11 comments/ 31259 views/ 6 favorites An Eye to the Future By: Penelope Street "Here's a five." Under dropped brows, my focus followed the grey and green bill as it fluttered across the front seat. "What?" I queried, picking up the money. "How do you expect me to get everything on this list with five bucks?" "Figure it out," Matt snorted. "That's all I got." I crossed my arms and sighed. I knew what that meant; I was going to dig into my purse and make up the difference. I got out of the car and started to make my way toward the little grocery store. "And hurry up!" Matt yelled after me. "We'll be late for the game." I rolled my eye. Why are you even going to this party? I asked myself. Anytime you go anywhere with him, it's just a disaster. Why do you even put up with Matt? I shivered. I knew the answer to that question. Even so, I kept trying to think of some other answer as I filled my cart with the items from the list. My mind was still preoccupied with the issue as I reached the checkout. Absently unloading the basket, my vision strayed across the lower pant legs of the person in line behind me. As if hypnotized, I followed the garment upward, onto a trim torso covered by a simple pullover. Upward my eye drifted, onto the man's face. My breathing missed a heartbeat as my gaze met his. Through habit, I started to look away, but something about him held my focus. What eyes, I mused through a gasp. And those curls! Why do guys always get hair like that? I wondered how limp my own locks must look from the other side of his baby-blues. The image my mind conjured was hardly flattering. You idiot, I scolded myself. He's not looking at your hair anyway. But at least he's not looking the other way, like most do. I swallowed, seeking some words, any words. My focus fell again, onto the package of plastic forks in his hand. With a smile, my view bounced upward. His eyes were still on me, his countenance ever pleasant. "Is that all you have?" I inquired The man nodded. "Yes." That accent! I marveled. It was like his very voice could melt my heart, as if his eyes had not already accomplished the feat. A shiver ran the length of my form. "Why don't you go ahead of me?" I suggested. What the hell are you doing? Now he'll be gone even sooner! He issued an unaffected smile and a slight tilt of his head. "Why that would be kind of you, ma'am." Ma'am? The word seemed to hang in the air, or at least in my mind. I'm not even thirty! I can't be a ma'am yet! In spite of my internal tumult, I responded with a brisk nod as I stepped aside. "Please do." "Thank you." He shifted his body sideways to squeeze past. "I am in a bit of a pinch for time." I inhaled as our forms slid against one another. For an instant, I closed my eye and tried to capture the moment, but it was gone in the span of a breath. Not even daring to look up, I resumed unloading my cart as soon as he had passed. I caught myself frowning as the man made pleasant small talk with the cashier. Then I caught myself wondering why I was frowning. "Thank you again." My neck trembled as I turned. I tongued my lips once before replying, "It was entirely my pleasure." "Oh, I beg to differ," he contended. "I had the pleasure of meeting you. I do hope you have a pleasant day." I heard a mild snort leave my nostrils as I considered the likelihood of that. Still, I forced a grin in return. "I will." "I am glad to hear it," he replied before turning and strolling toward the door. My gaze followed him until he was well into the parking lot. "Twenty-two eighty-five, Miss." I snapped from my stupor and turned to the cashier. The smirk on her face left little doubt in my mind she had watched me stare longingly at a man she knew to be well out of my league. I could almost feel my cheeks heat as the blood rushed to them. My hands found my purse as I fumbled to find the money. "What took you so long?" Matt snapped as I returned to the car. Calm. I counseled myself. Pissing him off before the party can't help. I put the two bags on the seat between us. "There was a line." Matt's eyes wandered from the groceries to my waist. "You could lose some weight." My brows and jaws fell. "I am not fat." Matt nodded to the window beyond me. "You don't look like those girls." I turned to look at pair of young girls walking to their car. A scowl had seized my face by the time I spun it back to Matt. "They're still in high school. Or just out." "Is that any reason to let yourself go? I figured with your ten year reunion coming up, you might want to shape up a bit." Not like I'll be going to any reunion! My nose twitched as I tried to keep my ire in check. "I did not let myself go! A million dollars of plastic surgery and I still wouldn't look like those girls; and you know it." Matt shrugged. "Have it your way. Just trying to help." He reached for the ignition. My eyelid closed as a pathetic buzzing emerged from beneath the vehicle's hood. What else can go wrong? I heard a jingle and felt a pressure in my lap. Looking down I saw the car keys lying on my pants. "Get the cables out of the trunk," Matt said. He reached for the hood cable and gave a tug. "I'm gonna go over to that video store." "What?" I stammered. "Take them cables outta the trunk and go stand by the hood," he instructed. "You ain't so bad some guy won't stop and help you so long as I ain't around." At least Matt was right about that. Within five minutes of standing by the open hood and trying to look pathetic, an older gentleman stopped and helped me get the car started. I listened politely