Wild (10 page)

The view from Twin Peaks was amazing. The lights of the City sparkled.

“I’ve been here before.”

Darn.
I should have known.

“But only by day,” she continued. “It’s even more beautiful at night.”

“I agree.” I was pleased. “Do you see the long line of lights down there?”

I put my head next to hers and stretched out my left arm. She followed my direction. Would she notice that our cheeks were only inches away from touching? Would she pull away if she did?

“That’s Market Street, and at the end you can make out the Ferry Building.”

I showed her the entire City, pointed out important buildings like the Pyramid and new high rises like the One Rincon Hill. I knew where each neighborhood was. It was almost tranquil looking down on the sparkling lights and trying to make out the different buildings in the night. I had no trouble with it. Even though I hadn’t grown up in San Francisco, I had lived most of my adult life here. I knew every street, every corner and every alley.

San Francisco was a hodgepodge of distinct little neighborhoods, each more unique than the next. The City was built on a number of hills and valleys creating numerous microclimates within it. While the Sunset district toward the Pacific Ocean was a very uniform and flat area with mostly 1940s and 50s era homes occupied by a predominately Chinese population which endured the constant fog creeping in from the ocean, Noe Valley in contrast was a Mecca for young families who loved the sunny neighborhood and the pretty views into downtown or toward the East Bay. The Mission was another sunny neighborhood with a mostly Latino population, a vibrant restaurant scene and still a fair amount of crime.

The North side of town was old San Francisco, where the rich and established families lived, the people who had made their money in real estate, finance and other business ventures. The neighborhoods of Nob Hill, Russian Hill, Cow Hollow, the Marina and Pacific Heights represented the epicenter of money in San Francisco. This was where many of the grand old homes were located, the splendid Victorians and Edwardians which gave the City its unique character and had made it famous all over the world.

Looking down onto the City from the top of Twin Peaks was how I often started my nights. It helped me focus my mind. So much danger lurked in the dark alleys and entrance ways just like in any large city. I could sense evil and there was lots of it hidden away under the many layers of this beautiful city. I felt it my duty to use my senses to help save some of the innocents who were in danger each time night fell on the City. Of course, I couldn’t tell her all this.

“How do you recognize all these places by night?”

“I come here a lot.”

 “Oh.” I couldn’t interpret the sound of her voice.

“Alone, I come here a lot alone.”

I could feel how her body relaxed into my chest and instinctively my arm around her waist pulled her even closer. My head moved closer to hers. I pointed more buildings out to her because I didn’t want to let go of her. It felt good to hold her and feel her head so close to mine. I would only have to move a couple of inches and I would be able to kiss her. It was tempting to say the least.

“Annette?” I heard a female voice to our right. We both turned our heads at the same time.

A young woman a little bit older than Annette stood only a few yards away from us. She had a young man in tow.

“Carmela!” Annette exclaimed.

“I thought you’d left to go back to Des Moines,” Carmela asked while looking me up and down.

I helped Annette turn and move her legs over the other side toward Carmela.

“Yeah, something came up,” Annette said very cautiously. I had noticed how the young man had tried to stay in the shadow, but the lights of a turning car suddenly illuminated his face.

Annette looked at him. I could see she recognized him. He was in his twenties and had what I would have called a baby face.

“I can see that,” Carmela continued as she gave me another obvious stare. “Don’t you want to introduce us?”

Annette seemed reluctant.

“Sure. Carmela this is Vince. Vince, this is my ex-roommate Carmela. And Ben.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said politely. I could feel Annette was uncomfortable. I decided to take the initiative and get her out of a situation she didn’t seem to want to be in. “I wish we could stay and chat a little, but we’ll be late for our dinner reservation.”

Annette threw me a grateful look.

I felt Carmela’s and Ben’s surprised looks on me as I lifted Annette into my arms. I wondered what they were thinking.

“Take care,” Annette said to them, as I carried her away.

“Who is Ben?” I asked her once we were far enough away for them not to hear us talking.

