From: regan1016@bestsd.sdsu.edu (T. ELIZABETH HARVEY)
Subject: Re: Elizabeth & Me (That smile ...)
News-Software: VAX/VMS VNEWS 1.4-b1  
Organization: San Diego State University - Dept. of Redundancy Dept.
Date: Fri, 4 Sep 1992 13:19:00 GMT

In article <1992Sep03.012918.5547@brtph560.bnr.ca>, kimmyd@bnr.ca (Kimmy Posey P920)                writes...
>******************************************************************************
>Kimmy's editorial comments will be enclosed in asterisks
>******************************************************************************
>==============================================================================
>Elizabeth's comments will be enclosed in equality symbols
>==============================================================================
> 
>Prolog: (By Kimmy)
> 
>Ok.  Let's see.  Never been very romantic with a stranger.  Let's say we have
>a relationship.  Makes the setting easier.  You're hard at work at your desk.
>Outside your window the afternoon sky is so blue it almost hurts your eyes.
>You remember how sweet the air tasted as you walked back from a lonely lunch.
>If there was only an excuse to check out early and enjoy it.  Your thoughts
>drift back to simpler times when being together was all we had ...  A knock
>at your office door brings you grudgingly back to reality.  With a sigh you
>invite the intruder in.  The door opens and a huge bouquet of Fire & Ice
>proceeds a tall, well built man into the room.  His jet black hair, frosted
>now at the temples, is just as thick & wavy as it was in High School.  Long
>lashes, full red lips, wide shoulders, strong arms, piercing brown eyes.   
>You can feel the corners of your mouth go up in that special smile reserved
>only for him ...
> 
>                         ---+=== Kimmy ===+---
> 
>..... That smile.  Nothin' like it in the world.  Makes me feel like I do some-
>times when I watch a baby sleeping or like the thrill I get at the stadium
>on a perfect fall afternoon.  It's never the same twice but it's always
>wonderful.  As she is.  That's why I gave her the flowers.  She always smiles
>for flowers ...
> 
>*******************************************************************************
>Ok girl it's all yours.  I bet you wonder why I'm not at work and what the 
>flowers are for and what I've got up my sleeve ... 
>*******************************************************************************
>===============================================================================
>I'm having reservations about this, but I dug this hole for myself ... 
>Here goes nothing ...
>===============================================================================
> 
>                       ===+--- Elizabeth ---+===
> 
>Made speechless by the gorgeous bouquet, I smile, walk over to him, and hug 
>him tightly.  Such beautiful flowers ... these babies weren't cheap.  They 
>look so out of place in this tiny, cluttered office.  But at least they 
>won't be in the eyesight of the rest of the newsroom.  I almost breathe an 
>inner sigh of relief before realizing that he had to walk *through* the 
>newsroom to get here, attracting the attention of every female in the 
>place.  And why shouldn't he?  He's classically handsome, the type of man 
>that most young girls dream of when they fantasize about a knight in 
>shining armour ... the prototype of the perfect hero, as described and 
>chronicled in oh-so-many romance novels.  The kind of man women love to 
>watch, love to dream about, and would kill to meet.
> 
>I let go of him, close the door and try to give him a reassuring smile, 
>wondering all the while if he can see through me.  Does he see the fear in 
>my eyes?  The fear that I am just dreaming, and when I wake up, he'll be 
>gone, off cavorting with some Cindy Crawford-type, while I languish in my 
>studio?
>I take the bouquet in one hand, and his hand in the other.  "You are so 
>full of surprises ... should you be off doing something terribly 
>important?"  I'm surprised how lilting my voice sounds, not shaky like the 
>rest of me ... Dear God, why is this man with me?  I'm just a naive, dowdy, 
>shy ... *girl* (God help me, when will I become a woman?) with weird tastes 
>and behaviours and the like.  If it wasn't for the fact I could see his 
>intelligence and sensitivity the moment I laid eyes on him, I would have 
>ran from his sight.  Foolish person I am, I didn't, and now I'm overwhelmed 
>... can't he see how mismatched we are?
> 
>Nonetheless, I squeeze his hand and look into his eyes ...
> 
>                        ---+=== Kimmy ===+---
> 
>.... If she only knew how that simple hug made every atom of my being vibrate.
>How the scent of her hair turns my soul into a battlefield, where Reason wars
>with Instinct, over Will.  How the curve of her sleeping back bathed in silent
>moonlight declares the genius of The Divine Artist.  Yeah, if she saw how
>really incomplete I would be without her.  Then I would be truly vulnerable.
>I wonder how long 'till she realizes how utterly enslaved I am?  Can this
>kind of happiness last for long?  Can a seraphim like this really love a mere
>mortal?  Please God, let it be so! ... "I am doin' somethin' important!
>Takin' my best girl for a drive in the country on the most awesome afternoon
>I've seen in ages" ... Before she can protest I lead her out of the office. As
>we walk through the chattering newsroom, Pride, well seasoned with Jealousy,
>forces a smile onto my face as I notice all the young office studs following
>her with their eyes.  I know what they're thinkin'.  Well too bad boys.  For
>today anyway, she's mine!  I open the passenger door of the Bugatti for her
>and help her in.  Man, this car was created for her!  I laugh to myself when
>I think how this machine, this ... thing ... was the central object of my
>affection before I met Elly!  As I close my door and reach for the ignition,
>I turn to her and say ... "Hey, did I tell you that I love you today ?" ...
> 
>******************************************************************************
>Hey Elizabeth.  Man your doin' great.  Don't be nervous.  You set the ground
>rules and I'll follow 'em.  The only thing *I* ask is no graphic sex scenes.
>Inuendo and implictation are lots more fun anyway!  We can stop anytime you
>want.  It's fun so far though!  Oh yeah, please correct any spelling, or
>grammar mistakes you find.  I'm not too hot in that area.  I'll keep out the
>nasty ">" characters out and look after the format.
>******************************************************************************
==============================================================================
Whatever you say, Kimmy ... but I am still nervous about this ... *sigh*
==============================================================================

