Every Friday.
Copyright © 2018
Todd Selleck
All rights reserved.
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the publisher's express written permission except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Produced/Printed in the United States of America.
Dune view Publishing
P.O. Box 223
Byron Center, MI. 49315
www.thestoryaswritten.com
All situations and characters are fictional.
Every Friday.
I saw him again.
That mysterious dark-haired man that walks by every Friday on his way to work, or maybe to see his girlfriend, or hell, who knows, maybe he's gay, who can tell anymore?
I don't know.
Each week I wait for that moment, that brief interlude of connection between two strangers separated by panes of glass. He glances inside my meager little that's a store filled with magazines, over-priced snow globes, maps, and t-shirts for the tourists that want to take something back home as evidence to their visit to an over-populated city that has buildings so tall; they deny the Sun's existence.
It's almost the same time each Friday when he walks by my store. He looks inside while shyly smiling.
His face is boyish, his hair highlighted with natural auburn strands, and his hazel eyes shine, piercing my thoughts and freezing any response I try to give to accommodate his magical spell.
By the time I pop back into reality and wave with a mummified stiffness, he's gone.
Seduction teases with such guilty pleasure.
This routine has been going on for almost a month, and I can't bring myself to walk outside and do something and wait for him to approach. My anticipation of seeing him squashes the ambition it takes to take a few steps outside and prepare myself for an introduction.
I thought the days of women being hard to get were over or is it that nature's force of influence still overrides all the empowerment we strive for and have achieved? I guess we still have that desire to be chased. It's something internal that makes us feel worthy of the pursuit; that's my excuse for being a chicken-shit anyway.
Today was a little different, though. I did walk outside and looked down the street to see if I could catch a fading glimpse of him as he walked away, but I only caught the glance of a homeless guy who poked his head up at me and winked. I waved back at him only because I knew who he was. It was John. We went to the same high school, but after a tragedy struck his soul with the force of a lightning bolt, he fell on hard times, "Face First," as he used to say to me when we happened to talk with one another.
Now he keeps his distance and just winks at me when our infrequent, distant meetings happen.
Poor John.
He graduated at the top of our class, joined the Air Force, went to the academy, and met his wife; they got married and had a child. It was only about one year after his daughter was born when his wife and daughter were killed while he was on a mission. It was a horrible crime, and the person or persons who committed it have never been found. Whoever it was is out there living their life, while he destroyed beyond recognition. It crushed his spirit. He gave up and became depressed; John never escaped its clutches.
I don't see him very much, but if I do, I'll wave and smile at him in the hopes that maybe it gives him a bit of warmth and some encouragement that not everybody looks at him as a derelict.
As I watched John return to swiping through the trash-laden wire basket, I saw someone standing on the other side of the street staring at me. It was him! My guy! He broke his glance from me and looked at John for a moment, so I looked at John.
A truck was blaring its horn as it approached John. I covered my eyes and turned my head, but the sound of the truck slamming into John's body and squeezing the life out of him as it ran over him was more painful than it probably would've been to witness the sight of yet another, but final tragedy in John's life.
How did it go from hope and desire to this?
A few moments ago, I had built up enough courage to pursue an unknown admirer to see the final moments of someone's life.
I turned away and began to cry. The sirens of the police and ambulances were already blaring, along with the screams of women that were too close to the bloody disaster that had just befallen a poor, helpless man.
My breathing had become labored, painful as I began inhaling and exhaling deeply just to keep myself upright and walk back into my store.
I stood behind the counter and hung my head. I closed my eyes and thought to myself: "If I had just stayed inside, I could've let my desire for someone feed my imagination."
As I stood there, someone walked in. I cupped my head in my hands as I looked downward. I could hear whoever it was as their shoes gently tapped the floor as they approached the counter.
I heard a man's voice:
"Excuse me, miss? Hello?"
I exhaled and wiped my face as I looked up at who it was. It was an Officer. His eyes were cold but revealed some concern as he continued to speak.
