Ships that Collide in the Night

Hello again, gentle reader! This was something that just kind of sprouted up in between stalled projects, to try and get the words flowing again. This idea came from the saying about "ships that pass in the night," regarding incidental meetings that are never repeated. Well, sometimes, ships don't pass; sometimes they collide and those ships only manage to stay afloat if they help each other out.

As always, I welcome all feedback (good, bad, or indifferent) and apologize in advance for my poor editing skills. Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy!

#

Trey sat sideways at the small table, the ankle of one leg propped on the knee of the other. He rested one hand on his coffee mug. Steam rose from the cup and wafted into the crisp Saturday morning spring air. He inhaled, savoring the cool feeling pouring into his lungs.

Well, at least if I get stood up, I can still enjoy the morning.

He glanced around the cafe patio. Half of the tables were filled with diners enjoying a cup of coffee with their morning paper, couples chatting over their croissants and danishes, or would-be writers tapping away on their laptops. Trey had always liked the Cafe Norton. It was less crowded than any of the nearby chain shops and brewed a better cup of coffee. It was also the kind of place that wouldn't mind if someone sat in the outdoor dining section for several hours nursing their cup. The elderly owner, an immigrant from Italy, preached the virtues of a slower, more leisurely lifestyle.

Proximity to the Royal doesn't hurt.

Trey thought there was very little regal about the Royal Hotel, which lay just around the corner from the cafe. But the rooms were clean and could be rented by the hour, which were the major selling points as far as he was concerned.

A quick stretch of his arms brought his watch in view. He couldn't resist glancing at the time, which showed five minutes after ten. A small smile donned his lips. Scarlet was officially late.

He wasn't really surprised. Tinder was a hook-up app, after all, and he'd been stood up and ghosted before--doubtless when the woman in question got cold feet. It was one of the reasons he often chose Cafe Norton as a meeting place. If his date didn't arrive, he could still enjoy a coffee and something to eat before he got on with his day.

His gaze roamed over the patio again, coming to rest on a couple sitting by the short iron fence that separated the patio from the sidewalk. They two held hands and stared into each other's eyes, smiling and talking in low voices. Gold sparkled on his left hand, gold and crystal on hers. All he could see in their expressions was love and devotion.

A pang shot through his chest and Trey turned aside. The sight of the couple brought Sarah to mind and he fought to keep a sneer from his lips. Good luck buddy. She'll probably be fucking someone else before their second anniversary. Trey quickly wrenched his thoughts away from his ex-wife and took a gulp from his coffee, almost draining it.

Neil approached with a carafe. The old waiter had been working there as long as Trey had been coming and seemed to sense, in that psychic way good waiters did, just about when Trey was going to ask for a refill. He gestured with the carafe and, seeing Trey's nod of approval, topped off his coffee. "Ready for that baklava?"

"Not yet. If my date hasn't arrived in the next five minutes, go ahead and bring it."

"Yes sir." Neil wandered off to another table.

Trey couldn't help it. His eyes wandered back to the love-struck couple--though with his second look, none of the venom of before boiled forth.

I wonder where she is.

Memories of the very night Sarah had left lanced through his thoughts: the sudden, stunning blow at her announcement that she was going, the realization that his wife of nine years had been conducting an affair for almost six months, the mix of determination and pity in her voice, and the final flip of her long blonde hair as she'd left him clutching the divorce papers and climbed in the car with her smirking paramour.

It hadn't mattered much to Trey that he hadn't suffered financially from the split. They had been renting, he and Sarah had made almost the same salary, and they'd had no debt. It didn't matter to him when their friends reported that Sarah had married her boyfriend almost immediately after her divorce from Trey was final--a marriage that had lasted nine months before she took off with yet another man. It hadn't even mattered that throwing himself into work as a salve for his pain had resulted in several promotions, leaving him in better financial shape than ever.

No, what had mattered was that Trey had never seen it coming.

I thought we were happy.

He imagined he had been a good husband--protective, supportive, and emotionally available. He always listened and tried to be considerate of her feelings. They talked and spent time together. They'd made love the night before she left and even discussed their upcoming vacation. Sarah had kissed him goodbye that morning with her usual passion and vigor.

