He wanted to see me so much; at least that’s what he claimed.
“How about next weekend in Paris?” I said.
“Hmm, too short. You would go crazy having to leave me after two days and get withdrawal symptoms.”
“Why has a man like you not found the right woman yet?”
“A difficult question, complicated to answer. Well, there are some women where I think after one night Get out! because they are inhibited, incapable of orgasms, or exhausted after one hour of lovemaking. Then I meet what I call the fighter types: Hold on to that guy by all means. And then there is what I call a poem of a woman: feminine, strong, intelligent, sensual, giving; a poem everywhere, in bed and in the theatre, in the sea, in a dream. Endlessly.”
“Sounds like a love marathon, Gerard. I don’t know how persevering I can be; I have never been tested like that.”
“I’ll be your trainer. I look forward to hours of erotic, soft touching, caressing, and our longing looks, our moist skin, and our surrender.”
“I am surprised there is no woman of your dreams on that dream of an island.”
“Lots of women here of course, but ..."
“Did you meet any women from this dating site yet?”
“Two. One a real beauty, the owner of a big boutique, a catwalk woman. I did not want that life style; the other one, a commercial director of a multinational, passionate but a bit dumb; no good conversations. Do you know that I love you?”
His unexpected declaration shook me but I was also glowing with pride. We seemed to be getting somewhere fast.
“Is there such a thing as love at first click?” he asked. There must be if you are exchanging kisses and hugs after just a few emails. Well, virtual ones really only, still!
“It’s incredible, Cherie, the current that has built up between the two of us straight away. Do you feel it, too?” Boy, did I. “Let’s get lost together.”
“How do you mean, Gerard?”“I want you to get lost in my love and me. I want you to forget your own
name. I want you to live only for us and our love.”
I was enchanted, intrigued, and bewitched. The magic of love had cast its spell on me fast. Nothing like that had ever happened to me. This had to be the lightning strike I was waiting for, at long last, after a loveless, unromantic marriage. This made George, my beloved pilot − still missed five months later − bland in comparison.
(to be continued...)