December Love - A Short Story

A bitter cold night, Sarah decided she would curl up in front of the fire with a good book. This was a routine she had ceased a while back as life interrupted her nights alone.

It was the middle of the holiday season and she was alone yet again. A bit of a recluse, she preferred her solitude but nature would occasionally exert its force and push the drive for companionship—the companionship of a man. Late twenties was treating her well as she was financially stable with an adequate job and a small inheritance from her grandparents passing. Life was good as far as she was concerned. The only thing she had to contend with was the occasional nagging from nature's push which seemed to increase with each passing day.

Settled now with the enjoyment of her book she was interrupted by a phone call. "Damn," she said as she had forgotten to turn the ringer off. She reached for the phone. The ID displayed Karen. As this was her best friend she figured she should take the call. "Hello?" she said.

"Hey! Where are you?" demanded her friend. Sarah could here the commotions of a party in the background which jogged her memory—she was supposed to be at Karen's party. "Oh crap. I'm sorry, I forgot."

"How could you forget? You helped me plan it!" she paused briefly then continued, "You're reading aren't you?" she queried knowing the answer.

Sarah smiled. "A little," she said as she tried not to hear the ongoing festivities in the background.

"Could you please try and show up—just for a little while, please," she pleaded with a playful whine.

Sarah knew she was obligated to show as she did give every indication she would appear and Karen, being the social butterfly, would never forgive her if she didn't. Well, at least until the holidays were over anyway. "I'll be there soon, okay?" confirmed Sarah

"You're a doll. I'll be waiting. Don't flake on me, girl," she warned.

"I won't. I'm getting ready as we speak," she said rising from the couch. Standing was an effort as far as she was concerned.

Sarah gave her best quick effort to look presentable. Not as attuned to social etiquette as her friend, she didn't really care as she was out to impress no one. To look presentable was important though. Satisfied, she grabbed her necessary paraphernalia and headed for the car.

Her car pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant Karen had booked for the party. As far as quantity of people, it appeared to be a success. Quality of attendees would be determined soon enough. Superficiality was down the list in Sarah's book.

She was spotted immediately upon entering "Hey, you did make it!" Karen said in her boisterous party mode as she gave Sarah a big hug. "I gave you a sixty-forty chance," said Karen.

"You know I had to show, you'd never forgive me," she said.

"That's the sixty part," she laughed as she grabbed Sarah's hand and led her around for introductions.

Karen introduced her to several clusters of friends and Sarah endured. There was one group they had not approached that caught her eye. Her attention was drawn to a man who almost looked as if he was trying to hide, to blend into the corner. He was not talking to anyone even though he was surrounded by people.

"Who's that?" she queried with interest as she guided Karen's attention.

"Oh that's Dillon. He sort of tagged along with someone," she said dismissive.

She couldn't help but stare at this somewhat odd man. He spoke to others when addressed but did not offer much in the way of conversation. Sarah knew this tactic as this was her own modus operandi. The way he moved—it was not introverted at all. He was confident in action but looked rather awkward around the superficial. Yet another trait they shared. For some reason she felt the need to introduce herself so approached the group, of which a few members she knew. Pleasantries were exchanged and she then introduced herself to the superficially awkward man. "Hello, rather be elsewhere I gather?" was the line she decided to open with.

He chuckled. "We just met, and you seem to know me well," he responded.

What a perfect response, she thought. "I'm Sarah," she said then lightly shook his hand.

"Hello, Sarah, I'm Dillon," he replied and responded in-kind with a light handshake. Sarah had not noticed but when he was finished with the handshake her grasp of his hand lingered. She soon became aware and drew back.

Dillon was a tall man with striking features but not in the classical sense. His smile was warm and inviting and possessed steel blue eyes. The longer they talked the more his eyes seemed to penetrate her being and stirred primal emotions, which was quite unexpected and caught her a little off guard. As they continued to exchange the normal socially acceptable pleasantries and the more she gazed into those blue eyes, the more she became lost—helpless. It was if he had a power she could not fend off. There was a strange familiarity about him—a yearning—a primal lust she had never felt but was strong and inviting. All from a man she had just met and knew nothing about along with emotions that were new and powerful.

After a little while of pleasant chat Dillon broached a new level of conversation. "I don't mean to be too forward but I'd like to see you again. I don't know what's going on here but I feel an attraction to you. I don't know if you feel it too but I'm gonna take a shot here," he said and hoped for a positive response.

It was all Sarah could do to keep from blurting her phone number before he finished. She took a deep mental breath and responded. "Oh, I don't know. I'm sure you have women climbing all over you all the time," she teased.

"I'm not that type of guy, Sarah, I-"

She cut him off. "I know you're not," she flirted without consent from her good sense.

They exchanged numbers and Dillon decided to push a little more. "Would you like to do something this weekend?" he offered.

