30 years ago

            It was just another business trip, ATL – SNA.  I was in 3C and she in 3D.  We exchanged small talk during the boarding process then crawled into our own little worlds at take-off.  The conversation resuming during breakfast and lasted till we had retrieved our luggage and were going on our separate ways.  As we parted she handed me her card, black with a silver damask pattern, on which was printed her name and number.  “Feel free to call me if you find yourself with some down time or are back in town” she said as I placed her card in the inside pocket of my suit jacket.
            It wasn’t until a few weeks later on another trip that I found her card.  There was something about her voice and mannerism which exuded an aura of self-confidence and something else, something which I couldn’t identify.
            I called the number and heard her voice after the second ring.  It was almost as if we were again on that flight.  Listening to her speak was something almost mystical and magnetic.  I came to my senses when she said she had to leave after we had been talking for nearly four hours.  I told her I was available the following weekend and wanted to take her up on her offer if it was still open and if she were free.  The excitement in her voice was very apparent when she said yes and what time should she pick me up at the airport, and as she had space I need not worry about a hotel room.
            I saw her almost immediately as we entered the terminal from the jet bridge while she scanned the crowd.  I walked passed her then turned around and said “Bonnie”.  She turned, looked at me and loudly squealed as she hugged me, then cupping my face she kissed me gently.  She took my arm and hand as we walked to the parking lot.  After putting my bag in the trunk I held the driver’s door for her before getting in the passenger seat.
            Leaving my bag at her place Bonnie played tour guide, showing me the beaches and taking me to her favorite haunts.  Dinner was at some small, nondescript restaurant where we ate like ravishing fools while the conversation continued to flow and she entranced me.
            After dinner we walked along a beach with the moon’s reflection illuminating the water as it lapped the sandy shore.  It was as if we were friends who had not seen each other for decades and kept talking; only briefly interrupted by moments of silence.
            We returned to Bonnie’s home where the conversation continued over drinks and soft music playing in the background as time ceased to exist until Bonnie stood up, extended her hand to me, turning around she took both of my hands in hers and led me upstairs to a room. When she turned on the lights I realized it was her room and I started to inquire about where I was sleeping.
            She raised a finger to my lips while placing her other hand behind my head and pulled my mouth down towards hers.  Slowly and softly she started kissing around her finger still pressed against my lips.  “No!” she whispered as I started to raise my hands, “leave them at your side.”
            That evening and the rest of the weekend was spent exploring each other’s bodies in various parts of the house and in different degrees of dress and undress.  Bonnie’s sexual appetite was boundless, her knowledge broad and refined and she had the ability to bring me to sensations I had not known.  We were like two kids infatuated with each other.  It didn’t matter if we were at a concert, opera, the zoo or her home, we were kissing, holding hands or walking are-in-arm.  We molded into each other’s body whenever the moment allowed.  Some days there was no sex, just the gentle touch, and to the other extreme there were days with only sex.  This relationship continued and grew for six months then she disappeared.
            Her soft touch, almost whisper of a voice and the way she twirled her hair.  The warmth, love, joy, friendship, the sensation of feeling literally spent at the end of every encounter and wanting more.  The excitement of seeing Bonnie and learning what she did or did not have planned.

            That was 30 years ago.  Feelings and memories long repressed and forgotten have resurfaced. 

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About livedinitaly

Love food and traveling. Breaking out of this introvert shell by expressing my thoughts, experiences and feelings.
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3 Responses to 30 years ago

  1. kittykat says:

    What lovely memories!

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