Bridget

I tried to laugh off the brunette's blatant disregard for her hometown. At the same time, I was trying to decide how to answer her question. I never shared too much about what I was doing with anyone...and since I hardly knew Bridget, I knew I shouldn't be telling her much. It wasn't because I didn't trust her with the information, but because what I was after was dangerous...and I didn't want to bring her into the mix and imperil her in any way.

From where she sat, Bridget raised an eyebrow and waited for an answer.

"I'm trying to track a man down."

There was obvious interest on the brunette's face as she jokingly responded, "Aren't we all!" After a short laugh, she added, "And why is this man so notorious?"

Again, I struggled with how much I could tell the woman who doubled as a waitress and exotic dancer. In her professions, there was a decent chance that she was privy to certain information...and again, I wondered if I'd be endangering her if I gave her too much data.

Just as she had before, the stunning brunette awaited an answer.

I leaned forward and lowered my head a bit. I'm sure that my hostess could see that I was deep in thought, and when I finally glanced in her direction, I countered her query with one of my own as I pointed at my neck and asked, "What's that pretty necklace about?"

Bridget reached down and grabbed the amethyst stone as she held it up for the both of us to see. "This? Oh, this has been handed down in my family for generations. I was given this when I was a little girl."

I nodded my understanding as I responded, "Such an heirloom must be quite invaluable to you."

"It sure is," Bridget said as she released her hold on the stone and let it fall against her soft flesh. "A lot of the antiques in my house are actually from my family's history. I wouldn't part with anything in here for all the gold in the world."

"Can't say that I blame you," I told my gracious hostess. "I lost my mother to disease about five years ago, so I understand what having mementos and other keepsakes of our departed ones means." I then turned my gaze toward the marvelous brunette as I somewhat corrected myself by pointing out, "I'm sorry to make the assumption that you've lost loved ones. I didn't take into account that your relatives could still be alive."

Bridget did her best to smile as she clapped her hands together and lowered her head a bit while responding, "I haven't seen any of my family members in over a decade."

The cryptic answer bothered me. I felt sorry for the woman who seemed all alone in this little village isolated from the rest of the world. Her brown locks hid her face from me as her head hung low. I decided it was time to bring a little cheer to the otherwise dreary room as I pointed to one of the small statues adorning the room and asked, "Is that from out east? The craftsmanship reminds me very much of something from..."

"That was actually carved by my great grandfather," the brunette responded. She laughed sardonically as she added, "I never had a chance to meet him. He died in the war."

Of course, I knew the one she was talking about. Again, I felt like I needed to somehow spread a little cheer, so I asked, "Have you read any good books lately? I do a lot of reading in between jobs, but most of what I've read lately has been trash."

"What kind of books do you read?"

"Oh, I like a little bit of everything," I told the gorgeous female. "I enjoy a good mystery here and there...keeps me sharp in my line of work."

I saw Bridget grin.

"I'd have to say that fantasy is my favorite genre, and as much as I'm embarrassed to admit it, I oftentimes find romance novels to be more intriguing than horror publications."

Bridget beamed as she asked, "Why would that be embarrassing, Marcus? I think it's very charming that a man can get lost in a good romance novel!"

I scratched the back of my head and averted my eyes after my admission. It's not a secret to anyone who's heard any of my other tales that I've loved a good many women throughout my lifetime. To this very day, I would still do anything for any one of them if they so much as approached me and asked. I know it sounds sappy, but sometimes I envy the men found in those fictional novels full of sappy stories because there always seems to be a happy ending...and in real life, I can be the first to say that that's usually as far from the truth as possible.

"I'm sorry to hear about your mom," the brunette suddenly broke into my thoughts. "I don't want to bring up a hurtful subject, but did she..." Bridget's voice trailed off since she apparently changed her mind about asking me her question.

I did my best to smile as I reminisced, "I had the best mother in the world. I miss her every day and say a prayer each and every night in hopes that she's found a semblance of happiness in the next life. She was always an angel down here, so now I'm put at ease knowing that she's an angel for real."

