The Chef

He came to the store where I worked and before he spoke, I recognized him as the person I had been talking to on the internet.  He was very tall and quiet black gentleman with big doe eyes and he wanted me badly.

His wife was distant.  She was an alcoholic and that was the big elephant in the room that no one talked about in his house.  At the time I didn’t know what that meant.  Now I do and I sympathize with him.  We met again at a coffee shop in the eclectic part of town where I lived.  I liked him.  Smart, responsible and sexy.   He was a chef at a downtown hotel and he had started that profession by just walking in to a place that had a “dishwasher wanted” sign in the window.  From there, he worked his way up to head chef.

I was only with him one time.  I don’t remember why we never kept up with each other.  I know we were both busy.  I guess I was probably clearing the runway for another fellow to come into my life.  Planes on a runway, waiting to take off,  all in a line.  Journeys.

His plane was occupied by his wife. An invisible passenger that he could not eject and that he was bound to fly with.  I don’t like relationships with married men but they are so needy and so grateful.  When I realized that his plane was not available to me I used my parachute.

I can’t even remember the his name, but I do remember the sunlight coming thru the open door in my garden room as we rolled around on the mattress together.  His black and my white combined in a delicious chocolate vanilla swirl? Memorable.  He was kind and good.  He also gave me lots of pleasure.   Sensual pleasure.  Hard to come by sometimes and worth it when you find it.