as he tried his best to explain all the maintenance he thought the vehicle needed. He insisted on staying another several minutes to make sure the car didn't die. Then I had to insist he didn't need to follow me home. Thus it was fifteen minutes before I pulled up in front of the video store and honked. Matt did not emerge. Not wanting to make a scene by sounding the horn again and being unwilling to leave the car idling with the keys in it, I chose to simply wait. When Matt finally did exit the store some minutes later, he bore a wide grin and two bags. I pointed to the merchandise as he deposited it onto the floorboard. "What are those?" "Movies. What else would they have in a video store?" "And how can we afford them?" "There was a sale. They had a two-for-one." "No," I said. "How'd you pay for them? I thought that five was all you had." "Oh," Matt stammered. "I found a twenty I done forgot about." "Yeah," I snorted. "Handy, that. And how many'd you get?" "Dozen." "Anything I might like?" Matt shrugged. "Skin flicks." "Don't we have enough of those?" I groaned. "I mean, they're all the same anyway." "You know I like to see some new girls now and then." My eyelid fell in a futile attempt to forestall the tears. I understood the implication; my appearance wasn't sufficient to generate excitement. He had to pretend I was someone else. My fingers found the door handle and pulled. I threw the door wide, intending to swing my legs out after it. "No," Matt grunted. "You can drive." He reached into the bag and retrieved one of his movies. "I think I'll check a few of these out." Lips pursed, I closed the door and reached for the shifter. At least there was one blessing to Matt ogling the girls on the video cases; I didn't have to talk to him. We got to the party late; the big game was already underway. That was fine with me. I didn't mind missing the socializing phase of the gathering. Not that the guests bothered me. I'd seen most of them before. Or more important, most of them had seen me before. I took the goods I had purchased to the kitchen counter and fit them in where I could. As I put some disposable bowls near the paper plates, my vision strayed across a box of plastic forks. My thoughts wandered back to the man in the supermarket. I smiled, but only as long as it took me to realize the last time I had smiled was when he had looked at me. By the time I returned to the main room and the big screen television, Matt was engrossed in the contest. I made my way to the empty chair to his right and kept my eye on the screen. The entire state was abuzz about the big game; had been for the past several days. I still wasn't sure of the significance of the affair and didn't want to expose my ignorance by asking, so I more or less just sat, watched, and tried to figure out what made baseball less boring than golf. The contest progressed the regulation number of innings amid cheers, groans, and comments from two dozen or so persons gathered around the large television. I could feel the intensity of the onlookers build as the game went into extra time, or whatever it's called for baseball. By then I had at least determined whom I was meant to cheer for. At one point thereafter, the opposing team, the bad guys as I had come to think of them, got their first runner to second base. This caused some concern amongst the crowd, and no shortage of opinions as to how to handle the crisis. Amidst a collectively contained breath, the ball left the bat of the next hitter and sailed skyward. I didn't know what was happening, but gathered from the simultaneous sigh issued by the audience that it was something good. Several seconds elapsed before the ball returned to earth, falling into the glove of one of the players near the pitcher. The camera panned to the runner, still on second. I leaned to Matt. "Why didn't that guy go to the next base? The ball was in the air a long time. Couldn't he have made it?" Matt chuckled and looked away from me, over his left shoulder. "Hey, Jack. Guess what Becky just asked? 'Why didn't the guy on second go to third while the ball was in the air?'" Wearing a shy grin, I looked over my shoulder and shrugged just in time to see Jack blow some beer through his nose as he laughed at my ignorance. Matt turned back to me with a self-satisfied smirk and just shook his head before returning his attention to the game. My shoulders shrank. Lips quivering, my absent stare drifted from the screen to the floor. I stiffened as I felt a light touch on my right shoulder. My gaze panned that direction, but I couldn't see past the bridge of my nose. "I asked that same question a few years ago myself when I first came to this country," noted the owner of the palm that still rested upon my shoulder. The accent caused my heart to miss a beat as he continued, "It's a fairly logical question if you don't know all the subtleties of the game." "Subtlety?" Matt half-grunted. "That's a basic rule." Ignoring Matt, I allowed my head to fall onto my right shoulder, my ear resting upon the back of the speaker's hand. Issuing a silent prayer, I directed my view upward at the man. I gasped and a shudder traversed my body as I found myself looking straight up into those beautiful baby blues! The man from the supermarket flashed a warm smile before he squatted near my side. I started to smile in return, but realized I was already beaming! "Now," he began in a soft tone as the game proceeded. "I know it's not logical, but the rule to which your husband refers is that in the case of a