It’s Not a Date Madame

At sundry times, in a distant yesteryear, there was a certain friend of mine that called to something inside of me. He was chivalry personified collectively: honor, courage and courtesy are the words. How could all this be true? If you’re wondering who’s that? He’s my dream, my friend, my superhero, the caretaker, the glee maker, the love giver, the gift giver, my pleasure satisfier, the kiss craver, my sire. This is more than what I had thought of him at first. Now, I want him so. I want to be fantastic like that for my Vincent too. I realized all this for the first time when . . . Now let me start from the beginning. How and where do I begin to tell this?

Around 7 years ago there was this great guy I used to hang out with named Vincent Turnup. Well, during that period I didn’t want anything more than a platonic friendship, but the chap had other plans. Vincent wanted us to be more than friends. I’d name our get-togethers everything but a date. If I had admitted to anything more it would have changed everything. I was in denial, because the magnetism between us was ecstatic. The first time ever I had seen Vincent’s face, I felt like heaven came to visit me. I said, “Whoa Oh,” to myself. He looked so cute.

Some days I reminisce about Vincent, and I think about the way we were, and shed three tears. I miss the optimistic smile of that guy. We could have become good as tart apples as mates, but now it’s probably too late for us.

Michael is the distraction in my thoughts, at the moment. He told me, “If all I had were you than that would be enough to carry on.”

Michael falls on a certain day which means we will be there for each other, whatever will be will be. But just as I was about to give myself to Michael in an endearing embrace, Vincent’s face flashed before me as if he were sitting in Michael’s place. I leaped up and said to him, “I have to do some closure about something, before I can see the way to make it with you.”

“Make it soon, I need your love,” Michael pouted.

“I’ll see what I can do,” I panted and walked away.

After I left my dear Michael at Boone’s Garden Charade, I thought on my darling Vincent. All the tender moments that we once shared flooded my heart. I hoped that our tomorrow would come, and I hoped on all the loving that we never done.

Nearly worried out of my mind, I dropped by my dutiful friend Rhonda’s house.

“I don’t know what I’ve gone and got myself into. I still don’t know what I’m going to do about it, Rhonda,” I shook my noggin.

“What happened, I thought things were going well about the new you, experimenting, ready to try new things? It can’t be that bad, is it?” Rhonda asked.

“It’s Michael Lillo, the fetish guy he likes to kiss fingers and stuff. He and I really get on with each other. We could be so right. And then Vincent keeps popping up in my thoughts like a screen pop. I can hardly think about mashing Michael, because Vincent keeps hanging over me like a dim shadow. They both would want 100% of my affection.

“First of all, Zancesca Wesscot, calm your innards down, we will figure out something together, alright?” Rhonda Bawled.

“I think it all stems from what never happened with my unrequited so-called platonic friend, Vincent Turnup. There’s something simmering between Michael and I, and the flame beneath the surface I had for Vincent is ruining things for us. I’m scared of losing them both.

“Is that the one that I told you that you totally meshed with, Vincent?” Rhonda asked.

“Yes,” I sighed and looked down in embarrassment.

“I also told you that you better hope that that one is still available whenever you make up your mind,” Rhonda sighed and rubbed my left shoulder in worry.

“But Vincent is probably not available, no way.”

“Vincent would be available for you . . .”Rhonda insisted.

“Something about love chances is granting me another chance to love and be loved, and oh how I want it to work out,” I wrung my hands.

Rhonda and I discussed a few things about my dilemma, and I came to good expectations about the way I’ve chosen to exist and what my next paces should be regarding my love nest of potential mates.

Two weeks later the unexplainable happened.

“You were just in my recent thoughts, what were the chances that we’d met at this Five Aisles Pallet? Vincent my love, here’s to wonderful coincidences,” I cried.

“I’ve been missing you. Time has been a horrible slush since we’ve been apart. Say, let’s go out and catch up on the things that are going on with us. I know it’s not a date. That’s how to be about it. It’s just us going out as old friends no strings attached, just like you use to tell me way back when. We can go to Penelope’s Banquet, in Reseda Heights,” Vincent cried.

“Just when I was about to think miracles were a fraud,” I murmured.

“What did you say?” Vincent asked.

“Miracles are possible,” I smiled.

“Being one of a scientific mind, I’d rarely admit it, but sometimes miracles do seem to happen, at times,” He smiled.

“Hello over there, Lolita,” I entreated a friend.

She waved down a hello at me. “I’m going over to the feast of the field aisle, over to the right of these aisles. I’ll see you around, okay?” Lolita mumbled.

“See you around,” I quipped.

“Perhaps, you could phone me. Connect with me by phone, digit, digit, digit, zot,” Vincent gave his phone code number.

“Will do,” I smirked.

Two weeks later, Vincent and I topped the closing day off with our arrival at Penelope’s Banquet Diner. It was such a bewildering day.

I strutted inside the upscale restaurant with a little twist in my thigh’s moves. I had my sexy and smooth on tight.

