***This is a fictional erotic story which I’ve dedicated to DJR.***
Love is complicated by sex. Sex is complicated by love. I prefer when things aren’t complicated but my life was anything but simple. I wonder if you know what it feels like to have everyone around you expect something from you or have an ideal image of you? That’s what my life was like around that time. I was struggling to be what everyone wanted, forcing myself to fit into the images they saw and caught up in a complicated act.
On that particular day, I had had too much of everything and all I wanted to do was run away; simply start all over. I couldn’t run away but I could take a drive after work just to the beach like usual, look at it then turn around before heading home to the rest of my complications. As I got to the ocean instead of turning around where I usually did I allowed myself to be mesmerized by the sight of the ocean on my left and the mansions to my right. I drove south without thinking about my future enjoying the freedom of the moment until I realized that I had driven past Boca and out of Palm Beach County. It would now take me forever to get all the way north to Jupiter on US 1 and almost just as long on I-95 in rush hour traffic.
Determined to prolong this unusual taste of freedom I decided to take the scenic route I had come down back home. I drove north on A1A until I got to, Cafe Luna Rosa, a restaurant in Delray that I loved that had outdoor tables where I could enjoy great food and an ocean view. I got a great table and ordered my favorite items off the menu then called my fiancé. I told him that I had gone for a drive to clear my head but ended up going too far and wouldn’t be home until a lot later. He said he understood that I was under a lot of stress, apologized for all the wedding drama, told me to take my time and said that it was okay with him if I stopped to eat because he couldn’t wait that long for dinner. I loved how he always remembered to give me permission to do the obvious things I needed to do for myself.
I shrugged off the thoughts of what I was allowing myself to be trapped in because tonight I was free. I was going to enjoy a nice meal and that ocean view. Tonight was for me. I ate and people watched and wrote poetry on napkins at my table. I felt so free until I felt like someone was watching me. I noticed that at a table close by there was a man staring directly at my feet and drawing in his sketchbook. I wondered if he was just looking off into space or making a sketch of my feet.
He kept looking. Drawing quickly in a maddening manner. Everything about him screamed feral although he was kempt from his perfectly faded short hair to his brand new kicks. He was definitely fierce though smiling boldly then bursting into laughter when he realized I had caught him. A strange man in a restaurant objectifying my feet should have pissed the feminist in me off but something about his audacity made me feel just fine. I couldn’t help but burst out in laughter too.
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