The Purest Love

She gazed into the dark water. The ripples washed away her soul as it poured its sorrow into the deep, deep depths. Seagulls circled above her crying their lonesome lament of the lost and forlorn.

His face rippled in the deeps before her. His features haunted every waking thought; those laughing blue eyes, flawless white teeth and gentle toss whenever he pushed his calf-lick from his brow. She keened inside with the ache of separation. Oh to be with him, now, holding him tight, kissing, their fevered breath passing from mouth to mouth, lips crushed into each other, tongues searching, searching, searching for that elusive fount of love. She sighed, turned and walked back towards the quay. She had to find a way, she must, her heart could not bear to fail.

Sandra was ¦ well, Sandra. The archetypal plain, ordinary, twenty-something who shunned make-up and fashion, making herself look completely unattractive. It was almost as if she made an effort to appear dreary; chip-pan hair held back by two wire grips, parted at the side and draped over her ears. Bottle-bottom glasses that made her owl-like and staring. No wonder the girls at work smirked whenever she told them about her latest beau. How could anybody fancy her? Surely no decent bloke would get within a mile of her, let alone the string of adoring, puppy eyed Adonis' that she regaled them of on a weekly basis. Sandra knew what her colleagues said about her, she knew of their mockery and whispers, she knew they despised her. Well let them say what they liked, she smiled to herself, picturing the looks on their faces when she brought him into the office, when he picked her up from work in his Lotus. She would smirk then, most of them would die for the chance to date him, but he was hers.

The bottle-blonde Barbie Dolls she worked with spent most of their days parading around the office, flaunting their bodies (always shown off in low tops or tight trousers), turning the eye of every man they passed and they revelled in it. Any man who did not look was accused of being gay or, worse, a pervert who lusted over porn on the internet at night and would not know what to do with a real woman. Sandra sneered at their antics. She was not desperate enough to grab the first man that spoke to her, jumping into bed with them at the first opportunity and bemoaning their fate when the man left the next day, never to be seen again, having achieved a successful 'score'. Let them have their empty lives, their empty beds and empty hearts. Her future shined with a glorious light.

"So are you seeing him tonight then?, Alice, top bitch, sneered as she spouted her acerbic line. Sandra merely nodded, an unsaid 'of course' playing across her unruffled features. She watched Alice's back as the girl walked away, chatting to another member of her coterie. She resisted the urge to stick her tongue out. Yes, she was seeing him tonight, and she could not wait. It was all planned. She would go to the store where he worked and wait for him. She would be unobtrusive, standing shyly in the corner, waiting for the store to close. He would see her, wink, then say goodnight to his colleagues and come to her, take her hand and kiss her, passionately. They would walk, basking in each other's love, down the street. He may put his arm round her, pull her in close; or put her hand in his jacket pocket, warming it for her as he ran his fingertip around her palm. Then they would go for a meal; soft candlelight, wine as their fingers entwined, whispered treasures as they cocooned themselves in the semi-darkness and shared the dream of unity every close couple share. Then it would be home, maybe his or maybe hers. Hers. A small house, empty but for her, now her father had passed on. Her very own love nest, where she could take home whom she liked, when she liked, for whatever she liked. Tonight she would share it with him. They would make fervent, frantic, frenetic love; on the sofa, on the floor, on the table. They would not stop until dawn intruded on their desire, an unwelcome guest that would break up their union and remind them the world still turned outside of their hunger. She burned below. Thinking of her lover made her want to closet herself away somewhere, alone with her fantasies, able to satisfy her craving. But no, save it, push it away, hold back; until tonight when she would never need to yearn for love again.

She watched the clock tick round. 4:45, 4:50. Soon now. She would walk away from work, head held high, glowing from the knowledge she would soon see the love of her life. She watched the remaining few minutes slowly tick away, then it was 5. She tossed her stationary in the draw, grabbed her coat and strode out of the door, smiling at the scornful looks of her colleagues. Just a short walk to his workplace now. Catch your breath Sandra, her mind commanded, she slowed her pace. Her heart was starting to palpitate. Outside the storefront she stopped, took a deep breath and collected her thoughts. This was always the hardest part, the tenseness as fears crowded her mind. What would he say? Would he be pleased to see her? Would his desire have waned? Had he tired of her? The next thought was definitely less comforting; should she turn away now, let him come and find her, prove how much he wanted to see her? It was always this way. A dilemma she had to deal with each time she saw him. She always gave in but had to go through the wall; a sheer cliff of doubt and worry that threatened to cascade over her, bury her, suffocate her, every time she came to meet him.

Finally, the wall scaled, she walked inside. The interior hall was cool. It was a large department store and her man worked on the second floor. She loved to wander around downstairs, checking the perfume testers and browsing the aftershaves; should she buy him one as a present? No, not today, maybe next time. Having walked all around the cosmetic floor she mounted the escalator and went to the next floor; bedding, nothing of interest here. So, this was it, the point of no return. She stayed on the escalator. At the top she gingerly stepped from the last stair and into the racks of clothing. Her one and only worked at the other end of the floor so he would not have seen her yet. She stopped at the end of the isle and stood in front of the full-length mirror. She gently pushed her hair back a fraction and straightened her glasses. It was as good as she was going to get, time to go and see him. She walked with an uncertain step, closer, closer, closer. Through the shoes isle, accessories and into men's. She was really close now, she could just see the top of his blond locks above the shelving in front of her. She got to the end of the row and stood by a column. There he was. She held her breath for a fraction of a second, steadying herself against the pillar; he was gorgeous. She felt her heart swell and her legs turn to rubber, she rolled around the post and gazed at him, adoration shining from every feature. He looked over, smiled. Her heart soared, he had seen her. Hold still, resist the urge to rush over and hold him. She waited, just looking at her lover, aching to hold him, kiss him, make love to him. Then it was time. The store was closing. He came over to her.

"Can I help you?.

There; the shredding, the dream ripped apart, the fancy exposed. Her heart began to pound, her head span. Words tumbled through her mind like water droplets in a hand, un-catchable, elusive. Speak; now. Speak; now. She could not. Her mouth was too dry, her throat constricted.

"Are you ok? Haven't I seen you in here before?

She shook her head, unable to speak, the words she so desperately needed were lost to her. She was shaking now. She just wanted to leave. To run. To fly away. She backed up a few steps then turned. Walking away as fast as she could, not looking back, not stopping. Go, go now! Why was it always like this? Why could she never talk to men? She knew that all they ever wanted was sex, but was that not what she desired as well? It was a filthy urge that, when it was spent, made them leave, never to come back. Did she really need a relationship, why not just sleep with them? But they used you, cast their seed into any available ground, then carried on their lives, as if you had never existed. No, look and not touch. That was the best way; never get hurt, never get used. Walk away, always walk away.

She stood at the moorings, searching her heart. Her soul drained a little more as her tears fell into the inky water. One day, one day soon. She would change and the man she longed for would be at her side. She had to find a way, she must, or her heart would fail.