My coat could not come off quickly enough. I rush to my computer and waited for it to boot. The Windows logo appeared and then that ever recognizable sound- alerting me that the computer was ready. I doubled clicked the ‘Explorer’ icon. I typed in y.a.h.o.o..c.o.m. and signed in. ”Penis enlargement, UK Lottery, Meet Sarah, Debt Reducers”, everything, but an email from Clay. I was downhearted. I had hoped that Clay had spotted me in my red Calvin Klein sweater with my piercing blue eyes. How could he not? Damn, I should have taken the risk and used my flash. There was still time, though. The concert had just finished a few hours ago, and chances were, he was still wrapping things up at the RBC Center. I would wait until the morning.
For the next few days, I waited, and waited, and waited, but there was no email from Clay. No instant message. No phone call. He had vanished from my life. I grew despondent. This was no way to be for the holidays. I began to slumber around the house- my frown weighing heavily on my chin. With each passing minute I fell further into an abyss of emptiness. I could not allow this to happen to me.
I frantically searched the Internet, hoping to locate an address for him. Finally, something. It took me nearly an hour, but there I was, parked on Langtree Lane. Sitting in my car. I lowered myself in my seat- only my eyes visible to the passerby. I waited as the afternoon sun began set. Nothing. Had I gotten the address wrong? Maybe this was no longer the home of Clay’s mother. From my pocket, I pulled the paper I had written the address on. No, there it was– Langtree Lane. I was at the right home. I began to give up hope. It was getting cold as the darkness consumed the sun. I had to leave. I had to head home. As I turned the key in the ignition, out of habit, I looked into my rear view mirror. Coming down the road was a dark-colored Mercedes SUV. It began to slow and turned up the driveway. My stomach began to sink to my knees. It was him.
I watched as he exited and walked around to the back of his vehicle, opening the hatch. He had been shopping. Could he have thought of me? Did he get me something special? My breath began to steam the door window, obscuring my view. With a quick brush of my forearm I cleared it. There he was, maybe 50 yards in front of me and yet he seemed so far. A part of me wanted to rush out and help carry his purchases. I wanted to touch him to stare into his eyes, to… to hold him. With another wave of my forearm, I cleared more steam. He disappeared into his house, carrying bags in his strong arms- arms that would one day be holding me. I turned on the ignition and made my way home.
For the next five hours I sat, watching Youtube after Youtube videos of perfomances by Clay Aiken. Tingles ran up my spine with every note he hit. My heart melted when he gave that… that seducers look with his eyes. As he caressed his mic, slowly stroking it with his long, slender fingers, my mind became consumed with sinful thoughts. I drifted in and out- hypnotized by his genius. Knocks on my bedroom door interrupted my musical journey, “Are you alright”, my mother asked. Yes, how could I not be, I wanted to reply. I was becoming one with Clay through his music. “What are you doing in there”, she insisted. How could I explain my uncontrollable moaning?
It was getting late, and I had to sleep. I was emotionally drained. Who knew loving someone… What?!!! love?!!! Yes, I was fast falling in love with the man. It had to be love. He was my every thought. His pictures covered my computer screen, his voice played slightly in the background and his image- yes, his image etched in my mind. Oh, and his touch, yes his distant touch massaged the inner depths of my being. I closed my eyes, my arms embracing my pillow, and drifted to sleep…
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