My Love

Note: this is a sweet and smooth romantic story, nothing edgy or forbidden. Just a story of how it can take decades for some people to truly fall in love. Also, if you've read some of my other stories, you may have already met Milla. But this story isn't related to any of the others. Just another fantasy based on the same person.

*****

As I saw my house through the trees, I sighed nervously. I then shook my head with a slightly nervous smile. I shouldn't be so nervous. Really not, damn it! After all, I was only expecting an old friend, someone I loved with whom I had no tensions or any issues whatsoever. I took a deep breath and sighed again as I climbed up the stairs and walked in. I was glad to be back before the rain came.

The house was clean and well maintained, not at all like the stereotypical bachelor house. I have been single for almost a year now, after having lived two years with my girlfriend in this very house. Because I had built the house by myself and the fact that we weren't married, I got to keep it. But when Jodie and I separated, it had suddenly begun feeling too big and empty for me. Still felt that way most of the time.

Looking through the patio doors at the back yard, I could see the hot tub, the pool, the shed, my two bikes and the forest's edge. I had been lucky when I bought the lot. There had been a lot of price inflation on it based on rumors of further development into the forest. But when those plans fell through, the value of all the lots on this street tanked. I bought three of them and built my house on the middle one. I was thus free from immediate neighbours and enjoyed relative peace and quiet. Especially with the high fences. Jodie and I had both enjoyed our privacy. In fact—

My train of thought was cut short when I heard the door bell ringing. Milla. She was here. I was suddenly breathing faster as I walked to the door, cursing my nervousness again. I saw her slim silhouette through the frosted glass and took one last breath as I opened the door. She looked up and smiled at me and I felt my heart thumping hard in my chest. Gods she was gorgeous!

I smiled at her as she walked in. She was wearing a white summer dress, quite thin and short and most of all breathtaking. Before I could take a good look at her though, she wrapped her arms around me and hugged me hard. In her peculiar French accent, she simply said "Hello old friend." As I closed my arms around her, the rain finally began pouring down behind her. Briefly I wondered what she would look like right now, in that delicate white dress, had she been drenched on the way from her car to my door.

I tried to clear my head. I hadn't seen her in a very long time and I knew that she wasn't doing so well. Nevertheless I was a man, I had been single for a year and she really was a very beautiful woman. She could still take my breath away even though neither of us were really young anymore. As this delicious hug lengthened, I though back at how our lives had brought us both here, right now, to this warm hug.

I first met her back in my first year of college, a sprightly French literature major, a stunningly beautiful and sexy girl who had already known exactly how beautiful and sexy she was. She had lots of men wrapped around her little finger, as she'd had all of her life since. As soon as I saw her I knew both that I wanted her and that I had no chance. For one thing she was already in a relationship and for another, she had what I teasingly called a gaggle of fawning guys around her.

I still remember how she had laughed the first time I had used that phrase while talking to her. One day, after having met her only a couple of times, I we accidentally found ourselves in the same cafe one afternoon. For some mysterious reason she was sitting alone. And for some even more mysterious reason she decided to invite me to sit with her. We ended up spending three hours there together. I still remember how pleased I felt when she laughed full throated at the "gaggle" analogy.

Even though we never hooked up, not even once in twenty years, I had the unique chance of developing a very deep friendship with her. How did our friendship manage to survive my hidden love and lust? It didn't. In the sense that it didn't have to. I think I told her that was madly in love with her the next time we met after that afternoon. Just to clear the air. She was briefly annoyed at my raw proclamation, used as she was to having men just blurt out that they wanna fuck her. But she became puzzled as I immediately told her that I didn't want to fuck her, or try anything, or even be in a relationship with her.

That took her by surprise and led, once more, to another hours long conversation. By the time we moved on to another subject, she had a half smile on her lips, still surprised but convinced that I was just being honest. Over the following years, most of the people that knew us both, that saw us talking to each other for hours during parties, at coffee shops, or saw us watching movies alone together, were convinced that we had secretly had sex, or at least kissed. But we hadn't.

