It was then I saw her run into the terminal.
She was out of breath and shaking, she was looking around for someone at the ticket counters. I laughed under my breath at how utterly silly she looked, her hair was messed up, her dress thrown on and falling off of her shoulders. For some reason she even decided to put on the incredibly unsensible high heels to run around in.
I sipped my coffee and waited calmly. Our tickets to Europe sat on the table in front of me while I waited for her to realize where I was. Finally after much stumbling up and down the luggage drop off lines, she saw me.
"You bastard."
"I'm the bastard now? You wanted to go to Brussels, so we are going to Brussels."
"You could've given me more notice."
"Then I'd miss all the fun," I grinned evilly "not that this will be the only fun I expect."
She sighed, sat down next to me and grabbed my coffee. "Least you could've done is buy me a coffee."
"No, the least I could've done is not buy these tickets at all and just gone to work like I do every day and you could've stayed home with your boring boyfriend... what's his name? Marvin? Martin?"
"Marcus. His name is Marcus, and I'm still trying to figure out how I can explain this to him."
"Meh, you'll figure something out. You always do." I leaned over to replace the fallen strap on her shoulder, resting my fingers just a few seconds longer than necessary. "Did you bring everything you need?"
"I barely have the dress I'm wearing, my phone and my purse. I didn't have time to grab anything else."
I grinned.
"I'd say you have more than you need as far as I am concerned. Shall we?" I stood up grabbing the tickets and held out my arm.
She smiled back. "What the hell. I'm here aren't I?" wrapping her arm around mine we headed for security.
You, like so many people, probably think that the world is unfair; or, at the very least your dark passionate desires are unreachable... unpermittable... undesirable. You find that the line between what's right and what's wrong lies where my ordinary reality ends and your real desire start. To entertain your hidden fantasy is to tie you to a post and crack open your back with forty lashes of the whip while the crowd watches and jeers.
Unless, of course, that is your fantasy.
In which case, replace that with whatever scenario makes you unhappy.
This is folly. Why should imagining your fantasies cause you sorrow? Desires are the whole point to life. They give us reason to live; keep us moving; get us up in the morning; provide flashes of excitement in our bland life. The more unreachable, dark, dirty and desperately hidden they are, the more they flood you when they approach, the bigger thrill when they come.
The anxious chill – Should you really do it?
The shudder standing at the edge.
The release as you jump.
...
The blinding climax.
Why should do anything less? Consequences be damned, we have a life to live.