Pooner Diaries: Red

[Birdboy 10482]

Once upon a very long time ago, I knew this little redheaded girl. She had long curly red hair and creamy skin. A smattering of freckles across her button nose. Her blue eyes bristled with intelligence behind sober spectacles. She was bright, she was funny. She could dress up girly girl but I knew better. She was a tomboy of the first class, and she could out shoot me, out fish me, spin a lug wrench faster than me. We played the same video games, we liked the same movies, we read the same books. We had a lot in common. I would write about her, gentle words I could never say in person to her. She would laugh with a snort if I tried, make fun of me. But somehow she always knew what and when I wrote without my even mentioning it.

 

I liked Red a lot. And she liked me back. But we drifted apart, and I don't know why. We went from being good friends, to just friends, to acquaintances. And one day long ago, I realized it had been a very long time since I'd heard from her.

 

If there has been one thing that this hobby has taught me since, it's that life is full of the moments that memories are made of. And that I should savor them, keep them close to my heart. Be glad I had these moments, and not pine that they have passed by. But I still can't help but think of Red sometimes and wonder what might have been. Wonder where she is. Wonder what she's up to now.

 

....................................................................................................

 

Years passed. I grew older, if not actually up. And I got on just fine, thank you. That is, I thought I was just fine, until the door swung open one fateful day.

 

Before me stood a little redheaded girl. She had long curly red hair and creamy skin. A smattering of freckles across her button nose. Her blue eyes bristled with intelligence behind sober spectacles. I felt a moment of deja vu, as if I had been teleported back years earlier. I blinked and the feeling that I was there with Red again passed, leaving this stranger standing before me, puzzled by the frozen smile on my face.

 

She did resemble her a little. But as they say, the proof of the pudding is in the tasting. I reached for her, looked into her clear cornflower blue eyes. Our lips touched and our mouths opened slowly, our tongues tripping the light fantastic. I was lost from the first kiss. The years fell away and we started to strip where we stood, frantically pulling at our clothing between kisses. I half kissed, half dragged her to the nearby bed and I pushed her onto it, falling together with her. A momentary pause for the necessary, and we were madly thrusting together, ragged breaths and sighs. Deep groans from me, higher pitched squeals from her. Her hair was flouncing wildly, her face contorted into anguish of the most enjoyable time. She must have seen the same on my face.

 

In a few minutes, it was over. I opened my eyes to see her smiling back at me, dewy perspiration on her brow. I finally spoke. "I'm Birdboy. It's nice to meet you." We laughed at the sudden formality, and that was what truly broke the ice for us.

 

I came back, to my new redheaded friend, a few times over the next few months. We came to get to know each other after a fashion. And I saw that after the surface, the superficial, had been forgotten and she no longer reminded me of Red, she showed flashes of my long lost friend. They had the same quick temper, blowing hot and passing as quickly as a summer storm. They had the same lust and passion for life. They even had a few of the same interests. She came to remind me more and more of Red until I realized it was Carine I now thought of, not Red.

 

The foolish and superficial out there think that this hobby is just about sex. Sure, that is there. And there is companionship, a momentary respite from a lonely existence. But sometimes there's more. Sometimes what you get are not just services, not just anonymous arms holding you briefly. Sometimes what those dollars buy you is a chance to again be that young man I once was, full of hope and innocence. A chance to relive the past, only better.

 

And sometimes, just sometimes, those dreams and fantasies can come true the second time around.

[Cato 160314]

Another great tale, well told by a master of the craft.

Thanks, Birdboy. I love your work!

[Birdboy 10482]

Thanks, Cato. I was starting to think I'd lost my touch, along with my readers. ;)

[Cato 160314]

I always look for your posts.

And this one had the added attraction of appealing to my redhead addiction :)