"What part?" Chris snapped, in frustration.
"ALL of her, Chris!"
"Well, SHIT, Marie, I don’t know, I’ve never had to do this! Why can’t she be still??
"Because, she’s a freakin’ dog, Chris!"
Marie, beginning to have major regrets about agreeing to her afternoon plans, was helping Chris give Bailey a bath in front of the shop. Bailey had a different plan, judging by her uncooperative nature.
"FUCK!!" Marie yelled. "...Next time, you’re takin’ her to the groomer!" she ordered.
The torturous cleaning finally concluded as Marie rinsed the last patch of soap from Bailey’s head. Marie collapsed on the steps with a sigh as Chris stared at her for a moment, with a grin.
"My turn! I’m dirty!" He teased, trying to lighten the moment.
"Oh, yeah??" Marie laughed as she sprayed Chris in the face with the hose.
"Stop!! Stop it!" Chris screamed.
"Jesus, you sound like a girl, now," Marie teased.
They both laughed as Chris wrestled the hose from Marie's hands, finally gaining control, he sprayed her and chased her around the front sidewalk, blasting jets of water from every direction.
"...Wet T-shirt contest?" A voice called from the street; it was Erin, watching and smiling as she observed the water fight.
"Hey!" Chris greeted.
"Word of advice, Erin," Marie warned; "NEVER, EVER let him sucker you in to washing the dog," Marie advised as she squirted Chris once more, before tossing the hose to the sidewalk.
"I’ll see you guys later," Marie cheerfully said, tossing the towel into Chris' face.
"Ok, thanks, Marie!" Chris yelled out as she headed down the sidewalk, flipping him the middle finger and soaked.
Erin and Chris took turns dabbing Bailey's head, making small talk.
"Are you ready for dinner?" Chris asked, curiously noticing the large bag in Erin‘s hand.
"Yeah; actually, I made dinner. I thought it might be nice instead of goin’ out, and I brought a DVD."
"Oh?" Chris hesitantly interjected.
Erin had only seen where Chris lived from OUTSIDE, but he’d never brought her inside.
"Is that OK?" Erin asked.
Chris didn’t want Erin to see the shop or his tiny cottage; he was too embarrassed.
"What’s wrong, Chris?"
"Look, Erin," Chris began, "...uh, my living arrangements are not quite as polished as most. I don’t know, I just, I just don’t want…"
Erin interrupted, "...Chris- I don’t care, don’t worry about it. Now, let me in the shop, we'll go back to the cottage and you stay out of the way for a few minutes and I’ll come get you," she assured with a beaming smile.
Chris waited outside, drinking a beer; he worried that Erin might think that he was a loser because of where he lived. He couldn’t POSSIBLY explain to her why he lived here; he didn’t want her to know that he lived here for isolation, a self imposed exile, of sorts, during a darker time.
Signing a lease meant commitment to staying long term, an obligation that he was long unsure of, until recently.
The age old cottage door to this 200 year-old converted eight horse stable broke his concentration. "OK, you can come in now," Erin invited, peeking from behind the weathered, hunter green door.
Erin led Chris from the courtyard inside. He smelled the heavenly aroma immediately. A scrumptious combination that he often sensed as he strolled past other houses, halfway down his street, only tonight it emanated from his house.
"...Holy shit!," Chris exclaimed; he was amazed by the sight of his once dismal little place. A refuge that, tonight, was softly illuminated by soft candle glow as a CD that Erin had brought played in the background, subtlety complimenting the ambiance. A beautiful display of food lay waiting on the tiny counter, carefully and beautifully arranged on fine china with a bottle of expensive red wine off to the side.
"Dinner is served," Erin announced with a smile.
Midway through their meal, Chris could hardly believe that he was enjoying a fine dining experience in an industrial environment where he called home.
"...Wow! This is really good, it's amazing" he complimented.
Even though he was sitting in his humble little abode. eating as though he were at Brennan‘s, he was doing so with Erin, at a hidden little cottage!
After dinner, he helped wash the dishes in the shop sink down the hall. It was a giant fiberglass tub sink.
"...Well, this is the one area of this property that that IS like a restaurant," he laughed, making fun of the industrial plumbing fixture. "...The good thing about this sink is that its versatile," he joked. "I can wash fine china, or an engine block."
Erin popped in a DVD and dimmed the lights; they kicked back on Chris’ bed to watch a movie in the soft glow of a bluish light from the TV, mixed with the lilting flicker from a couple of candles which burned low on the dresser top.
