The beginning of something new.

I've been coming to the park every day for a month. Hi. My name is Jack. I am not a writer, I am an artist. But I felt the need to chronicle this adventure. I will try to stick to the point, but it's so exciting I tend to get flustered.

I see her almost every day. Sitting on the bench at the park, down by the water. One foot tucked up under her and her cheek resting on her knee. Occasionally she will reach up and tuck her hair behind her ear and then, adjusting her glasses, look out across the water. I often wonder what she's dreaming about. What sort of peace does she find from this tranquil vista? I dare not intrude upon her solitude to ask, instead I sit on my blanket under the pear tree with my back resting against the bark, and imagine the things that she's thinking. I draw pictures of the scenes she might be entertaining in her mind.

Today, as the sun gently kisses colour onto her cheeks, I imagine that she is thinking of a lover. The way they look at each other, the way they hold each other. The way they sigh together in the night. She is smiling slightly as she looks away from me and I imagine that she is remembering the soft feel of fingertips on her skin. The way her lover brushes the hair away from her face. The slightly fuzzy look she would get as the lover removes her glasses and her eyes become unfocused. The way her breathing hitches and her mouth drops open as her friend trails a finger down her cheek and under her chin. Lifting her face up to the perfect angle to be kissed.

I watch as her tongue darts out to moisten her lower lip and my imagination flares again. This time I begin to sketch what I see in my mind; a hand coming out of the darkness, cupping her cheek. The line of her jaw. Her golden eyes shining brightly with anticipation. I can feel my own breathing beginning to pick up as I feel desire begin to move over me.

As I draw the image pervading my senses she looks over my way, and she smiles. Nodding to me, she begins to gather her things and as she passes by me on her way to the parking lot she says quietly, "well I will see you tomorrow then " and she is gone once again.

___

I come here almost every day. I enjoy sitting on this bench and looking out over the water. I watch the birds playing, the families chatting, the babies crying, and I dream. I dream of the lover that I haven’t met yet. The man who can make my skin tingle just by thinking of him.

Everyday I come out here to dream and tell the water my secrets. About a week ago I noticed someone else comes too. He sits over there by the trees, drawing or writing or something, I don’t know. But the way he sits, the concentration on his face, the way he holds the pencil as he works; I can’t help but imagine how that concentration and those hands would feel when focused upon my body.

I close my eyes and lift my face to the sun imagining it. I imagine his hands brushing my hair away from my face, the intensity in his gaze as we look at each other. The way he licks his lips when he looks at mine. The softness of his mouth as our lips meet.

I imagine him tracing the curve of my cheek, running his fingers along my jawline like his fingertips are memorizing my shape. Feeling his hand brush over my shoulder and down to cup my breast. My breathing coming more rapidly, I imagine him playing with my nipple through the material of my shirt.

The way his nose nuzzles that spot behind my ear as he trails kisses on my neck. Bringing his hand up to bare my shoulder so he can kiss there too. As I dream about his touch the wind caresses my skin and the sun warms it. I can almost feel the touch.

In my imagination my phantom lover circles behind me to kiss the nape of my neck. Now cupping both of my breasts in his strong hands. Cupping and kneading them, rolling the nipples between thumb and forefinger. I try to press against his hands and am shocked to realize there are no hands there. Geez, the daydream was so real!

I look around to see if anyone noticed and lock eyes with the man by the tree. I can see that he is aware of where my mind had traveled. I nod to him and begin to gather my things. “Well I will see you tomorrow then.” I say as I pass him on my way to the parking lot.

_____

Today the woman by the lake isn't there when I arrived. So I sit near my tree and open my sketchbook bringing her image into my mind. I begin to sketch her, long flowing hair, chestnut brown with lighter bits from the sun. She has deep, golden-brown eyes with long lashes that would curl at the end, I was sure. I sketch a rough outline of her face, moving to her body. She's a tall woman, a little on the plump side. She carries herself like she is a dancer. Graceful and with an economy of movements that I admire - briefly I stop to wonder what it might be like to be able to sit so still. As I'm sitting there thinking about that a shadow crosses my path; looking up I see the woman. She smiles at me and hands me a cup of coffee.

"What are you doing?" She asks me.

"I am sketching you from memory". I replied, " you weren't here yet..." I trailed off, embarrassed. Holding my coffee I tap the end of my pencil on the sketchbook nervously. "Would you like to see?' I ask her.

Her eyes light up as she smiles and then she sits on the ground beside me, holding out her hand. I hand her the book and watch while she goes through pages of my sketches. Chewing my bottom lip because I don't know how she will react to pictures of herself.

"This one " she tapped the page of a smallish sketch where she is without a top and you can see the curve of her breasts. " This one isn't correct. Maybe someday you would like to draw me for real?" Of course I nod. When she smiles her whole face lights up and I can't help but smile back at her. "I would love that. My name is Jack. What's yours?" "My name is Jessica. It's a pleasure to officially meet you... "

....

In my living room I adjust the curtains to allow the fading sunlight to hit the couch where Jessica sits patiently. I give her a book to read as I move things around her, and take a few photos. Setting the scene in my mind.

"Alright, if you're ready, we can begin." She smiles at me as I take my seat across the room from her. As she removes her top and gets comfortable with her book.

For a moment I just stare at her, appreciating the view. Her dark hair is long enough that it reaches out caressing the tops of her breasts. Her breasts are small and firm, about the size of a large lemon - the perfect size in my opinion. Her nipples are puckered and the colour of raspberries against her porcelain skin. Her skin is flawless and her belly is smooth. Appreciating the way her hips flared out below her waist I couldn't help imagining her completely naked.

With her feet tucked up beside her on the couch she smiled. "I'm ready when you are." She said, and I began to draw.

I've spent part of every afternoon drawing her, either from pictures, from memory, or with her there before me. I am getting to know her, all her little quirks, her sense of humour. I think the more that I learn about her, the more attracted I am to her. my pictures are getting better and better, because I am able to see and feel the emotion behind her expressions. I catch her staring out into space sometimes and wish I knew what she dreamed about. I wonder if she dreams about me as often as I dream about her. Maybe one day I will be able to find out.