ball that is caught in the air for an out, the runner may not leave the bag before the ball is in the fielder's glove. Of course, that fielder being close to the second base, the runner had no real chance to advance after the catch." "Oh," I smiled. "Thank you. I didn't know. And, uh, Matt's not my husband." "Really?" The man leaned forward to look across to my boyfriend. "I thought I'd heard you speak of your wife before?" My head snapped to my left. "You two know each other?" "Yeah," Matt grunted. "This is Gus. I think I might have mentioned him a time or two. He works somewhere in the office. Advertising, I think." My head pivoted back to my right as I tried to recall anything I had heard of the other man. "Hi," I said, extending my right hand as best I could. "I'm Rebecca, but my friends call me Becky." The man smiled as he took my palm loosely into his own. There he held my hand, rather than shaking it. "I'm Gustav. Gustav Petersen, but my acquaintances call me Gus." "Pleased to meet you, Gus." With some reluctance, I withdrew my hand from his. "So you work with Matt?" "Not closely. We only see each other once in a while. I don't get back to the loading dock that much." "Why did they bring in a new pitcher just to walk this guy?" someone behind us asked. "Beats me," Matt grunted. "But at least he's smart enough to set up the double play so we can get out of the inning." "I disagree," Gus contended as he began a slow stroke of his chin. "Being the home team, I should imagine they'd want to avoid the big inning. Also, by not making the sole runner such a priority a manager says he has confidence that his club can score at least one run if need be." "Yeah, right," snorted Matt. "You foreigners must..." A resounding crack from the television screen terminated the sentence. In silence, we all watched the little white ball sail over the fence and into the seats that surrounded the field. I was pretty sure this was an undesirable occurrence, but the continued quiet left no doubt in my mind. Leaning to my right, I inquired. "Is it over?" "Yep," grunted Matt, although I had not directed the question toward him. "That's pretty much it." "Technically, no," Gus replied. "The home team still gets its chance to bat, but things do look rather bleak being down by three." He stood and again I felt the soft warmth of his palm upon my shoulder. "It was a pleasure to meet you, ma'am. Formally that is." "It was entirely my pleasure," I assured him. Gus smiled. "Once again, I must beg to differ." With that, he turned and departed toward the kitchen. I turned to find Matt's brow both creased and low. "What did he mean by formally?" "Nothing. I just bumped into him earlier in the grocery." "That little store? Well, that was some coincidence." "Hardly," I said. "It is the nearest store. Anyone coming to this party that needed to pick something up would likely stop there, and at about the same time." "So what, did you keep me waiting in the car talking to him?" "No. He just happened to be in line ahead of me. That's all." "Really? Why didn't I notice him come out ahead of you then?" "I don't know. Maybe you were busy checking out skinny high school girls." With that, I rose and walked away, in no particular direction. Not wanting to look like I had no destination in mind, I kept walking out of the house and onto the deck. There I found an old acquaintance, though hardly a friend, self-pity. Leaning on the rail, I looked into the ubiquitous backyard for a few minutes before my eye fell to my thumbs. I chuckled as I watched my digits twirling with one another. "Nice day." I knew the voice at once and caught myself smiling before I turned toward the speaker. "Yes, it is," I agreed. "Autumn can be lovely." "Lots of things can be lovely if you bother to look." "Yes," I said. "I suppose so. Like your voice, although I guess I'm not looking at it. Where are you from?" "Norway." My eyebrow bounced skyward. "Really? I bet it's beautiful there; the water, the fjords, the ruggedness." Gus pursed his lips, then shook his head. "Not as pretty as it is here right now." "How so?" I turned back to the trees. "Surely the leaves change in Norway too?" "Yes," Gus whispered. "But I was thinking of the loveliness upon the deck." My chest froze in mid-breath. "Like what," I ventured with a gulp, daring to have even the slightest hope for the reply I longed to hear. "You." Closing my eye, I but breathed as I tried to confirm he had really said it. After I realized that he had, I began to sense a warm mushy place in my chest was where my heart used to be. "Me?" I queried as I opened my eye. "You are too kind. Is it appropriate in Norway to say such things about some else's girlfriend?" "How long have you been with Matt?" My eye flew wide as I gulped in response to the unexpected inquiry. "A year or so." Staring into Gustav's eyes, I took two breaths before adding. "Maybe a little more." Gus glanced down, to my left hand, then brought his gaze right back to my face. "If Matt knew a good thing, he'd have proposed before now. But if I am to understand you are betrothed, then I shall wish you the best as a couple." I passed a breath as I considered the implicit question. "We are not engaged." Gustav issued the shallowest of nods. "Very well. I am not being inappropriate then?" "I don't know." "I think you do. He's not for you. You can do better." My eye darted to the right before I pulled it back to Gus. "What?" Gustav's hand rose, his first two fingers pressed together and extended. Slowly, like a balloon gliding