Roses Red, Sapphires Blue

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A St. Valentine's Day date; an accident; a love affair.
1.3k words
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bruary 14. St. Valentine's Day.

Jonathan Ames laid the bouquet of red roses on the passenger seat of his car. He took off his suit jacket, checking (for the fourth time in the last ten minutes) the front pocket for the package he'd placed there, folded the jacket in half and hung it over the back of the seat. He spent a long moment convincing himself that the gift wouldn't fall out before closing up and settling into the driver's seat. He looked at himself for a minute in the rearview mirror: a balding, bespectacled, average-looking (at best!) man in his forties. "Fifteen pounds overweight," he added to himself, although the mirror was mostly silent on that matter.

The radio erupted with an inane commercial announcement when he started the car, and he silenced it. He pulled out of the subterranean parking garage of his apartment complex onto the twilit side-street where he lived. A couple of turns, a stoplight, and he was on the entrance ramp to the highway, freed from the cares of suburban driving and able to commune with his thoughts.

He glanced at the roses in the seat next to him, two dozen of them, deep blood red, long-stemmed and beautiful. There was no way to mistake what these roses signified. His thoughts turned to the gift tucked away in his suit pocket: a bracelet of sapphires set in gold. He'd had in his mind weeks ago exactly what he wanted to get Elena, but it had taken several hours on the internet and visits to no fewer than twelve jewelry stores before he found it: sapphires as blue as the roses were red.

And then his thoughts turned to Elena, raven-haired, brown-skinned, exotically beautiful. And the way she moved, as though each step were set to music. And her flashing eyes, and her exquisite face registering every emotion beneath it. And under it all, the most attractive of any quality: kindness.

The last four months seemed a dream to him. He remembered the first time he saw her, directing a pair of salesmen to whatever their appropriate destination was. And then it was his turn to speak to her.

"Yes?" she said, not looking up from the logbook in which she was making an entry. And he stood mute, unable to remember what it was he needed to say to this angel. Finally she looked up, and instantly must have recognized the nature of his stare, given how she smiled and seemed to laugh to herself. Then she gave him the warmest smile, tinged with humor, sharing with him the joke of his obvious attraction. "Can I help you?"

He'd been scheduled to spend just two days at her site, but he quickly found a reason to stop in daily, usually at the end of the day, when he'd walk her to her car. And one night she mentioned that she felt cold, and he gave her a warm hug next to her car. The next day she asked him, "When are you going to ask me on a date, Jonathan Ames?"

He took the highway exit toward the small town she lived in, a mostly Hispanic village with tiny, 1970's era identical houses. He wondered sometimes what she made of the cultural divide between them, but it seemed to be as invisible to her as it was to him.

Just then the tail-lights in front of him veered strangely and then turned completely over before spinning to one side, punctuated by a shower of sparks as the metal of the car scraped against the road. Suddenly shaken from his reverie, he jerked his car to a stop, illuminating the overturned car before him with his headlights. He fumbled for his cellphone, shaking, and dialed 911 to report the accident before jumping out of his car. He wasn't sure what to do until he heard a pained moan coming from the car and he ran to it.

He got the inverted passenger side door open easily. A little girl in a bright orange, floral pattern dress was hanging upside down by her seatbelt in the seat. She didn't seem to understand what had just happened. Jonathan looked over the situation and decided he could unbuckle her and get her out of the vehicle. In the driver's seat was a man in an inexpensive suit, eerily quiet. Jonathan held the girl in his arms as he unbuckled her and caught her, cooing, "It's all right," to her as he carried her to the side of the road. Then he went back to the vehicle.

The man in the driver's seat did not look good. His eyes were open, but he wasn't moving. With some effort, Jonathan got the car door open. The driver wasn't breathing. Jonathan looked for a pulse, but found none.

Jonathan stood up for a moment to look at the little girl; she was sitting on the ground grasping her knees, and she seemed to be sobbing. He saw the headlights of another car approach and slow down as it came upon the scene. He gritted his teeth and crouched down to begin his grim task. Without too much difficulty, he was able to unbuckle the body and ease its fall before pulling it from the car. He wondered for a moment if he should try CPR, but then heard sirens and saw flashing red lights down the road. He'd leave the driver to those who at least knew what they were doing.

A woman was comforting the little girl, who seemed to be about six. She was sobbing and shivering. Remembering his jacket, Jonathan went to his car to fetch it for the girl. As he picked it up, he felt the weight of the bracelet case. He looked back at the girl.

...

He was an hour late to Elena's. He could see as she rushed him past it that she'd prepared a beautiful dinner. In the bathroom, he recounted the story as she took off his blood-soaked shirt and wiped him down with a wet towel that went from pure white to dark pink. He was perched on the edge of the bathtub and she kneeled on the floor beside him.

The EMTs hadn't been able to revive the driver, who was the girl's father.

"There's something else," he told her. She arched her eyebrows inquisitively. "I had a gift for you. It was a sapphire bracelet. Just synthetic sapphire – it wasn't too expensive. But it was really beautiful. I think you would have liked it."

"'Would have?'"

He took her hands and looked her in the eyes. "When I gave the little girl my jacket, I told her that her father had asked me to make sure that she got this gift, and that he had said he loved her with all his heart." She was silent for a moment. Suddenly nervous, he continued, "I'll get you another one. It shouldn't be ..."

She held a finger to his lips, and then rose to kiss him. "You'll do no such thing." She kissed him again, long and wet. "A bracelet is just a thing. What you did is ..." She glanced down, bit her lip slightly, and dabbed his chest with the towel. She looked him in the eyes and pulled his glasses from his face, kissing his mouth, then chin, neck, chest. She'd slipped her blouse's strap off of her shoulder, revealing a perfect breast, and she pinched her nipple. She exhaled loudly and looked him in the eyes again. "Do you know you're the most beautiful man in the world? What you did was ..." She kissed his stomach and began undoing his belt. "What you did was the greatest ..." She ran her tongue over the top of his pubic region as she opened his trousers. "... the greatest gift ..." She pulled his pubic hair gently with her lips, pulling his trousers and underwear off of his hips. She looked him in the eyes, running her hands up the sides of his body and strumming his nipples with her thumbs. "... the greatest gift anyone could have given me." She fixed his eyes with her own as her mouth sought out and found the tip of his stiffening cock, and she inhaled him.

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10 Comments
stewartbstewartbalmost 2 years ago

A great starter for a story to come ... I want the rest!

AnonymousAnonymousabout 18 years ago
Very good story

Great story rope... good luck.

damppantiesdamppantiesabout 18 years ago
Very sweet

That was a very good first story Rope. I enjoyed it, but the lack of sex would probably get you low votes. A pity. I liked the emotion in there.

sacksackabout 18 years ago
lovely....

hard to write something as concentrated as this....good luck!

Rumple ForeskinRumple Foreskinabout 18 years ago
There are gifts, and then there are GIFTS

Good work on well-paced, original story, Rope. Good luck in the contest.

Rumple

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