At one point though I was sure that I things could happen. Ever since I've known her, she had been in what I thought was an awful relationship with an abusive boyfriend. Psychologically abusive, mainly. I never learned if he ever hit her. But the psychological persecution could get really bad for long periods of time. About a year into our friendship, she broke it off. Finally! But any hopes I might have had were dashed when she ended up in the arms and bed of one of my friends, Alec. Not a very close friend, but still. It lasted about three weeks. Three weeks before she went back to her abusive boyfriend.

I admit that I have been angry through those three weeks... and many more afterwards. My pride had been hurt, and I had then been sorely disappointed by her decision to go back to that monster. The worse part of that was that I knew we wouldn't make a long lasting couple. Great friends, yes, but not a great couple. Too different. That's why even though I loved her, I wasn't really pining for her. That made my frustration even more... well, infuriating!

After a few months though, our friendship grew again for many years. Later we both moved away from the town where we had studied and met and eventually lost touch with each other. Through those years, I've had my fair share of girlfriends, one with whom I spent 7 years of my life. I was with that remarkable woman when Milla finally broke it off with her boyfriend once and for all. When she called me, in tears, our friendship and intimacy bloomed back to life despite the few years of drought. I spent quite a lot of time on the phone, on the chat or in person with Milla to help her through the break-up and the painful realization that she had spent all those years with such an awful man. It had dramatically hurt her self-esteem.

Eventually, she chose another man from her gaggle. A much better man. The year after that it was my turn to become single again and I cursed the damn bad timing. Not that I thought that Milla was interested in me in a romantic way, but well, you never know! And even though I still believed that we wouldn't make a great couple, I was still in love with her... While she was with that man, I met Jodie, fell in love, lived two years with her before our relationship fell apart. Milla helped me through that separation all the while her own relationship waned.

A few months later it was over for her as well and it was my turn to be there for her as she cried through her breakup. Once again we spent hours on the phone together over the course of many months. I invited her to come and spend time at my house instead of camping on the couches of her many girl friends. She never agreed. I was puzzled about that. I was sure that she wasn't afraid that I would make a move. After twenty years, our relationship was firmly in the friendship category.

Even my damned mistake didn't have any negative consequences. I usually used the phrase "my dear" when I wrote to her. Either on emails of chats or even on plain old paper. She did as well. But one time, as her relationship with her last boyfriend was beginning to crack at the seams, I accidentally wrote "my love". I immediately apologized for the mistake, but she didn't seem to mind. She wrote back "Don't worry about it. I call one of my friends "my love" from time to time anyways..."

"A girl friend?" I wrote back.

"Yes."

"But that's not the same thing between a man and a woman..." I wrote.

"Yes. You're right. But I don't mind, really."

I remember relaxing after reading this, but I never called her "my love" anyway. It just felt strange. I did love her, and she knew I did, but still... I had told her that I loved her a few times by email during the darkest moments of this last breakup, but it wasn't something that I said often or lightly. And I had always said it in a non-romantic way. A quick and casual "My love" somehow felt completely different than selecting a truly appropriate moment for a real "I love you".

Also, at that time, she was still months away from a clean separation. I just remember thinking how bad it could have turned if she had taken it the wrong way, as if I was trying to take advantage of her vulnerable situation. But thankfully she knew I wasn't the sort of man to prey on broken-hearted women. Then again, the nonchalant way with which she had moved on to another subject had, somehow, stung. As if the possibility of the two of us hooking up was just negligible.

Today, on my porch, as our very long hug ended, I could see that she wasn't heartbroken anymore. Sure she was still saddened by the fact that her boyfriend had finally left her (a new experience for her), but her smile didn't seem forced. She looked around at my house as she walked to the kitchen and complimented me. She had seen it years ago, but back then it was nowhere near as nice as it was now. As she noticed the new additions, I, on the other hand, noticed that she wasn't wearing a bra under her summer dress. Sometimes the side of her breasts peaked out from the gap under her arm.

