The Quest Read online

  My afternoon went by quickly and my evening settled in without any surprises, any rain, and without Sofie stopping by of course. Although I knew she wouldn’t be coming back today, I still hoped she would have changed her mind. I wanted to talk more, hang out, and spend as much time with her as I could. I wanted to be selfish too and have her all to myself, but I knew I couldn’t. I was finally feeling I could make a difference, maybe say something that would resonate with her, help her get out of the mess she was in. But I knew I couldn’t do that either without her here.

  One, Sofie wasn’t ready to hear anything negative like that. She still defended him even though she said she needed to leave him I’m betting he doesn’t know the real reason she is here. I bet she is afraid of the I told ya sos and the shame of it all. I’m sure the shame alone and the burden she bore with it all these years was overwhelming. I just couldn’t imagine how she could allow him to do this to her. Yes, I said allow even though in my mind I knew she had no choice. Sofie wouldn’t have been strong enough to fight him off or hit him back hard enough for it to matter. Of course, I thought about several choice things she could have done like grabbing a handful of his balls and dropping to her knees; Awaken him with a twenty-two right between his eyes; call the police. None of these I’m sure would have worked if I was in her shoes with three little babies at my feet. Where were they? I wondered. Where were they when all of this was going on? The horror of them witnessing such a thing sent chills up my spine.

  My mind was full of questions. Questions I wanted answers to now that she wasn’t here to answer them. When she shared with me all she had been going through I was just mortified. All I could do was cry with her. I had no words, just prayers. Now as I sit here and think of it all it makes me angry. That’s what a mindless shopping day does to you. It makes you think. And I have run every scenario in my head trying to get her out of my head and not think about it. I concluded that unless you have been in that situation, you just don’t know what you would do. Now she’s home where she belongs but what now? How long will she be here? Will she go back home to Chicago? Will she forgive him again? What about the babies? Are they okay? Does he abuse them too? I didn’t have any answers.

  After changing into my lounging pants I poured myself a glass of the fine wine I had snatched from the little man. It was surprisingly good. I wondered if he knew he had great taste in wine. I sat in front of my computer and checked all the dating sites I had grudgingly signed myself up for to get my thoughts off Sofie for a moment. Nothing of interest appeared. I scanned back again over the guys on my favorite site just to see if there were any messages or anyone new on there too. Of course there were none and no one worth mentioning. Before I could log off a little message popped up on my screen.

  “Hello.”

  “Well, hello, Carl.” I answered back hesitantly.

  “You looked pretty.” He typed in his little small voice. Of course, I really don’t remember what it sounded like. It was all such a blur. All I remembered was Radley kissing me and wine.

  “You have good taste in wine.” I typed but also afraid of his response. I kinda felt bad for snatching his wine and slamming the door in his face. He had no idea I was having a hard time dealing with him at my door. But of course, he was all that his profile said he was, short, nice, a gentleman. I, on the other hand, was not anything like I claimed to be I was mean, wine grabbing, flower stealing. And those Radley lips that had touched mine just moments before he arrived, still had me frazzled when I opened the door to him, so that was my excuse. Seriously not accountable for my actions when stuff like that happens. And I just don’t get how Radley does that. And why after all this time? How is it possible he can still make the hair on my upper lip curl?

  “Thank you. Hope you enjoy it.”

  Poor guy. I didn’t answer back. I was enjoying the wine in fact at that very moment. I didn’t want to tell him that in fear he might invite himself over. I’d have a hard time being mean to him a third time and I’d probably let him in. I just wasn’t up for the company. I know I promised to be his friend. I mean I’m really this very nice person; it was just bad timing for him. I grunted as another message appeared from him.

  “What color are your nails? Do you always paint your nails? I bet they are a pretty pink.”

  “Red,” I lied. Why is he asking me that?

  “I love hot pink. You get your toenails done too? Same color? What color are they? You got good long scratching nails. I like that!”

  Umm, what’s up with the nail questions? Is he seriously asking me about my toenails too?

  “They are pretty. Very pretty. I like long nails. I love your nails. I bet you give good back scratches huh? Will you scratch my back, please? Can I come over now? We can open the bottle of wine and share it. It came from Italy ya know.”

  I glanced over at the bottle and read the label, he was right. But no, I’m not scratching his back! “No thank you. Busy.”

  “Busy with what?”

  “Stuff.”

  “I love nails. I just want to see yours. And your toes. I love toes. Toes are my favorites!”

  “No.” Why was I still having this conversation? “I’m busy right now.”

  “Doing what? Come on. I need to be scratched all over. It won’t matter if you hurt me, I like it. Do you sharpen them? Are they pointy?”

  “What?”

  “You know pointy. Are your nails nice and pointy?”

  “No!”

  “You should sharpen them,” he typed, “then you could register them as lethal weapons.”