His friends and family--and hers--had been mystified and all of them admitted they had not seen it coming either. Trey's brother told him that Sarah was simply the kind of functional sociopath that had been able to put on a facade of caring without any real concern about Trey's well-being or mental health. Trey thought that was probably true.

Doesn't make it hurt any less. I thought we were good. I thought ...

He sighed and shook his head. He still liked the company of a woman. He loved how their laughter tickled his ears, the flashes of mischief and delight he saw in their eyes, and the soft warmth of their bodies as they snuggled into their arms. Their joy, their spirit ... they were hard not to like.

But I can't do it again.

He feared it. He feared letting himself be so vulnerable that he'd get his heart ripped out again; thus, he had avoided any real commitment in the three years since Sarah had left. The advent of dating apps had been a godsend. Being tall, good-looking, personable, and in reasonably good shape meant that Trey never lacked for female company. He was able to enjoy the attention of a woman, for a while, and then get on with his life.

It was only in the cold clutch of dark night, when he was in bed and isolated with nothing but his thoughts and memories to torment him, that Trey longed for something more.

No. I can meet a lovely lady once in a while, spend some time, and go my own way. I'm better off this way. Trey figured if he thought it often enough, he'd go on believing it.

Enough of that. He reclined his head and closed his eyes a moment. The sun's warmth soaked his skin. He held there a moment and then with a sigh, reached for his phone to see if he'd missed a message from his tryst partner. Movement on the edge of his vision caught his attention. Trey swiveled his head.

She stood outside the patio railing, about twenty feet away. The first thing he noted was her tentative expression. The dark tone of her chestnut-brown hair, bound up in a bun, contrasted with her milky white skin. She clutched her purse in both hands in front of her. He almost laughed at her dated business attire of a slate-gray jacket and skirt, and white shirt.

Like, who the hell wears a business suit to a hookup?

Her eyes locked with his. Trey thought she probably recognized him from his profile picture. She'd had a profile picture without her face and had--in a move he found rather shy--avoided sending him one. Trey assumed she felt more secure and in control of the meeting that way, which he had no problem with. He held her gaze and nodded, expecting her to reciprocate.

Instead, she continued to stare at him. Even from where he was sitting, Trey noted her hands shaking. He lowered his one leg, preparing to stand but hesitated, fearing that if he did, he might scare her off altogether.

The woman shook herself and entered the patio. She walked to his table, a mix of apprehension and determination etched on her face. Trey stood as she reached him. She bit her lip. "Martin?"

"Martin" was the name he used on Tinder and the other apps. Trey donned his most charming smile which, according to some women, was downright devastating. "Hello, Scarlet. I'm glad to finally meet you in person."

"Yes, same for me." Her blue eyes peered into his.

He took in Scarlet's face. Her skin was smooth and her cheekbones high, though her nose and chin were a touch on the pointed side. He might have called her "pretty," though Trey guessed she had never been a ravishing beauty. Her suit was not form-fitting and could have hidden a multitude of sins. She'd been coy about her exact age, answering Trey's pointed question of, "How old are you?" with a chuckle and the words, "Old enough." By appearance, he guessed she was in her mid-thirties, or a few years younger than his thirty-nine years.

Her voice, however, was the same husky tone he'd heard through the phone and Trey felt an instant stir of arousal. He moved around the table, amused to see her take a step back. He pulled out her chair and raised his eyebrows.

Scarlet flushed and let him seat her. He returned to his chair. "Something to drink?"

"What? Oh, yes. Coffee please."

"Good choice, they have the best in the city here." He turned to summon Neil but the cagey waiter had been hovering nearby and nodded, indicating that he had heard the lady's request.

Trey watched his table partner. Scarlet fidgeted, shifting her weight back and forth. She rubbed her knuckles and her eyes settled anywhere but on him. He scouted her hand for a wedding ring but there was nothing there--not even the white band indicating there had been one present a little earlier.

Okay, so she's super-nervous. For some reason. She said she wasn't married and that seems true. Maybe she's out of a bad break-up and not ready to move on? Well, whatever. I'll just play this out and see what happens.

He said, "Nice morning, isn't it?"

