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2: “Happy Endings III—Drowning In The Sea Of Love”
Someone asked me to keep the goofy escapades of our two sweet angels here going for (at least) another chapter, so here you go…
Welcome to installment number three…of “For Happy Endings It Takes Two.”
Sunday, December 15th, 2013, 10:26 a.m.
The car vanished behind a neighbor’s house. She sighed as she slowly shut the door and turned the lock. Her eyes went dewy, and her lips curled up into a dreamy smile. She still had her utensils in the kitchen to clean and put away, but nothing could be further from her mind. Intoxicated by all that had happened in the last eighteen hours, she just wanted to stay here in this moment until obligatory forces pulled her away.
She twirled dizzily around the living room, until she lost her center of balance and fell on the couch. It didn’t matter the couch wasn’t hard; she could’ve collapsed on concrete right now, and it would’ve felt as soft as a cloud.
All she could discern through her mind was, Melleny…Melleny, Mel, Melleny…sweet, lovely Melleny…what a beautiful name…what a beautiful creature…Sleeping Beauty…adorable Mel, wonderful Melleny…oh, yes, and Melleny…and also Melleny…and let’s not forget Melleny…oh, and of course we can’t leave out Melleny.
…Am I in love?
No, that’s silly, she told herself. Nobody’s in full-fledged love after the first date.
Or so she was told. But then it occurred to her, how would she know? She’d never had a real, serious significant other or better half before. She didn’t know how being in love felt. And she couldn’t remember the last time if ever she felt like this.
Okay, so I know no more now than I did thirty seconds ago. Hence, to reiterate…
Fifteen minutes passed before she laughed and told herself—
Oh, Sara, you silly heart. You quixotic goofball. Get up and get dressed already.
Tuesday, March 25th, 2014, 9:32 a.m.
It was a cold, frosty morning. Spring had arrived, according to the calendar, but winter had long overstayed its welcome, and seemingly just wouldn’t go away. Clouds had rolled in the night before, producing a pleasant, if frigidly chilly, sprinkle of snow over town. While the snowfall maintained quite a duration, most dissolved quickly upon touching down. But through the wee twilight hours, it built, accumulating gentle and slow, resulting in an inch-high blanket draped atop the city.
It remained manageable; no one had trouble maneuvering through this light allowance of precipitation. Some were exceedingly tired of the endless winter, wishing they resided in a warmer United State. Regardless, after three months, it didn’t fail to put smiles on a lot of faces, one of which was Sara Jane Kelton’s.
As she’d done each weekday for the past three years, Sara drove her six miles to work. She trolleyed up Juniper Street and across Rushing Highway—a street named not as a pun, but after an actual person—finally pulling into the garage belonging to Team, Inc. This was the huge corporation where Sara spent a third of life and made her living. Her backpack, which never allowed her to leave without coming along, sat in the passenger seat containing her usual arsenal of supplies: food and drink, hygiene aids, compact, hairbrush, breath mints, and of course her purse with all other essentials inside.
Like most in the workforce, she brought lunch from home some days and ate out other days. It was fortunate that her job afforded a generous entire hour for lunch. More often than all else, she had a chicken salad sandwich from the deli two blocks away. Chicken salad sandwiches, especially courtesy of this delicatessen, made her mouth water when she was full. She wanted to go back in time to shake and kiss the hand of whoever decided to make chicken a meal. Not that she disliked or preferred eating animals. She was merely a hardcore carnivore, and chicken was her jam. Companies such as Tyson, Popeye’s and KFC would never go under if Sara Kelton had anything to say about it.
She also kept a refreshing beverage in the car, due to her personal compulsion to sing her heart out with the radio or iPod. If she had her way, she’d serenade her entire office with her (mostly on-key) singing. But oh well, this was Team, Inc., not American Idol.
“Wait a minute, baby…stay with me a while,” she warbled along with Stevie Nicks. “…Said you’d give me light, but you never told me about the fire…
“…Drowning…in the sea of love…where everyone…would love to drown…”
Each day’d been basically the same for the three years since she’d fallen into her routine. But the opening of the new year stirred an additional ingredient into the mix, that made life so much more delicious than casino siteleri ever. And half an hour after getting into work this ordinary Tuesday, she tasted it. Her phone chirped.