After several weeks of getting to know one another, through a series of dates and outings, they both felt romantic tension building. A tension that's all too familiar to couples as a romance begins to bloom. The nervous realization which occurs between two people who know that the next level is rapidly approaching.
As they lay in bed watching the movie, both could barely concentrate. Their minds raced.
"...Oh, God, tonight may be the night," both anxiously thought. Movie? What movie?" As far as Chris and Erin were concerned, the dialogue emanating from the TV was on mute compared to that in their minds and the picture was a blur.
Chris made the first, yet subtle, move by placing his hand on top of Erin’s hand, which rested on her leg.
"God!" He thought, his mind raced. He felt his heart pounding in his ears.
"Are you kidding me?" He wondered. "I’m nervous about making a move on someone that I HAVE made moves on…many times?" He wrestled with a rapidly unfolding, familiar, situation in his head.
It's the beginning of the awkward dance which all new couples experience. Each move begs the question in the other’s mind:
"OK, I guess it’s alright if I put my hand on hers, right?"
"Wow, OK, his hand is on mine, what do I do? Should I clasp my hand in HIS, or move closer and lay my head on his shoulder?"
"Wait! What if she thinks I’m moving too quickly?"
"Oh, shit, I don’t want him to think I’m a slut. Wait, I‘m NOT a slut…and we’ve been out a bunch of times. I’d be a slut if I ripped off my clothes halfway through the first date and gave him a blowjob in the hallway after four Jager Bombs."
"...Screw it! I’m moving closer, Erin decided.
The internal dialogue was a virtual comedy routine between their lovestruck minds.
Chris finally accepted the fact that this dance was not going to stop until a pile of clothes lay, strewn all over the floor. His nerves in a complete shamble, as Erin put her hand on his chest and lightly caressed, pressing her head closer and tighter to his shoulder.
Their eyes intently fixated on the TV, that may as well be turned off; Erin and Chris had their own little movie playing out inside the theater of their minds.
This awkward dance, that new couples do, is the equivalent of a chess match, an erotic chess match, to be sure. Who really LOSES in this game?
"Oh, no!" Chris thought to himself.
He had just noticed that his mind was not the only thing standing at attention as momentum steadily intensified between he and Erin.
"Fuck! If she notices, and this is just innocent play, then I'll be known as the sex deprived pervert who lives in a creepy cottage in the backyard of a fucking shop!" He resolved in his racing mind.
"Down, boy, down! Think about the Red Sox, that‘ll make it go down…Wait! No! That’s weird. Better yet, think about when you had your cat put to sleep!"
Every couple has experienced “The Night”. The “Night” unfolds as a result from a culmination of events. It occurs after two people, comfortably, get to know one another and finally decide whether to chalk it up as a casual and cordial experience or to move forward.
Chris reached his arm beneath Erin’s back and around her shoulder, pulling her closer, holding her near as he stroked her soft hair. Erin moved her head from Chris' upper shoulder, upward and to the side, until her lips touched his neck.
And, so, movie night was officially over.
Chris felt the warmth of Erin's breath against his neck, sending a wave of electricity through his body, finally plunging, soundly into his stomach. The feeling that one experiences upon decent at 70 MPH down the roller coaster track. Butterflies! When you’re at the top of the ride, there’s no un-strapping the belt.
With that, Chris subtly unstrapped his belt, tossing it to the corner-- along with his shoes, socks, watch, blue jeans and cell phone.
Erin softly kissed Chris’ neck, her hands gently moved across his chest and down his stomach. She traced the contour of his body with her fingers, from chest to stomach, ever so slowly. Chris pulled Erin closer, softly caressing her cheek, pulling her lips to his, until they made contact.
Erin lay, motionless, losing herself in the moment of a long, gentle kiss. Chris supported his body above hers, barely making contact with her lips until both lay sideways on the bed, fully interlocked. They tightly embraced in a deep and passionate kiss. The moment of no return had finally arrived.
They rolled around the bed, feverishly until layer, after layer of clothes began to disappear, strewn wildly at each corner of the bed. Their hands roamed wildly; this was the moment, indeed.
It was passionate and intense, only slowing intermittently for, gentle contact between their bodies, punctuated frequently by a soft kiss on the cheek or forehead.
Chris held his body above Erin's, his arms extended, supporting his weight; he stared into her eyes with a slight smile as she lay beneath him, breathless. Her mind was completely consumed by what had just happened. The moment that they'd fantasized about was finally a reality, only more real than either had imagined.
