Once Upon a Futon

I rattled along behind. "Let me make it up to you. Let me buy you dinner."

"That's okay. It's water long under the bridge."

"Please? I want to. I'm not the same man I was back then. I had just gotten divorced and was mad at all women. You deserved better. I should've been more compassionate. Let me make it up to you."

Her pace slowed and then stopped. I pulled along side and studied her face of indecision. "Please?"

Amy's jaw tightened and she turned her brown eyes to me. "Okay. I'll meet you next Friday, at 7:00pm. Where?"

"At Barney's. Do you know where Barney's is?"

"Yes, I do. Nice place," she said. "I'll see you then, Peter."

"Thank you, Amy."

* * * * * * *

Friday finally arrived. I looked at my watch, 7:15. Amy was late. But then, she was late the last time. I sipped my water and waited.

At 7:30, when I was about to give up hope, she arrived, looking flushed and stunning in a black cocktail dress.

I stood up and held her chair. Tonight she wore perfume. "Amy, you look beautiful. I love your perfume."

Her blush deepened. "Thank you."

"So, what have you been doing all these years?"

The conversation flowed smoothly, right through the after dinner coffee. Barney's had a nice bar, so we adjourned to a dark booth and ordered a bottle of Chablis. Suddenly awkward with each other, we sipped and watched the crowd.

"I want you to know, I won't be leaving without saying goodbye tonight. It's been great seeing you again."

Amy smiled at me. She had a glowing smile, but it didn't appear often enough.

The way she looked at me made my face warm and I felt a twinge of jealousy. "Do I still remind you of your fiancée? What was his name?"

Her eyes dulled. She looked away, and said flatly, "Mark, his name was Mark."

When it was obvious she wasn't going to answer the rest of my question, I said, "I met someone a few weeks ago. A lovely woman, but she'd been hurt by some tragedy in her life. The scars have kept her sad and lonely for a long time. You remind me of her, a little."

The color drained from Amy's face. She remained silent and distant.

"I'm afraid I might've hurt her even more. She came to me, looking for comfort, and I may have made matters worse. I wish I knew how to find her. I'd like to know that she's okay."

Amy sipped her wine, and asked, "What was her name?"

"Jasmine."

"Well, Peter," She placed a hand over mine, "If you were kind and considerate, like you were tonight, I'm sure Jasmine has no regrets. As for me, what happened to Mark is in the past. I've moved on, by putting one foot in front of the other. Getting through one day and then the next. Eventually, the pain dulled. But, there are still times... times when I miss him so much; I would do anything to have him back, just for an hour."

I took her hand between mine. "He must've been a great guy. It must've felt wonderful to be loved so deeply. I wish I could find that."

She looked at me through flooded eyes. "Don't we all."

A few minutes later, Amy said, "I think we should go."

I paid the bill, collected our coats and we walked outside.

Before I could say anything, Amy said, "Where's your car?"

I pointed. "The green Pontiac, over there."

She hooked her arm around mine and we walked to the passenger side. I opened the door and she got in. When I got in behind the wheel, I asked, "Where to?"

Amy leaned against the door and looked at me. "Tell me something Peter. This friend of yours, this Jasmine, if you could find her what would you say?"

"Boy, that's a tough one." I gripped the wheel and stared hard into the night. "I don't know her very well, but I had a sense that she was a beautiful person. I would tell her that, and I'd tell her she's smart, fascinating and very sexy. She told me men don't find her attractive, but I'd tell her she's got it all wrong. I'd tell her I'd very much like to know her better."

Amy's voice was breathy and small when she finally spoke. "Wow, she made quite an impression on you. Too bad you can't get in touch with her."

I looked at her shadowed face. "It's just as well. I don't think she lives... around here."

"So, you're not going to pursue her?"

"No. I don't think she wants to be found."

Amy sat up and touched my cheek. "Her loss."

"I don't know about that." I gave her a weak smile, and added, "But I do know this. Meeting you again has meant a lot to me. I feel like I've righted a wrong. Everything I should've said to Jasmine, I'd like to say to you instead. Thank you for having dinner with me tonight, Amy."

"It was my pleasure." Her hand floated to my thigh. "... And Peter, I'd very much like to know you better, too."

I leaned toward her and our lips met over the center console. The kiss felt so wonderfully familiar and so much better without the fabric barrier. We rested our foreheads together and I ran my fingers through her hair. "That was nice."

"Yes, it was. I've missed kissing and... well, you know."

I massaged the back of her neck, and said, "I do know, and I'd like to change that, for both of us."

Amy rubbed her forehead against mine and sighed. Seconds later, she raised her head, and whispered, "I don't know why we shouldn't just change things tonight. Do you?"

"I can't think of one good reason not to," I said, and kissed her nose.

My apartment was just minutes away. The ride passed in comfortable silence. It felt like we were two old friends that decided to become lovers, only our strange history made the new intimacy more provocative.

As I unlocked my apartment door, I said, "Sorry about the mess. I wasn't expecting company."

She smiled warmly. "So, I get to see the real Peter Johnson the very first time?"

"I'm afraid so." I turned on the lights and picked up a few things, while Amy wandered around and got acquainted with my lack of style.

Graciously, she said, "Not bad, Pete. The place looks very comfortable," and sat down on the couch.

The way she kept saying my name made me think she was practicing, so 'Mark' wouldn't slip out inadvertently. She was trying. I liked that.

"Amy, would you like something to drink?"

"No thank you, Peter. I'm fine." She patted the cushion. "Sit with me?"

I did, and put my arm around her. She laid her head on my shoulder and put her hand on my leg. I kissed the side of her face and her fingers drew slow circles on the inside of my thigh.

It was Déjà vu, only this time with Amy naked and noisy. And this time, she moaned, "Peter."