Amber

Sunday morning, I awoke to find that I was not alone.

I opened my eyes to find a plethora of thin amber strands directly over my head. Amber sat on the edge of my bed, leaning over me, smiling sweetly.

"You look fairly innocent when you sleep," she said softly. "Quite different from at the lake last night," she added with a wink.

I pulled Amber down upon me, hugging her warmly, my bare arms enjoying the sensual feel of her soft robe. I lamented that the robe and the covers prevented a full skin-on-skin sensation, but there would certainly be plenty of opportunity for that later.

The morning following our first date went fairly well. There were a lot of open gazes as we prepared and ate breakfast. We watched a few cartoons on Boomerang together as we chastely cuddled on the sofa. Then we finally separated to get dressed for the day.

Amber had planned to go to the mall with a few friends from school, so I had the afternoon to myself. It was a time for reflection on the past few weeks, and on the past forty-eight hours in particular.

For several years, I had kept a small tabletop fountain in my tiny home office, and would turn it on if things began to feel too stressful, or if I really needed to ponder something. With Amber gone, I knew that I would be undisturbed for several hours, so I went into the office and turned on the fountain.

For a long time, I gazed into the fountain, watching the water slowly spill from the top of the simulated boulders and cascade down into the small pool covering the multicolored pebbles. The sound of the flowing water helped my mind to relax, helped my pent-up arousal to simmer, and helped my entire body to calm.

Once again, I thought of Amber as the eight-year-old girl I had first met. Her silky hair and brilliant eyes - both features attained from her mother, Francina - had captivated me even then. As she grew older and taller, while her body had slowly transformed itself into that of a stunning young woman, her hair and her eyes retained the innocence of the eight-year-old girl - perhaps that was why I kept thinking of Amber so much as a little girl.

On the other hand, Amber was definitely a woman. The previous twenty-four hours had definitely proven that: the feel of her body, and especially the sounds of her passion were unmistakably 100,000% woman. She could make my body react in ways which only a woman can stir within me.

And, on top of it all, she clearly loved me. Perhaps because we had already known each other for a decade, her love truly touched my soul and made me feel nicely warm whenever I thought about her.

Perhaps because we had already known each other for a decade, my feelings for her were truly genuine, for I truly knew Amber. I knew her personality. I knew her favorite color. I knew her favorite catch-phrases. I knew her expression of frustration. I knew her penchant for multiples of the number four.

I knew I wanted to spend my remaining days with her.

The difference in age, however, could be a major barrier, especially in a town where everyone seemingly knew everyone else, at least by sight. Since her father had been in the military, many people knew Amber by name, and knew me because I had associated with Paul. After the funeral, when word began to circulate, most people thought it was a good idea that Amber would be living with me for her final year of high school - everyone seemed to recognize that I would always have Amber's best interests in mind.

So that made me question: Would a relationship with this particular woman truly be in her best interest? Would his particular woman truly be well-served by spending the rest of her life with someone nearly two decades her senior?

I pondered those questions for quite a long time, listening to the flow of the water, watching as it rose up from the simulated boulders and cascaded down into the small pool covering the multicolored pebbles.

My mind wandered back to the previous night: the dinner at Arby's, bowling, Ms. Pac-Man, the drive, holding each other on the edge of the lake, touching her intimately, driving home, the kiss on the front porch, her muffled cries of release...

I vowed that there would be another date.