Echoes Of Love

When Alyce told me over Skype that she was getting married, it took everything inside me not to say "No!"

I told her I was happy for her and I wished her the best of luck, but deep inside I was angry at myself. It could have been me. It should have been me.

I used to tell Alyce she was the hottest woman on two continents. She came to New York from Perth in 2005, filled with aspirations to be the next Nicole Kidman or Cate Blanchett. She had Kidman's beauty and Blanchett's talent: long, gorgeous red hair, creamy white skin, blue eyes, soft lips, an upturned nose and the world's sweetest smile. She was also a natural talent and one of the best actresses I had ever worked with.

She loved the world. She seemed to be an expert on everything—politics, science, art, film and music. Especially music. We would get into long arguments, sometimes lasting hours, over which Prince album was the best (she favored "Sign O' the Times," while I preferred "Purple Rain"). She was brilliant, fiercely independent, and feared absolutely nothing.

She hated ignorance, arrogance, loud people and shortsighted casting directors—something we absolutely had in common. We often shared horror stories about the number of times we had been offered stereotypical roles: it seemed that casting directors couldn't see me playing anything other than a pimp or a gangster, while Alyce was forever being called upon to play bitchy English princesses. "We can do so much more," she lamented, and we often talked about writing our own scripts and making our own films.

Gradually, the roles started becoming more diverse, and our careers began to take off. Alyce never became the next Nicole Kidman, just as I never really fulfilled my goal of becoming the next Denzel Washington, but we did pretty well for ourselves, consistently working in plays, TV shows and films.

As busy as we both were, we were always able to find enough time to spend with each other: walking in Central Park, enjoying a relaxing cup of coffee on Sunday morning, watching concerts at the Garden. We tried to cherish every moment—and there were so many to cherish.

And when we made love...oh my God. It's almost indescribable how good she was. Nothing was off limits—especially anal. I thought she'd be reluctant to take my big cock in her asshole, but she had no hesitation about being fucked in the ass. I loved penetrating her, hearing her moan in raw pleasure, and coating her cute asshole with my cum.

We loved it when winter snowstorms would knock the power out, because it would always be a cue to fuck. Something about the lights being off made her freakier, wilder, hotter. She would want to fuck wherever we were when the lights went out—it didn't matter if it was on the couch, in the kitchen, or on the bathroom floor. We would always start out kissing passionately as our clothes came off, and would end up having scorching sex. I loved kissing her delicate white skin, and she loved it when my black cock entered her pussy or asshole.

Even as I write this now, I'm getting horny thinking about how sultry and sensual she was, how much of a thrill it was to kiss her pale ass, run my fingers through her long ruby-red hair, caress her curves, touch her pink nipples. I loved hearing her cum in her sexy Aussie accent. I loved coming onto her face and tits. I loved everything about her.

I wished it could have lasted, but it didn't. Alyce eventually became homesick for Perth, and wanted to start a family with me; at the time, I wasn't interested in either moving to Australia or becoming a father, so we decided to break up on friendly terms. I thought I could get over her, could find somebody better, but I never did. I love white women, always have and always will—but I've never met a white woman as sweet, as sophisticated, and as straight-up sexy as my Aussie ex-girlfriend.

I will always regret letting Alyce go. I will always regret passing up the chance to be a husband to this beautiful woman, and to be a father to her children. I'm sure Alyce's husband is a nice guy, but I will always wonder what it would have been like to marry her.

Alyce taught me so many lessons about life. The greatest lesson she taught me was: never, ever let go of a good thing. It may never come back.