"That's a nice way of seeing it," Bridget said in a low voice. I could tell that she was trying to word her sentence in order to steer clear of offending me.

I leaned forward and grabbed my glass of water so I could take a drink. Upon setting it back down, I decided to completely change the subject as I told the kindhearted woman, "I used to love writing stories at one point in my life. My mom always pushed me to keep at it since she knew how much I enjoyed creating my own worlds, and it's always been my dream to become a published author."

"And now you're a journalist!"

I shook my head as I let out a sigh and said, "It's not the same, though. What I write now is nothing like what I used to write back when I was in school."

"What'd you write back then?"

"A lot of fantasy," I answered the inquisitive brunette. "I always considered fantasy the best escape from the real world, so I would construct tales of love and tragedy in mystical worlds that I could escape to. When I used to pick up a pen and paper, I would transport myself to said worlds and get lost in them for hours."

"That sounds incredible, Marcus. Do you still write any of these stories in your spare time?"

I shook my head as I told my hostess, "I had to grow up and get out into the real world. As much as I miss those fictional escapes, they certainly never kept food on my plate."

"Oh, that's horrible, Marcus!"

I glanced over at Bridget and saw that she looked quite passionate about what she was about to say to me.

"Letting that inner passion you once had die is the worst thing you can do! If you have the creative talent to weave worlds of wonder that could be enjoyed by the masses, you have an obligation not just to yourself, but to everyone who might appreciate your style of writing! And please don't be upset with me for saying it, but you owe it to your dear mother to continue your work!"

I thought about the words and how they were spoken with such passion. I have to admit that after years of letting the ideas rampantly flowing through my noggin lie dormant, I was in a spot where I wanted nothing more than to take up the pen once again and put it to paper...but for myself instead of those I reported to. Somehow, Bridget had reinvigorated me and had me wanting to follow the path my life was meant to be on.

Unfortunately, the adult in me knew that I couldn't just drop everything in order to scribble down the tales I had always wanted to tell.

I noticed that Bridget was sitting forward on her recliner as if waiting for me to speak again. When I finally did so, I said something I don't think she was expecting.

"Bridget, I've written about everything from contagions to corrupt quaestors in my time as a journalist. I've written about the capitulation of great nations and about common street urchins doing everything they can on the streets to survive after the embers of war have been stoked. I've seen the worst this world has to offer...and I would give anything to be able to go back to scrivening fantasy over the bleak realities I've been forced to cover. I've adhered to the conformities of a barbaric society for so long, and if I thought there was any possible way to return to what I loved half a lifetime ago..."

"What's stopping you, Marcus?"

I grew silent for what felt like the longest time. I was lost in thought for a moment as I pondered the beautiful brunette's words.

Bridget was absolutely right. What was stopping me? Why was I carrying on with a job and lifestyle I hated? Why was I living out of my pickup when I could have a stable relationship with a wonderful woman and a house out in the country somewhere far from the obsequious and urbane call of commonplace civilization?

Unfortunately, the answer was quite obvious: It was because I lived in that aforementioned real world and had to survive. Society had no room for a visionary crafting fables of delusional worlds. I was no longer a greenhorn: I was a veteran of this cruel and grotesque planet I walked upon each and every day. There was no place for a dreamer such as myself amongst the masses of men and women who had also given up on their dreams of grandeur in order to work from nine-to-five daily.

"Bridget," I suddenly spoke up, "You're truly a beacon of light in an otherwise dark and bleak existence. It's not every day when I meet someone as phenomenal as you." Even if it had only been for a few seconds, she had reminded me of happier times that I could only fantasize about nowadays.

Once again, the beautiful brunette's smile lit up the room. I was then quite surprised when she spoke up out of the blue, "I think I might have to head up to bed because I'm actually pretty tired, Marcus. Would you care to join me?"

I wasn't exactly sure that I had heard the incredible female correctly. "Huh?"

Bridget's smile was illuminating as she stood up and walked across the room. She laughed as she said, "I was just wondering if you'd be more comfortable on a bed than a couch! You said you spend a lot of nights in your pickup, so I thought it would be nice if you could get a good night's sleep for a change on an actual mattress!"

