He was hot, passionate, full of promise. It was one of those affairs that burn with white-flame intensity. Ignoring the instinctive warning that hit my stomach at first touch, I smiled coquettishly.
Waves of electricity shook my body with his responding grin of anticipation. Yes! As a 39er (many times over) I wasn’t dead yet!
We began like many other couples; a chance encounter through friends formed an instant, tenuous bond. At first hesitant, we fumbled for words. He held my hand just a bit too long on first touch. A red flag tried to rise, but I shoved it back down.
One brief moment led to more; sometimes with friends, but more frequently, we escaped on leisurely walks down darkened roads. Soon we chatted with the likes of old chums. Morning coffee links lead to early evening happy hours. Eventually, we turned to late night smooches with our favorite libation.
It didn’t take long. In mere weeks, I couldn’t deny it … to like him was no longer enough.