Her heart jumped as she excitedly checked caller ID. Yes! There it was. The daily rush that came from it was not even close to wearing off. It happened a different time every day, but she could count on it each twenty-four hours without fail. She went into the phone, checked the messages, and her tummy swelled with happy butterflies.
hey hon miss u lots <3 mel
A few little words and the occasional Emoticon, but they made Sara’s year every day. The messages varied, but Mel always kept them short and sweet—both to keep her phone bill low and to entice Sara to want more and more.
Melleny Hayes and Sara Kelton had their first date at Sara’s house on December 14th (and 15th). Sara’d stuffed Mel full of chocolate (directly) and pizza (indirectly). Melleny dropped asleep on her carpet, staying over and departing the following morning after breakfast. And in her own slumber, Sara floated through a spectacular dream that saw her and Mel together in bed, tearing one another’s clothes off and proceeding to make glorious love. It, was, marvelous. So grand, divine and superb in Dreamland, yet taboo in the real-life conscious world. Clearly, for several reasons, she couldn’t ravage Melleny’s actual body in an awakened state…tempted though she was.
Her mind wanted to hold off on going beyond first base, and decided she shouldn’t fantasize, or touch herself thinking about Mel either. Her pussy expressed a different opinion. She felt her heart had to be the arbitrator and make this fragile decision. It went with her mind. Her Little Sara was a bit annoyed, but compliant.
They wanted to see each other again before Christmas, but it was not in the cards. Things predictably got hectic in light of the holiday. And Sara and Mel simply weren’t able to find another date that would yield any decent time to spend. Both were a little disappointed, but held out bright hope and expectation that as the old adage proclaimed, absence would make their hearts grow fonder.
Their courting resumed Friday, January the 10th. As date one had taken place at Sara’s humble abode, Melleny felt hers a logical and suitable setting for number two. So they switched roles, and Mel gave Sara a tour of her home. They sat, did some more breeze-shooting, and did this time go out for dinner—a simple restaurant, nothing extraordinary. Melleny made them cocoa, and both fueled this time by a healthy night’s sleep, they stayed up half the night enjoying one another’s company. They chitchatted, swapped anecdotes and laughs, innocently flirted, snuck subtle caresses by each other, and finally agreed to call it a night. Actually, Mel agreed it was time to call it a night. Sara reluctantly put on her coat and left, already looking forward to date number three. If she sported a more aggressive persona, Mel might’ve had to literally boot her out the door.
Regardless, Sara’d had a wonderful time on both dates. The only parts that made her a little sad were when she had to leave Melleny’s house—though Mel did allow Sara one kiss on the lips, of which Sara took as much advantage as reason permitted—and the revelation of details behind the affection they shared on date one.
Sara’s wildly arousing dream had planted a desire to hold Mel and generate romantic feelings upon waking up. When Melleny awoke herself, Sara slipped an arm around her on the carpet so they could huggle like teddy bears, and they shared a beautiful kiss neither expected to happen. So when Mel later told Sara she’d kissed her because she was still half-asleep and thought it was a dream, Sara was…a little bummed, but not devastatingly so. She told herself it was all part of the game. If things were meant to be, they’d happen naturally, and were not to be rushed or forced along.
Date three came a few long, long days later. They went to the movies. A favorite genre of Sara’s was horror, so she took Mel to one. Perhaps there was a dash of sneakiness in her choice, and Sara wasn’t deliberately trying to traumatize her, but she loved being able to comfort Melleny when she got frightened. Mel was a grown woman, but far from fearless. When the really scary scenes rolled, and Mel gasped or cried out, reflexively whipping her face away and burying it in Sara’s torso, her strategy paid off. Sara held Mel tenderly, rubbing her back, stroking her hair, gently encouraging her to burrow deeper and deeper. Mel almost seemed to be hanging on for dear life.
“It’s all right…it’s all right, honey, you don’t have to look,” Sara whispered, trying to hide the big smile from her vocal inflection. Her conscience asked if she didn’t think this was just a little devious. But she countered by demanding her conscience take a look at what slot oyna it enabled her to hold so tight and snug in her arms.