through the air, the two digits found their way to the right side of my face. My eye wandered in a vain attempt to find them as I felt his touch linger near where my other eye had once been. "You think this is all that defines your value as a person?" Gus asked. With that he ran his fingers along the scar down onto my check. "You should know better. You are still beautiful, just in a different way." "I know," I whispered. "Inner beauty, right?" "Well, I did not mean to suggest you did not have that also." I looked away. "Thank you. You really are too kind." "So I've heard. What happened?" My eye narrowed, I directed it back to Gus. "What do you mean?" "Your eye. How did you lose it? An automobile accident?" I swallowed, taken aback by the bold inquiry. Everyone looked, but no one ever asked. "Is such an inquiry acceptable where you're from?" "I don't see why such a question should be inappropriate regardless of one's origin. People don't ask because they worry about hurting your feelings, but this code of silence only breeds unease. And embarrassment. It's nothing to be ashamed of. If I was missing an arm, you'd be curious, no? And it would be an important part of my history. Why should I not tell you?" "No reason," I admitted with a sigh and a nod. "So?" Gus prompted at once. "Fine. I grew up on a farm. Would probably still live there if my dad were alive. Mom had to sell the place after he died. Anyway, once I was helping my dad with a tractor and a blade came off the fan. Guess you can kinda see where it ended up. Doctors all said I was lucky to have survived. Sometimes I've wondered about that, though." "Why?" I just stared, knowing he knew the answer. "Why do you think?" "Happened when you were an adult, right?" I tilted my head to one side. "Five years ago. How'd you know?" "Strikes me you were one of those girls used to having boys falling all over themselves trying to do you favors just because of your appearance. Must have been a rough transition to learn how the rest of us live." My jaw fell as my head returned to the vertical. "Like you know!" I gasped. "You're so damn gorgeous it's sickening!" Gus moved closer and began to comb his hands through my hair. A shiver ran through my form as I considered his audacity. "You could be too. You're a lot more than a pair of optic devices," he noted, his focus on my tresses. "Why didn't you ever have cosmetic surgery?" "I did," I muttered through a pout. "You should have seen it before." "That's still no reason to give up on your appearance?" "What?" "You don't get your hair styled, or even trimmed. You let your figure go too. Shows a lack of confidence. And confidence is always more attractive than anything else." For the second time in a minute, my jaw succumbed to gravity. This time, my mouth gaped for some seconds as I absorbed the shock, and the hurt, of hearing again that I had let myself go. This second such affront cut far more deeply than the first. "How dare you," I finally managed to hiss. "I've never...." I dropped my brow. My head vibrated more than shook as I struggled to finish my sentence. An Eye to the Future "You've never had anyone tell you the truth?" Gus ventured, his brows as high as mine was low. "At least not for your sake." "What?" I gasped. "For my sake?" Gus nodded through a smile, then glanced over his shoulder at a shuffling and commotion within the house. "Looks like the game's over," he noted. Fishing into his pocket, he produced a business card and held it toward me between two fingers. "Why don't you give me a ring when you've calmed down. Your life isn't over, you know." I passed a deep breath as my eye fell to the card, then snapped back to Gustav's still cheerful facade. My pride begged me to slap the tiny parchment from his hand, but another side of me, one I didn't understand, begged louder. Much louder. I eased my fingers to his hand and accepted the card. "I'll think about it." "Please do," Gus whispered. "Now if you'll forgive me, I'm not really one for parties. I'd only planned to put in a polite appearance and have already stayed longer than I intended." He smiled before adding, "Not that I'm unhappy for having done so. It was a pleasure meeting you. Again." I swallowed before admitting, "Same here." I watched him depart, realizing that I had already calmed down enough to want to call him. Matt stayed after the baseball game, drinking beer and rehashing the tragic outcome of the contest. I knew he'd be drunk long before we departed. At least he wasn't an angry drunk; more pathetic than anything else. Pathetic, I mused. How poetic. I found my way into the basement and turned on a small television. I even tried to watch it. My mind kept drifting to the brief conversation on the balcony. More than once I pulled the business card from my pocket and spun it amongst my fingers, as if I sought to confirm my memory was something other than a dream. Why does he want me to call? I wondered. And why do I want to call so badly? I knew the last answer almost before I had finished asking the question. Because he didn't offer pity, I deduced with a nod. That's why. I glanced upstairs to the party, and Matt. Gus is right, I admitted. I have let myself go. And not just my body. I've let all of me go. I've let an injury define who I am. I've allowed myself to become pathetic. I waited until Matt had all but passed out, then bummed another jump-start and headed back to our ratty little apartment. Thankfully, my companion fell asleep during the trip. After we got home, I helped him into