tagNon-EroticEternal Love

Eternal Love

byBOSTONFICTIONWRITER©

Her friends thought her crazy and that she had money to burn when she bought a small parcel of land from the city in the dog park across from her penthouse condominium for one million dollars. Her friends thought her crazy when she spent all of her free time walking her land with her dog and sitting alone on the park bench in the moonlight talking and laughing to herself while listening to the brook babbling behind her. Her friends thought her crazy when she asked to be buried there in the shade of the Maple tree. Her friends who thought her crazy did not understand why she did what she did. They just thought that she worked too much and too hard and needed someone in her life. This is Katherine's story.

Katherine had it all, beauty, career, and money, only, she did not have a man in her life. She was at that forty-something age where she still had a chance at love and at romance, if she wanted it, and still had a chance at having a baby and a family, if she wanted that, too. Yet, when it came to making personal life decisions that conflicted with her career, she was her worst enemy never giving herself a break or credit for all that she had already done. She knew that if she committed to a man now and/or to a baby later, that would be it for her career, her independence, and her lifestyle. Could she trade everything she worked so hard to build for love, for a man, for a baby, and for a family?

It was, of course, an improbable question to ask and an impossible question to answer, especially now, since she did not have a man in her life and was not in love and had never been in love. Foremost in her life, her career came first. Now, that she was on top of her field, CEO of her own profitable company, making her own hours and working much of the time from home, her success rang empty without someone there to share it with her.

She had no one to buy those cute and funny greeting cards for that she always happened to stumble over and laugh at in the card shop. She had no one to curl up to at night and wake up with the next morning. She had no one to talk to and/or listen to while sharing morning coffee or an evening nightcap. She had no one to hold her hand, hug her, kiss her, or walk with her through the picturesque park just across the street. She had no one to share a laugh or to wipe away her tears. She had no one to call seven times a day, just to hear his voice, to tell him she missed him and that she loved him. She had no one who truly cared about her in the way that only a lover would. She had no one.

For someone who was so classy, cultured, and educated, you would think that she would have an army of men surrounding her and wanting her, but she did not. She was alone and she was lonely. Most men shrunk and disappeared in the shadow that her accomplishments cast. Most men did not want to constantly and contently take the back seat to her success, relegating themselves to the number two position. As most women have become accustomed, complacently accepting their passenger seat role, no man wanted only to be known as Katherine's husband. It took a special and confident man, self-assured in who he is, to love a strong and competitive woman, as was Katherine Davis. Opinionated and articulate, she knew who she was and fought for those things she needed in her life that maintained her core of strength, power, and influence.

For months, since she moved to Boston from New York, sitting by her picture window while sipping a martini or working from her home office with her coffee getting cold, she watched from afar envying the people who congregated in the dog park with their dogs pairing off to walk the tree lined paths enjoying one another's company, nature, and the day, as their dogs did their business. Lonely enough to take desperate action and hoping to meet a man at the dog park, too, she bought a dog, an Afghan hound she named Ava. As graceful and as elegant as was her dog, she with her tall presence, fashionably expensive clothes and confident walk, and the dog with her handsome lines, flowing, multi-colored hair, and beautiful gait, they looked good together.

She lived alone in the city, high up, in one of those penthouse condominiums that overlooked the dog park, the kind of luxury accommodations that had the doorman who knows everyone by name and who sees you coming and going even when you do not want him to see you. That's what you tip him for; to remember you on the days you want to be remembered and to forget you on the days that you want to be forgotten.

She had tried bars, social functions, business meetings, blind dates, well meaning, matchmaking friends, and even the Internet to meet a man. All she met were married men, dysfunctional men, needy men, mommy's men, men looking for someone to take care of them, and players. Presently, even the players looked good to her. At least, she knew what they wanted and where she stood with them.