It took a moment to register in my mind, but my gracious hostess was making an offer out of the kindness of her heart...not for ulterior reasons. I was obviously ecstatic about sharing a bed with her...but admittedly a little disappointed that she wasn't offering sex.

I want to reiterate that while I have had some sexual encounters in my past that blossomed fairly quickly, I didn't typically move so fast. However, the thought of lying next to Bridget not only had my motor running for obvious reasons, but also due to the fact that I hadn't actually slept with a woman in three or four years. It had been so long that I was losing count. If I'm being completely honest, it may have been closer to five or six. I was usually pretty good with dates, but being on the road so often was clouding my brain.

I don't want to sound like I was disappointed by any means that Bridget's invite had been strictly platonic...that would just come off as ungrateful. Here was a woman who invited me into her home while barely knowing me, and now she was allowing me to use her bed since she had been made aware of how rarely I achieved a good night's rest. She truly was something else.

Bridget made her way to the base of her staircase and put a hand on the railing as she turned to face me. She still had that radiant smile across her visage as she cocked her head to the side and asked, "Well? Are you coming? Or did I frighten you?"

That playfulness that the brunette had about her was so endearing. As I sat on that couch in her living room, I had grown hesitant about following her for more than one reason. To be honest, I think I actually was a little frightened as she had mentioned. Part of that was because it had indeed been so long since I had shared any kind of time with a woman, and I certainly didn't want my hormones to get the best of me. Of course, I wasn't worried about doing anything heinous to the beautiful person standing only feet away from me because I prided myself on my self-control. I would never do anything to harm a woman or make her feel uncomfortable in any way. Laying hands on a woman in a sexual manner against her wishes was the gravest of sins in my opinion, so I knew I didn't have to worry about that.

I think what actually concerned me was the fact that I wondered how I would react if something did happen. Sure, Bridget was inviting me up to her room with the best of intentions, but what if at some point in the night, she became a little randy? I'm by no means the best-looking guy in the world, but I've been with enough women to know that such a thing could happen. Hell, the woman I had lost my virginity to was a stunning teacher who could've been the centerfold of a dirty magazine...and she had been the one to initiate our encounter. I wouldn't have expected sleeping with Tessa in a million years, but the memories of my brief stint with her still keep me warm on some of the coldest nights of the year.

I think Bridget was growing a little impatient and may have started having misgivings about suggesting the arrangement in the first place. I'm sure it was because I was sitting so still on her couch and she probably felt a little shunned. I certainly didn't want her feeling that way and thinking that I wasn't attracted to her...because that was so far from the truth that I don't even have a clever descriptor to make a comparison with.

"Marcus, I didn't mean to..."

I pushed myself to my feet and smiled as I made my way toward her. "I didn't mean to slight you, Bridget. The offer is by far the kindest I've ever had in all the years I've been on the road, but I don't want you to feel obligated just because of what I did earlier tonight or because any of my stories made you feel some kind of pity for me. If you'd be more comfortable with me down here on the couch, I'd gladly bunk here if you want me to."

"What I want is to cuddle up next to a strong, warm man who has honorable intentions and good manners. I want to feel like someone cares about me, and I also want to feel a virile heartbeat while nodding off to dreamland for a change. If you can accept and believe that, I would absolutely love to have you come upstairs with me. If not, I'll understand if you'd prefer to remain down here."

Again, I could tell that Bridget was being sincere. She really did just want someone whom she could trust to snuggle up with and feel safe beside for a change. Her house was by no means spooky, but it had to be rather disheartening to come home to it every day and not have anyone to share it with. In a way, the beautiful brunette was just as alone as I was. Perhaps the only difference was that Bridget was tied down to one spot while I was constantly on the move. Regardless, we both had no one significant to depend on in our lives.