“I dated him for a while. I guess Carmela is dating him now.”

Ouch
!

He was her type, that pimply, skinny kid? It hurt. She looked past me.

“They are staring at us.”

“Would you like to give them something worth staring at?”

When she looked at me surprised, I realized I had spoken out loud. I hadn’t meant to. She seemed to immediately understand what I had meant and I detected an almost unnoticeable nod of her head. Did I see right? Under the next street lamp I stopped und turned us to the side so Carmela and Ben could see our profiles.

I wanted to confirm, to be sure she had understood me. “Yes?”

“Yes.”

I lowered my head toward hers and slowly approached her lips. I wanted to do everything right. This was my chance to give her a preview of what I felt, and I didn’t want to screw it up. As my lips touched hers I could feel her warmth stream into me. Very tenderly I pressed my lips against hers and was surprised to notice how her lips parted, inviting me. She didn’t have to do that. Our observers wouldn’t be able to see this intimate detail from such distance. Was it a reflex on her part, or did she want me to go further? Did she like being kissed by me? Was it possible?

Hesitantly I let my tongue slide between her soft lips. There was no resistance. Instead I felt her tongue meet mine as I explored her mouth. It was like a shock to me. She kissed me back! I pulled back trying to recover from the lightening bolts her touch sent through my entire body.

I gazed into her eyes. “Are they still watching?” I heard myself say.

She didn’t look away to check. “Yes,” was all she said before her lips met mine again. Was she the one who kissed me now? Was she initiating this? Again her lips parted and welcomed my tongue to explore her incessantly. If she didn’t want to stop me, I couldn’t be stopped. I didn’t have the willpower to let go of her. Her mouth was too inviting, too tempting. She released an almost inaudible moan into my mouth, a sound which told me how much she enjoyed our intimate exchange. It made me bolder. I kissed her harder, more passionately, and still she didn’t resist. Why would she not stop me? Why did she let me kiss her like that? How far would she let me go? She wasn’t stopping, she wasn’t showing any resistance. She just continued kissing me back as passionately as I kissed her. A sound rising from deep within me escaped my lips and I was worried that this kind of primal passion would scare her, but instead of pulling back, her lips and her tongue became more demanding than I had thought this girl would be capable of. Her passion aroused me and I knew I was getting close to losing control. I could feel my body become more rigid, a sign my transformation was close. I could feel the war in me raging.

I had to stop.

Just another few seconds.

When I pulled my lips away from hers, I thought I could detect what sounded like a disappointed sigh coming from her throat. Was she as disappointed as I was that I couldn’t continue stilling the hunger I had for her?

“We should go, otherwise we might get arrested.” I smiled at her trying to gain my composure back.

“Do you think they saw us?”

I glanced back at where we had left the two. They were still standing at the same spot with their mouths open. I had almost forgotten about them.

“Oh, yeah. They stayed for the whole performance,” I assured her.

I carried her back to the car and we drove down the hill.

“There’s a little French bistro in the area. Do you like French food?” I wasn’t particularly hungry, but I needed to take her somewhere where I couldn’t touch her. Somewhere civilized, somewhere where I couldn’t let my desire for her run wild. My lips were burning and I could still taste her. If I remained alone with her for another five minutes, I would stop the car in a dark side street and make her mine right there and then. I would throw her onto the back seat of the car and rip the clothes off her luscious body before I would have sex with her in every conceivable way if she wanted to or not. I couldn’t let it happen. I had to cool down. I had to bring her to a public place, to relative safety for her.

“I’ve never had French food.”

“Well, you’ll like this one. Hungry?” I was, but not for food.

“I could have a bite.” Did she mean the food?

7. Annette’s Dinner Date

I leaned back in the leather seat of his car and replayed the past ten minutes in my head. It made me dizzy doing it, but I couldn’t stop thinking of what had happened.

I touched my lips with my fingers. They felt plump and almost raw. I could still feel his skin on mine, five o’clock shadow and all. I was disappointed when he had suddenly stopped.

