My Dearest Young Rochelle

Chapter One :You're Only Seventeen...

1981 A year earlier...

Rocha's POV 🥀🥀🥀

I'm in love with a guy at the tender age of seventeen.

He was charismatic, unruly, maybe even a bit eccentric- but he didn't belong to me...

He was my half sister's boyfriend, who was twenty years old.

I was only a young girl infatuated with this celestial being who just exuded sexuality.

This man whose voice was pleasing to the ears a silky soft baritone, sweeter than the soft of velvet or swede.

Whose hair was rivulets of  jet raven curls that framed his diamond shaped face.

Whose hazel eyes could hypnotize and could make you fall prey.

Soft full lips that parted to expose that perfect devilish grin...

That guy was Randal Davidson.

I remember that day drving to his house on impulse to confess my feelings...

My mind contemplated as I stood just outside the purple pastel Victorian style home.

Should I go in, or should I go home and save the embarassment?

No it's torturing, this man is in my dreams now.

I've got to confront him and tell him what I  feel.

My slender sweaty hands turned the golden doorknob.

The main door of the house was just unlocked and I wandered around the house quietly.

The house was decorated with fabrics of velvet, silk,and swede furniture that
were apparently costly.

The whole interior decorated with shades of burgundies, purples, and dusty golds along with the finest Persian rugs.

The architecture clearly not modern, but had a whimsical charm about it.

I came upon the living room, dining room, kitchen, den.

Finally heading upstairs out into the main hall way there were doors left to right in the cherry wood hall.

Steam drifted out from under the door stretching outside low close to the wooden floor.

"Anybody here!" I yelled, now in a panic.

But there was never an answer from anyone.

So I walked over and decided to open the last door to the left.

I couldn't help but to ogle at the view that my mind saw.