Wouldn’t take long with the image of those hands in the forefront of my mind. I took a deep breath and stepped off the curb—and there he was! He took my elbow, silently urging me to run with him. I fancied I could feel the heat and texture of his fingertips through the thick corduroy of my jacket sleeve. We crossed the parking lot in long, splashing strides. Without slowing, I pressed the button on my key fob to unlock the car. He laughed as I ducked into the driver’s seat, a throaty chuckle that made me wonder what he sounded like as he came. Circling the hood, he opened the passenger door and slipped inside. The downpour sounded marvelously loud in the metal confines of my little car, like a roaring train. My blood felt similarly as it whooshed through my veins, my pulse pounding from the rain and the run and—most especially—the touch. We stared at one another for a few long seconds, until he accepted my silence as acquiescence. I was powerless to move. My body wanted him, ached. It had been some time since he had a house guest, let alone three young women, and to be truthful, he was feeling a little nervous. He was wondering whether his choices of food were what young women eat, or what they might all talk about, as he felt a little out of touch with the ‘young’ scene. Don had been waiting all day, trying to keep busy and had changed his clothes twice.“‘What’s the matter with me?” he mused to himself, as he looked out the window for the umpteenth time.Just as he was thinking what to do next to occupy his time, he heard the thumping, bass beat, of loud music and tires crunching up the gravel driveway.“Well here we go,” he thought, and made his way to the entrance hall, casting a last glance in the mirror as he went past, giving his reflection a quick once over. He couldn't help but notice that his dark hair had been taking on a ‘salt and pepper’ tint over the last several years and he knew this divorce wasn't helping that in the slightest. However, he still.
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