Geographical Escape 2.1: Vortex

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Stepping inside, she leaned back against the door and said: “Which do you want first? A cold one or a hot one?”  He took the beer from her hands and put it on the table by the window.  His heart was racing. He felt the rush of adrenaline and pure heat.  Grabbing her by the waistband, he pulled her to him with a force that drew him down. He stopped thinking and felt himself falling further and further into an unknown abyss. He could taste her desire, her hunger. They did not speak. She pulled at his belt and his shorts fell to the floor. Then everything came undone. They were skin to skin. Until now, he did not notice her youth. She was clearly a decade younger than his 37 years. Her body was angular and thin-a cyclist’s frame. He had to keep himself from comparing her to his wife’s soft suppleness- a mother’s body. Ample in just the right places for him and still sexy.

Her assertiveness astounded him. He felt helpless and at her mercy so he let himself go. After, they shared a beer or two and spoke only of cycling as if they were buddies trading stories. It was both strange and comforting in its simplicity. The night stretched on pretty much like their earlier bike ride-back and forth in a silent lustful rhythm ceasing only to refresh themselves with another beer.

He began to feel the sweet release of his current suffocation slough off with each meeting of their bodies. Maybe this is what he needed- a distraction that took him to places he could only experience with a stranger. Maybe this would be enough to quiet his mind.

With the beers gone and their bodies finally spent, they fell into a deep, tangled sleep. In the morning, she was gone- leaving only a note with her name: Lauren.

Geographical Escape 2.0: The Slippery Slope

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She stood there with a six-pack in her arms wearing a pink t-shirt and navy short shorts. The simple ensemble enhanced her sea blue eyes and her trim, fit figure.  Her curly blonde hair was still damp from a recent shower and the wetness dripped down her shoulders through her shirt.Everything about her exuded a certain confidence and energy that he noticed immediately when he came upon her on the bike route earlier that day.  She had just finished fixing her flat when he stopped to help. No need to play hero; instead she invited him along for the rest of the ride. They fell into a back and forth rhythm and cadence, each drafting the other as the route climbed and dropped along the rocky shore.  She didn’t seem overly curious about who he was or where he was from. Yet, he had somehow let it slip that he was passing through and staying at one of the local places for the night. In truth, he had yet to check in anywhere. Somewhere along the way he decided that he  didn’t feel like going home.  When the ride ended, she let him know that she had to get to her afternoon shift at the local bike shop. She gave him directions and told him to stop in to check it out.

Before he knew it, he got himself  a room and after showering, shaving and grabbing a quick bite at a nearby diner, he drove down to the shop. It was definitely a hang-out for the area’s cycling community and everyone seemed to know one another. She was busy chatting up a customer so he pretended to look around at the merchandise. After she rang up the order, he brought over a bike bottle (He really didn’t need one but how else to slip her his room number?) He handed her his debit card along with a piece of scrap paper-Room 204.

In the meantime, he covered his tracks with his wife. She had left a message that their youngest child’s cold had worsened to a serious cough and that they were going to the doctor’s. Later, his wife left a voicemail stating that the doctor recommended some time at the beach to cure their daughter’s congestion. She and the kids were heading south to Karen and Joe’s beach place for the night and into tomorrow. A slight pang of guilt and then relief washed over him. He made a quick call to work to let them know about his daughter’s illness and then he was done.

He swallowed his feelings and concentrated on what was about to happen.

Geographical Escape

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Here he was again. Holed up in some two bit motel with walls so thin he almost felt like a participant with the couple in the next room.  His wife and kids didn’t even know he was gone. He left that morning for work with his bike strapped in the truck bed and somehow he found himself driving north towards the coast. The nagging feeling of suffocation walled him in once again and these excursions were his attempt at trying to cure himself. He’d done it countless times before and never told a soul.  One day he was up in the mountains riding a fifty mile stretch through hairpin turns risking life and limb just for the rush of it all. Still another time he awoke before dawn telling his wife that he was taking a half day to ski some trails before work. He arrived home past the kids’ bedtime with the excuse that he had to make up the hours. In truth he never arrived at the office.

These departures were becoming more and more frequent. He often found himself making up stories of business travels so he could be gone for days at a time. In reality, he was no more than a day’s drive away, sometimes in a backwater town and more than likely warming up a bar stool after a long day on his bike or on the ski trails depending upon the season. At times, he enjoyed the idea of sneaking away but mostly he felt guilty for removing himself from his family in such a deliberate sort of way.

But that was just about as far as he let himself think about the reasons for his behavior. Just as he was about to change his mind and leave, there was a knock on the door.  Too late now.  He let her in. Another piece he was weaving in his web of deceit.


This post was inspired by Kellie Elmore’s Free Write Friday.