bed, then made my way to the sofa. But sleep would not come. Over and over, I played conversations in my head; the words Gus had spoken on the deck that night, and the words I would say over breakfast the following morning. As I expected, Matt had a bit of a hangover as we met over two bowls of cereal. I let him moan about it for a few minutes, and even felt sorry for him long enough to consider prolonging what I knew I would eventually say. I might have done just that, but he left me the perfect opening and I took it before I even realized I had done so. "What you want to do today?" Matt asked. "Break up with you." Ok, so maybe it wasn't the perfect opening. But I took it anyway. Matt finished crunching his Cheerios before asking, "What?" "I don't want to be your girlfriend any more." Matt's eyes blinked as his diminished faculties came to terms with my meaning. "Why?" "What do you bring to this relationship?" I asked. "Bills, mostly. And what do you need me for? Someone to ridicule, near as I can tell." "You mean more to me than that!" I guffawed. "So being someone to ridicule is part of it?" "No, that's not..." "And the other part is blowjobs, right?" "C'mon, baby," he pleaded. "Don't be like this. Did I say something last night when I was drunk? Whatever I've done, I'll make it up to you. I promise." I shook my head. "This isn't about last night. This is about today, tomorrow, and every day after that. You just aren't the person I want to spend my life with. And you're never going to be." Matt's head vibrated in a fierce shake. "No. I can change. I can be who you want. I'll..." "No," I interrupted. "You can't. You can't change who you are for me. You have to do that for yourself, if you want to. But you like who you are, Matt, so why change?" The man's brow dropped so low they all but covered his eyes. "So you don't want me to change?" "No." "Then what's the problem?" "I'm going to change." "Ok?" "And the person I change into," I concluded, "isn't going to be interested in you." "No, wait," Matt whimpered. He proceeded to beg, whine, and snivel for the next several hours. I felt sorry for him as I came to understand he really did harbor some feelings for me, at least more than I had ever realized. Looking back, it's a sad reflection on the person I was, but if Matt had just treated me a little nicer I might have settled for him. Even now I cringe when I think about how close I might have come to squandering my life with him. I moved out and got my own apartment. Money was tight, but not as tight as it had been with Matt. I fixed my car, at least to where it ran when I turned the key. I started eating better. I found a stylist instead of a barber. And I joined a health club. Weeks passed. Watching my flab disappear and my muscles return was a thrill, as were the looks I got from some of the men at the gym. But there were always those other looks too; the ones when guys first saw my disfigured eye and then snapped their attention elsewhere. At home or work, I found myself frequently fingering a dingy business card that got grayer each day. I recalled the expression Gus had had on his face the first time he had seen mine. He hadn't looked away. He hadn't even blinked. I knew he had seen my scar, and seen past it too. But I wasn't sure what he had seen past it. I couldn't imagine anyone that handsome would settle for me. As the weeks became months, I thought about calling more, but was further from actually doing so. I'm not sure I would ever have called but for a package I discovered in my mailbox one afternoon. I inhaled a double gasp as I read the name on the return address. I ripped the carton open right there in the corridor of my apartment building. Within the outer cardboard box was a smaller case, much like those meant for a piece of jewelry. I think I could hear my heart pounding as I popped open the tiny container. Inside I saw but a tiny piece of black cloth. Grasping the fabric, I realized at once that it was silk, but only after I held it before me and the string dangled, did I grasp what it was. Wearing, I am certain, a look of sheer bewilderment, I looked back into the box. Inside there was only another business card, identical to the one I already possessed; except this one was still white. I retreated to my apartment, none the less confused by the gift. If it had come from anyone else, I might have thought it some cruel prank, but my heart knew Gustav was deeper than that. I rushed to the washroom and tried it on. The instant I looked into my mirror, I knew it was the best thing anyone had ever given me. My good eye welled so fast the image before me was at once a blur, but I knew what I had seen: a woman who wasn't ashamed of a bit of misfortune. She wasn't a pathetic outcast and she would not accept being treated like one. The woman I saw was self-assured, even expectant. The shiny jet-black eyepatch was a perfect match for her flowing and equally shimmering locks. She didn't settle for anything, and that included bad boyfriends or bad breaks. Instead of pretending her eye was still there, she announced to the world that it wasn't, and that she didn't need it. Anyone could tell just by looking at her that she liked herself. She was mysterious. She was sexy. She was confident, perhaps even proud. She was happy. And she was me! Blinking back the tears, I flew to the phone. With shaking hands, I looked about in search of the new business card. I smirked as I realized I had left it in the washroom. Reaching into my pocket, I retrieved the grey one