Long ago I began to play a game meant just for me whereby I kept a list of ten things or ten places that I wanted to experience before this lifetime ends. Each time I ticked one off, I moved it to a new list called "dreams realized", and promptly added to the prior list a new wish. Well, Henry Miller (somewhere out there in Louisiana) this one is for you! After all these years you remain at the top of my list of "things I want to do." The what if's are never far from my mind...
* * * * *
It's no wonder that I was nervous. I had never done anything like this before. What if he did not remember me? What would I say to him? After all it had been over twenty-nine years since we last saw each other.
I was becoming obsessive about what he 'd be like as an adult.
Perhaps it was the feeling that there were still matters unresolved that was the catalyst. Perhaps it was an effort to stop middle age from descending on me. One last hurrah to recapture this lover of my youth.
So as logical or illogical as it may be, my relentless curiosity drove me to the library. It is really amazing how simple it was to find him. I've known for several years that he lived in a small city only twenty-five miles away. All it took was thirty minutes of my time and a R. L. Polk directory and I had his address, home telephone number, and his employer's name, address and telephone number. I made a copy and put it in my wallet.
That was over two months ago.
This morning while sharing coffee and a soak in our hot tub, my husband asked me if I had called him. Having shared our fantasies though the years, Nathan is well aware of my passionate memories of youth.
"Today is the day!" was my enthusiastic reply.
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About mid-morning as I sat staring at my reflection in the mirror of the dressing table, images of young Henry floated though my mind's eye. He was tall, muscular, with thick inviting lips that served him well, and hair as blond as corn silk that he wore in a crew cut. This dream state brought me back to a warm humid night many years ago.
We were parked outside a neighbor's house about two blocks from where my parents lived. In all probability my father was laying in bed watching the clock to be certain that I honored curfew.
At first nothing was really out of the ordinary, just the usual deep tongue swapping kisses one practices as a prelude to what was then called "petting". Pushing Henry away by less that an arm's length, I told him we needed to talk. Earlier that day, my closest friend, Erin, had tearfully confided that she was afraid that she was pregnant.
I knew she was sleeping with Paul, but I honestly did not understand why she continued to do so. "Why did you put yourself in the position where you might get pregnant?"
The look on her face bewildered me, so incredulous did she respond to my question. "You really don't understand, do you? It just feels so good I couldn't stop!"
Of course, Henry found my story humorous. He must have been amused because he had a really good laugh before he chuckled his response, "Would you like me to show you what she means?"
I do not remember answering affirmatively. In fact I do not remember answering at all.
Before I knew what was happening, his fingers were unbuttoning my blouse, and his hand cupped my breast. Quickly and with tenderness he freed my breast from the restraints of the cotton apparel. I was mortified that he was looking at that part of my anatomy, but I was too dumbfounded and too excited to say anything. He held the tip of the nipple between two fingers and squeezed and tugged with an alternating rhythm.
My physical experiences had heretofore been nil, but my daydreams and nightdreams had always left me with a tingle between my legs. I was totally unprepared for the wave of heat that consumed me, nor the electric rush that connected my breast and my vagina. When I opened my eyes I saw his mouth suckling my nipple. At this point I was swooning; I would have followed him anywhere if only he do that again.
But he didn't. No, he raised his head, righted my clothes and smiled. "Now do you understand?”
The telephone rang and startled me back from the dream state. It must have rung a few times before penetrating my reality for whoever it had been had already hung up the line before any words passed my lips. Holding the receiver in hand, I decided to procrastinate no longer. I dialed his office number and waited for the first ring nervously.
"Henry Miller and Associates” answered a clear precise female voice.
"Mr. Miller, please."
"Who shall I say is calling and what is this in reference to?"
Momentarily panic gripped my stomach as the realization hit me that I could either hang up or forget this foolishness, or jump in with both feet. My voice cracked as my subconscious made the decision without consulting my conscious being. "I am an old childhood friend of Mr. Miller's. I thought I'd call and surprise him. Would you be a dear and help me?"
"Well, that is a bit irregular. "
"Please," I persisted. "I'm in town for today only, and I'd like to see if he is free for lunch."
Perhaps she too had read the same romance novels, for without answering me she connected me to his extension. So much for a little white lie.
"Henry this is a voice form your past. I called to surprise you; I'm going to feel really silly if you do not remember me. This is Diana. Diana Sanders."
The silence that followed was so deafening. Then a sigh and what was surely a smile crossed his face for the tone of his voice lost all traces of the grown up Henry. When he spoke there was the same cocky flirtatious voice of my youth.