  Lethal weapons? Who has pointy nails? This little guy has a nail fetish. Eww. With that last request, I logged off. I blamed it on technical difficulties. I wasn’t answering nail fetish questions and I wasn’t registering them as weapons. It was weird and stupid. Very stupid! Why did he ask if my nails were long and pointy? No one does that! It’s not like I’m gonna be giving him any back scratches anytime soon or ever for that matter. I only agreed to be his friend and nothing more. It’s not my fault he showed up with flowers and a fine wine expecting more. Suddenly I had a chill run down my spine and cause me to shake all over. A very creepy chill. I looked down at my nails noticing they were pretty and painted hot pink. Maybe he saw them when I snatched the wine from his little hands. Maybe I scratched him when I did. Maybe I’m worrying about nothing and he was just making odd conversation. The little man was beginning to make me question why I felt the need to be mean to him. I had to remind myself I’m really not a mean girl. He’s just weird. And he asks weird questions, weird nail fetish questions.

  I convinced myself after the second glass of fine wine I stole off the little man, that I was actually being very nice by logging off and not responding to his weird questions. Yup after the second glass I was convinced I was quite a catch and not a mean girl after all. The new dating scene I had suddenly thrown myself into was rather earth shattering for me. I preferred to date the old fashion way, like bump into a guy on the street or a supermarket, coffee shop even. Online shopping for a man like I did my shoes was not a lot of fun. And just like my shoe shopping, they never fit right when I got them. So you can understand my frustration dealing with this little man. The guy that grazed the coffee shop wasn’t the caliber man I would find online. No, that guy was your one in a million never meet again kinda guy. Yeah, I should have stuck around and sparked up conversation with him. I was quickly thinking it was my loss for not.

  Hindsight’s a bitch when you’re lonely. And I was definitely feeling Mr. Lonely making his presence now. The Dude literally shows up when I least expect it. Yeah, he has a right to live here. He moved in a long time ago. I just forget sometimes that he’s here until he reminds me. But trust me I don’t want to date him. He’s not at all my type.

  ***

  It’s early spring in Providence. Winter is finally coming to an end. Everything is blooming: the trees, the flowers, the green grass, my allergies, but not my love. No, I’m without love righ
t now. A dry spell they call it. It’s been a while. I try to keep busy and just not think about it. I’ve picked up new hobbies to help consume my time as well. I run a lot now that the weather is nice, hit the gym quite frequently, and I’ve started a painting hobby painting large cloth canvases. I’ve grown to love painting on rainy days especially. It’s a peaceful thing to do with the window open and a glass of sweet wine by my side. I don't plan what I’m going to paint; no I just let the natural artistic juices flow as if I am some famous painter or something. Oh, my paintings don't look as pretty as theirs, they kind of look artistic, lopsided sort-of, and very much loved. The kind of love only an artist’s mother would love. But it’s creative and it keeps my mind off of Mr. Lonely. He doesn’t do the painting thing very well. When I pick up the paint brush he cowardly runs away.

  Today, I’ve made my way twice to the local coffee shop hoping to cross paths with the handsome coifed man that bought my coffee before, but no luck. I figure if I could stop by every day it would better my chances of bumping into him again. Today was not my lucky day though and the buzz from sipping two coffees was now sitting high with me. Yes, I had skipped my evening wine and went straight for the coffee latte in hopes my Prince would show up again. While stalking out the joint my fingers began to get a little shaky and a headache was appearing behind my right temple, so I gave up and trekked back home.

  “I so got to get a life,” I scolded myself as I walked as if it mattered that anyone was around to hear me. My life stalking a coffee shop, creepy little men, living without Radley and experiencing his surprise kissing visits, life on the crazy dating websites, and the life of finding creative outlets was so not the life I was wanting to be living. I wanted to be knee-deep in a home somewhere surrounded by little feet and tiny toes with a loving man by my side. I wanted to be changing diapers and wiping spit off little faces. I missed snuggle time too and the need to feel the touch of a man. I wanted to feel desired again and the thought of not having someone was overwhelming me. I needed a sweet romp on my couch under a fuzzy blanket with someone that I couldn’t get enough of. Why was this so hard for me to have? And tiny toes. I was due to have my fair share of tiny toes tiptoeing around on my pristine wooden floors.

  My frustration turned to want, turned to longing, turned to anger. I popped a few aspirins in hopes to rescue my head from the sea of worry and suffering it knew all too well before a headache took over. But the brush had power. Thankfully within a few strokes I was back to getting lost in the colors and the shapes they were creating. No longer muddling in my mess. Where was I? Trying to be an artist.

  Chapter Three

  Girl Gone Naughty

  You know that feeling when you slip off your panties knowing you’re fixing to do something naughty? Something you probably shouldn’t? Yeah, me too. Mine couldn’t come off fast enough. We were on the phone, I trying my best to sound sensual, raspy, and whispery, he no doubt was sounding deep throated and sexy. He had demands; the panties off was the first of them. Ooh, he had me squirming under my sheets with the sound of his voice! He had thoughts running rapid in his head, pouring off his lips like a swift steady stream of water. I was just trying my best not to drown because I couldn’t keep up with them all. I held the phone tight between my ear and shoulder dropping it in-between demands until it became awkward. Then duh, I switched to a loud speaker phone mode trying to keep the pace he was setting. He was no doubt much further along with his desire than I. He had done this before, I had not. Well, not really. Once I had phone sex with Radley but it was awful. Biggest mistake I had ever made. Radley, of course, thought it was fantastic but what did he know. His words alone made me cringe but not in a good manner. No, unfortunately as sexy and desirable as I found him to be, he sounded creepy and perverted.