I scratched the back of my head and realized that since the village was so small, the two of us had walked from the diner to Bridget's house...leaving my pickup parked by the saloon. It wasn't the longest of walks, but I had left all my belongings locked in my vehicle. I didn't have a change of clothes. "Bridget, I would love to come upstairs with you, but would it be okay if I used your shower and rinsed off first?"

"Of course!" Her rollicking energy was contagious.

I followed my gracious hostess up the staircase and to the second floor of her modest home. She then led me to the closet where I had fetched a towel for her earlier from. She opened it and handed me another maroon-colored one as well as a bar of soap. She then smiled and gave me a pat on the left arm as she told me she'd give me some privacy and be in her room when I was done.

After thanking Bridget for everything, I watched her skip down the hallway and into her sleeping quarters as I took a left and headed into the bathroom. I flipped the light switch on and closed the door behind myself. I then took a long look in the mirror and thought about everything I had been through in such a short period of time. Was it truly less than three hours ago when I had strolled into Bridget's diner for the first time...?

I set the towel down on the counter's edge next to the sink. I then walked over and pulled the shower curtain off to the side. The tub below was obviously still wet from when Bridget had bathed, and something about using the same shower as the beautiful brunette sent chills down my spine yet again. Just being in the same house with the gorgeous female made me tremble in glee.

I turned the water on and let the shower warm up as I disrobed. I still didn't like the idea of putting my dirty clothes back on after cleaning up, but I didn't really have much of an option. After pulling my shirt off and taking off everything down below, I placed them all in a pile on the counter space next to the sink after swapping them with the towel. I then placed that on top of the closed toilet lid since it would be in my reach once I was done bathing.

I climbed into the warm shower and let the water cascade over my naked body. I lathered up with the bar of soap and instantly felt refreshed for the first time in ages. Sure, I did my best to shower daily when I was on the road by using them in the hotels I stayed at, but there was something about cleaning up in a cozy, familiar place. That probably sounds a little ironic since I had only been in Bridget's home for a little over an hour, but it felt welcoming in a way I can only describe as intimate.

After covering myself in suds, I glanced over and noticed a green loofah hanging from a hook to my right. Loofah's the correct term for that, right? Being a dude, I often mix those up with other toiletries women use. Regardless, I saw it and couldn't help but reach out and touch it. I wasn't about to use it since I had no right to, but just knowing it had touched Bridget's body not even an hour earlier...

I felt something down below start stiffening as I thought about the naked female rubbing the loofah all over herself in the exact spot where I now stood. Yes, it had been entirely too long since I had enjoyed the touch of a woman, and the very thought of Bridget was making me harder than a cast iron pan.

For a moment, I considered taking my solidifying organ in my right hand and beating off my dirty thoughts since it had been longer than I could remember since I had last masturbated. I would've hated to crawl into bed next to Bridget and then need to rush off right away because her very presence caused me uncontrollable arousal. I even contemplated turning the hot water completely off and taking a cold shower.

"Marcus?"

My head jerked up upon hearing my name from the other side of the door. It was obviously Bridget, and for only a second, I shuddered at the thought that she had somehow read my mind. "Bridget?"

"Hey, I'm really sorry, but I think I need to pull a you!"

I wasn't sure what the wonderful woman meant at first, so I simply responded, "Come again?"

"I should've said something before you went in there, but I have to pee like you wouldn't believe! Would you mind if I came in and went real quick?"

There was no way I could turn my gracious hostess down, so in a voice she could easily hear, I called out, "Of course. Come on in."

I heard the door open as Bridget made her way into the room. I strongly considered peeking out from behind the shower curtain, but I didn't want to lower myself to such a level. Instead, I let the water continue to rain down upon me as I listened attentively. As I did so, I knew my towel had been moved since I overheard the toilet lid being lifted...and seconds later, I heard a strong stream contacting the water at the bottom of the bowl.

My penis was growing rigid again. I placed my hands over it and pushed it down as if Bridget could actually see it, but I instantly felt foolish since that wasn't the case. I probably sound like an incredibly oafish clod, but I'll defend my behavior to my dying day since Bridget truly was one of the most dazzling women I had ever laid eyes on and she had me on edge.