Their First Tastes
The gallery's clock skipped over another minute and Alissa Clayborn tried not let the pain in her gut consume her. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and picked up her purse. Her fingers dipped inside and she dug out her cell phone. Chewing on her lip, she dialed his number. Her fingers hovered over the call button.
"You'll look desperate," a voice whispered behind her.
She closed her eyes and felt her stomach lurch. Alissa turned around and stood up. Her lips trembled as she reached out and touched his face. "Quint?"
"Hey." Quinton Maloy pulled her cell phone from her hand and turned it off. "I'm sorry I'm late. There were problems at work and then the car decided it didn't want to cooperate. I apologize."
Alissa swallowed the lump in her throat. "It's okay." Her hand began to fall from his face, but was quickly captured in his grasp. She watched him lick the pulse that beat under her fragile skin.
"Good," he told her. "Are you ready to go? Or is there more of the River Gallery you would like to see?" He walked around the small bench that separated them and placed her palm in his. He squeezed her hand, still not quite believing she was here.
"No, there is no more I wish to see."
"Good."
He led her outside. The time now approaching 4:30 and the Gallery and was about to close. He'd arrived in a cab and it sat idling in a parking spot in front of the Museum. "Walk or ride?" he asked her.
"You decide. You know where we are going."
He paid the driver, thanking him for his time and then he aimed them to the North and began their walk toward the small coffee shop at the corner. "What did they say?" he asked her.
Alissa took a deep breath. "They told me I was stupid. You were too young for me. I was taking a risk meeting you . . . "
"Aren't you?"
"Aren't I what? Taking a risk? Or too old for you?" she asked.
They continued walking as he answered her question. "Both."
"I thought I was too old for you, until I realized that with you I felt young. Am I taking a risk? Yes, but after living my life the way I was expected to, I think it is time I took some risks," she told him.
Quint agreed and opened the door to the Independence Coffee Company and followed her in, before letting the shop door close quietly behind them. He pointed out a table for them, placed his hand on the small of her back and together they wove their way between tables and customers.
They sat down. Quinton's hand still held hers and he refused to let her go. If he did, he was sure she'd disappear. He stared at her, watched her blush and then shook his head in awe. "You're amazing."
She rolled her eyes and shook her head in disagreement. "You're a goof."
"Alissa, why did you finally leave?" he asked.
She took a calming breath and stared at him. "I couldn't continue living the way I was. I couldn't hide the fact that when I had to go weeks without hearing your voice I would fall into this pit of depression that only your voice would pull me out of. I told myself that I had to come. The 'what ifs' piled up and I couldn't push them away any more."
"What ifs?"
"You know. What if you died? What if I died? What if you just disappeared and found someone else, when I was the one you were supposed to be with? What if . . . "
"I'm glad they piled up," he told her.
Their coffee came and they sipped at it until it cooled. In that time they both spoke of how they had first met. Each one remembered how they pursued the other through Instant Messages and hours of conversations. The first night they spoke on the phone, he'd made her body hum in pleasure for more than six hours. They had taken breaks, allowing her time to rest and enjoying discussions about things they had in common. During that time, they both agreed it was a friendship and nothing more.
"When did you know?" he asked her.
"Know?"
"When did you know you loved me?"
"When you said my name."
"Huh? I don't understand," he told her.
She finished her coffee and placed her hands in her lap. "Whenever we 'played' on the phone, you called me your pet, or your slut. I enjoyed that. I still do, and I hope we will enjoy that this Summer, but when you said my name. When you called me Alissa during one of our slow, love making sessions and not my nickname Allie, I knew I was in love with you. I cried that night."
"I know. I remember."
Her lips rose in a smile. He took her chin in his fingers and leaned over the table. His lips touched hers and she sighed against them. Quint took a sample. "We should go," he whispered against her mouth.
"Yes, we should."
They got up and left the coffee house. He again kept her hand in his and they headed down the block this time rounding a corner and arriving at a park. "You'll love this place," he told her.
"When did you know?" she asked.
"When I had to go home for Christmas and I had no access to you. No online service and no phone calls. I thought about you every day. I could hear your voice. Your giggle. I could hear you breathing in my ear. I knew I was lost. I couldn't wait to get back to school, so I could get online and write you. I couldn't wait to call you on the phone and talk to you again. I knew then I was in trouble."
"Now?"
"Alissa, having you here with me for the next two months is going to be a mixture of Heaven and Hell. Heaven because you and I will be able to do wonderful things together. We'll be able to have our time. Hell because I know you'll leave . . . you are leaving, aren't you, Alissa?"