  I was enthralled to be on the phone with this guy. Why? He made it fun and exciting mixing my giggles with his sexy voice and adding pictures that didn’t gross me out. They were tasteful and suggestive leaving my weary lonely mind to want to see more. Yeah, I giggled a lot! But I also whispered a lot and I thought my raspy whispering would outweigh my nervous giggles. I’m an amateur at this sort of thing but he didn’t seem to pick up that I was. He never skipped a beat with his instructions. He was clear and precise with what he wanted. That was really nice. Finally, a man that knew what he wanted from me.

  “Come lie beside me.”

  “Wish.”

  “Me too. Pretend.”

  “Okay.”

  “What are you wearing?”

  “A wife beater and a thong.”

  “What color thong?”

  “Pink.”

  “Take them off.”

  “Off? What?” I giggled, of course, while I slipped my hands under my covers and slipped them off my body. I tossed them on the floor like a good girl.”

  “And the tank too, I want you naked.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes, baby, seriously.”

  “Hold on…”

  “Are you naked now?” he asked.

  His voice was melting me. Please keep talking I whispered in my mind. Your voice is driving me wild! I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention.

  “Yes.”

  “Mmm…Good. I’m naked too.”

  “You are?”

  “Yes, always. That’s how I sleep.”

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Thinking of you and relaxing.”

  “Am I keeping you up?”

  “Yes, in many ways.”

  The exhale from his breath made my butterfly open one eye. “I’m sorry.”

  “You wanna keep me up?” he asked.

  “Only if we can find something to do.” Gosh, he sounded so good and when he would exhale I would inhale imagining the feel of his breath upon my lips.

  “Any recommendations?”

  “Open for suggestions.”

  “Hmm… something warm, wet.”

  He didn’t waste any time going there. “And then?”

  “Plowing.”

  “Not sure I’ve heard of that term. As in a field?” I laughed. He doesn’t know I’m a farm girl!

  “Umm…no. What’s your favorite?”

  “Favorite?” Trying to play innocent. I was beginning to love this game.

  “Yes, position…as in sex.”

  “Oh, I have a few…”

  “What are they?”

  “But I like to try new ones too…” I said hesitantly like I have sex all the time. Not.

  “Tell me them.”

  His breathing was deep. As deep as his voice. I couldn’t help but think he was already in the middle of something very personal. “What are you doing?”

  “Bulging.”

  “Umm, large? Endowed?”

  “Yeah…uh huh.”

  “Master of it?”

  “Not at the moment. Trying to wait. Send me a pic.”

  “A pic?”

  “Yes of you lying there. I want to see you.”

  “Hmm…okay. Umm…hang on.” I fumbled with my phone to switch the mode to speaker to exit out of the call while hoping I didn’t hang up on the guy and switched over to camera mode. I snapped a few uneasy shots, kept the best one, and deleted the others. I felt a little embarrassed when I clicked the send button on my phone.

  “Beautiful.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Come over.”

  “I wish you weren’t so far away.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  “I could use your arms around me right now…touching me…deep kisses,” I added.

  “Mmm…are you lonely?” he asked.

  “Always.” Of course, I was. And yes I seemed to have been for quite a long time now. I was ready for a man in my life and was desperately needing one. This guy had me second guessing why I was alone. I loved the feel of a man. I missed their touch. I craved it. Why was I on the phone? I should be snuggled up with some fine handsome man instead of whispering in a Monro
e voice that has even me snickering!

  “I can fix that.”

  “I wonder what our first meet would be like.”

  “And? Any thoughts?”

  “Lots of scenarios run through my mind.”

  “Like what?”

  “Umm…maybe we would meet in a movie theater. I’ve never made out in a theater before. I would really like to do that.” I was now thinking of a bucket list I had made with fun things to do with a man in my life. When you are a young girl you think of all the wedding stuff: What your gown would look like, where you would get married, what your husband would look like, and you even have it set in your mind how many kids you are going to have: two boys and a girl, a big dog named King and a cat named Fluffers. When you are old like me you just think of all the places you haven’t had sex yet and you make a bucket list to hopefully get to mark off before you die. I was now sharing my bucket list hoping I could start marking those items off. Funny, phone sex was on there. Check!

  “Sounds like fun.”

  “I also want to go to a little jazzy bar and play under the table to the sound of a sax.” My voice moved to sultry and sexy, “My hands in the zipper of your pants.”

  “Mmm…what would you be wearing?”

  “I’d wear a slinky black dress with a black string thong underneath.”