the visit-

He just wouldn’t shut up.

I’d told him three times that I needed to go, mostly because we’d come to that inevitable point in his conversations where he was babbling about…whatever. I was trying to straighten up my home a bit for my “date”, and I needed to be off the phone. Once I heard her car door close in my driveway, I said “hey, she’s here, I gotta go”, but he kept on rambling.

Once I saw her walking up the sidewalk I stopped hearing him. Or seeing anything. Anything but her.

I’d always been attracted to her, for over 20 years now. But this was a different woman than I’d ever seen. It wasn’t just the flowing honey blond hair. She usually wore it in some sort of structured style, but it was softly framing her lovely face now. Casually hanging almost straight down it curled slightly at the bottom, down by her shoulders.

It wasn’t the weight she’d lost. She’d always been up and down a bit but carried it well. Very well. Even through two children, beautiful children I might add. I couldn’t help but notice she hadn’t lost too much weight there, if you know what I mean. Her sweater was perfectly sized for them….err….her, tapering down to her now perfectly proportioned waist and flat stomach. I guess it was flat, I couldn’t seem to get my eyes farther down her sweater.

It wasn’t the long legs, either. I’d seen those, many times, and tonight she was wearing jeans. Nice jeans, with high heeled boots. Not exactly fodder for my foot fetish, but I knew there were sexy, slender feet nestled in those boots. Too bad it wasn’t warmer because she liked to wear sandals. As if I needed any further distraction.

It wasn’t her expressive eyes, eyes in which I’d seen joy, and pain, and passion. Nor was it her long slender hands. She probably didn’t know I always liked her hands, because I was too stupid to show her. I was too stupid to show her a lot of things I should have.

It was the way she moved. This was a woman, a sexy confident woman who was completely comfortable with herself and her place in life. A woman in her prime, vibrant, and feeling it. And all the more sexy for the fact that she had no idea how hot she was. And I know she was clueless about the effect she was having on me.

The phone became a prop as I stammered while pacing the floor. She knew I paced while on the phone, so that was safe. She knew I’m a professional so I wouldn’t be rude to whomever I was talking to.

What she didn’t know was that he’d hung up before she’d come in the door.

I gave her a quick hug, feeling the new muscle tone beneath that wonderful sweater. I wondered how those long legs looked now that she’d been running for a while. She hugged back, and I like to think she appreciated how hard I’d been working to get back in shape. Silly as it was I flexed, to further demonstrate my hardening chest, back and arms. I’m sure she didn’t realize I was flexing for her.

Then again I was probably underestimating her intuition and intelligence, for the millionth time. After all it was me who contacted her about input on my writing because of her intelligence and honesty, right?

Backing away from her I stole a glance at her face. Thinner now but every bit as beautiful as I’d ever seen. Had I missed this before? I’d missed so much she had offered to me, maybe this was just one more thing I’d regret not appreciating.

Now don’t think I’m a complete schmo in all of this. 20 some odd years ago I introduced her to her husband, while she and I were dating. He was a last minute ride-along to a party she was having. Of course at the time I didn’t realize that I was doing that, it just kinda happened. It was basically love at first sight for them, and I was well on my way to being history before that party was over. So give me a little credit here. I think I’ve earned a few lurid glances.

Well back to her, where was I? Oh yeah, that beautiful face. And that great sweater. And the thin lips I remember kissing. And kissing me back. And the beautiful heart behind it all.

Finally I “hung up” and put the phone down. Looking at her I said the first thing that came into my pointed little head. “Damn you look hot”. Four years of hardly speaking to this wonderful woman, who’d tried to keep up with me and my problems, you’d think I could come up with something better than that. But I suddenly felt like a hormone-addled, tongue-tied teenager, trying to get a little piece. You know, just a little piece.

Actually that’s not all of it. I’d made a lot of progress, coming back from being “dead” as I’d come to think of the last several (most?) years of my life. But seeing her, how she’d matured into the stunning, sultry woman standing before me, I felt like a stupid kid, vying for her attention at a junior high dance.

The ironic thing is that I once had her complete attention, and heart; I was just too immature and stupid to hang on to it. Youth is definitely wasted on the young.

In retrospect we probably wouldn’t have lasted much longer anyway. We were both young and needed to grow. Introducing her to her future husband was probably the best thing I could do for her. And now I think I may finally be able to appreciate her as she deserves.

At least that’s what I’ve told myself a million times. It took me a long time to realize I’d lost someone really special. Fortunately for me she never gave up on me, and on us.

As I gave her the glass of wine I’d poured I told her “this may not be that good, feel free to not drink it”. She didn’t, but being the sensitive person that she is she never mentioned how nasty it really was. I needed to relax a bit so I guzzled mine down quickly. Yuck. It was like drinking dust.

As she read what I’d been writing I looked her over, trying not to be obvious. I kept coming back to her face, her eyes, the window to her soul, as the cliche goes. I was trying to understand the immense wave of attraction I was feeling for her. Had I loved her all this time? Was I infatuated by her stunning appearance? I was coming back from a messy, complicated relationship, was she my rebound?

I would never, ever let that happen. At that moment I promised myself and her that I would do whatever was necessary to not hurt her, or disrupt her life. Whatever the cost to me.

She was curious about how I'd come to the point I could write such things. Rightly so; she'd never seen this side of me. Hell, I'd never seen this side of me. Asking me question after question, she was catching up on me. It gave the crappy wine a chance to take effect, and let me continue to take her in. You're supposed to look at the person with whom you're speaking, right? How convenient for me.

After a while I thought (hoped?) I saw a small change in her. She had relaxed a bit, her posture becoming more open to me. She'd turned towards me and had tucked one long leg underneath her. Laying her slender hands on her lap, fingers pointing gracefully towards me, she was reminding me of the young woman I knew 20 years ago.

Except so much better for her maturity and experience.

That hair! Everytime she moved she looked like a model posing for me. She'd modeled some when we were dating, but I couldn't remember it working so well for her.