Hello! Thanks for all your past input. It's been awhile. I know I promised to write more and I have. Just not here. I managed to get three novellas published with The Wild Rose Press this year in their erotic division. (If you'd like to read them, feel free to contact me.)
This story is for those who are interested in something visceral and heady. It is the first-time meeting of two people who feel that instant connection and act on it. I'm entering it in the SUMMER LOVIN CONTEST 2018 and would love your comments and vote.
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He had a resonating voice, older than his age, until he sang. Then it all changed. It became clear and fluid with a lyrical thickness. It rolled into me, especially when his emotions edged into a ragged quality as the ballad continued. I don't think it was the drink I tipped back so quickly to quench the summer heat. Travelling through the back street behind the beach shops, I wanted a break from all the quaint tea shops and outdoor bars that my college girlfriends had been dragging me to this week. They didn't expect me back to our cottage rental for hour or three, having split up and gone shopping themselves.
Hanging my shades on my tank top, I had stepped into the bar just as he took to the microphone. It was early evening and the bar looked cool and dark, far more inviting than another brightly-lit store with fleece wear, taffy, earrings and hats. Not that I minded it. Not at all, toying with my own newly purchased silver-drop earrings, after twisting my sun-bleached brown hair up in a makeshift bun.
Drink in hand, I stood to the side near the AC, letting my breathing deepen. I was mesmerized, drawn to the intricate guitar melodies, unsure how my drink disappeared. I could blame it on the anonymity and relief to the blinding sun, but it was sweet lull of his rich voice that almost instantly drew me to a less self-conscious state. The ice rattled in my empty glass as I held it to my neck, and rolled it on my upper chest, letting the delicious cold condensation drip down my cleavage.
The song rolled to an end with a tenor notes holding tight to a crescendo of release. I stood in awe, my trance lifted only by the applause around me. I was the only one not clapping! He seemed to look right at me with a questioning expression falling on his face. Embarrassment sent a prickling blush up my face. I tried to cover by raising my empty glass with a nod of appreciation. Then it happened. That smile.
That heart throbbing smile--- hazel eyes crinkled with long lashes. His smile was framed in a beard. His hair was something between blond and brown, his beard a shade darker. But his smile, so bright, in contrast to the song he just finished.
"Have a seat, I won't bite... hard." He said to me and nodded to a tall bar stool across the bar. I could feel his gaze follow me.
The titters around me make me move quickly. I pulled myself up onto the bar seat, my shorts threatened to ride up enough to have my cheeks stick. I might be slim but my short height made tall bar stools tricky to master gracefully, but thankfully I slid on, and my baseball cap on the bar counter. I turned to face him, only to find he was looking right at me. More like through me, since it cut into me as his voice did.
Did he just mouth, "for you?" I found a second drink in front of me. Maybe he meant the drink. Did I smile my thank you to him or did I just stare in wide-eyed wonder?
He spoke as he re-tuned his guitar. I tried to focus on his words but failed. All I heard was his deep voice, tender now, somehow matching the ripple of his muscled forearm, tattoo only partly showing from his rolled-up sleeve. A song request was made. He spoke of moving on from love lost, something I did a few months back. In truth I had been lying to myself. I hadn't moved on, not enough. I seem to find a way to slip away from the invitations that came my way. That's partly why my girlfriends were dragging me out bar hopping as much as they did this week. Little did they know I would just as soon play female "wingman" than find someone new. Or worse, I could find someone like my drone-voiced, snobby ex.
My attention focused back on the musician. He smiled a gentler smile and began to sing. Oh, his voice! It seemed to encircle me, moving me as it resonated within me. The cooling from scorching summer heat, lost when his voice added another different level of heat. I wanted to kiss those lips. I wanted to break the cycle. I wanted to touch him and have his arms pull me into him. That smile formed on his lips again. Could he read my thoughts? Was I that transparent?
I rolled an ice cube in my mouth, but that did nothing to cool me. Each breath deeper. It must be the drink. I pushed it away and mouthed "coke" to the bartender who seemed to hover near me.
"It is," he mouthed back with a snicker on his lips.
I tipped back another gulp and turned back to the singer, now drinking in the way his expressive brows added to the emotional impact of the lyrics. He tilted his face up dreamily and looked straight at me, as if he were only singing to me, as if he were waiting for me.
A visceral sensation rolled into me. I felt those ripples. The ones that formed with a moan--- after I reached that point where I needed more. Craved more. I craved him. A stranger with a guitar in a strange bar. I wanted him buried deep inside me. What was I thinking?
Again, I was snapped back out of my wandering, pulsing thoughts by the applause. Again, I forgot to clap. I fumbled for my glass to raise in a salute to him. I raised it halfway, abashed and cringing at my own faux pas.
"I'll get her to applaud yet, won't I?" The growing crowd whooped their appreciation.
"She seems a bit shy," he offered up on the mic in response.
"She's a cute one, Ian," someone shouted.
"Yeah, she's hot," another called out.