“That was an awesome movie,” Melleny remarked as they left.
Sara laughed. “What? You didn’t even see half of it!”
She felt Melleny link their fingers.
“No, but I saw it with you.”
Sara blushed as her eyes went dewy again and her heart did a pirouette.
Dates four, five and six were in relatively quick succession, in a few less likely courting arenas. They took respective place at the art museum (where they debated which works were most aesthetically sensual), the zoo (where Sara wanted to see the elephants and giraffes and Mel the penguins and otters) and the mall (which was really more hanging out shopping than a date, but they counted it anyway).
As encounters progressed and they grew just a little bit closer on each, venues and activities broadened. Shorter dates allowed them to share time on weekdays after Sara was done working. Melleny’s schedule was more up in the air, but she made time. They went to the planetarium and the aquarium. They went bowling and miniature golfing. They went to the amusement park and the regular park. When once pressed for time, they squeezed out the simplest, shortest date yet: they met at the ice cream parlor, had a cone each, chatted, hugged, kissed and parted. Mel was busy this particular evening. So Sara took home an extra cone for her pal Jake and asked him to come over.
By this time, more than half of February had gone by. In fact, March was approaching in just a few more days. Things began going so well and being such fun, before much longer Sara and Mel were pushing other plans out of the way just to see each other. The frigidity of this stubbornly everpresent winter barely fazed them; they grew to like each other so much, outside conditions which would’ve put a damper on their day bounced off them like beach balls. Having gotten to know each other decently well by now, it almost felt like they were old friends, instead of…
Neither Sara nor Melleny would call themselves girlfriends just yet. They would however agree they were a bit more than just buds. Sara announced one day, “Until some future date makes us something else, I say we call ourselves galpals. Y’know? It sounds innocent, and kinda special at the same time. What do you say, hon?”
Although she made this declaration and meant it, Sara secretly longed to have things progress so she could tell people, “This is my girlfriend Melleny!” The thought made her so happy. She’d have been all too thrilled to stand on her roof and yell at the top of her lungs, “I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND AND HER NAME IS MELLENY! AND I LOVE HER!!”
Still, she knew she couldn’t rush things. Until Mel was ready too, nothing was green-lit yet. She had to exercise patience. It was sort of like printing a document at work, she analogized. She had to wait and let it happen on its own. Granted, a piece of paper only took fifteen seconds to print, but like her love life, if she tried to force it prematurely, it could be ruined. She had to suppress her eagerness or she might lose the whole thing.
One thing she could do was wonder if Melleny felt the same way. Had Sara known the truth, she’d have been pleased—not ecstatically overjoyed, but pleased—to find that Mel wasn’t so far behind. Melleny’s interest too was increasing. She may not have been ready to scream it from the rooftops, but next to Sara, Mel was a little shy and introverted. Actually, next to Sara, almost anyone would be a little shy and introverted.
Sara was still just a little sad to see their dates come to an end, but happy because it meant she got to kiss Melleny. They could always exchange kisses during the date, but then the concluding goodbye liplock might feel less special. Sara didn’t want to do anything that could make things feel less special. She also made her tongue behave itself when they kissed. At this point in the relationship, only the lips got to have the fun.
When they weren’t together, they were usually at work. They unfortunately couldn’t converse via E-mails, as while Sara worked on a computer, Mel did not. They’d need to rely on texts during business hours. The only computers in the Juniper Wellness parlor where Melleny worked were used by the management. Her job was to have clients on her table, soothing their pressured joints with her hands, fingers, knuckles, and elbows.
Departing Sara’s at the end of their first date, in a moment of absentminded flirtiness, Sara happened to ask Mel if she performed happy endings. Melleny was amused, this being the first time she’d been asked this question by another woman. Oh, she’d been asked by gentlemen a number of times, both seriously and as a joke. Under normal circumstances, the answer was, “Definitely not. And even if I did, I’m gay.” However, replace a patron with Sara, remove the professional canlı casino siteleri relationship, and the answer morphed into, “…Mmm, well, not right now.” She could see herself…perhaps, just maybe…but only in her mind. She wasn’t ready for anything past this point.
