Promiscuous. R. Moreen Clarke
seeing her for a couple of weeks. I mean, I know it was still kind of disrespectful. Damn,” he said. “I’m not saying I’m sorry it happened either. I think you’re a little vulnerable right now and I should have taken this into consideration before coming on to you, but you were so…” He’d known Connie as an acquaintance and he always admired her, but right now he was feeling more than a little confused by the turn of events. His mind was battling with his heart to understand how these feelings snuck up on him. There were many things buzzing around his head he felt he had no right to voice. Instead, he stood up and turned back to look out the door. “I think it stopped raining. I’ll go back to the cabin first. You can follow me in a few minutes. I don’t want us to walk in there together, feeling or looking guilty.”
Connie thought she understood what he was trying to say so ineloquently. Much to her disappointment, it was all about sex. A hot, lustful moment of unbridled passion and she gave in to it without a second thought. A quickie. It would be foolish for her to even think there was, would, or could be more between her and Marshall James. “Okay,” she agreed, determined to be as nonchalant about the whole incident as she thought he was. She watched him leave the shed. A few minutes later she felt composed enough to head back to the cabin. She spent the rest of the weekend avoiding direct contact with him and his insignificant other.
After the interlude of the weekend Connie was sure Marsh would call. Just to say hello or something. Three months of anxiously checking her voicemail finally convinced her he was not going to call. Six months of silence convinced her he had forgotten all about her and their moment. His feelings about their time together finally became crystal clear to Connie; it had meant nothing to him. Over time they’d run into each other socially and the tension disappeared as a comfortable friendship grew between them. Yet their intimate encounter was never discussed.
The sky darkened overhead and a chill wind blew across her spine. The beach had emptied, except for a few hardy souls. It was time to go. Connie arose and began gathering up her beach chair, towel, and bags. She pulled a T-shirt from her bag and slipped it over her head. As she put on her sandals, a book slipped from the top of her bag. Hefting the bag back onto her shoulder and setting down the beach chair, she reached for the book.
“Allow me,” a gentleman said from behind her. He stepped in quickly and retrieved the book. He brushed off the sand it collected and handed it to her. A warm smile crossed his face and he extended his hand to introduce himself. “Hi, my name is Victor. Can I help you to your car?”
Connie took in his clean-shaven face and head. His skin was the color of toasted macadamia nuts and his smile was warm and friendly. Six feet tall, slight of build with a baby smooth, hairless chest, he was an attractive man. Maybe the fates were smiling on her after all. She handed him the plastic lounge chair and replied, “Thanks, my name is Connie.”
Victor called Connie several times the following week. They agreed to meet for dinner on Friday. Connie hadn’t been out on a date in a few months and was eagerly anticipating his arrival. She found him charismatic and a good conversationalist. He seemed well-informed on many topics.
For the evening she’d chosen a simple peach floral sundress with matching peach sandals and purse. After speaking with Victor throughout the week, she felt comfortable enough to allow him to pick her up at her home. Connie lived in a small two-bedroom villa not far from the beach. Her grandmother had passed two years earlier and left the villa to her. It needed a little work, but Connie was quite handy and creative. She’d turned it into a little haven filled with plants and a collage of pictures.
Victor arrived punctually at seven-thirty in a small sports car. He was attired as though he’d stepped off the cover of GQ—Florida style in a muted striped shirt, linen shorts, and a pullover sweater draped loosely across his shoulders.
When Connie answered the door and invited him inside, he presented her with a tiny gift-wrapped box. Genuinely surprised, she asked, “What’s this?”
“Just a small gesture to say I’m glad we met,” he replied.
She sat down on the couch and opened the box. Inside was a miniature bouquet of three tiny roses with a silver-plated bow around the stem. The crystal in the rose blossoms reflected a prism of colors from the light in the room. Connie was speechless. She’d never received such an exquisite and unique gift on a first date.
“Victor, you shouldn’t have. This is gorgeous,” she exclaimed with delight.
They dined at a local seafood restaurant. Victor would prove to be a perfect gentleman as he opened the car door for her and pulled her chair out for her in the restaurant. He asked what food she liked and made suggestions from the menu of what he thought she would enjoy. Connie was pleased by the lengths Victor went to ensure she had a good time. He was personable and even funny at times. He asked polite questions about Connie, but didn’t pry too deeply.
Connie, on the other hand, didn’t feel she’d learned very much about Victor. He’d mentioned siblings in passing and that his parents lived in the Northeast. He’d moved to Florida only a few years ago and said he hadn’t made a lot of friends during that time. He stated he was a bit of a loner.
After they took a drive out to the beach and strolled along the boardwalk by the ocean, Connie was surprised when Victor took her hand as they walked. She looked down at their hands clasped together and smiled.
“What’s so funny?” Victor asked, and raised her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it.
“Oh, nothing really,” she replied. “I was just surprised, that’s all.”
“Surprised that I would hold your hand? You’re a very beautiful woman, Connie. Any man would be a fool not to want to touch you,” he replied, and stopped walking for a moment to face her.
She blushed and turned away toward the railing. As she looked out at the rippling ocean waves, she said, “That’s a really nice thing to say, Victor.”
“It’s the truth, plain and simple, Connie. I’ve only had the opportunity to know you for a week and already I can see how special you are.” He leaned on the rail next to her.
Connie faced him. She studied his face and thought about this evening. He’d been wonderful to her all evening. It had to be fate that brought him to the beach last week.
Victor watched the play of emotions on Connie’s face. Her dark brown eyes sparkled in the moonlight. Impulsively he leaned forward and kissed her gently on the lips.
Connie’s eyes registered surprise at first. Then she relaxed into the simple kiss for a moment before breaking away.
Victor eased up behind her and placed his hands on either side of hers. He leaned into her ear and whispered, “You’re special, Connie.”
Connie relaxed against his solid chest and sighed. She felt good. For the first time in a long time, she felt comfortable with someone.
Victor cupped her chin with his palm and turned her mouth upward. He kissed her again, this time with a little more coaxing. His tongue flicked her lips lightly, until she opened her mouth slightly. He slipped his tongue into the warmth of her mouth and he heard her moan with pleasure.
Connie’s body started tingling when his mouth touched her more intimately. She felt his hand on her abdomen as he turned her in his arms. When his tongue slipped inside her mouth, a hunger surfaced inside her being. She tasted the essence of him and enjoyed the increasing passion of his kiss. She wrapped her arms around his waist as he pulled her close against the length of his body. His arousal did not escape her. Her body ached in response to the feel of his manhood against her thigh.
Suddenly she broke off the kiss and looked away. What was she thinking? She’d only known this man a week and she was wantonly engaging with him in a public place.
“Connie?” he queried. “Did I do something wrong? I apologize for coming on to you like that.” Victor quickly tried to regroup.
Connie looked up at him. He looked so sincere, like a soulful puppy who’d trampled on your white carpet with muddy