Again, I shook my head, trying to clear those naughty thoughts away. We sat in the living room, across from each other, and my eyes glanced at her thighs every time she crossed her legs. Damn it! All of my life I had been attracted to voluptuous women. Women with curves in the right places. But even though I had always found Milla beautiful, she wasn't voluptuous at all.

Instead, she was built on the frame of cat. Very delicate and average height, with smallish breasts and slight hips. She did have a nice ass though. Her bright blue eyes and equally bright blond hair were like sapphires and a crown on her slim body. Even now, on the edge of our 40th birthdays, she looked pretty much as she did when I met her. Gracile, lissome and completely at ease in her body.

Our conversation soon turned to our shared memories. Because it's been years since she split up from her abusive boyfriend, we could talk about him and the incredible house they had bought together in Carishdale. And old country house with a huge piece of land around it including a lake. A lake where I learned, the first time I had gone there, that she and her boyfriend were into nudism. I learned that fact as she carelessly undressed in front of me before jumping in their lake. Her boyfriend was right there next to us, undressing as well.

Before that moment, we had never spoken about nudism. But as my head was spinning from seeing Milla naked right next to me, I undressed as well and joined them in the lake. Her boyfriend had many faults, but jealousy wasn't one of them. It had shocked me to learn that fact, but it made sense when you realized how highly he regarded himself. Absolute narcissism. Well... I wasn't about to complain, especially since it allowed me to spend long summer afternoons naked with Milla. Even when he wasn't there! I still savored those memories of summers long gone, talking with her on the small dock while we were both perfectly nude.

Looking at her right now on my couch, fifteen years after our last such summer day, I smiled and said "So... What are your thoughts on nudism?" Milla laughed, that sweet, intoxicating laugh. For a very slight woman, she had a delightfully low and rich laughter. She was laughing because she knew I was teasing her. Contrary to her abusive boyfriend, her latest one had been horrified by the thought of nudism, and especially of other men seeing Milla naked. It wasn't the first time I had teased her about it. "Have your position shifted in any way recently?" I asked, knowing I was taking a risk by indirectly mentioning her break-up.

But Milla seemed perfectly at ease as she replied "Well, my dear, they have changed indeed!"

"You don't say!" I replied.

Milla threw the cushion that was next to her at my face as we laughed. Until hooking up with her last boyfriend, she had been an adamant proponent of nudism, insisting that our society was too prudish and stuck up. But then her tune changed while she had been with him. "Yes..." she now said. "I've come to see the error of my ways," she added in an exaggeratedly stately voice. She punctuated her sentence with a wink and a bright smile. We stared at each other for a while and, to my surprise, she was the one to look away first.

As the hours sped by and the rain came and went, we talked about many things. She opened up about her break-up and while she cried a little, it was obvious that she was now ready to move on. By the time the sun briefly appeared, we were sitting next to one another on the same couch, her knee casually pressed against my thigh. Clearly, even after years of not seeing each other in the flesh, we were still very comfortable with one another.

Milla suddenly got up and walked to the patio door and looked at the back yard. The light hitting her from this angle made her dress slightly transparent. I took a deep breath. "Gods!" she cried. "That's a little piece of paradise you have here! It kind'a reminds me of my first home, in Carishdale."

"Yeah, in much smaller!" I replied.

"It's not the size that counts, but what you—" Milla suddenly stopped as we laughed at her unintentional pun. With her hand on my arm, she said "You know what I mean, you naughty man!"

"Yes. And I do admit that I did think about that house of yours as I designed the backyard."

We walked outside, our bare feet on the warm wet ground. "Oooh... That hot tub seems really nice!" she said.

I looked at her for a moment and said "Wanna hop in?"

"Right now?" Milla looked at me. "But I don't have my bathing suit." She looked perfectly innocent.

I grinned "Aren't you once more a firm believer in nudism?"

"Right here, with you?" To my surprise, she genuinely seemed hesitant. "I was teasing you about nudism earlier... It's been years since I've..."

"Oh come, come, Milla. Don't go all prudish on me now!"

