Stragers in the Night, part 1

He was staring right into my eyes. A deep long stare, as though he could read all my secrets and all of that which lay beneath.

"Whatcha think of moving in with me?”
“That’s the regular morning after talk, isn’t it?”
“No… I’m serious. I need you. I want you. I need a warm body cuddling up to me, becoming a part of me. Being me, for those moments of passion, being with me for the other moments called life”
“I… Ummm…………”

--

It was some hours ago - we were strangers. He was sitting there, sipping scotch. Every few minutes his gaze would meet mine, and he would smile. I smiled back. He had a pleasant yet intriguing smile. We were strangers, exchanging glances.

I got up; he gave a questioning glance.
I smiled. He followed me.

“He must be 35ish I thought”, I was 25.
None of us spoke a word. We communicated rather well without words.

I got into my car. Drove the next 10 odd kilometres thinking of him. I could see his headlights in the rear view, following me.

There was Frank Sinatra singing,

Something in your eyes was so inviting,
Something in you smile was so exciting,
Something in my heart,
Told me I must have you.

How true. We were strangers; yet, there was something that made me trust him instinctively. He could have been the psychopathic serial killer who goes about killing young women in the middle of the night, but that thought never crossed my mind. Not then at least, and not until now, when I realised, I should have thought of it.

The 15-minute drive was killing me. There was nothing more I wanted than to be with him, to be in his arms. But 15 minutes are 15 minutes, and they end precisely after 15 minutes. I stopped the car, and got down. Unlocked the house, got inside, and left the door open. I assumed he would follow. I was right.

“Coffee?”
“Umm… okay”, he smiled. “Black, and while you’re at it, lace it liberally with rum”
I laughed. That’s just how I liked my coffee. Black and strong.

I took time with the coffee.

I smiled to myself.

He could wait a little longer.