"Can you tell me what you saw out there? what happened?"
I shook my head back and forth before speaking: "I covered my eyes. It was John. We went to high school together. He had a terrible life."
The officer stared at me as he pursed his lips.
"Okay. You're in shock. I'll come back later. We need to have your account of what happened."
The officer looked at my face, he noticed the tear that was rolling down my face, but I wiped it away and nodded my head, and spoke with the best confidence I could: "Yeah. Come back tomorrow, okay?" He nodded his head one time and then left the store.
This day had started to be the typical "Good Friday" but was turning into something that resembled more of a nightmare, a Friday The 13th.
I walked toward the door and wanted to look outside, but once I saw the flashing lights and a swarm of people, the sirens being cut off as the Ambulances and police cars arrived, all I could do was place my hand on the door's handle and turn my head as I locked the door.
As I turned the handle, I felt resistance, and it began to turn the other way. I thought I was losing my mind. I stood there watching the handle turn and then stop. It sprung back into the slot within the door frame and then, a few, almost silent taps on the window.
I looked at the window, but what captured me was a pair of dazzling green and brown eyes. I was transfixed by someone staring at me, controlling me with the power of his hypnotic stare.
I stepped back, and he slowly opened the door.
There wasn't any hesitation by him when he confidently stepped inside. He casually reached back and locked the door while shooting me a devilish grin. He looked at my lips with laser-like focus before his eyes shot up and looked at mine.
My mind froze with fear, but my wildly beating heart was flooding my body with anticipation. All I could think of was, "It's him. The guy. Every Friday." My body was warm due to the arousal that was willingly being force-fed by this mysterious man that had yet to speak a word. I had no idea who he was, but I was vulnerable enough for him to begin whatever he wanted to do.
I watched his arms as they reached out and grabbed my hips. He pulled me in close with his strong, coercive hands.
Our bodies were polluting our senses with pheromones that crashed into one another, creating that chemical reaction between two people that gives them the power to behave as expressive as they can be.
His hands moved up my sides as he pulled at my blouse, dragging from its snug confine within my pants.
He began to kiss my neck, licking it in between long, passionate draws of suction that almost felt like a vampire was taking me.
His hands swept into my hair and gently pulled handfuls of it, bending my head backward, my hyperextended neck exposed for more miraculous kissing and wet tongue as it left a watery trail for him to retrace with vacuum-like kissing.
His mouth met mine, and we exchanged powerful, tongue-darting kisses. My hands had moved down to his belt and began unfastening it; I tugged at his belt and pulled it off. I could feel him, his arousal was obvious, and I grabbed what was poking at me, a wild horse being kept in its stall, waiting to run free, and I had my hands ready to open the gate.
He unbuttoned my blouse and caressed my breasts. His hands were very warm, confident. He reached around my back and unclasped my black lace bra and used his index finger to pull it off as I shifted a shoulder upward to let him continue his quest.
I pulled at his pants, and he placed his hands on mine to help guide me in my quest to get my hands on what was waiting for me underneath.
We unwrapped our clothes like they were gifts on Christmas morning right in the middle of the store. We were trapped in a sexual dimension where time and place don't matter. We ended up behind the counter, our torsos locked in a complete man and woman union.
Our faces were glued together with passionate kissing, our hands exploring each other's bodies like explorers conquering new territory. We made love until our bodies were drenched in sweet, sexual perspiration.
I turned toward him and snuggled up close, kissing his chest, biting at his nipples before licking my way up to his mouth. We kissed with romantic admiration; our tongues danced slowly in and out of each other's mouths.
I rested my head on his chest. I could feel his heart begin to slow down as it recovered from our furious lovemaking. I looked up at him. His beautiful Hazel eyes looking back at me, that shy smile.
I still didn't know his name and didn't care.
All I knew was that I wanted him, and I wanted this.
Every Friday.
The End.