One Last Taste
I started the car and started to back away. Hoping to outrun the pain and devastation I was feeling. I watched Emily as she stared at me through the glare of the sunlight on my window, barely seeing through the tears in my eyes. I knew she wanted nothing more than my forgiveness, but I wasn't ready for that yet. Maybe I never would be. I didn't know whether to love her or hate her for giving me one last taste of her skin, one last fleeting moment of touch, the very scent of her teasing my senses. If I had known that this was the last time, perhaps I would have touched more, let my fingers spend more time soaking up the essence that was her. I would have memorized the sound of the surf as I ran my hands over her silky smooth flesh, felt the muscles of her thighs tremble at my touch. Perhaps I would have lingered there between her thighs, touching, tasting, bringing her pleasure. Maybe I should be thankful that I didn't know before, because then the wetness I brought her would have mingled with the tears and the pain she was bringing me. I understood. Her parents would never accept me, they would never accept us once they knew that we were far more than childhood friends. Girls weren't supposed to feel that way about each other. I drove away, my soul laying in tatters on the sand, being soaked up by the heat of the sun. I would never be able to visit our special place by the lighthouse ever again, she had watched me pour out my heart to her, and then let it get washed out to sea with the remnants of our affair. Lost forever in an ocean too vast to ever get back. I turned the car until I saw her standing in my rear view mirror, getting smaller and smaller as the hole in my heart grew to an all consuming emptiness.
