The Note

I have written quite a few "mainstream" (ie non erotic) stories based on songs. Everything from "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" to "Ruby, don't take your love to town". This story is very much about sex though, and is based on a song released in 1990. If you haven't guessed the song by the end – it's revealed there. Don't cheat and look ahead, it might spoil the "twist".

As ever, comments and positive and negative criticism are very welcome. And I'll reply to any non-anonymous email comments. Thanks for taking the time to read my stuff. BW

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July 18th

The low hum of the air conditioning, coupled with the goosebumps the cool air had created on his naked body slowly dragged him out of his thoughts. He had been staring at the note for over five minutes. It had the hotel logo at the top, but had not been written using one of the hotel's cheap pens – the elegant, unhurried handwriting had been created with an expensive fountain pen. Elegant and unhurried, just like she had been. He stared again at the final part, the last sentence kept going round and round in his head.

"Don't try to find me, please don't you dare – just live in my memory, you'll always be there."

It sounded poetic, and maybe it was for that reason that he knew he would remember those words for the rest of his life. No, it wouldn't be for that reason; it would be because of the eighteen hours he had just spent. Eighteen unforgettable hours. He looked at the bed with its ruffled sheets and scattered pillows, and despite the air conditioning, the strong smell of sex filled the room. In his mind he could see her head resting on the pillow, her short dark hair dusted with blonde highlights, her hazel eyes that seemed to be always twinkling with a hidden secret, her perfect breasts and the nipples his mouth had lovingly kissed.

He switched on the coffee pot and went into the bathroom, his tanned body contrasting sharply with the crisp, white tiling. He could feel the shower's hot needles stinging the small scratches she had left on his back. His hand ran across the stubble on his cheek, the stubble she had playfully complained about as it rubbed against her thighs. As he closed his eyes and turned his face up to the stream of hot water, his mind was filled with the first time he saw her just a few hours ago...

Since he was sixteen, ten years ago, Don had hitched from the main road his near his uncle's farm to his home. It was a two and half hour car journey, and on a bad day it would take him six or seven hours. But he enjoyed meeting the people who offered him a lift and he had the time to kill. Yesterday, he had set off just after lunch. The summer storm had been as unexpected as it was spectacular, and within a couple of minutes he was soaked. His jeans and shirt were stuck to his body. Don was just thinking about going back to his uncle's place, with the inevitable "I told you so" that Aunt Beth would utter, when the silver Merc pulled up. The window hummed half open, and he heard the voice of an angel:

"You look like you could use a ride, get in!"

Don didn't wait to be asked twice, and with a hasty "Thank you" slid into the passenger seat. As the car slid effortlessly away from the kerb, he wiped the raindrops off his glasses and looked at his saviour for the first time. She was drop dead gorgeous. He had always preferred women with short hair, and the highlights in hers seemed to be ignited by her gold and diamond earrings. On some people, the expensive jewellery would have seemed at odds with the jeans and denim jacket – but not her, she'd make a sack tied with string look stylish.

"Thanks again, you just saved me from drowning I think."

"Don't worry about it. Where are you headed?"

He thought Christmas had come when she said she was going the same way as him. After the initial hesitant conversation, they started exploring subjects they were both into. Their conversation was easy and relaxed. Occasionally, he'd glance across and they would briefly make eye contact, and smile. They discussed books – he liked Sci Fi, she liked Thomas Hardy. They talked films and TV, and talked politics and music. They loved it when they agreed, but loved it even more when they disagreed and playfully mocked each other's choices. The longer their conversation lasted, the more of it they spent smiling and laughing.

After about an hour, she noticed him shiver – and realised he must be freezing because his clothes were still wet.

"You know, I've always wanted to say to a guy 'let's get you out of those wet clothes' – but for now, I think you're going to have to make do with coffee to warm you up."

With a cheeky smile, she pulled off the road, and drove into a hotel. They found the coffee shop just off the reception, and once inside they settled down opposite each other in one of the booths. He then saw just how spectacularly good looking she was, and for the first time he drowned in the pools of hazel that were her eyes. Like her hair, her irises had little flecks in them – and that's what seemed to make them sparkle. The coffee came, and as she was getting warm in the cosy restaurant, she took off her jacket. No longer hidden by the loose outer clothing, Don for the first time saw the shape of her breasts, and the nipples poking playfully at him. She caught him looking at her chest and raised her eyebrows and tilted her head to one side. As she did so the light twinkled on the expensive earring that dangled down.

"See anything you like?"

The conversation, and with it their relationship had clearly reached a crossroads. Don had two choices. Defuse the rising sexual tension with a witty quip and go back to talking music, or turn the dial up another notch. With the flecks in her eyes twinkling at him, and her glossed lips curled into the faintest of smiles, there was only one way it was going to go.

