A Fairy Tale
I was reading a three year old National Geographic about bats in Indonesia. Typical waiting room reading. I looked up and saw her sitting behind the reception desk. She was tall, maybe 5'9. She had a round face with pale white skin, nicely built. Her blouse was tight and molded itself to her body and left an inch of belly showing between it and her tight pants. The tight blouse molded to her body drew my eyes to her tits. The kicker for me was the red hair, long straight red hair. I just have a thing about true red heads and she was my ideal. Maybe you wouldn't think she was beautiful, but I sure did.
I tried to stare without being noticed. Just the way she moved was grace personified. She had a nice voice when she answered the phone. As she greeted the next patient I watched her face light up when she smiled. She's beautiful and she's nice as well, I thought. I tried to read about bats. Hell with the bats. I stared at her again. I tried to guess her age, somewhere between 17 and 21. Too bad. She'd probably think I'm too old. Oh well, such is life.
On the way to the examining room I asked the assistant about the new girl. "Oh you mean Natana?"
"What's her name?' I asked.
"Natana. Her parents were hippies or something. Anyway they named her Natana. Why would anybody do that to their kid?"
Twenty minutes later on the way out I stopped to make my next appointment. I had trouble concentrating because I was staring at Natana. I got the appointment made and beat a hasty retreat.
For the next several nights I went to sleep dreaming of Natana. I had to 'relieve' myself of the pressure many of the nights. If she only knew she'd have slapped my face but I couldn't help myself. Two days before my next appointment I made a rash decision. I stopped by the flower shop and had them send a dozen red roses to Natana the day of my appointment. But I was still nervous and so I signed the card A Secret Admirer. I just didn't think she'd be all that impressed with me.
I walked into the office and there on the desk were the dozen roses. They looked wonderful. I stopped at the desk and asked Natana, "Wow. Are they for you?"
She blushed a little and said, "Yes."
"No," she answered quietly.
The other assistant looked over. "They're from a secret admirer and Natana won't tell us who it is."
"I don't know," Natana said turning toward the other girl.
"She says that but who just sends flowers for no reason? C'mon Natana, you gotta know."
"Well," I said. "They are beautiful. Whoever sent them must like you a lot." Again she blushed but I could tell she was pleased.
Fast-forward a month. On my next appointment the flowers were still the talk of the ladies. The office manager gave me the story. Natana still didn't know who sent them. It was driving everyone crazy trying to figure it out. Natana wanted to know who it was because she wanted to meet the guy. Hmm.
I sent a card the next day. "I'm glad you liked the flowers. I hope you don't mind if I stay anonymous. I'm pretty shy and I'm not sure you'd like me. I just wanted you to know that you are very beautiful." It was signed email@example.com.
I waited. Two days later I received an e-mail from Natana. "Hi, Thank you for the flowers. Why don't you think I'd like you?"
My answer. "Have you ever read Beauty and the Beast? Not the stupid Disney version. The original story. The Beast had to stay hidden from the Beauty. Revealing himself would have led to tragic consequences for the Beauty. And he loved her too much to risk her. Sometimes it is best that way."
Her response. "You must think I'm pretty shallow. Is it looks? You seem like an ok person. Why would I care about how you look? I think I should be insulted."
The invitation: "No. I don't think you are shallow. And no, it isn't looks. But that's the only clue I can give you. I hope you won't judge me harshly. Perhaps we can converse this way."
That started an e-mail conversation. I liked her. I think she liked me. Then one day the conversation took a wholly unexpected, on my part, turn.
"Dear Secret Admirer, Ok. Since it's not looks, send me a photo."
"Dear Beautiful Natana, Nice try dear one. A photo. Ok here's a photo of San Francisco. I often have dreams of us together in San Francisco. We have dinner at a nice restaurant. Then we see a show. Later we are out dancing and end up at the Top of the Mark looking out at the lights of the city as the fog rolls in. Your hand is in mine as the fog slowly hides the city, light by light, from our view. When the city has disappeared we realize that we have each other."
"Dear Secret Admirer, Here's a photo of our room in San Francisco. You'll notice that the bed is empty. I have dreams the bed isn't empty. I don't know what to do about it. Any suggestions?"
"My Dear Beautiful and Surprising Natana, I nearly hurt myself jerking my head around when I read your last e-mail. Any suggestions you asked? Oh yes. Many. How I wish I could make them come true."
"Dear Stubborn Secret Admirer, What's a girl got to do? You won't tell me where you are so I can't come drag you. I've tried subtle invitations. Please, don't make me be a bad girl and beg. It is unseemly for a woman to beg."
I looked at that e-mail for the longest time. I was still certain that if she saw me first we'd never get past that. But maybe if we were lovers first... That's stupid, I thought. What are you going to do? Wear a bag over your head?
I was still looking at that e-mail when a wild idea popped into my head. It's crazy! Maybe, just crazy enough. So I sat down and wrote a story about a man and woman. The man was too shy to meet the lady face to face. But they had fallen in love. She wanted to meet him even if she couldn't see him. So they agreed that she would wear a blind fold. He came to her in the night through her open window. They held each other and loved each other. When the first light appeared he fled through the window before she could remove the blindfold. She removed her blindfold but he was gone. I sent the story off.
"Dear Secret Admirer, Hmm. I'm beginning to wonder about you. Blindfolds? Flying away before dawn? Sounds like a fairy tale. Does this one end with everyone lived happily ever after?"
"Dear Princess Natana, I'm not sure about the ending. I barely know the beginning of this fairy tale. I think happily ever after takes years to discover. I'm wondering about the middle of the tale. What happens next?"
"Dear Secret Admirer, Let's say a girl was just foolish enough to agree to a fairy tale adventure involving blindfolds and frogs jumping out windows. How exactly would this work? And would the frog, I mean prince, make a concession? Would he agree that at the end of the adventure and before he jumped out the window that the princess is allowed to remove the blindfold? After all, if she's been kissing the prince she should really get to see him."
"Dear Frog Kissing Princess Natana, Well, that seems a reasonable request. I've put the suggestion to the board of fairy tale appeals and they agreed to amend the story. They spend the night together and she keeps her promise about the blindfold staying on. But because of the love they share during the night, the prince releases her from the promise as the dawn breaks. So the blindfold comes off before the frog, I mean prince, flies from the window. She catches sight of him, hits him over the head with a vase and throws him from the window. He lands in a heap in the courtyard. The castle's hunting dogs hear the commotion and, baying to raise the dead, chase him from the castle. Oh well..."
"Dear Secret Admirer, I don't have any vases. Tell me about the night. I'm curious. What passed in the night between the prince and princess?"
"My Dear Innocent Natana, One can only guess at what occurred between the prince and princess once the lights were low. My eyes cannot pierce the darkness. I hear sounds... But the door is closed and the sounds are distant and muffled..."
"Dear Secret Admirer, Chicken."
"Dear Natana, Too true, too true."
"Dear Secret Admirer, Is the blindfold really necessary?"
"Dear Natana, The fairy tale cannot exist without it. The diaphanous threads holding its parts together dissolve in the harsh light and the story falls apart."
"Dear Secret Admirer, I agree."
Two words. Two exceptional words. She agrees. My stomach was filled with butterflies. I so wanted this to be wonderful for her. I wanted it to something she remembered always. Something that would bring her pleasure every time she recalled it.
.... There is more of this story ...