“Sharon, what happened? Why did you leave so early without waking me up? I’m sorry, I was really tired, slept like a log… I really need to talk to you. Please call me.” David pressed the “end call” button.
About an hour ago, Sharon quietly closed the door behind her and slipped out onto the small balcony overlooking the cliff. A beautiful curb of white stone ran around the balcony’s edge. Sharon glanced at the city below the hill and the ocean, took a deep breath of the fresh, damp air, and quickly headed to her car. She turned on the windshield wipers to wash away the morning tears of San Encino and drove down the winding path.
Tiny sharp drops raced up the windshield, away from the wipers. At this early hour on a weekend, the road was empty. Sharon’s mind was filled with a jumble of memories of those unusual relationships and the past night.
It all started as a typical game for adults. Just sex – nothing more. No tenderness and no games. Nothing that could evoke feelings. Just sex. Sharon carefully chose partners, avoiding romantics and posers, too young and those who were already approaching old age.
Young men were sometimes too inexperienced to truly please a woman at the peak of her sexual maturity, yet not crossing the line of “intimacy” where feelings could emerge. Sharon had to exert so much effort to extricate herself from the relationship with a twenty-three-year-old hot Israeli who at first seemed more mature than his years and – seemed – smart enough to understand what Sharon wanted and – especially – what she did not need from relationships she was ready to start with this person. But no matter how calm, prudent, and understanding he seemed to her at the beginning, he fell in love with her after their very first sexual encounter and immediately began to call her “Bunny,” which literally turned her inside out.
Sharon activated the turn signal and merged onto the southbound highway. Now it was safe to turn on the cruise control. And turn up the music. To not fall asleep. And not to hear the phone ring. She was sure he wouldn’t call. But it was easier for her to imagine that she just couldn’t hear the phone because of this cheerful rock-n-roll playing on KMC-A.
Men over fifty generally lose their sexuality along with the loss of skin elasticity and firm buttocks. For the most part, men over fifty were not of interest to her. Through trial and error, she had determined that, as a rule, she was not very interested in those who were over even forty-five. Moreover, if young guys were still romantic, then older men were already romantic. Reasonable middle-aged men stop chasing skirts and prefer more gentle, intimate relationships; they are no longer satisfied with just sex. Sharon was not attracted to this situation.
Sharon didn’t need love. None. Sharon needed to satisfy her raging sexuality. Sharon was fleeing intimacy. And she was well aware of it. Intimacy hurt. Intimacy disarmed. Any intimacy – even just close sexual relationships, an important part of which were kisses – opened her up so much that she fell into this intimacy like Alice into the rabbit hole, not thinking about the consequences and not caring about anything. The strongest feelings her heart wanted seized her and engulfed her.
Sharon didn’t need love. Because Sharon always began to love whenever sex became intimacy. Never getting a response from her partner. So Sharon consciously chose sex and loneliness – without intimacy. It was too painful to reach the bottom of the rabbit hole…
So when Sharon met David, she realized that she could finally relax and indulge her instincts to the fullest. David was smart enough to immediately understand what kind of “adult” relationship Sharon was looking for. Their very first meeting was rich enough in physical contact for Sharon’s body to groan with pleasure by morning, but her mind remained calm, and her soul was far from trembling. “This is what I need!” Sharon thought and decided that this partner could become a permanent “friend with benefits.” After all, having one permanent “sex partner” is much safer than having many one-time encounters. In every way.
Sharon nervously pulled the cruise control handle and accelerated, fixing it at 80 miles per hour. A little wet road, but Sharon’s car had new wide tires. And the road was empty. The wipers chased raindrops, revealing Sharon’s view of the green hills along the coast and the dense dirty fluff of clouds.
They began to date. In a way that involved little conversation. Without dependence. With respect. At a distance. Bodies entangled, but always at least on the third circle of true intimacy – far away. Gliding lips past lips, so as not to pull the trigger of the nine-millimeter Love. To avoid accidentally stumbling, not to step off this very narrow line, on both sides of which there is an abyss and a rabbit hole. He understood her like no one else. And he respected her choice. And he saved her from flying away… They set boundaries: as soon as intimacy even for a moment – everything ends. Everything. Forever. No calls and no repeats. We no longer know each other.
He was also running away from intimacy, just like her…
Sharon suddenly flared up like a sunset flame, remembering tonight. So sweet and so passionate, but so scary. Suddenly realizing that the narrow passage high in the mountains had long been above, behind. Somewhow she made a mistake. Somewhere she didn’t see. Somewhere this intimacy slipped – and straight into the heart of insane Love. Sharon’s eyes suddenly filled with the hot morning rain. How could she be so careless! Where did she go wrong… But it was already too late.
To fly up, up, realizing that the further up, the scarier down later. But this process, this night, could no longer be stopped. Suddenly lips could no longer slide past each other, but simply merged and did not part until morning. When, tired, he disconnected in a deep sleep, she, quietly dressing, slipped out onto the street and drove south to try to forget.
Suddenly she missed the windshield wipers. Her eyes burned with salt. Sharon tried to shake it off and pull herself together, but the realization of how carelessly she once again got into the cunning trap of love reduced visibility almost to zero. The road blurred in the rain. Sharon wiped her eyes and for a moment let go of the wheel.
At a speed of 80 miles per hour on a wet road, her faithful metal horse suddenly drove into a barely noticeable groove on the bad road with its right wheels. Sharon didn’t even have time to press the brakes. Everything happened quickly. Tears froze in her eyes. When it was all over, her phone rang. David left a message.
“Sharon, what happened? Why did you leave so early and didn’t wake me up? Sorry, I was really tired, slept like a log… I really need to talk to you. Please call me.” David pressed the “end call” button. And added: “I want to say that I love you.”
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