she always ended up here whenever life got to be a little too much to bear. From her earliest memories as a little girl with her father the beach had always been a sanctuary. The sand between her toes on a bright summer day, hot, but bearable if you dug your feet in below the searing surface. The waves reaching out to her, gently nuzzling the coastline as they walked together in silence on those long dark evenings after the countless bitter fights with her mother. The moonlight bobbing, smiling brightly back from the surface of the water, quietly reassuring her that life continued ever onward after his funeral, almost ten years ago now. Yes, her soul floated out there on the surface of the water as surely as the small shorebirds.

So lost was she in her thoughts that she didn't notice the dark form lying still on the sand before her until she had nearly stepped on him.

"Ahem," he cleared his throat so that she wouldn’t embarrass herself by tumbling headlong over his legs outstretched in the sand.

She pulled up short when she saw him. Normally she would have merely sidestepped him by a safe margin, muttered a terse "Excuse me," and gone on her way, but those eyes. She was lost the moment she saw them. Falling straight into the depths of those dark swirling pools she could immerse herself forever and never break the surface for air.

"You okay?" He regarded her carefully and went on "You look like you're somewhere else and your body just got up and went for a walk without you."

A wan smile crossed he face. "Yeah," she replied "I'm fine. It's been a really long day and I just needed to get out and clear my head."

"Looks like it worked." He chuckled. "I've not seen as good an example of clear head and vacant eyes in a very long time. I'm Jim."

"Sharon," she responded without thinking.

"Come here often?"

She laughed in spite of herself.

"I know, I know. Original, huh?"

"Yeah, well I've heard better" she jabbed.

"I've used better, but then again they're all just words, aren't they? I was thinking 'bout dragging my lazy butt up out of this immensely comfortable hole that it's dug for itself in the sand and finding my way to the biggest, coldest margarita I can find. Care to join me in my quest?"

"What the hell, it couldn't be any worse than my last few dates," she said to herself as she bit thoughtfully on her lower lip.

"Well?"

"Um, sure, I guess."

"Good," he replied, "there for a second I thought that you might turn and run screaming. You really must have had a hard day." He held out his hand and she helped him stand. He stared at her for a long moment and she dropped his hand self-consciously.

"This way," he blurted trying, unsuccessfully, to cover the awkwardness of the moment. "I am sure that I saw a little Mexican style cantina just up the strand from here."

"Casa del Sol."

"Excuse me?"

"Um, you're talking about Casa del Sol. I've lived here forever, sorry. Margaritas are excellent. Good choice."

"Oh," was all he could manage.

"Damn," she thought to herself, "I have got to stop doing that!" Men always seemed intimidated enough by her tawny good looks and nearly six foot frame without pushing it even further by correcting every minor error. Well, not really correct so much as 'nudge…'

"Good," he continued blithely, "I was afraid that we might have to hit half a dozen or more places before we found a decent one. Then again, that could be fun too." He looked up the strand wistfully and sighed under his breath. Maybe the day wouldn't be a total loss after all.

* * *

The lime green concoction stared back up at her, wavering slowly in her vision. She rarely if ever drank and certainly not as much as she had this evening. It wasn't that she really had any hang-ups about drinking alcohol, she just didn't enjoy it all that much. Certainly there were times when a good drink was good for what ailed you, but she didn't see them that often anymore. A misspent youth was often the best teacher and hers had been well wasted.

Slowly she realized the Jim was staring expectantly at her. Her gaze met his. "Well," he asked.

The three weeks since they had met had been some of the best times she had know and this was doubly strange for her because they really hadn't done anything extraordinary together. In fact their relationship was quickly developing on the basis of their shared commiseration of the fact that they both felt that they were singularly uninteresting people whom the opposite sex avoided like the plague, the actuality of the matter being vigorously contested by the other.

"Um. I'm sorry, I drifted out there for a minute."

"I guess," he chided. That's okay, it really wasn't that important."

"No, really, go on," she implored.

"Really, it's all right," he responded. He obviously had a much higher alcohol tolerance than she, he hadn't been affected at all despite out drinking her nearly two to one. "I don't know you that well, but I'm sure that you're not usually this distracted. Nobody can be that separated from reality and still function." A small chuckle escaped him and a corresponding smile slowly dawned upon his face.

"This is so strange. I don't have any idea how to take you. I think that I should be offended, but, damn you, that impish smile and I know that you're just trying to provoke me."

"Yeah, that's me, a hugely annoying sonofabitch who shouldn't be tolerated or humored lest your soul be forfeit."

"Stop it," she railed. "You know, I really don't need this shit from you. I can get this kind of abuse from any number of men twice as interesting and twelve times as attractive. In fact, they're lining up at home right now." It was no use trying to suppress the grin that had spread itself all over her face, he wasn't likely to take her seriously this late in the evening anyhow.

"Hmmmm. Now that's a pickle isn't it? I guess that we'll have to go back to my place then, huh?"