Now, she wondered if she would find anyone. Maybe, her standards were too high. Maybe, she was looking for all the right things but in all the wrong men. Maybe, she should dumb herself down to the men's level. She laughed at the thought of acting like the dumb, sexy blonde. Certainly, she was good looking enough and had the body to pull it off. Maybe, she should turn lesbian. She laughed at the thought of licking a pussy instead of sucking a cock. Still, at least, the thought of turning lesbian meant that she would never be alone and would have a loyal community and close knit network of other women who shared her sexual orientation. Only, she was not lesbian. She liked men, the way they looked, how they smelled, the way they talked, how they felt, and how they acted.

The best times of her day were when taking Ava to the dog park. Sure, she could have paid someone to walk the dog but she enjoyed the fresh air, the exercise, and watching her dog interact with other dogs and people. Besides, it was a nice break from the tediousness that her work had suddenly become and, after all, she was hoping to meet a special someone.

Then, suddenly, from out of nowhere, there he was, that handsome man she met with Polo, that adorable Rat Terrier. What was his name? Frankie, Jackie, Jimmie, Freddie, that's it, Freddie, his name was Freddie. At least, he had a brain in his head and he likes tits.

More than once, she caught him looking at her ample cleavage. More than once she felt him checking out her curves and feeling the stare of his lustful desire. More than once she flushed with embarrassment when caught checking out him. She wondered what he did for a living that he was out and about during the day. She wondered if he was attached to anyone. She wondered if he was interested in her. She wondered what he looked like naked in her bed at night and the next morning.

Three times every day, Katherine made sure that she hit the dog park around the same time hoping to serendipitously run into Freddie. She did not want to appear obvious in her intentions but she dressed the part making sure that her clothes, hair, and makeup made her look desirable and not desperate. Always, every day, even when she was a little late or a little early, there he was throwing a ball and playing with his dog by the babbling brook or sitting on the park bench enjoying the sunshine or the moonlight while watching people and their dogs enjoying the park. Just my luck, she laughed to herself, he is probably homeless and lives in the park. She was half right.

She enjoyed and looked forward to his company immensely. He was like no one she had ever met. He was different. In an odd way, he reminded her of her father, even down to his clothes. He had poise, composure, manners, and an old fashioned charming style and genuine sensitivity about him that she liked and that the guys today lacked. He was a gentleman with a wicked good sense of humor that kept her not only laughing but also interested. He was mature and grounded and had the commonsense that she wished others had. She could tell from their conversations and by his lack of concern and/or knowledge of current events, reality TV, and celebrity gossip, that he did not watch television. She remembered he even told her on one occasion that he did not own a television and did not know what television was. She laughed, he was so funny.

She did not see a ring on his finger. She wondered if he was gay. She figured he was in his early forties. He had sexy eyes that were grayish blue, and the hint of gray hair at his temples gave him a distinguished appearance that she found so terribly attractive in a man. He looked a bit like George Clooney, but with a softer jaw, only taller and thinner and better looking. Hands for some reason were a major attraction for her. He had nice hands. He had strong hands with manicured nails and muscular forearms that she got to see when he rolled up his sleeves one day to pull Polo out of the bramble where he had gotten himself entangled. She imagined his arms around her holding her tight and his hands feeling her and caressing her in all the places she longed to be touched.

It did not immediately occur to her that he wore the same suit every day, as it did not immediately occur to her that she never saw him and his dog outside of the dog park. It did not immediately occur to her that they were ghosts. Before this was turned into a dog park, killed by a hit and run driver 70 years ago while crossing the street, this is where they died. She never noticed the small plaque that graced the entrance of the park until now.

"We dedicate this dog park to Freddie and his dog, Polo. May you rest in peace, dear friends."

Devastation hit her as if he had just died today. Sorrow replaced her desire with sadness. How perfect. No wonder she could not find her man. He was dead already. Waiting for him to discover her, she did not mind waiting a little longer until the time when she was ready to join him forever in eternal love.

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