“My, you’re so pretty,” Vincent muttered.

“Look who’s talking, fine thing you?” I smiled.

“I have something for you,” Vincent gave me a mysterious red gift box.

I popped the lid off and peered at the shimmering silver bracelet.

“I saw this at the gift shop and bought it for you. I thought you might like it. The design etched upon this silver bracelet means Freetility; it means the highest type of freedom that you will be about,” He explained.

“This is comely jewelry. I do like it,” I nodded. “I’m free to be a loving individual,” I perked up in my core. I’ve been sort of perplexed about our whole situation, I thought.

Fetching our seating we had a conversation.

Vincent and I ordered roasted duck, brown gravy, cantaloupe melon, garlic butter cream potatoes, Strawberry Deline beverages, and sweet potato pie.

”My delightful Zancesca, how have you been?” Vincent cooed at me.

“I’ve been trying to see our way about things. And you?” I asked out of curiousness.

“I’ve been missing you, for one thing. My trailer business is doing well,” He added.

“My curtain business is doing well,” I smiled.

“Well, good for us,” Vincent chuckled. “I find tunes very great to hear. There’s something about the sounds of amazing renditions that takes me away to another place. It’s like an escape,” Vincent painted a poetic photo.

“I can understand what you mean,” I nodded.

“Tell me something you do well other than cooking,” Vincent asked me.

“I love to write poems.”

“I might have to try looking over some of your work,” He smiled.

“That can be arranged.”

Three days later, I found myself out with Vincent again, but this time it was different, something was changing between us. We made our way to Cinderella’s Restaurant, over in Maine City. I had on a lime blouse and gray wide-leg britches.

Entering the doorway of the restaurant, Vincent slid an arm on my waist inserting a steamy, loving sensation through my entire body. We were becoming very close once again.

Vincent ordered us venison cooked to the wellness with lemon bower herbs, two plates of cheesy mac, green peas, chopped sautéed radishes, strawberry jam, and pumpkin cream pie.

“I never thought this day I would see that I am meant for you my Vincent and you for me. But now you’re so far away from home, so far away from me. It’s okay if you want to call this a date,” I smiled at Vincent.

“That sounded very poetic. Zancesca are you ready for your Vincent, is it true?” Vincent asked with earnest eyes. “Will this be our first date?” he chuckled.

“Yes,” I admitted.

“Let’s break out the Merlot Wine in merriment. Let’s share our glass of wine and sip to our heart’s content!” Vincent exclaimed.

“Merriment is on. Let’s enjoy our special occasion,” I twiddled my thumbs nervously.

“Waiter, bring us a bottle of Pahlmeyer Merlot 2014, Napa Valley Wine. Thanks,” Vincent hollered out. “This is my dream date. So you’re opening up, at last. I think I hear your door creaking open. It’s been a while. I’m going to put a little oil on you, rub you all over and loosen you up. Is that alright with you?”

“Yes. I guess,” I squirmed. “If out of the years I could pick one moment and keep it glowing like new, of all the days that I have existed, I‘d pick the moment I met you,” I told Vincent over our candlelight dinner near closing of the day.

“I’m enjoying that you finally feel this way,” He said with a happy sigh.

“I’ve been out to take care of myself, mostly. I haven’t given much thought about giving my tomorrows with anyone until lately,” I chewed a bite.

“Wasn’t that a bit selfish,” Vincent mumbled.

“My taking care of myself is not selfish. I’m a good person.”

“I know you are. Come over into my house?” Vincent invited.

“Let’s do it,” I said.

After spending several hours at Vincent’s place, I came to a conclusion about my feelings about the guy. My whole body seemed filled with waiting. I think I’m hopelessly charmed by Vincent.

“I’ve been waiting for the moment when the two of us could be alone like this, and play,” Vincent moved closer to me and touched my perky chest, staring intently at me.

When I looked into his love eyes, leaning to my better judgment, I let love live in me. I let love beseech me, and I said for the first time, “I love you. I won’t let you go. I’ll try to make up for the times I left you in distant sorrow. You’ve been lovelorn over me, and I’m sorry,” I told Vincent in tears. I kissed Vincent with my eyes closed and it felt like we entered paradise. We kissed our hurts away. For the first time, I had looked into his eyes and allowed my feelings to flow.

“I’ve seen us like this all along,” Vincent grabbed my butt.

Opening up, I let our friend predicament move to the next level, lovers. I was swept off my feet by our moans. I wanted Vincent to hold me tighter. He christened me; and we engulfed ourselves in bodily intercourse over and over again. It was miraculous, and exhilaratingly wonderful.

The other day, someone put me on pause and asked, “You don’t seem to have a worry in the world. Why are you so happy?”

“Well, I blame it on the one I love, and I’ll never be the same. A good friend and I have recently become more than just friends; the author of immortality leads us on. This world is fine with me,” I wonderfully responded.