The conflict between a surge of strong emotions and proper etiquette along with common sense were at war deep in her psyche. Within a split second the war ended. "I'd love to," she replied as she made an effort not to say anything more.

Sarah and Dillon dated a couple times after that night and became more familiar with one another's quirks and peculiarities. They were naturally comfortable around each other but there was one thing that was ever-present—emotions of primal nature. Unladylike as they were, they would not be denied. With each glimpse into Dillon's eyes she became enthralled, each word he uttered resonated to her core, stirring even more uncontrollable and basic urges.

This was not her at all! No man—no person ever got to her this way. She was beside herself and conflicted. She wanted more, she wanted him. But she would be damned if anyone would control her this way. Being out of emotional control was unfamiliar and unpleasant. Yet, she felt it necessary with him, she wanted it. To let him do what he wanted, to allow him his way. She knew that was okay as she trusted him. He would not violate her trust nor would he want to. Sarah had a decision to make: Stop seeing this man who had a way of drawing hidden emotions from places she didn't know existed within her which, if she did halt their time together she would effectively suppress these overwhelming emotions and urges, or she could give in to a new and untested area of her being, her baser emotions, the ones which have driven every species for countless eons. This was her choice. She would make it later. For now, she had a date.

It was Sarah's third date with Dillon and she was more nervous than her first and wasn't sure as to why. She felt comfortable with him and didn't even worry about saying something stupid or silly. He took it all in stride and was quite the gentleman. Sarah could tell, nature was not manipulating only her as she could sense his restraint as well. Things became very heated between the two yet there was no physical intimacy other than the two very quick goodnight kisses which they both seemed to have an unspoken agreement on as they knew it may lead to much more too soon. She was very nervous and took special care in grooming and primping as it may become integral—or not.

Dillon pulled up in his perfectly average and acceptable car. Sarah climbed in. The air was thick with tension from the start and Dillon broke the ice. "I don't know why but I'm feelin' rather nervous tonight. This is our third date you know. And you know what that means don't you?" he asked sly.

She had a pretty good idea but was afraid to answer in that it might make her decision for her and she had not yet decided how the night would develop. She went with the safe play. "No, what does the third date mean, Dillon?" she queried with a hint of playful suspicion.

After an animated shift in the seat and an even more animated clearing of the throat, Dillon spoke. "Well if it goes well tonight and you want to see me again, we're gonna have to go dutch on any subsequent dates," he said as he smirked.

There must have been some obvious look of relief on her face when she realized he was not leading to where she thought he was leading. He began to laugh heartily. Sarah sunk a little in her seat from embarrassment. Yet, she was relieved as he broke the escalating tension. She forced a smile then smiled in earnest then began to laugh with Dillon. A few moments passed when she realized her eyes were fixated on him as she drank-in his laughter and good nature, which led her back to thrust of instinct. Again, wanting him—all of him—body and soul.

The date went as planned and was pleasant and relaxing. They chatted lightly as he drove her home. With every mile, every light, every stop sign, Sarah was getting closer to the decision she would need to make. They pulled up to the curb in front of her house and she was silent—deep in thought. Dillon noticed apprehension. "Are you okay? You feel all right?" he asked with concern.

Unbeknownst to Dillon, her mind was made up. She turned to face him. "Would you like to come in for a while?" she asked without letting on she was a nervous wreck.

"Oh, that would be nice. I've been wondering what your house looked like inside. You're a neat freak aren't you? he asked and smiled.

"You'll know in a minute," she replied as she climbed from the car.

The walk to the door was torturous for Sarah. All she could think was, Don't trip and fall, Sarah. Don't embarrass yourself. She was surprised with her attitude toward this guy as she was no stranger to intimacy. There were other men but it was never like this. Not one of them came close to what this man could elicit in her. Not one ravenous thought... until now.

Upon entering the house Sarah had forgotten if she cleaned! Dillon took a quick survey of her living room. She gave him the nickle tour and led him back to the living room. "I'm sorry I hadn't had time to clean," she said apologetic.

Dillon took another look around. "Yeah, neat freak," he said sarcastic and playful.

Sarah shot him a kittenish look of disapproval. "Would you like coffee?" she asked softly with a hint of come-hither.

"No, I would not—freak," he leered with a rude tenor.

Sarah was not sure if he was being playful or something was wrong. She took a chance. "Oh, you don't want coffee, huh? So what is it you do want... cowboy?" she said seductive with a slutty undertone as she walked slow toward him.

"Ma'am whatever I want I'll just take if that's all the same to you. In fact I see somethin' I believe I might like better than a cup of coffee. I believe I'm gonna take a tall drink of you," he said surly and matter-of-fact.

He was being coarse and forceful—she liked it. At that moment something deep within commanded control and she no longer felt herself. A primary instinct was present and willing to act on whatever was presented. Never had she felt more a woman than at this moment.