"It's not that..." she blushed slightly. "I'm older now... And I'm sure you still have the image of 20 year old me in your mind and well... I'm not like—"

I frowned, really surprised. I turned to face her, grabbed her shoulders in my hands and said "Stop right there, my dear friend. Those excuses just won't work. You're still as beautiful as you were... It's not as if that dress hid much of your body anyway." I paused and looked into her eyes for a moment. "If you don't want to, it's quite alright, I don't wanna force you. But please, don't give me that! Even had you become ugly over the years, it would still be a pleasure to share such an intimate moment with you."

"Really?" she asked.

"Of course! Do you think I enjoyed those nude afternoons with you only because I enjoyed looking at your body?" I asked.

"Well... I don't know..." she mumbled.

"Ok. Let me put it this way." I said. "I knew, back then, that you would have been at ease being nude in a big group of other nude people. Right?"

"Of course," she replied, unsure of where I was going with this.

"Now. Would you have been equally at ease all alone with a man your age that had previously confessed to having feelings for you?"

"No... Of course not," she replied quickly.

"But that was me, my dear."

"Oh. I see."

"It always was a privilege for me to be naked alone with you," I said. "And for more reasons than to just look at the prettiest girl in school."

After a brief pause, Milla placed her hands on my arms as I still held her bare shoulders. "Do you still..." she stopped, not finishing her question. After a long pause, she added "I don't think I've ever figured you out, my friend."

"Of course not!" I replied playfully. "I'm a wonder and a mystery, always have been!"

Milla giggled at an old joke.

Honestly though, I wasn't sure I understood what she meant by not figuring me out. Despite the joke, I had never kept a single secret from her in my whole life. She knew I loved her and desired her, she knew all of my worst mistakes in life and love. Instead of keeping my bewilderment to myself, I asked her "What do you mean, Milla, by not having figured me out."

As she stared back at me, taking a few seconds before answering, she slid her hands towards my hands and grabbed them. As they now hung between us, she squeezed them and said "I think you're the only man I can't really read, my friend."

"What? You're joking!" I said, taken by surprise.

"Not at all. Thankfully, you're very honest, brutally so from time to time," she said, a pensive look on her face. "It won't surprise you to hear that I can usually figure out men very quickly. I can figure out what they want and how to... well..." she blushed and looked away briefly. "And to manipulate them if I want to." After another pause, she added "But not you. If you hadn't told me that you loved me all those years ago, I probably would never have figured it out. I would have simply believed that all you wanted was my friendship."

For some reason my heart was beating faster suddenly, as I held her hands in mine and looked into her eyes. I was flabbergasted. I thought I had been as obvious as a flashing neon sign. "I'm having a hard time believing you." I whispered.

"I'm very serious," she said. "In fact... Oh gods... I'm not sure I should be telling you this." She took a deep breath and continued. "Do you remember when I took a three weeks break from the monster (a nickname she had adopted after her break-up)?"

I nodded, knowing exactly what she was talking about. "Yes, I do remember," I said, aware that this had been the most painful part of my friendship with her.

"And I went with Alec..." Judging by her voice, this was clearly difficult for her. But she still held my hands firmly in hers.

"Yes, I remember that as well," I croaked.

"Do you know why I didn't choose you?" she asked, her bright eyes locked onto mine.

All I could do was shake my head. My heart was now racing and I was pretty sure that I was shaking. "Well, it's because I wasn't sure that you'd be interested."

I was floored. I stopped breathing. "Me, not interested?"

Before I could think of something else to say, Milla continued. "Yes. Remeber, dear friend... You told me many times that even thought you... you had feelings for me, you didn't think we'd make a good couple." She took a deep breath before continuing. "In any case, I meant interested in what I needed at that time. Alec was just a rebound, nothing that could have become serious. And it was just what I needed at that point. I was pissed at the monster, I was in a bad spot with regards to guys, and I just wanted to vent this anger. I'm sure Alec still feels used..." She took a deep breath and added "I'm not proud of what I made him go through, emotionally." She blushed and swallowed before continuing "And I wasn't sure if our friendship would survive such a... such an angry and misguided turn into the sexual."