"Yes." Scarlet looked back at him. "Very nice to have a pleasant day after this winter."

"Yeah. I love to sit out here on the patio." He remembered Scarlet telling him one of their three phone calls that she had never been to Cafe Norton. "They serve a great breakfast meal here. Would you like a scone, or a piece of coffee cake, or something?"

"N-no, if I eat right now I might be sick."

"Well, I have that effect on women sometimes."

Her eyes widened. "No, no. I didn't mean it that way. I'm sorry."

Trey chuckled. "Scarlet, relax. I'm teasing you. I know we talked about meeting up and what that meant, but please believe me: if all we do is sit and talk, that will be fine."

Her voice was small. "I don't want you to feel like you wasted your time."

"How could this be a waste of my time?" He grinned and looked around. "It's a nice day, I'm relaxing at my favorite cafe with an excellent coffee and in the company of a beautiful woman."

Scarlet blushed again. "You think I'm beautiful?"

"Of course." He thought "beautiful" was a stretch but she was attractive and it cost Trey nothing to say it. She'd certainly come off as sweet and considerate on the phone and he supposed that her personality was its own kind of beautiful, so he didn't rate it as a lie. He didn't think flattery would make a difference either way in getting her to the Royal but it might make her less nervous and feel a little more comfortable.

A small smile cracked her face. "Thank you."

Trey nodded, deciding he liked Scarlet much more smiling than not. It brought life and vibrancy to her expression. She had written on her profile that she enjoyed gardening and during their phone calls, they had discussed her rose bushes. "So did you get the bushes trimmed?" He raised his coffee cup to his mouth.

The blood drained from her face. "What?"

He stared at her, confused by her sudden change in demeanor ... and then it suddenly hit him that their banter had gotten slightly risque on their last phone call, during which he had admitted to liking women well-groomed down under. He snorted, half-inhaling his coffee, and coughed. His eyes watered and he replaced his cup. "Sorry, I meant your rose bushes. You said you were working on cutting them back the other day."

Nice going, dickhole, he thought. You probably just made her feel super-awkward.

To her credit, Scarlet suddenly giggled and covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh, right. Yes, I managed to get most of them cleaned up."

"I'm sorry about the double entendre. I really didn't think before I said that."

"It's okay." Her laugh and smile faded. She sighed. "That's why we're here, right?"

"Well, not necessarily."

Neil reappeared with her coffee. Scarlet said no to cream, though she did stir in a little sweetener. Neil asked Trey if he still wanted a pastry but Trey declined. The waiter scooted off.

Trey gazed at her and in a moment of snap decision, decided to write off plans for the hookup. He figured he would just try to enjoy his coffee and let her relax, they'd have a pleasant conversation, and he'd let her go. Maybe they'd talk on the phone again and maybe they wouldn't, but if she wasn't comfortable with what they were doing, then that was the end of it. And he didn't want to antagonize her; Scarlet did seem like a very nice person, if somewhat reserved.

He extended his left arm and laid his hand on the table. Scarlet looked at him. He said, "Can I hold your hand for just a second?"

She hesitated but placed her hand in his. Her skin was soft and her fingers warm.

"Look at me." She did and Trey gave her hand a quick squeeze. "I'd really like you to have fun this morning, Scarlet. Don't worry about going to the hotel. Let's just sit and enjoy the morning and chat a little and then we can decide later if we want to talk again." He thought his words would reassure her--give her an out, so that she wouldn't have to stress.

Instead, her eyes misted and her lip started to quiver. "You don't find me attractive, do you?"

"No, that's not it. I think you're very attractive. You have lovely smooth skin and your smile would light up the night. But I can see you're very uncomfortable and I don't want you to feel forced to do anything. You don't owe me anything, okay? We can talk about your garden or my writing and soak in the morning. If you don't want to even do that, you can go and I won't hold it against you."

Scarlet lowered her eyes and stared at the table for a moment. When she raised them, Trey was surprised to see a bit of defiance there. She squeezed his hand with a stronger grip than he would have expected. All that time using the shrub clippers. When she spoke, her voice was soft but determined. "No. I've never done this kind of thing before but we agreed to meet for a reason."

