Monday, July 04, 2005

Victoria, British Columbia, Canada

Victoria's eyes glistened in the midday sun as the ferry docked on Canada side. She was optimistic and opportunistic as she casually walked up and kissed me on the cheek, welcoming and friendly. Stunned, I offered to buy her a Mango Margarita at the Keg; she accepted. Her words were kind, and she listened as I laid out all of my problems. Work, relationships, family, friends -- there they were, all of my problems, hanging inconclusively. She smiled and took my hands, unseating me from the bar stool. Her legs were long and tender, her back a soft curvature of lust. And the little black number she was wearing accentuated it all.

She pushed herself into my arms and I could feel her heartbeat through those tender breasts pushed against my chest. Then the tequila kicked in. Heady with the fresh scent of sea salt and roses falling off the sweet tendrils of fawn-coloured hair, I danced all night with her. I couldn't have stopped if I had wanted to, and I didn't want to. I wanted to breathe her in for every second I could stay awake. So she invited herself over to my motel.

The motel was quaint, not seedy. The kind of place grandmothers and grandfathers take their grandkids when they go on grandmotherly and grandfatherly vacations. Hidden away in some nestled corner of the world. Where only the 65-and-olders know where to find it.

The beds were crisp and made, soft and strong at the same time. She laid me down; I was no longer in any sort of control. My parts were pushing to escape the manmade clothes entrapping them as her hands trailed down my chest, pushing open the buttons, one-by-one. Slowly, she savored every moment, every caress, every kiss. Yes, she kissed me. Wildly at first and then softly; I knew I'd remember every second of it for years to come.

The night wore on; the kisses continued. And the torture endured for hours.

Day broke, and we breakfasted beneath a smiling sunrise. We walked the gardens and she whispered sweetly, she told me everything I wanted to hear, and breathlessly I held on to her tightly. "I love you, Vicki," I declared. She giggled coyly.

Time was racing against me and the ferry was going to ease it's beastly body off the coast in just a few hours. She read to me from Munroe's Books and plied me with rootbeers and mochas from the cafes neatly stuffed into the most unusual corners. We talked nil of the future and nothing more of the past.

When time slipped under the horizon, I boarded the ferry, satiated and happy, yet yearning to feel her arms around me for one moment longer. She stood on the coastline waving a warm nestled goodbye, but I looked away from her, my eyes painfully unable to meet hers, as we eased our way back to Washington, back to the United States. She couldn't see just how much I had loved her, that I had loved her, that I knew her when I hardly knew her; and I felt things were better left hanging unknown in the black waters of the Pacific. Even so, I held no regrets. Not for one unspoken kiss, not for one single second. --Oh Victoria, I miss you so.


Blogger Eric Jones said...

just got back from the gardens up there....i was absolutely blown away. I loved Vancouver too...god what an amazing place I tell ya..

7/13/2005 5:39 PM  

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