“Hope you don’t think me too forward, I’m Mike and I’m here for the night”Mike was good company and we chatted quite openly. He made me laug.... He was a truck driver and spent the odd night away from home. It was an enjoyable evening and even though we flirted a little, with a little chemistry, we went no further, although we did swap phone numbers, and Mike knew that I would be working around Perth from time to time.We exchanged a few texts, some quite fruity and funny ones. I hadn’t said much. He read a post on Nick Scipio’s forum that I made. In it, I poured my heart out about the three occasions in which I’d fallen hopelessly in love with a fictional character. One was when I was only 13, the other two were Frank Downey’s Sophia and Nick’s own Gina. It was an emotional vent, in which I praised them for their ability to make a 50 year old man break down in tears over pain occurring to a character that was, in the end, no more than words on paper (or a screen). He said, in part: . Father named all of his sons. But what would I have to do with her anyway?" I asked in a confused voice."The legends report her to have been a short woman with alabaster skin, flaming red hair and a temper to match, plus piercing green eyes," he told me with a smile. "Much like you."I had no idea what to say to this, and instead finished my tea before turning the conversation to cleaning things up."We should clean up and put things away," I told him to cover my amazement at what I had. . what would it feel like if his denim jacket wasn’t the buffer between my skin and his? What would it feel like trailing down my naked back while I rocked back and forth, impaled on his masculine frame? The ease of the jump between innocent thoughts and the dirty thoughts surprised me. Suddenly I was feeling hot under the collar, and not from the fire. I ached to kiss him again, to taste his mouth on mine. I looked up just as he looked down. That was my chance, and oh boy, did I take it! A.
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