| Straight: Online Lovers: Blue Car in a Car Park (1/3) |
 10 votes |
|||
Share This Story: BlinkList - del.icio.us - Furl - ma.gnolia - Spurl - Yahoo MyWeb - StumbleUpon |
||||
|
It was a place he’d never been before. Smoky black town nestled in the Yorkshire hills. It was a meeting that he hadn’t expected, just suggested in a moment of whimsy, but still she was coming and that made it all worthwhile. He stood in the car park of the homogenous superstore waiting as her “there in 2 mins” painfully elongated into five and ten. Cars came into the car park, ferrying the town’s elderly shoppers, but no sign of her distinctive car. He was beginning to lose faith and even entertain ideas of leaving. A small blue car entered the left field of his vision and he turned to stare. It had to be her…he looked carefully as she sailed by apparently oblivious to him. He found out later that she had a reputation for being late, but he had yet to experience this at first hand, he would learn quickly. She didn't notice him as her stereo was on full blast and was singing along to it, windows down deafening anybody passing. She stopped and he could see her face – One which he’d looked at online before and knew well. He walked over, trying to shield the nervousness that he felt (and petrified that it might just be someone who looked like her with all the embarrassment that that would cause). They chatted briefly and she got out. They walked through the town towards a building strangely reminiscent of Beau Geste, with the hordes of Arab extras waiting around the corner having a sly fag and a cuppa. They sat in the open air and drank a brew, water dripping from overhead after last night’s thunderstorm. Drinks finished, their assignation seemed to grind to a halt. They walked back to the cars. He was convinced that she would go, her demeanour told him she thought it had been a mistake. On the way back, he tried occasional touches to see how she would respond. Little playful nudges and strokes. She didn’t shy away, but she way probably just being polite. They walked on. At her car, they agree to go to the local park. To this day, he’s still unsure how that happened. She moved her car out of the reaches of the superstore’s parking patrols and they left in his dirty old estate, redolent with the smells of kids and thirty thousand miles a year. The park was small, the toilets and café had become a building site overnight and other than builders and men waiving chainsaws like light sabres, there were few people to be seen. They skirted the duck pond and headed towards the miniature railway tracks that sat bear and unloved in the grass. He recalled the excitement of riding on a similar track in his hometown as a kid and it fired off a whole series of explosive memories of picnics after school and fishing for tiddlers in the canal. Past the tracks there was a secluded patch of grass. She suddenly yelled, “Race you to the bridge,” taking him completely unawares. She had been so subdued and he was exuberant to see this side of her. His work shoes left him skidding in mud and coming a very poor second as she chuckled her way across the bridge. As he caught up with her, he led from behind and hugged her, kissed her long elegant neck, brushing the hair away as he did so. |
  |
fantastic