For Natalie

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This short story was written for Natalie.

Age Rating:

Chapter 1

The sun was flowing through her long blonde hair, braided over her naked right shoulder with a black cotton knot. She wore a sun faded dress bought at the local army salvation store for a few nickels’ worth. It had seen its better days. She had seen it on the shop window and hastily bargained for the ownership with the boutique mannequin. She was anxious of what to expect as she waited for the arriving train from Turku.

The train stopped at the platform. He stepped down and counted his footsteps down from twenty-five, twenty-four and down to nothing until he reached her. He had twenty-five steps to turn around and never to look back again, twenty-four steps to make an escape. One more step and everything would be ruined. The top three buttons of her dress had been left open, reliving a weak scent of early morning perfume on the slight sun burned pale skin. The hot weather forced pieces of the fabric to stick with her skin underneath. A couple of small birthmarks hiding under the edge of the dress. She was beautiful. He was jealous.

Having to meet in secret was below his dignity. For a brief breath he recalled a recently seen spy movie filled with secret meetings and conspiracies. They could not be seen together, that what she had told him. You are looking perfect, he said. This dress is old, she replied, suddenly feeling a bit ashamed of wearing it. We should take way to the hotel, he told her, not missing a moment to waste in a cafeteria as she earlier had suggested. She concurred. Obstacles would delay the inevitable crime they were looking to achieve. A great mistake that would change the existence of their lives. They were both mad. They both knew it, but it was written to be.

She swept aside the white curtains and opened the eight-floor hotel rooms window they had rented just for a few hours. That was the only moment she would give him. He had asked for more. She would only give him a few hours. He had asked for her eternal right. I can only give you a few hours, she had told him. He knew he had already lost her. After today, when her scent is washed with soap and drained off into the ocean, he will never be able to smell her again. Only pictures of her will remain.

They shared a small overly priced cheap bottle of lukewarm wine, which name they even could not pronounce correctly, purchased from the hotel desk. He damned himself not to plan the wine in beforehand. She looked at him; I am afraid. Why? If we do something, I’m afraid you’ll leave and won’t answer my messages anymore, leaving me alone with this mess. I won’t, he replied. A cool wind of trepidation swept inside over them, when he leaned forward to kiss her neck. I’m sticky, she apologized. It’s okay, I’ll lick your skin clean! She laughed. He was dead serious. She asked him to play nicely, but he replied to no. She suggested they could talk instead, but he replied to no. Do undress yourself now, he said instead. She obeyed. Under the top edge of her black silk trousers, grey-light pubis relieved themselves. I’m sorry, but I haven’t prepared myself for tonight’s summer party. He laughed. She was dead serious. He pushed her gently backwards on the bed and produced to pour some wine her swollen vulva.

She offered him raspberries from a small cardboard box purchased earlier from the station kiosk. She apologized for not having a nicer body. It’s perfect, he replied and kissed her olive-colored breasts. Her smile gave away a dimple on her left red blossomed cheek. I adore you, he told her. He became aware of reality, when she claimed back borrowed time. He pleaded her not to leave, but he knew it would be in vain. I love you, but don’t know you. I can’t be with you. I belong with my family. With these words, she returned him to the station. Again, thrown back to a path of twenty-five steps of uncertainty, as she asked him to delete their day worth of history.
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