Trey gave her a smile and a slight nod, though he fully expected her to change her mind again by the end of the conversation. When he made to pull his hand back, her grip tightened again. "Would you mind if we kept holding hands?"

"Not at all," he said. He stroked her finger with his thumb. Scarlet sighed and half the tension seemed to go out of her at once.

They talked a bit longer, discussing Scarlet's garden, Trey's attempts to get his books published, and his work at a financial brokerage. He admitted that his job was just a job and even though he was good at it, it wasn't anything he wanted to do for life. He remembered Scarlet had said she was retired, though she looked too young to be so. "So you said you're retired now?"

"Yes."

"What line of work were you in?"

She looked away and after a pause, said, "I ... I don't want to discuss that."

He nodded and switched to talking about some things happening in the city. His mind lingered on the question. Wonder that was all about. Was she a sex worker? Or is she living off a trust? Does her family have a bunch of money and she's worried I'm a gold digger? The idea that she was indeed married or committed, and her reticence was borne of stepping out on her partner, came back to mind.

For her part, Scarlet appeared to get more comfortable the longer they talked. Her smile appeared more and she spoke in a slightly more confident tone. The subtle sense of humor he'd heard during their phone calls returned and Trey found himself enjoying their interaction.

Her grip on his hand remained and if he moved like he wanted to pull back, she held on. He thought that a bit odd but it was pleasant enough. And at certain breathy words or subtle movements of her hand, his cock stirred.

After another hour, their conversation petered out. Both sat sipping their coffee without saying anything. Trey glanced at his watch. It was a bit after eleven. He had appreciated their time together but decided it was time to let her off the hook. He figured a visit to his favorite used-book store, followed by a trip to the local farmer's market and maybe grabbing a nice ribeye to grill for dinner, would round out the morning. He set his cup down and placed his other hand over hers. "Well, Scarlet, this has been a lot of fun. I've really enjoyed myself and I hope you have too. I would love to do this again. But I should get going."

Her eyes widened. "You're leaving?"

"Yes."

"But ... but I thought ..."

He patted her hand. "I'm not going to hold you to that."

Her brow creased and for the first time since she'd arrived, Trey thought he caught a flicker of irritation. "Well, maybe I want to hold you to it."

"I'm sorry?"

The look of annoyance vanished. Scarlet lowered her eyes. "Of course I'm not. If you want to go, I will respect that. But I wish you wouldn't. I know you think I'm having second thoughts. I'm not. This is something I do want." She met his eyes and lowered her voice. "Please?"

Trey's head swam. Her plea had been so heartfelt and pained that he felt a stir of emotion in his heart--emotion he thought he had walled off years before. And his prick was suddenly hard enough to prop up a building. He took a deep breath and fumbled for his wallet. "All right. Ready?"

She squared her shoulders. "Yes."

#

The Royal Hotel had been built in the fifties and it showed. If Trey was honest with himself, it was actually a motel, with all of the doors opening to the exterior. He slid the keycard into the lock, opened the door, and held it for Scarlet. He had walked but she had elected to drive herself around the corner and waited in her ten-year-old sedan until Trey exited the office with key in hand.

She walked past him into the room. He followed, closed the door behind her, and locked it.

Scarlet turned, wringing her hands. "You're not going to hurt me, are you? I mean, you're not really an ax murderer or something, right?"

Trey could not resist grinning. "No ... but I wouldn't tell you if I was, would I?"

She stared a moment then laughed. "No, I guess not."

"So, do you want to take a shower first or anything, or--"

"Should I? I mean, is that what people normally do? Like I said, I'm new to this kind of thing."

He shook his head. "There's no standard protocol, Scarlet. Some people do, others don't. It's just whatever you're comfortable with."

"Then, no." She licked her lips nervously. "I'd just like to get to it."

Trey approached until only a foot separated them and took her hands. She was shaking so hard he was surprised her shoulders didn't vibrate right out of their sockets. He gazed into her blue eyes. She was only an inch or so shorter than him and he found he liked having her on eye level. He gave her a small smile. "If you want to stop, tell me. Even if we're in the middle of something. Okay?"

"Okay," she whispered. "Will you kiss me?"