and dialed the listed cell phone number. Then I but closed my eye and started a prayer, one I never finished. "Hello?" "Hi," I began with a gulp. "It's Becky. I wanted to thank you for the gift." "I knew you'd like it, although I was becoming a tad anxious since I mailed it four days ago." "Oh," I half-grunted through a grin. "I don't check my mail everyday. Sometimes I forget for a week. Bills mostly, you know." "Yeah, I know. So, when can I see you in it?" My mouth fell as I inhaled a sharp breath. I replayed his words in my head, When can I see you? Not if, when. Gus was right, of course; confidence is attractive. "You want to have dinner sometime?" I suggested. "Sure. When?" With a broad grin my voice assumed a husky whisper. "Now." "Now?" "Yes. Now." I hung up. I clenched my fists and closed my eye as a shiver traversed my body. The next instant I was in full flight toward my bedroom or, more precisely, my bedroom closet. At once my eye found the green dress that matched its own color. I had not worn the garment since before the accident. It was the only piece of clothing I had kept from that part of my life. I'd worn it once, to a wedding. I experienced a moment of anxiety as I donned it, but then recalled I'd had to squirm into it the first time too. Smoothing the fabric, I turned to my full-length mirror. The air within my lungs exited en masse as I saw myself. Wow! I thought. You're beautiful again. Then I smiled and corrected myself. No, not beautiful. Confident. I prepped for a dozen or so more minutes before I was at last satisfied, then moved to my living room. Being too wound to sit for even a few seconds, I paced while I waited. At what seemed like ten trips per minute, I must have traversed my modest living room several hundred times. As the first half-hour of my pacing passed into history, my anxiety peaked. What were you thinking? I scolded myself. I shook my head as I recalled my mandate, "Now?" Way too demanding! I shook my head and sighed. And what if he's expecting to go to Taco Bell? You're going to look like such an idiot! Several minutes later, as I continued to berate my arrogance, the doorbell rang. I all but jumped out of my dress. Closing my eye, I took a deep breath and counted to three in my head. Calm, I counseled as I made my way to the entryway. Walk slower! I forced a smile upon my lips as I pulled the door open. The smile turned genuine as I beheld Gustav's equally aglow face in the corridor. My eye moved, taking all of him in a pass. Any fear I had harbored regarding his dining intentions evaporated as I beheld his conservative grey suit and necktie, the latter being a subtle blue that matched those intoxicating eyes. "Hi!" I all but gasped as I realized he was really before me. Calm! I instructed myself again; but again I did not listen. "Hello," Gus replied with a nod. "Such a pleasure. You look great. But, of course, you always did." His hand moved from his side. My gaze dropped to meet it. Clasped between two fingers and his thumb was a single yellow rose. My smile broadened as I looked back to his face. "Thank you," I enunciated in a soft, deliberate tone. "But why not red?" Gus offered a subtle shrug. "Red on the first date? Inappropriate, don't you think?" My eyebrows shot upward. "That would be like starting with a big, sloppy, kiss, wouldn't it?" Gus issued a meek nod. "I should think so." I heard a subtle, snarl emanate from my nasal passage as I took my next breath. "Let's find out," I whispered. My hand leapt to his tie, yanking his face down as I stretched upward to meet it. As our lips collided, my free hand rushed behind his head. My fingers roamed his locks as my mouth roamed his lips. My passion surged. With a firm grip on his curls I pulled, pressing our mouths even tighter as tongues joined lips in exploration. A pair of protracted minutes later, each mouth reluctantly released the other. I moved the tip of my nose to the tip of his. "Still think a big sloppy kiss is an inappropriate way to start the first date?" Gus gave the slightest nod, still keeping our noses adjacent. "Definitely." "You like inappropriate?" "Yes." Releasing his tie, I slid my palm over his chest, first feeling the taut muscles beneath the shirt before again grasping his neckwear. "You want to be more inappropriate?" "Definitely." I began to backpedal, dragging my quarry into my den by the makeshift leash. Kicking the door closed as he cleared it, I stopped and began to loosen his neckpiece. "Oh," Gus murmured his blue orbs wide. "That inappropriate. But, I, uh, have a reservation..." "Yes," I interrupted. "You sure do. Right here." I grabbed his hand and moved it downward, then clasped it with my thighs. We gasped a breath in unison as we each sensed the warmth of the other through the fabric. Without a word our lips rushed to meet one another again. At the same moment our hands sprang to cradle the other's face. Then, as our bodies began to writhe in sync with our lips, those same hands began to disrobe the other. Soon, Gus had my dress as loose as he could get it and his shirt hung in a similar fashion. We broke the kiss and proceeded to throw our own clothes off; getting out of my outfit proved much easier than getting into it. Wearing but my underclothes, I pounced as Gus stepped out of his pants, initiating a third kiss. Putting my hands to his shoulder blades, I began to walk backward at a deliberate pace down the short hall toward my bedroom, drawing my lover after me. Gustav's hands roamed my torso as we moved, settling on the