She sat in the large chair, auburn hair falling loose over her shoulders, legs crossed. The hem of the green dress she wore rose above her knee, showing a pair of lovely legs, and beautiful bare fee. I was trying hard not to stare. Her blue eyes shone - probably from the wine during dinner, but I kept hoping it was from me.
She had picked me up at my motel late in the morning, letting me sleep after my long drive. I was nervous waiting for her, wondering if the drive was all for nothing. Then I opened the motel room door, saw her smile and heard her say hello in that wonderful soft Southern accent. It was worth it.
The day flew by. I'm not sure what we did. I remember her laughter surrounding me, the soft sand of the beach as the wind played with her hair, the smell of the salt in the ocean, a lunch someplace, but I don't think either of us knew where or what it was. We sat looking at the sun as it went down, its golden glow lighting the edge of the ocean and bathing us in a warmth even as the dark came creeping in.
She chose the restaurant for dinner and when the meal was finished we dawdled over the coffee. Part of it was to stretch the time to talk, to get to know each other more. Part was to put off having to decide what to do next. I was hoping I didn't end back in the motel too soon.
I'm not sure when we can say we met each other. It was gradual - a few posts and replies on a bulletin board here and there. Then more of them, becoming a private conversation conducted in public. A growing awareness that I looked forward to her being online. Then instant messages - hours spent on the computer instant messaging each other. Next, phone calls and hours spent lost in each other's voice. We talked about everything and nothing. We talked about our lives, our likes, our dislikes, our sexual preferences. Then today, the last step - meeting each other.
There was another pause in the conversation and I was playing with a coffee spoon trying to think of something to say. She looked away, at the far wall, and when she turned back, her blue eyes looked down on the table cloth. I heard a small clearing of her throat. "Would you like to go back to my house for some more coffee?" she asked, barely audible.
My insides jumped and I stopped toying with the spoon.
"I'd hate to trouble you with having to take me back to the motel later when you can just drop me off now," I replied
"It's really no problem. Your motel is very close to my house,'' she said.
"Then if you really don't mind, I'd love to. No coffee though. Maybe a soft drink so I can get to sleep tonight," I replied, trying not to sound too eager.
It was a short drive to her house, but our silence made it seem much longer. I was getting worried. Had we run out of things to talk about?
