The Goddess

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No one could ever convince me she wasn’t a goddess in human form. Mere mortals like us were unworthy to approach her. My feet betrayed me by carrying my lacking form closer to her. Yet, as I approached, her smile never faltered. I hate talking to people; I hate approaching new people, but I couldn’t help how she drew me in. If I could even be worthy of her friendship, it would be worth the discomfort that nearly had me turning to run all the way home. As I looked at her, I decided she had to at least be a model. Every movement seemed effortlessly posed and as though a photographer was hiding somewhere, snapping pictures of her.

I stumbled over my words. Usually, that only happened after a conversation had gone on and I was speaking too quickly. No, this was an immediate reaction to her. Her smile encouraged me to continue. I barely stuttered out that I loved her leather top and wondered where I could find one. That was a legitimate reason to approach her. I hoped it made me seem less desperate and creepy for trying to talk to her without an invitation. Something on her face shifted, but I mistook her smile. I didn’t understand that she was now flirting. Women flirting with me always threw me off. I never knew if it was real or just friendly banter. When the woman flirting was miles out of my league, I just took it as her being friendly.

She invited me to sit beside her, even answering my question about her top before diving into questions about me. I did my best to turn the conversation back to her. I was a mere mortal; she was the one that should regale me with tales of her life. And maybe she knew what I was doing because she silenced me with a hand on my large thigh. I expected it to move after a moment, but it stayed, my gaze drawn to hers as heat colored my skin. 

That one touch turned me to putty. I answered her questions as truthfully as I could, refusing her nothing. Afterward, she granted me a drink date, and I definitely needed the liquid courage to continue the night with her. Somehow I managed two drinks before her lips were on mine, driving the thought of anything else from my mind. Who needed a drink when her attention, her touch, set my skin on fire, made me feel more alive than I had in years?

We fell into her bed; her place nearer than mine, taking turns testing the nerves of her neighbors and the durability of her sheets. I felt like a brightly glowing light by the time I slipped into blissfully warm unconsciousness, my face buried in her hair as I held her close. I woke a few hours later, never able to sleep easily at the home of someone new, and carefully freed myself from the warmth of her embrace. I had never hated it so much, but I knew I couldn’t drag her down with me. For a single night, I felt worthy of her. But I didn’t deserve her, and I knew that the real world awaited me. Besides, how could I hog a goddess from others that desperately needed her healing touch?

I held my boots in my hands as I tiptoed out of the room, but stopped, glancing back at her face once more. A bit of light from outside illuminated the room with help from the glow of the clock on her bedside table; it was enough for me to take in the details of her face once more as I leaned down to press one last kiss to her lips. That touch nearly broke my resolve, but I whispered a quiet thank you as I hurried as silently from her home as I could manage.

Thank you for making me feel beautiful. Thank you for making me feel worthy. But mostly, I felt thankful for having met her at all. If I trusted I could just be friends with her, I might have stayed. But one taste of paradise and I knew I was greedy enough to keep her to myself. That was why I walked home, humming a song stuck in my head, my hand gripping the keys in my pocket, with the taste of her body still on my tongue.

It was the best night I’d had in years. Thanks to her.

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