[*Elizabeth*]
I stare into his eyes for a full five seconds, paralyzed like a deer in the 
headlights of an oncoming car.  Then I smile, give him a little wink, pat 
his hand and say, "Why, I believe you did, darling ... this morning before 
I left.  Don't you remember?"  I reach up and flirtatiously tap his right 
temple.  "Getting absent-minded in our later years?  You know what they 
say: the mind is the *second* thing to go..."
Whew, I'm thinking ... quite the little actress I seem to be.  I can tell 
by his broad jovial smile that he has no idea how much his declaration 
unsteadied me.  My insides have never shuddered so hard than when he 
said 'I love you' ... everytime he says, 'I love you.'  It's not that I 
don't care about him.  I think I care too much about him.  It's simply that 
when I see him saying 'I love you', he looks as if he should be saying that 
to someone else and not me.  And I care about him so much that I don't want 
him to make a mistake ... namely, falling for me.  Am I wrong to question 
whether I'm the right person for him?  Whether he's the right person for 
me?
Just as I'm pulling my hand back, he says, "Well, I don't care how many 
times I've said before ... I love you, Elly."  Then, he quickly pulls me to 
him and kisses me softly.  The touch of his lips on mine brings back the 
memory of last night, where he literally swept me off my feet, yet again.  
He was and is my first lover, but I can tell he's quite experienced.  I 
sigh softly as the memory of his caresses over my body flood my mind.  And 
how he *insisted* I spend the night at his place ... and how I woke up in 
his arms and had to extricate myself, just so I could get back to my place 
and get ready for work.  And just when I make my escape from the 
love-tangle our bodies were in, his eyes half-open, he smiles, and then 
mumbles, 'I love you ...' before dropping back into sleep.
At that reminiscence, I pull away reluctantly from his lingering soft kiss. 
"We're going out to the country?"
He looks at me and smiles, while turning the ignition key.  "Absolutely, 
love.  Picnic basket, blankets, classical music.  The works ... for just 
you and me."
"But what about ..."
"Don't worry about anything ... anything at all.  Everything has been taken 
care of ... just trust me."
This man knows me too well.  Then again, it's none too hard to figure that 
someone who has lived their entire life in the midst of urban sprawl would 
find more natural settings fascinating.  Wait ... I misspoke.  I truly 
wonder if he knows me that well; but he knows how to sweep me off my feet 
every chance he gets.  He seems to devote *so* much time and energy to 
trying to please me ... I've never been wooed so hard in my life.  It's so 
frightening, and I could turn my back on it so easily, if it was for the 
person I see behind the designer lifestyle: the man who can truly make me 
laugh, even on the worst of days ... the guy who doesn't mind talking on 
and on about politics and literature and experiences and life in general 
.. the man whose eyes lit up like a little boy's when I hugged him, and 
told him I would stay the night after we finished making love.  It is that 
man who keeps me from jumping out of this ridiculously over-priced, 
too-trendy car.  It's that man who makes it so hard for me not to tell him 
I love him ...
"Of course I trust you ..."
"Then, we are off!"
I buckle my seatbelt and smile, as we take off for the hinterlands.  He 
takes my hand and squeezes it gently, and I play with it for the duration 
of our drive ...

---<--<-{@ | "I believe that before all else, I am a reasonable human being,
Elizabeth  | just as you are -- or, at all events, that I must try and 
	   | become one." _A Doll's House_, Henrik Ibsen
Newsgroups: alt.romance.chat