small of my back and the clasp of my bra. The garment fell loose on my shoulders as we cleared the threshold. I stopped. Moving my hands from his back, I held them to my sides and allowed him to slide the bra from my body. No sooner had the fabric cleared my flesh than my hands found the elastic of his boxers. Breaking our kiss, I squatted, taking the garment with me as I dropped. His fully rampant cock sprang into view, bobbing just as it pointed skyward. I inhaled a breath, emitting another snarl as I did so. I put my nose to the edge of his sac, then ran it up the side of his shaft, nuzzling his manhood in much the same manner as a cat does its owner's leg. On the third pass, I lingered near the tip savoring the scents of his masculinity. My mouth fell open. My tongue ran a circle around my lips before I moved them to engulf his head. But Gus moved as well, turning sideways just enough so that my face was near his hip. I suspect a mournful expression must have gripped my features as I looked up. Gustav's countenance was anything but sorrowful as he stooped beside me. Unsure why he had rejected my overture, but confident he was not rejecting me with it, I waited for him to make the next move. He moved his face adjacent to mine and began to nuzzle my cheek in the same manner I had nuzzled his cock. On pass number three, he thrust his hands under my horizontal thighs. Standing, Gustav lifted me, and then carried me to my bed. Still bearing my weight he crawled upon the mattress and placed me in the center. His hands slid to my sides and grasped the edge of my panties. I arched my back, assisting in my own disrobing. He flipped my underwear upon the floor beyond my footboard before returning to kneel beside me. During a single deep breath, his eyes roamed the length and breadth of my exposed form. With a smile, he leaned again toward my footboard and brought his nose to my big toe. Gus proceeded to draw the tip of his nose along the side of my toe, across the soft and sensitive upper surface of my foot. I could feel the slight breeze of his breath as he moved past my ankle. I tried to lie still. My body shivered anyway, though not from any chill. I had never felt so warm, so alive. The trek continued up the side of my leg, then onto my abdomen. I expected his light touch to tickle as he ran along the edge of my torso, but it did not. My chest heaved with a massive breath of restrained desire as his nose ran beside my bosom. I hoped he might there linger, but he moved on to my shoulder, and then neck, onward at last to my ear where he paused to whisper, "You" Then he was gone. Back to my toe, for another such journey. I moved my hands to my breasts, kneading my flesh as his second traverse of my body continued with an almost maddening slowness. I believe it was a full five minutes before his lips were once again at my ear. He blew a gentle stream of air therein before a single syllable followed his breath, "are" I inhaled a breath of my own as I realized what he was doing. The next five minutes were twice as long as the previous as I waited to hear the final utterance. When his nose reached my ear for a third time, he ran the tip around the curve, then repeated the circuit; making three full revolutions before finally moving his lips to my ears. I closed my eye. I felt his breath upon my lobe. Still he waited. I wanted to scream. Then I felt the slight rush of air as he inhaled just before he whispered, "complete." My eye flew wide. Complete? I had been anticipating many possibilities. Beautiful. Captivating. Gorgeous. Lovely. Perhaps even perfect. But complete? I passed shallow breaths for a few seconds as I tried to imagine if I had somehow misheard him. Then his meaning struck me. My chest surged upward as I breathed, and my passion surged with it. "No," I whispered as I turned to him. "I am missing something." Gustav's index finger moved up my cheek, across my temple, taking the band and my eyepatch with it. My focus followed his hand as he carried the tiny black cloth and band, hanging it upon the post of my headboard. A smile covered his face as he turned his attention back to me. Hovering inches over my face, his blue eyes seemed to pulse as he looked down. "Surely you don't mean you are missing this?" His face moved towards me. His lips found my forehead. A light kiss just above my missing eye, then his lips leapt to my cheek. Again, another kiss at the lower edge of my scar. All the muscles in my body tightened as his lips moved to where my right eye had once been. I could not see them, nor feel them much, as he planted a short kiss upon the tangled mound of flesh above my empty socket. "No," Gus whispered as he moved again to lie adjacent to me. "You do not need that to be complete." "You're right," I whispered, wrinkling my nose. "I don't need that." I rolled to my side. My hand darted, fingers wrapping around his still erect member before he could move. He tensed, then jerked; then smiled. I squeezed, just hard enough to where he tensed again. "This is what I'm missing." "Oh," Gus began. "Doubt not it is yours. I am all yours." He leaned, bringing his lips to my bosom, suckling on the soft flesh above my areola. "No," I insisted with a snarl. "I don't want any more foreplay." Gus stopped suckling. I could hear naught but his breathing as he moved his mouth from his bosom to my ear. "But I want more," he whispered. Through just parted lips I inhaled a brisk breath as he began to suckle my earlobes. What's hotter than foreplay? A man who wants foreplay, that's