Responding to Dillon's own primal actions, she assumed he was going through a similar change as he was virile and her instincts reacted directly from them. "Yeah you want what I got—you want it bad huh? she taunted in nasty overtones. Her sexuality was reaching heights she did not know she had and felt it well-up inside her and intended to be more than accommodating to her instincts.

She began to caress his arms and, if she didn't know better, could swear she was almost purring. "You wanna ride it cowboy? You hungry for somethin' sweet like me—you want some of this Sarah Lee baby?" she said seductive as she explored and admired his strong form with her gentle caresses.

This woman was acting lascivious, provocative with a certain debaucherous intent in her eyes—he liked it. His instincts responded without pause and grabbed her by the shoulders expressing his strength and pulled her near and kissed her hard and deep.

Sarah felt this man's power as his grip on her shoulders was dominant and commanding. His kiss was not romantic in the least. It was rough, basic and she fed off it. He was indeed taking what he wanted as she wanted him to.

He lift her by the legs and they instinctively wrapped around his waist then carried her to the bedroom and dropped her on the bed to continue his assertive behavior. He briefly broke concentration." You know I've never had thoughts like this about any women," he said as he kissed he neck.

"Yeah, me neither, now shut up and keep going," she said half-panting.

"Okay—good idea," he agreed.

Play time was over as Sarah now responded to his touch and caresses with vocal responses, movements and reactions a woman makes when acted upon only in certain pleasurable ways. Dillon's instincts became attuned quickly as he seized control and his main goal—to give pleasure to his woman.

Dillon continued to perform the task of providing heightened gratification as she felt yet more control slip from her grasp and her thoughts turned from logical to primal. No cares, no worries were more important then the next touch, the next caress, the next surge of emotional and physical excitation. She felt and fed from the heat of his body and now knew the word quiver in the fullest sense.

As physical and spiritual worked in harmony they both experienced what is rarely encountered. Moments that cannot be created. They only happen perchance—and only perchance. They shared one of the most special of nights—together.

The morning sun broke though Sarah's bedroom window and she was awakened by the bright stream of sunlight. She looked beside her, Dillon was not there. A half-empty bed caused her to vault-up in response. Where did he go? she thought. It took a moment and soon realized he had left—without a word, without a goodbye! Her heart sunk and her stomach began to form knots as a queasiness set in. "Oh, no, no," she said aloud as memories flashed of the most passionate and primal night of her life. Was that a one night stand? she thought. It couldn't have been, we dated, she tried to console herself. Sarah could not understand why he would leave this way. It made no sense. She knew he liked her—or did he? Did he play her?

She returned to bed from looking around the house for a man that was not there then decided she would go back to bed and sleep the rest of her life.

Feeling the temporary comfort of the softness and warmth of her bed she stretched out. As she did her hand traveled under, what was, Dillon's pillow. She felt something under there. She grasped it and pulled it out. It was a piece of paper with writing on it. It said My only one. Dillon had left her a note, a goodbye! My only one. she read again. It was rather cheesy—she loved it. She smiled then her thoughts betrayed her. Is this all? Will he come back? Why didn't he wake me and give me a proper goodbye? A friggin goodbye kiss would've been nice! Even a 'see ya later babe' woulda worked—before I killed him, her thoughts rambled. My only one. she read again. She loved it and was mad as hell at it.

Not knowing where to turn, she talked briefly with Karen and laid out the sorted details and rambled and angered and basically fell apart over the phone. Karen did the correct thing and left her alone to sort it out as no consoling would work while Sarah was in her current state, plus she was dealing with the clean-up crew after last nights party and that was important too.

Sarah knew she could call him as she did have his number, but no, he is in the wrong here and if she did call she would fall apart over the phone like with Karen and that might screw things up in the future with him... if he ever called that is.

It was only ten in the morning and she felt sick and nervous and sick—and nervous, so she decided she was going to busy herself to take her mind off things—off him. Time has a way of doing that. She tried watching TV—thoughts still there. She tried shopping—nope. She tried yoga for a while—no. She tried yogurt for a while—uh uh. She tried curling up in front of the fire with a good book as I described when I began this story—nothing. All the while she kept her phone near and constantly looking to see if it was charged and if the ring volume was on and at maximum.

She sat deep in thought when her phone rang. She jumped and quickly looked at the ID, it displayed Karen. "Damn it, damn it, damn it!" she muttered in anger. "Hello?" she answered antagonistic.

"Didn't call huh?" said Karen.

"No!" she answered followed by silence.

Karen knew she should not have called but was concerned. "Okay sweetie, I just wanted to see if you were okay," she said somewhat vacant.

"I'm fine," said Sarah in a much more subdued manner. "I'll be fine, it'll just take some time, that's all. Thanks for calling sweetie," she hung up without allowing a response.

By five p.m. she was emotionally drained and still a little queasy. She laid on the couch and started to drift off. The phone rang. She jumped, picked up the phone and looked at the ID. It displayed Dillon.

The End

source art: pic