Indiscreet Flirtation

         Indiscreet Flirtation

Savannah Georgia is legendary; it was one of the only towns left standing after Sherman’s famous “March to the Sea.”  The chamber of Commerce romantically describes it as a charming Southern escape where art, period architecture, trendy boutiques and haunted stories are all set under a veil of Spanish moss.

It was there that my younger sister Melanie had purchased a restored plantation home with sixty acres on the east side of the Flint River.  She had called me dozens of times begging me to come see, what she referred to as her “Tara.”

At home my business was flourishing, I was working twelve hours a day, every day, and I hadn’t found time to visit her. Today was a holiday and one of the few days that I wasn’t burdened with my detested bookkeeping! I decided to pay her a surprise visit.

When I arrived at my sister’s home, the weather looked ominous.   There were dark clouds and rumbling skies in every direction; we were going to get hit with an angry autumn storm, and it would be soon!

I got out of my car and walked toward her home. My sister had told me a little bit of the stunning history that surrounded it.  What is notable is that for years this house had stood as the centerpiece of a prosperous estate supported by the labor of nearly 100 slaves.  During the Civil War thousands of soldiers from both sides had marched right past this gracious building. Holes from musket balls were still visible in the gabled end of the structure but other than that, the building remained virtually untouched.  Between 1862 and 1864 it became, in turn, an army headquarters, a communications center, a hospital, and a refuge from the cold for Confederate soldiers.  

I could feel that iconic legacy as I knocked at the front door. My sister greeted me excitedly, and we hugged each other enthusiastically.  My sister Melanie and I had grown up poor, victims of a broken home. . . When times got rough, as they usually did back then, we always clung to each other for support. That’s probably what made us as close as we are today: neither one of us would ever forget those desperate years!

“You surprised me Rob and now I am going to surprise you” she said.   Then, turning her head, she stepped back and dramatically revealed the person standing behind her. . . another special visitor. 

I was astonished to see her, my sister’s best friend and a girl I had known in high school. Her name was Charlotte Hamilton.  I remember, back then she was a cute little kid with short skirts and braces on her teeth. She practically lived in our house. She was nice enough, but she wasn’t in my group of friends. I was a mature senior who had lettered in three varsity sports. She was my little sister’s friend, exuberant, grinning or screaming with delight over any “wondrous thing.”  The two of them were a special pair, at times tackling the world’s earth-shattering events on others, “whispering secrets” back and forth behind the security of closed bedroom doors! Like I say, “Kids.” 

Back then I would occasionally catch her secretively staring at me. When I turned my head to look at her, she always embarrassedly turned away, her face turning a bright red! The few times that we did talk were about the “Blogs” which we had both exuberantly created. That was our commonality!  We both harbored unrealistic dreams of becoming famous writers someday. Strange as it might sound, that despite our age differences, we did collaborate on stories, more often over time. 

When she went off to college, we stayed in touch but mostly “Online.” We still critiqued each other’s work and how it might be made “Just a little bit better.” We both graciously accepted the compliments and the criticism that each of us bestowed upon one another . . .  It was intriguingly coincidental to me that she had decided to visit my sister on this very same day. . . Or was it!

The three of us talked cheerfully for hours and my sister was thrilled that her best friend and her favorite brother were both there. It was welcoming and comfortable, and fun! My sister brought out a bottle or two of Sauvignon Blanc in which we all imbibed eagerly.    We became lost in conversation which felt like a delightful escape where time flew by unnoticed.  We shared laughter over old memories and became nostalgic reminiscing about our shared experiences. Those moments where the outside world seems to fade away are rare and incredibly special!  

About three hours after my arrival, Melanie, feigning irritation said, “I didn’t expect you Rob and it’s almost dinner time, I’ll have to be off to the store, or we will all surely starve to death.”  Both Charlotte and I protested vigorously. It did no good, my sister was adamantly driven when it came to things like hospitality. Before leaving she said: “You two hardly ever see each other.  Why not take this opportunity to discuss your fabulous stories or your future writings; I will be back before you know it!”

We were walking my sister to her car when the sky opened up with an explosive thunderstorm. We gave her a quick wave goodbye and hurriedly retreated into the safety and coziness of her antebellum parlor. We weren’t soaked but we hadn’t entirely escaped the coldness of the frigid Autumn rain. It was comforting to be sitting on a large Chesterfield sofa in front of a warmly burning fireplace. 

Charlotte, being the ever-enthusiastic provocateur, started the conversation by mentioning a recent article which I had written on Religion. She disagreed about many segments and wasn’t hesitant to let me know it . . .  Now everyone knows there are two things that friends, if they wish to remain friends, should never argue about. Those two things are Religion and Politics . . . Charlotte, for the first time in my memory, had broken the Cardinal Rule! Of course, I reminded her about that edict with a less than terse reprimand. Still the conversation went back and forth with each of us trying playfully to get the better of one another.

After a while, she stood up, stretched her arms seductively, and weaving slightly from the effects of the wine, kicked off her high heels. Even without heels she stood about five foot nine inches tall with every inch a vision of elegance!

All my memories of Charlotte had been of an attractive, schoolgirlish young lady.  But it was hard not to notice that in the years since I had last seen her, she had developed into a mature and appealing woman! 

We were still sitting at the face of the fireplace when a loud thunderclap shook the room. Charlotte jumped nervously in surprise and moved timidly closer to me. The look on her face was precious and distinctive to Southern Gals only.  