Still, just as for Sara, it was fun for Mel to imagine taking things further. Fantasies were harmless, as long as not acted upon without permission. Neither had any concrete idea how the other was feeling. But while Sara was dreaming about how to describe them without a space between the words “girl friends,” Mel was having sweet thoughts of love too. She wondered how Sara’s tongue tasted. She wondered how her bare skin felt past her hands and arms. She wondered just how insanely ticklish her feet were. Sara let no one touch (the soles of) her feet, which with Mel’s hands-on profession and mentality piqued her curiosity. Speaking of tactility, she wondered too if there were any spots on Sara’s body that turned her knees to Jell-O. Once she even caught herself picturing them spooning naked. She gave her head a shake, jarring the thought loose, telling herself she shouldn’t be imagining such things…yet.
Melleny was by nature a little more reserved and grounded. Sara had more of a free-spirited spur-of-the-moment impulsiveness that Mel really liked. Mel wished she could be more spontaneous like her galpal. What she didn’t know, on the other hand, was that Sara in turn really admired Mel in this regard, and kind of wished she wasn’t so extroverted all the time. Something about a person with an inhibition about him- or herself intrigued Sara and struck her as fascinatingly elusive. Her, she was vocal. Sara’d always been pretty keen on the sound of her own voice, and had more than her share to say. Whatever the subject might be, she could find something to jump in with.
They didn’t know how well they really complemented each other. What Sara suspected, though, was by the time the equinox arrived, her heart was already in full bloom. As she noticed the most recent text message Mel sent, she picked up her phone and kissed it. She focused enough to get her work done, but each moment of break time was devoted to any number of facets leading back to one heavenly entity: Melleny…Alison…Hayes.
She wanted to do something for her, something to make Mel feel as special as she made her feel, but wasn’t sure what. Then sometime around 2:00, a wonderful idea hit.
Oh, I know! Maybe I could write her a super-sweet love letter! Or…
The Fleetwood Mac song lyrics floated into her mind.
Sara…you’re the poet in my heart…never change…and don’t you ever stop…
…Ooh, or a poem! Oh, I like that even better!
Her beloved Melleny was spending this evening with her folks, and Jake was also unavailable, so Sara was flying solo. A perfect opportunity to write my poem, she thought excitedly. So returning home after work, she tossed her backpack on the couch, seized her laptop, sat it on the desk in her room, cracked the window ajar—just enough to let the fresh air supply her with a little inspiration—readied the writing program in her OS, aired out her shirtsleeves with one emphatic flick of the wrists, and got to work.
Well, she didn’t immediately get to work. She wasn’t a poetry expert. She tried to think of how to begin. She let her fingers traverse the keyboard, prancing randomly, spelling out a mess of gobbledy-nonsense, studying what was going on outside. She deleted the folderol from her digital dance, and started jotting ideas to incorporate. Hmm…okay, well, now she had something with which to start working…
A snack, that was what she needed. All right, she thought, jaunting to the pantry and returning with a baggie of potato chips and a juice box. She wiggled her fingers over the keys, pondering. Now…what would I say if I were writing a normal letter?
She gathered some elements she liked. Let’s see, spring…no, no, actually, summer. I like summer better. And…’s pretty breezy. Trees and flowers’re coming to life, that’s nice. Should I include something about how my heart beats for her, or vice versa? What sort of rhyme scheme should I use? I know it doesn’t have to rhyme, but I’d like it to…
She told herself not to make it too complicated. It’s just a simple poem, after all. And it’s not even as if Mel asked for it. She doesn’t even know I’m writing it. It’ll be a surprise.
One and a half hours, three juice boxes and a dozen or so chicken nuggets later, Sara had banged out a rough draft of a love poem to her angel, of which she felt pretty proud. She read it over, checking for typos, adding little touches here and there, polishing it all up, making sure she was happy with the rhythm and rhyme, and decided she was done.
It had no title, but that didn’t bother her much. She saved, and was about to send it to her inbox when an additional bolt of inspiration struck. She wondered how cool it would be if she did something a little unique, and modified it to old Shakespearean English? Oooh, yeah! she decided. That’s romantic! I love that idea!
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