"Actually, I think you are absolutely perfect!" Then he raised his eyes in embarrassed disbelief. "Oh my God, I can't believe I actually said that!"

"In that case, I think it really is time we got you out of those wet clothes!" and with that she dropped some cash on the table and was heading for the hotel check in desk before Don realised what was happening. At the hotel reception, Don thought he detected the faintest smile from the receptionist when she asked if they had any luggage to collect from the car.

With a "Nothing we can't handle" comment his...what was she?.. friend, lover, driver? .. headed for the lift. As the doors glided shut, their eyes locked together, and as they moved towards each other for the kiss they both knew was inevitable, the lift jerked to a halt. The doors slid open and the two of them simultaneously sprang apart, smirking like naughty eleven year olds, as a hotel maid smiled and got in. As the lift moved up he slid his hand over to hers, and she held and gently caressed it with her pale, slender fingers. There was an ache in his chest, and it seemed his stomach had suddenly given birth to a swarm of butterflies that were battling to get out. He couldn't swallow; his mouth felt dry. It was still about the only part of him that was. The musty smell of his drying clothes contrasted sharply with the expensive perfume she wore.

Once inside, their first action was the kiss that had almost happened earlier. It was long, unhurried, tender – and, thought Don, all the better for the wait. He gradually felt her nervously unbuttoning his shirt, and with the briefest break in the kiss, she looked into his green eyes: "I told you that you have to get out of these wet clothes – you need to warm up in the shower."

The memory of the way they had washed, caressed and explored each other's bodies with their hands and mouths, the way she looked wrapped in the fluffy, white hotel towel, and the way she had let it slide to the floor as she led him to the bed was so vivid that he was sure she was still here with him. But the words of the note came back to him "Just live in my memory, you'll always be there". He sat on the hotel bed with that same towel wrapped round his torso, the torso that only a few hours earlier her legs had been wrapped round.

He looked at the crumpled bed and thought again of last night. He was not inexperienced when it came to sex, but the intensity of their lovemaking had been something entirely new to him. He remembered the first time: their eyes had been locked together in fierce concentration. He recalled the taste of blood as he kissed her, after she had bit her lip in the intensity of the moment.

After that, their hours of repeated lovemaking had become varied and fun, without losing any of the passion and tenderness. At one point, as he lay on his back with her astride him, riding him in long, slow movements. He looked at her:

"I don't even know your name."

"Tomorrow is for names, now shut up and kiss me again."

In the end, sapped of the last drips of energy they had fallen asleep. He on his back with his right arm around her caressing her breast, and her on her side with her head on his shoulder and right arm and leg draped over his body. As he drifted into the kind of sleep that only exhausting, fulfilling sex can bring, he wondered what tomorrow had in store.

He looked again at the note .....

July 16th, 3 years later

"I don't know why you still hitch hike!" Aunt Beth said as she kissed him goodbye.

"I told you, I like to meet and talk to people"

"Maybe you'll meet a nice girl then. It must be a couple if years since you had anyone in tow for more than a few weeks."

"Ah, you know me, too picky – just never met the right person."

But Don had never told anyone the real reason that he still hitched this journey but drove his car everywhere else – and he also had never told anyone that he had already met the right person. His wallet still held that precious note. He didn't look at it any more, simply because he didn't need to. He knew every word, knew every punctuation mark, and knew the shape of every letter her perfect hand had created.

Today was hot and bright. Don thought that if it wasn't to be his silver dream machine, then a convertible would be a cool ride today. In the end it was a Merc – not a silver SLK, but shiny, black four by four with heavily tinted windows. The passenger window hummed down and the voice of an angel said:

"You look like you could use a ride, get in."

There was a second while the voice and words sank in, and Don looked again into those shining, twinkling, smiling eyes. He opened his mouth to say something and his eyes caught a movement in the back seat. The bright green eyes of the two year old little girl stared inquisitively at this strange man leaning in at the window. Don had seen those eyes before, in the mirror – every morning. He looked back to the woman in the front seat, who just smiled and nodded.

The warmth of her hand as she explained was small consolation. He could feel the gold ring that had been missing three years ago. The ring that the man she loved had given her, but he couldn't give her the thing that was missing from their lives. Don could – and had.

As he watched the tail lights fade into the distance, he took the note from his wallet, and let it fall away in the evening summer breeze. Time to get on with his life ...

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The words of the note are a bit of a give-away. But the song the story is based on is "All I Wanna Do Is Make Love To You" performed by Heart and written by Robert John "Mutt" Lange.