That’s when the talking turned awkwardly silent.  Aside from the remorseless pounding of the pitiless rain, and the wild crackling of the crimson fire, there were no sounds. She again moved closer to me, and I noticed more clearly, just what a radiantly beautiful woman she had become! 

She looked up at me as though she was going to say something, but no words came out, just a baffling stillness . . .  I wondered if I had gone too far with my unintentional scolding. . .  Just what was going on in that mysterious, enchanting mind of hers I wondered?

Her shoulders, with perfect, flawless skin, still wet from the rain, glistened in the light of the howling fire. She was wearing a shimmering black silk dress cut low, but not scandalously so, probably just enough to turn heads. She tilted her head slightly, her sparkling emerald eyes pursuing me questioningly. . . It was hypnotic and fascinating, yet I was astonished by what happened next . . . She closed her eyes, wrapped her exquisite arms around my shoulders and sensuously pressed her mouth to mine.  Her hands searchingly swept up my back with her fingernails clawing ever so lightly into my tingling neck.

My head was spinning! Was this my little schoolgirl Charlotte, or was it the seductive enchantress Charlotte that I was holding in my arms? Initially I didn’t know how to react; I was stunned and overwhelmed. However, I couldn’t resist if I wanted to, and I didn’t want to!  It didn’t take that long before my own weaknesses led me deeper. I found myself desperately drawing her to me. Her voluptuous lips were full and sweet and delicious, and the fragrance of Chanel infused with the ambrosial scent of her silky auburn hair was intoxicating.

The crashing rain was still mercilessly battering the metal roof and struggling to shatter the glass in the ancient windows. The uninhibited wind, which had begun as a silent, rustling whisp was now roaring with a ferocity that resembled the cries of an enraged beast. It was a wild, untamed display of earthly power. But at that moment, everything around us paled indiscernible compared to the frantic beating of our hearts as our bodies were slowly closing the space between us, melding into one. 

Every sound, every delirious movement, pulled us compellingly into a torrid symphony of longing and passion. Our breathing became short, shallow gasps of air . . . This delirious, tantalizing, tempestuous liaison had arrested every part of my body and soul.  

I don’t know how long it lasted: it might have been ten minutes or an hour or an eternity. At that moment my mind and my senses were incapable of calculating the unfathomable depths of time. . .  

Then, abruptly, the unimaginable happened and I was brought back to consciousness . . . It was like a harsh slap in the face or being rudely shaken out of the sweetest dream.  Suddenly I was awake, Charlotte was awake. We were both clear-headed.  Like kids being scolded by a schoolteacher we now recognized the seriousness of where this was going and what this incidental dalliance had devolved into.

I felt Charlotte moving away. She reluctantly moved my hand from her firm, slender waist. I had never expected this to happen, but now I never wanted it to end! Finally, I also gave in to the glaring eventuality -- The most beautiful and exhilarating experience of my entire life was about to come to an earth-shattering end . . . I was devastated!

“I’m so sorry Rob, she said, this is all my fault!”

“It’s no one’s fault Charlotte, it was the rain, the fire, we had lots of wine, it just happened that’s all!”

“We can’t let this happen again; I have Roger, and you have Sarah. Oh my God, poor Sarah, if she ever found out?”

“She won’t find out I promise, and neither will Roger.”

Charlotte quickly put on her heels, gathered up her pocketbook and scrambled toward the front door. “I can’t stay Rob. Please tell Melanie that I got an urgent call from home and that I had to leave right away.”

She reached the door and closed it behind her before I could get there. Her face was barely visible as she looked back through the thick rustic glass. I could see the tears rolling down her cheeks as she mouthed the words: “I love you Rob . . .  I always have!”

I stood on the porch sorrowfully watching Charlotte go out of my life. When she reached the first turn in the driveway, she slowed down and gazed back in my direction. . . Had she changed her mind? Was she going to turn the car around and come back?  “Please Charlotte, please,” I whispered silently!  Agonizing seconds went by!  Then my heart slumped, and I groaned a tortured “NO” when her car pulled forward and disappeared behind a stand of live oaks.

My sister came home shortly after; I told her about Charlotte having to leave because of a family emergency. She was disappointed, of course, but decided that we still must take part in the food that she had selectively purchased and brought home . . . She was talking to me from the kitchen, I could tell, but I don’t think I heard a word she was saying.

Tangled thoughts were racing through my head. How could I have missed the signs? How could I not have realized what had been going on for all those many years? All that correspondence, those subtle messages which were at times mischievous, even a little naughty; I thought that they were all just playful reflections. I was always painfully disappointed when there was a break in her correspondence, and she had said that she shared that very same thought. That poor sweet girl, for years she had offered me her heart and I never recognized something that was now so purely obvious. 

For years I had thought about nothing but the business I had purchased, spending all my savings. Everyone I knew said: “You are crazy; It is too much of a risk; You are going to lose every cent that you invested.” Despite all the negative comments from the many naysayers, "I pledged with every fiber of my being that I would succeed spectacularly. It wasn’t easy but I am now on the cusp of a more than prosperous commercial enterprise. 

Now I have Charlotte in my life. She is no longer just an email or a phone call. She is a real, living, breathing person who loves me unabashedly, and I realize that I love her too. I won’t ever give up trying to get back what I never had, but when that glorious moment arrives and we are at last united, I will hold her close to me forever and never let her go.     

Ron Saint Laurent