what! My loins clenched, begging to be filled, as he continued to nurse upon my ear. I could feel my pussy; the heat, the wetness; I was sure it would turn into a river soon. My mouth fell open. "Please," I gasped between breaths. "I need you in me." For a long second, Gus seemed to ignore my plea. He continued to suckle my earlobe. I felt his touch on my abdomen, a palm sliding over my skin, then across my bushy mons. An Eye to the Future No, I wanted to scream. Not that! You know what I want! But I said nothing. His fingers spread upon my womanhood. Then he began a massage; squeezing, caressing, kneading. My hips bounced upward to meet, and then increase, the pressure. My hand began to move along his cock, but Gus leaned against me, stifling the motion. His lips moved along the edge of my jaw, kissing as they went, working his way down my neck, then onto my torso. His fingers continued rubbing slow circles among my folds as his tongue began to run similar circles around my nipples. My free hand found the back of his head. Fingers intertwined within his locks I pulled his face onto my breast, all but force-feeding him my bosom. He began to suck; hard, just like I wanted. My body began to writhe of its own volition. His fingers moved to my entry, then he slipped one inside. Thrusting the digit fully within me, he pulled upward as if to lift my abdomen from the mattress. His finger thus lodged, he began to rub in short strokes; hard, just like I wanted. With the edge of his thumb Gustav began to rub my upper vulva. At first he was gentle, but as my moaning increased with my movement, so too did his pressure. Soon he was grinding my clit; hard, just the way I wanted. My body jerked, twitching as if I had been shocked. I knew what it was. I'd only had two such spasms before, just like that one. "Please," I begged, intending to again ask for his cock. But my plea went unfinished and, blissfully, unanswered. A new sensation welled within me. Creeping from under my navel toward Gustav's loving thumb, the tingling spread like a fire over my loins an instant before another seizure gripped me. My teeth clamped together, and my eyelid with them. I heard a grunt and would have taken it to be a sound of pain had I not uttered it myself. My eye flew wide as I blinked in the aftermath of the all but shattering sensation. I sensed Gustav's lips slide to my other breast, but it seemed like I was experiencing something from someone else's body. So that's an.... oh, wow! Another? My eye rolled back into my head as the lid slammed shut. Yes; it was a third. And a fourth followed. And then another. Thus it went for what was probably but a handful of minutes. Had anyone recorded the audio of my elation, I am certain a listener would have thought I was being tortured. Of course, it was just the opposite. When my waves of ecstasy at last subsided and my breathing returned to something resembling normal I was aware of but one sensation, the clenching in my loins. My pussy still begged to be filled. The fingers that had gripped Gustav's hair at last relaxed, combing his locks instead of squeezing them. "I'm ready," I whispered. His eyes leapt up to find mine. A smile formed upon his lips as he let my breast slip from his mouth. "Yes," he said, "I believe you are." In a single smooth motion, he moved to mount me. Thus positioned, he directed his gaze into my eye. A smile burst across his face. An elongated "Yes!" was all I managed before I felt the firm silkiness of his crown at my entry. A breath rushed into my lungs as his cock plunged into my core. My breasts again arched skyward. I relaxed, collapsing back onto my bed as he began to pound my pussy in earnest. No subtlety. No tenderness. No pretext. Just hard. Just the way I wanted it. My eye closed again as I savored what I can only equate to the perfect dessert after the perfect meal. Like the best dessert, it was a taste of heaven, short and sweet. I could feel my lover getting closer; pounding harder, his cock expanding with every stroke; every stroke deeper than the last, until the last- when he plowed his cock into my very soul. There he spent himself, my pussy clenching at his pulsing cock, begging for every ounce he had to offer. This he delivered. I sighed as I felt his warmth spread within me, deep within me. I felt his body shudder and mine quivered with it, though I was not climaxing. I was already sated. This was dessert; a short, sweet perfect dessert. "Now," Gus gasped between pants. "You know why I had to wait." Face aglow, I considered how fast he had climaxed and nodded my agreement. "But," I said, almost thinking out loud, "that means you'll be ready for more." I paused to smile and bounce my eyebrow. "Yes?" Gus nodded. "Yes. But I did have dinner reservations, if you still want to go." "Are we coming back here afterwards?" Gus grinned. "That would be inappropriate." "Definitely," I purred with a nod. "I'm looking forward to it." My eye drifted upward and my hand followed its focus, to the little black piece of silk dangling from my bedpost. With a flick of my finger, I freed it from its perch and brought it back to my head. A sly grin seized my countenance as I donned what would be the most important part of my attire. I'm looking forward to a lot of things. Dinner. Dessert. Parties. Reunions. Movies. Long Sunday drives. My grin broke into a full smile. Yes, lot's of things. I'm never looking back again. THE END Copyright 2004 by Penelope Street Posted with permission at Literotica.com All other rights reserved.