Chris rolled to the right, gently pulling Erin’s body close to his, holding her in his arms, firmly against his chest. Their bodies glistened in the candlelight as their hearts pounded.
Erin hadn’t felt this comfortable with someone for a long time; it felt right. Chris remembered that it felt like the first time; it was pure love and passion that they’d once shared.
Chris finally accepted the fact that this dance was not going to stop until a pile of clothes lay, strewn all over the floor. His nerves in a complete shamble, as Erin put her hand on his chest and lightly caressed, pressing her head closer and tighter to his shoulder.
Their eyes intently fixated on the TV, that may as well be turned off; Erin and Chris had their own little movie playing out inside the theater of their minds.
This awkward dance, that new couples do, is the equivalent of a chess match, an erotic chess match, to be sure. Who really LOSES in this game?
"Oh, no!" Chris thought to himself.
He had just noticed that his mind was not the only thing standing at attention as momentum steadily intensified between he and Erin.
"Fuck! If she notices, and this is just innocent play, then I'll be known as the sex deprived pervert who lives in a creepy cottage in the backyard of a fucking shop!" He resolved in his racing mind.
"Down, boy, down! Think about the Red Sox, that‘ll make it go down…Wait! No! That’s weird. Better yet, think about when you had your cat put to sleep!"
Every couple has experienced “The Night”. The “Night” unfolds as a result from a culmination of events. It occurs after two people, comfortably, get to know one another and finally decide whether to chalk it up as a casual and cordial experience or to move forward.
Chris reached his arm beneath Erin’s back and around her shoulder, pulling her closer, holding her near as he stroked her soft hair. Erin moved her head from Chris' upper shoulder, upward and to the side, until her lips touched his neck.
And, so, movie night was officially over.
Chris felt the warmth of Erin's breath against his neck, sending a wave of electricity through his body, finally plunging, soundly into his stomach. The feeling that one experiences upon decent at 70 MPH down the roller coaster track. Butterflies! When you’re at the top of the ride, there’s no un-strapping the belt.
With that, Chris subtly unstrapped his belt, tossing it to the corner-- along with his shoes, socks, watch, blue jeans and cell phone.
Erin softly kissed Chris’ neck, her hands gently moved across his chest and down his stomach. She traced the contour of his body with her fingers, from chest to stomach, ever so slowly. Chris pulled Erin closer, softly caressing her cheek, pulling her lips to his, until they made contact.
Erin lay, motionless, losing herself in the moment of a long, gentle kiss. Chris supported his body above hers, barely making contact with her lips until both lay sideways on the bed, fully interlocked. They tightly embraced in a deep and passionate kiss. The moment of no return had finally arrived.
They rolled around the bed, feverishly until layer, after layer of clothes began to disappear, strewn wildly at each corner of the bed. Their hands roamed wildly; this was the moment, indeed.
It was passionate and intense, only slowing intermittently for, gentle contact between their bodies, punctuated frequently by a soft kiss on the cheek or forehead.
Chris held his body above Erin's, his arms extended, supporting his weight; he stared into her eyes with a slight smile as she lay beneath him, breathless. Her mind was completely consumed by what had just happened. The moment that they'd fantasized about was finally a reality, only more real than either had imagined.
Chris rolled to the right, gently pulling Erin’s body close to his, holding her in his arms, firmly against his chest. Their bodies glistened in the candlelight as their hearts pounded.
Erin hadn’t felt this comfortable with someone for a long time; it felt right. Chris remembered that it felt like the first time; it was pure love and passion that they’d once shared.
A physical expression of that which each had once held closely for one another, deep within their hearts. It seemed, to Chris, a far away time and place that moved a lot closer tonight.
The escalatng tension had been dissolved into pure bliss.
Chris pulled Erin closer, his mind reeled as she held tight to Chris until she fell soundly asleep. He studied her face, illuminated by the soft glow from the TV. Chris smiled.
The escalatng tension had been dissolved into pure bliss.
Chris pulled Erin closer, his mind reeled as she held tight to Chris until she fell soundly asleep. He studied her face, illuminated by the soft glow from the TV. Chris smiled.
Darkening an, otherwise, beautiful evening, Chris' mind drifted. As Erin drifted off to sleep, Chris couldn't help but to wonder if this was ethical. Second chances, are tricky, he thought.
"I miss you, Erin," he whispered.
copyright, Pontchartrain Press 2008
"I miss you, Erin," he whispered.
copyright, Pontchartrain Press 2008
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