Seeing Carmela and Ben at the top of Twin Peaks was quite unexpected. I didn’t know they were now an item, but it didn’t take much for me to put two and two together. However, I was grateful for the excuse they had provided us with. Vince had to have felt I wanted to get back at them just a little, for having kept their relationship a secret from me.

I was surprised when he had suggested it, but jumped at the chance of kissing him, even if it was all an act. It wasn’t an act for me though. I wanted to find out what I would feel when he kissed me. I wondered why he had responded to my kiss in such a seemingly passionate way. I knew I had opened my lips for him hoping he would take the invitation, but was extremely surprised he actually did. It was probably a habit every man had and meant nothing.

As soon as I had felt his lips I had known no other man could ever kiss me like he did, and unearth the kind of emotions he had awakened in me.

If I couldn’t have him, I didn’t want to have anybody.

“By the way, thanks.” I turned to him.

He looked at me puzzled. “What for?”

“Well, for the … performance, up there, you know,” I muttered. Had he already forgotten? I felt embarrassed to have brought it up. It obviously meant nothing to him.

“Oh, that. My pleasure.”

When he carried me into the little restaurant, we turned a few heads. If Vince was uncomfortable with it, he didn’t let on. I didn’t protest even though I was sure I could have walked with his support. But being carried gave me another opportunity to press my body against his.

“Welcome to Chouchou,” the maitre d’ chirped in a French accent and led us to one of the small tables.

Vince was right. I liked the food. During the entire meal he made small talk with me. He asked me about the movies I had seen, the music I liked and what places I had visited. He was full of questions about my life and I was happy to comply. I had no secrets. My life was quite ordinary.

I wanted to know more about him, but he didn’t give me a chance to ask him anything. Maybe he was one of these
new
men, who had read these advice books on how to act on a first date. Advice like
don’t talk about yourself all the time
or
ask her about her interests
came to mind.

I had to smile. He was trying to make me feel comfortable so I would enjoy being with him. Well, he really didn’t have to work quite that hard at it. Then it struck me: we weren’t on a date. He probably just took me out because he wanted to get out of the house for a while and would have felt guilty if he had left me there on my own.

“Why don’t you tell me something about yourself?” I asked him lightly.

“There’s really nothing much to tell. My life is not that exciting,” he claimed and smiled. He had finished his steak but not touched any of the side dishes.

“I doubt that very much,” I insisted. “Where did you go to medical school?”

“Boston.”

“And then?”

“I did my residency at San Francisco General and at UCSF. That’s about it,” he finished.

“Do you make it a habit of treating patients at your home?” Now it was out and I couldn’t take it back. What would he say? Would he be annoyed with me?

“You’re the first,” he admitted. “And the last.”

“That bad, huh?” Did he regret not having brought me to the hospital?

He broke out in laughter and I could see all the way to the back of his teeth. When he managed to finally contain himself, he spoke again.

“Sorry, that’s not what I meant.” He grinned.

“Well, what did you mean? If I’m a bother then you just have to tell me and I’ll leave right away.” I felt sad at the thought and dropped my head.

Suddenly his hand reached over the table. He lifted up my chin and had me look at him.

“I meant to say I can only take care of one patient; and as long as you’re there, I guess the spot it taken.”

I didn’t know what to answer. All I could think of was he had touched me again and looked into my eyes. He didn’t have to do that. The waiter interrupted us at that moment.

“Can I interest you in some dessert?”

“Vous-avez de tarte tatin?” I heard Vince ask him in what seemed to be flawless French. I had no idea what he had just said.

“Bien sur, Monsieur! Deux?”

“Seulement une pour Mademoiselle, s’il vous plaît,” I understood
Mademoiselle
. He was talking about me.

“Toute de suite,” the waiter responded again while he cleared our dinner plates.

“You speak French?”

“Just a little,” he claimed. I was sure it was an understatement. I didn’t get the feeling Vince ever did things
just a little.
“Enough to impress the ladies.” He winked at me and I knew he was joking trying to downplay his skill.