With absolutely no idea how to respond, she reacted with the first thing that came to her mind. She hit him. Consciously she had intended to give him a good firm playful whack on the shoulder, but it came out as a half-hearted shove coupled with a schoolgirl giggle, her feigned indignation completely lost somewhere between planning and execution.

"You know what I don't understand," he inquired " is why you, a reasonably attractive…" He dodged her swing this time and barreled on. "…and intelligent lady, would spend even a moment alone with an ogre like me. What is the perverse attraction?"

She thought for a moment. "It's the margaritas. Enough of them and even you are tolerable."

"Good," he replied in all mock sincerity, "there for a second I thought that you might try to feed me a line about my stunning personality."

"Yeah, it was either that or the exaggerated rumors about your prowess in bed. Hmmmm." She rubbed her chin in a manner she hoped approximated thoughtful contemplation.

"Oh that one. Wait a darned minute. 'Exaggerated?'"

"Must be. Nobody can be that good," she said with a wink.

"Well." He stretched in his seat, fingers laced behind his neck, and let out a small airy moan and continued. "I really don't like to talk about it, but…"

"Oh get out of here," she interrupted. "What is it with men? A little stroke to the ego and they lose all self-control."

"Yeah well, we're all sonsfbitchs who shouldn't…" he began with a wry grin.

"Shut up and kiss me." She could tell that shook him. Actually, she hadn't intended to say it at all, but somewhere in her mind she knew that their time together had been building to this and she was ready now.

"Whaa," he stammered.

"You heard me you annoying sonofabitch, kiss me before I find someone else who isn't so torn with performance anxiety." This time she managed to keep a straight face.

To his credit Jim recovered his composure almost immediately. Nearly effortlessly he leaned slowly across the table and kissed her softly but firmly on the lips. A warm diffuse glow spread throughout her body beginning at the point of their mutual contact and moving slowly downward until she could barely restrain her shaking. God, the feel of him! She had never been particularly vulnerable to the guiles of the flesh, but this was something wholly beyond her experience.

Reluctantly he broke that magical contact and slid back in his seat leaving them both hollow and wistful. He took a deep breath.

"Wow," she said in spite of herself, "incredible."

"Yes," he responded, "you are."

She smiled demurely and looked away from his penetrating gaze at the unexpected compliment. It was clear to both of them that something had just changed irrevocably. Their friendship would never be the same. "Oh well," she thought, "what the hell," although she knew in her heart what the cost in a new yet extremely close friendship was if tonight didn't work out well. "Now," she agonized to herself, "who is having performance anxiety?" The shaking in her stomach was finally, slowly, settling down.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" he asked.

"Um, what is that?" she replied hesitantly, suddenly very wary.

"You are some kinda kisser."

"Oh, that. Why thank you."

"…and?" he prodded.

"Yeah you're right I'm not that bad, huh?" she said playfully.

"Sheeee-it. You're something else."

"Why thank you again," she replied. "All of this sweet talkin' is likely to sweep a girl off of her feet."

Jim shook his head in disbelief trying in vain to figure out exactly where he had lost control of this conversation.

* * *

His apartment was quite different than she had imagined. No lava lamps, only a handful of tasteful mirrors, and more plants than she had ever seen in so small an area. "Impressive," was the only comment that she could think of.

"Why thank you. The place is nice too, huh?"

"Always the kidder. Can't you ever take anything seriously?" she asked imploringly.

Is response he took her in his arms, held her close, and kissed her deeply. The moment lasted several lifetimes and, somewhere, she lost any semblance of control of her legs. No matter, as tightly as he held her she wasn't going anywhere and it never occurred to her to take a breath, let alone try to push away and stand unaided. He had never been anything but gentle and affectionate when they were together, but this, this was something completely different, fierce, passionate, penetrating, and yet, as was his way, quietly understated. "How did he do that? Can this really be happening? Why didn't I see this coming?" The questions drifted away even before they were fully formed in her mind.

Somewhere she heard the door close, a quiet clap and click as the latch fell into place and then only the sound of their already labored breathing and her pulse pounding in her ears. Slowly he released the grip with his right arm and began to stroke her long black hair gently, but insistently, never letting up the pressure of his lips against hers, even a little bit. In spite of herself, she reacted, breaking their kiss and tilting back her head exposing her long pale neck which he began to nibble on immediately. He worked quietly along and then down her neck, each little peck a reaffirmation of the passionate electricity that was coursing through their veins.

His hands began deftly to unbutton her blouse as his nibbling kisses continued moving slowly along her ever more exposed shoulder. It was all that she could do to keep her hands at her side. His slow, methodical approach was maddening in it's pace. She just wanted out of the blouse and needed to undress him quickly, and yet she couldn't bring herself to disturb the moment, she needed to see where this would take them. "God, to have him inside me now!" she thought to herself as she arched her back slightly imploring him to move just a little faster, just a little farther.

The last button undone, his hand slowly, agonizingly slowly, slid her blouse down along her left arm followed closely with those maddening little kisses. He paused often, presumably for the affect that it was having upon her. She shook perceptibly every time he stopped and... "God, he must be loving that," she chided herself.

e-mail me at cyrissia@hotmail.com