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Home›Nonfiction›Creativity›Stranger to You Part 2

Stranger to You Part 2

By janeenmg25
December 16, 2019
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Part 1

It was getting late. I decided to just stay in this car with him. I instantly forgot what I needed to do today. Yes, I needed a ride to work, but being near this man and hearing his voice, was far better than hearing my co-workers complaining about their day or customers demanding I take care of them. So because of this, I played hooky from work.

I was always struggling to make ends meet. Leaving my home from the sunshine state of Florida to move to Central London was my best bet in trying to make a new life myself. My family was upset when I decided to leave my home country to start a new one in a different one. In there perspective, no one of my current life or my status would ever survive outside my born poverty.

Just as my black hair swayed in the early evening breeze, I could hear the car engines roaring through the window. I looked through the window from my shoulder to see the city passing by me. The luxury car we were driving made a smooth complete stop in front of a dark building complex. Without a word uttered, we both made our way out of the car. The night air was brisk, the city light shined down on the pavement as I can hear my feet stride on contacts to the floor.

“Do you mind if we grab some drinks?” the gentleman asked me with his tight, but thick English accent as he looked at me. I wasn’t dressed for the occasion. I wore my Nike sneakers with my black leggings and worktop. I had my oversized work bag to match my attire. Even with my out of the placed wardrobe, I nodded my head yes in agreement. We stood our way to the ever loud but settled bar as I fully turned my attention to the stranger that drove me here in the first place.

He wasn’t really a stranger anymore to me now. Once we made our way to the dimly lit bar, he got me a light drink. The room was chilly but sitting right next to him at the wooden bar made me feel warm and fuzzy. His name was Christopher, he was born and raised in North London and he works in the local performance theater in the central city. He was charming and smart, he was so in tune with himself that it made me so intrigued by him. Something that I wish I could be blessed with each day to see him fully.

We sat by the bar for a few hours. Our conversation was light as he took a sip of his whiskey and I took a sip of my red wine. I felt my body become excited as the alcohol worked inside of me. The bar was alive and loud, everyone was talking at the top of their lungs and the china glasses clinked in an echo sound throughout the bar but I could still hear my heartbeat thundering across my chest. Once Christopher got me another drink of my wine and he got himself another glass of a fireball whiskey, I knew I was going to open myself up to him.

Yes, the drinks helped me express my life story to him. Being an orphan from the age of five, I never felt like I  was wanted. Having to lose my womanhood to a man that groomed me at the age of fifteen, I never felt pretty or desirable from another man. I let him know of my struggles with addiction and trying to get my life back on track. I let him know of the double life I had to live to make ends meet for me to the point where I decided to run away from my past and end up in London.

“You seem interesting…” he said to me as he held his drink in his hand. “Someone I can see myself falling in love with.”

He wasn’t a stranger to me anymore at this moment, but someone I felt like I knew I wanted to kiss. A man of my dreams, but tweaked a little bit. A man that had his own flaws, but it’s something I found attractive.

The echo in the room seemed to die down as I leaned closer to him. Our first night out for drinks and I’m already kissing his warm lips. The heat, the connection has left my soul and body on fire. Our tounges collided like a heated tidal wave.

I wasn’t expecting to be kissed like that. I wasn’t expecting to feel these blissful feelings. But what came after our embrace, was something that I knew I could never forget…

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    Ivor, the photo is perfectly paired with this poem, both reflecting the uncertainties of this era.

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