The Chase

The Chase
He awoke under the pale early morning light that flowed through the streith curtains. Somehow he had developed a knack for always waking first. He looked at the girl lying next to him. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever known. It tore his heart out.

She lay there; her face serene and innocent. Sins committed could not follow a body into the realm of sleep. He doubted if she had ever committed any sins anyway. Her chestnut hair lay on the pillow in a tosseled nest. Her eyes now closed, seemed soft and delicate, but when they were open they smoldered with playfulness and youth. A gypsy's eyes. Her tiny upturned nose sat between her high, soft cheekbones, over shiny soft lips, open in the sighs of sleep. Each feature brought an extra ache to his heart.

He had met her and loved her in two weeks. His longest chase in quite some time. And what a chase it had been. It had run rapturously through the resort. From the sunsoaked tanning chairs around the pool, to the early morning breakfast dining halls. From the smoke filled barrooms, to the midnight beaches. She had always been there, enjoying the time with him, even loving him, but never giving herself to him completely. It had been the best time of his life. And it was over.

He remembered a night on a moonlit beach. She had carried her heels in one hand, occasionally grasping his with her other. Her skirts and hair had blown in the sea breeze, making her look as if she could be blown out to sea at any minute, blown away from him forever. Making her look even more beautiful.

She had stepped coyly through the wet sand at the waterline, the waves lapping slowly up to her bare feet, a string of pearls wrapped around one ankle. The moon reflected off the black water, in a large beam leading all the way to the beach. the scene was perfect. This was heaven, a place he knew he didn't belong.

Suddenly she dropped his hand and her shoes, hiked up her long flowing skirts and took off at a run, splashing along the waterline with gypsy butterfly grace. After a few short strides she looked back at him, laughed her beautiful, sweet, playful laugh and took off again. He stooped to pick up her shoes and ran after her.

She had stopped a ways off and he slowed as he approached her. Walking slowly up to her, his arms encircled her tiny waist and pulled her into him. Their chests heaved from the run. He lowered his face to kiss her. she looked down and away, resting her chin on her shoulder, closing her eyes softly and smiling; denying him. He kissed her cheek softly, not wanting his rough lips to mar her buttery soft skin. He moved back so that only his hands still rested on her waist.

"Do you love me?" she asked, still looking down, knowing the answer.

"I love you." he said huskily.

"It's not just this beach, and the way the wet sand feels on our feet?"

"No."

"It's not just the way the moon reflects off of the water, moving back and forth with the waves?" She looked up at him demurely.

"No." he said. "Those things don't affect men the way they do women. Only women affect men."

"And do I affect you?" she asked with a devilish grin under her upturned nose.

At that moment he tackled her to the ground, and she fell with a surprised scream. "What do you think?"

She laughed loudly and slapped his shoulder as hard as her tiny frame would allow. He had never wanted anything more in his life. suddenly she wrapped her legs around him and pulled his body into her grabbing handfuls of his hair and giving him a delicate kiss. Her kisses were few but he could think of nothing that made him happier.
* * *

Yesterday, the day that had become the saddest of his life had begun the same way as all his days had, since he'd begun to laze around the resort. He went down to the bar and had a coffee and a whiskey. He had expected to see her there, she knew his routine and usually cam to join him in his morning ritual. She often chided him on his alcohol intake. Not in the way that many woman had before, women who acted as if it were their solemn duty to cure him of any habits in which they found displeasure. She always did it playfully, and sweetly letting him know that she cared, while making it known that she understood the decision was his. There were no signs of disappointment or reproach, no heavy sighs when he ordered the third or maybe fifth too many. In fact she joined him in every drink so that he wouldn't havve to drink alone. He suspected that this was her quiet way of watching over him. She made sure that his bill would be double, and that he had to worry about drinking her sick. She was a hell of a woman, and he missed her as he nursed the last of his whiskey.

He headed down to the beach to get in his morning excercise. He did some stretches and a few quick push-ups and then took off at a jog down the crowded beach. He broke into a sprint at the end and splashed into the surf before diving in. He swam gracefully, his large powerful body gliding through the water. He swam to the furthest float, where the waves got violent and buffeted him more than he would have liked, then he turned back. He did this two more times. He walked up the beach letting the sun warm and dry his body as it glistened under the fading droplets.

She often came to the beach while he was there. She played with the children or with the dogs, or just lounged in her bathing suit, letting her beautiful dark body get even darker. She didn't watch him work out as an infatuated girl, she just remained coolly aware. Occasionally she would call taunts to work harder, or cheer mockingly as he ran by. He would often sit down next to her afterward to hear her berate him for laziness. He missed her here. He missed her in general and wondered where she was.

The day had continued much the way most of his did here. He visited his usual haunts, particularly the bar; as usual. She never showed up anywhere. He was a little put off at first, but he soon got used to being alone as he always did. In fact he got quite comfortable with it. He ate his lunch alone and went out for a walk down the beach, walking beyond the crowds of bathers to the rocky shore area.

He sat there on the rocky masses of the shore just thinking, wondering where his life would take him next. He sat there as the shadows lengthened. He decided to walk back. He crossd the beach as the sand became dark and shadowy. Mothers corralled their children, people roled up beach towels, repacked coolers. The day was drawing to a close and the night was soon to rise from its ashes.

He made his way up to his room stopping in for a drink along the way.

When he got to his room he found the door unlocked. Strange he thought, he always locked the room in the morning. As he entered he saw candles burning on the night stand, casting their flickering light on the wall. He stood in confusion for a moment. Realization dawned, and he cast his eyes about in horror. He contemplated seriously, leaving in silence and sleeping elsewhere for the night. He wondered how she would take it, what she would think. No. He knew what was being offered and he knew he didn't have it in him to refuse.

But he knew himself. He knew what was going to happen. Everything inside him revolted at this realization. He thought again of leaving. Then he thought of how much he wanted her.

Too late. She came out of his bathroom. Her naked beauty hit him, causing physical pain in his chest. She stalked towards him on her tiny bare feet, the clacking pearls on her left ankle the only thing she wore. She walked forward, her eyes holding him in a gentle predatory stare, catlike.

She spoke, breaking his trance. "We both know what this means, and we both know what's going to happen, what your going to do. But I needed us to know that I'm in love with you."
* * *

He pulled himself out of bed and strode to the balconey. He put his hands on the railing, letting the sea breeze blow the transparent curtains back into his room. He looked out to he sea as gulls wheeled and screeched overhead. He supposed that was where he was going to end up next. Back to shipping. Back to his nomadic semi-existance at sea. Back to leaving almost no mark on the world, save for the sporadic furios bouts of drinking, fighting, gambling and whoring when a port of call was made. He wasn't getting any younger he thought, looking down at the silver hairs across his scarred chest.

He remembered the night before. The arch of her back. The soft gentle curve from her hip, rolling up her flank, the ethereal journey ending at her petite, perfect breast. Her gentle movements, delicate, butterfly like. The arch of her delicate feet as her toes curled into the satin beside him.

These were memories of the happiest moments of his life, but now he could not bear to think of them. Now all they brought was pain. He walked back in the room and crossed to the small beautiful figure lying in his bed. Ever so softly he brushed the hair back from her forehead, and grazed her cheek with his corrupting lips. He left a solitary tear behind as he rose. He walked solemnly to the door, closing it softly behind him.

She awoke, alone with a tear running down her cheek.