Better Days

Awakening

The waning light of another perfect San Francisco afternoon gave Alex its bittersweet caress as it transitioned to evening, the sun bidding farewell into the sea amid the wake of a pastel sky. The solemn courtship of this moment of solitude had changed character for Alex in recent months, though his manner of greeting always remained the same: a linen shirt, ruffled brown hair, worn chambray shorts and a pair of weathered leather sandals. Two fingers of single malt scotch tinkled in his glass, set down in practiced reconnoiter with the warm, ancient wood of the railing beneath his sun-kissed arms. He presented himself openly and plainly to the world when he stood on the balcony, relaxed and accepting of what may be revealed to him by the ocean breeze; the world often responded in-kind, a shy and delicate flirtation equally vulnerable and promising, yet had soured these past months like so many proud grapes in an ashen season bringing only hurt and nostalgia for better days.

Another sip. Another clink of ice. Another pained act of supplication to the cosmos, asking bitterly why the moment had chosen to forsake the happy glow of a fulfilling future. Cold and lifeless, the reply. He extended his hand in amicable greeting to an old friend, only to find the smiling face a hollow husk enclosing empty space, motes voyaging wordlessly through the passionless void of that black, brooding expanse. After a moment, a tremor surfaced from the depths.

You are alone, Alex. The voice in the dark.

You are wrong: I am happy. Satisfied. I am a better man than I was then. The sound of a lone fist against the railing extinguished in muted death, snuffed by the apathetic evening air.

You are alone. The voice repeated, You made your choice; Regret lives with you, sharing your bed.

Alex clutched his temples, the glass teetering forgotten and helpless on the edge of the railing like a jumper beseeching the world for a ray of hope on the Golden Gate. His mouth opened but no scream came; his eyes burned but no tears welled. Emotion had taken flight for greener pastures, leaving him spent and impotent, a gnarled and sightless thing clutching a railing of dead wood overlooking an uncaring sea. He knew he could trust the wisdom from the depths, for the smiling face was a mirror and the voice was his own.

Alex screwed his eyes shut and grit his teeth, a vain and futile veil against the mounting, discordant drone of self-doubt that had plagued him these past months. A hunger for a life that could-have-been, long-hibernating and now in full-bloom. A life that, if less predictable in its course, perhaps held a wild and tantalizingly exotic flavor. A flower plucked not for its marketable potential and mass-appeal, but for its singular and rarified beauty. Through closed eyes, he saw...the imprint of a woman against the black, her shape slender in youth, sylphlike and familiar....an old yearning beckoned, the curling of her finger in knowing invitation....

A bright, crystalline crash on the street below jarred him to wakefulness, the spell broken. Alex searched listlessly for the glass, confirming his partner's dutiful sacrifice to return him to an animate world. Comforting, sane thoughts broke through in a warm and jubilant rush, reminding him of all the Good that awaited him within the sanctuary of his house. As if summoned by his mind's call, the screen door behind him slid shyly open to reveal a woman of attractive and sensual features, her face steeped in concern and affection as she crossed the threshold to her husband in slow, graceful movements. He had felt her presence before she teased the door open, his pivot to face her a response to her Pull. Without hesitation she entered his sphere, her caress confident and affectionate opposite the drawing of his hands to her waist, exploring the supple contours of her body down to the swell of her hips as he had done so many times before, each with equal vigor to the last.

Donna.

Wordless, compassionate, and knowing, Donna slid her other hand up the fabric of Alex's shirt, the top button coming undone to reveal his chest for her to experience before framing his face, coaxing him downward for a kiss. Their lips locked first in sensitive understanding, giving way to a storm of passionate hunger. Instinctively, Alex abandoned her hips and gave her ass a firm, possessive squeeze.

Donna squeaked and giggled, disengaging briefly and covering her mouth in excitement, the smile in her eyes matching Alex's grin. She settled herself and took a step back to appraise her man.

"I finished." Donna bit her lip and looked up at Alex.

"Without me?" Alex said with a boyish smile.

Donna slapped his chest and rolled her eyes, "No! Not like that......your latest." She grew contemplative and regarded him curiously.

Alex withdrew and casually leaned back against the railing. He gave her body one last admiring glance before breaking and staring at the stars.

"...you seem like you have something to say." He said.

"I'm catching a vibe, here." Her expression grew more serious.

Alex shrugged, "It's a book, Donna. The publisher wanted more and I have creative lic--"

"It's basically the same one." Donna said unwaveringly, "the theme is strikingly similar and so is the love interest."

Alex closed his eyes and sighed, "So.....what. You saying I'm uninspired?"

"I'm saying you're going through some stuff." Donna softened and took a step forward, placing her hand on his chest, "I've been watching you out here for a while. You got something eating you up a--"

"And you th--"

"--and it's expressing itself through your work." Donna smiled comfortingly, gazing up into Alex's eyes.

Alex gave her a speculative look.

He loved his wife. They shared a spectacular marriage that satisfied all wants, desires and.....Needs. He was lucky to have her and -- if she was to be believed -- she felt lucky to have him as well. It wasn't like she didn't have options. Peering into the mesmerizing, exquisite jade of her eyes only served to reinforce this idea if she put herself back on the market.

...would she understand?

Alex shifted his frame, his hands still braced against the railing, accosted by this tiny, green-eyed, voluptuous psychologist on the balcony of their house. "Alright. I'll play."

Donna grinned.

"What's the end game to this analysis? This just a long-winded way of telling me you're jealous of a fictional character?" Alex smirked.

"Well..." Donna pressed herself against him teasingly, Needfully. "...the first order of business is to convince your wife there's nothing to worry about."

Alex confidently gripped Donna by her shoulders and turned her around, sliding his hands lewdly up her midriff and over her full breasts, expertly pinching her nipples to elicit a gasp of pleasure from her lips.

Alex whispered hungrily into her ear, "That I can do."