It happens. The high starts to wear off when you leave the hotel. The chocolates on the pillows turn into wrappers in the dustbin, the rich meals become a decadent memory (and maybe an extra pound on the waistline, truth be told). If the weekend is especially delicious, the high lasts a little longer, but eventually, all good things come to an end. You come home and realize that indeed, after the ecstasy, there really is laundry. A lot of laundry. I soak the stockings, hang up the slips to dry, sew a loose button back on my skirt waistband, take a couple of things to the cleaners. I sort the darks, the lights. I think. A lot. About what we did. A little bit about what might have been different. Mostly about what will happen next.
I was just coming down from that high, just settling back into my daily routine, just getting back to some kind of normal; when it happened.
I was sitting on the sofa reading when I heard the mailman (mailwoman? who knew?) clatter the lid of my box, so I rose up and went to bring in the daily round of bills, sale flyers and junk mail. Thumbing through the stack to sort what I could immediately recycle, I notice a heavy cream-colored envelope. Hmmm… I wonder who’s getting married? Not recognizing the return address, I set everything else on the credenza, and turn it over to open the envelope. It’s not an invitation. It’s a letter. Nice… It’s linen finish laid paper. You don’t see that much for correspondence. A moment of dread fills me. It’s probably from some lawyer. But the envelope isn’t business sized, and the letter is folded in quarters. Like, well, like a letter. I slowly unfold the paper and read the following:
*****
Weston Place
June 17, 20–
Ginevra,
It wasn’t supposed to go like this. It was supposed to be totally about flirting and playing and seducing. I was supposed to be the seducer. I was supposed to be the one in charge of this affair. I was supposed to be Mr. Suave and Mr. Have It All Together and Mr. Sophisticated. I was the one who told you I would lead, take you to places you’ve never been, and ruin you for life. You had no idea what you were getting into. That’s what I knew. That’s what I thought.
And then the seducer got seduced. I found you willing to bare your very soul to me. Without revealing a single bit of flesh, you stripped yourself naked right in front of me. You revealed parts of you that you have never revealed to any of the men who have known you . And I was humbled and intoxicated at the same time. I found myself drawn into your essence long before I ever entered your body. Long before our lips ever met for the first time. Long before our fingertips ever touched.
I have no idea where this is going or how it’s going to play out. I only know that you have touched me in places that have lain dormant for many, many years. I only know that I have fallen for you, Ginevra, in a way I never dreamed possible. I only know that I am eagerly awaiting the next chapter of our story, the next scene of our play, the next page of our novel. I only know that right now, I cannot imagine anything more desirable than having those love-filled eyes of yours looking directly into mine, touching your hand, holding you in my arms, and kissing your lips.
I love you, Ginevra, and cannot wait until we are together again and together for the first time. For it will "Seem like the very first time," when our bodies entwine, our hearts unite, and our souls trade the very breath of life itself.
Steffen
*****
Oh, my… Oh… I sit down. Hard. Knees a little weak. Heart beating a little faster. I reread the letter. It’s real. It’s really real. The faintest, so faint as to be almost imaginary scent of cologne wafts up from the paper. It’s a real letter, and it’s from Steffen, and…and…now what? I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what to do.
_______________________________
Special Note:
This is the followup to my “First Kiss” story.
This is a letter I actually received. Upon rediscovering it, I realized it would be the perfect “next chapter” in the Ginevra story. I contacted the sender and received his permission to use it in this blog, and, with changes amounting to less than twenty-five characters, I submit it for your pleasure.
Gentlemen readers, you can do this. Ladies, you can hope for it. It’s not impossible to do, It’s not impossible to receive, and well, let’s just say it was effective. Very effective.
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