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From: "Declan Stanley" <declan@declanstanley.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Alexandra Chapter 1
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Date: Sat, 25 Feb 2006 01:10:01 -0500
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Alexandra Chapter 1

One of the major problems in my life is an irresistible impulse to fall
head-over-heels in love with complete strangers. This may not seem much
of a problem, but when you combine it with a deep seated insecurity
that makes me sure that they'll never be interested in loving me back,
it produces quite a few problems.

The first is an unwillingness, or rather an inability, to express my
feelings. The first time I fell in love was when I was fourteen. It was
with a girl who used to go to the school across the road from mine. But
I couldn't even bring myself to talk to her let alone ask her out.

We used to get the same bus home from school and I'd stand there at the
bus stop trying not to stare at her. For a whole school year we stood
there, not talking to each other. And to this day I have absolutely no
idea if she had any similar feelings for me, or if she even noticed me.

The second problem is that I always pick a girl who under no stretch
of the imagination would be the least bit interested in me. In my late
teens I fell in love with a girl five years older them me. Today this
would not cause me any problems, but the gap between a shy, immature
eighteen year old boy and a somewhat more sophisticated, mature twenty
three year old woman is quite large. She treated me kindly, I'm sure
she was fond of me, but she had absolutely no romantic interest in me.

The third problem is that once I've overcome my shyness and I've struck
up a friendship with the girl I immediately jump to the conclusion that
she's fallen in love with me, despite the fact that we might be having
a very casual relationship from her point of view.

In the normal course of events I can take it or leave it if somebody
takes a dislike to me. But once I've fallen "in love" there can be no
alternative but that she loves me back. And if she doesn't seem to,
well, I've got a vivid imagination and I can make no end of excuses to
explain her behaviour. I can think of every thing, but that she isn't
interested in me.

In between falling "in love", which happens about every three years, I
have had more normal relationships with women. Indeed I have many
friends who are women. A few of them ex-girlfriends. When I'm not "in
love" I can communicate quite well. We can go out on a date, have a
great time and end the night with a kiss and a cuddle. Sex was never a
problem, because we wouldn't get that serious in that way.

And there in lies the problem. The girlfriends I could talk to, and
have an honest and open relationship with, were the girls I was most
likely to have sex with, but I had no interest in having sex with them.
The girls I wanted were the ones I was "in love" with, and they were
the ones I had no hope of making it with.

So at the beginning of this story I started out as a twenty four year
old virgin waiting for someone to come along and sweep me off my feet
on a whirlwind of passion and romance. Someone I could "make a
commitment" to and "share my life" with. Someone with whom I could have
sex with every night.

I met and fell "in love" with a girl who, for reasons of her  own that
I can not tell you, had exactly the opposite problems with her
relationships with men as I had with women.  We complemented each other
perfectly and produced one of the worst relationships ever.

It started on a nice bright June evening at a meeting of the City
Camera Club. A member of the Club, who was also a member of the
Historical Society, was to give a guided tour detailing the history of
the area surrounding the club's new premises. I was standing talking to
another member of the club, while we were waiting for enough people to
turn up for the tour to start, when I noticed a rather attractive woman
come into the room.

Something snapped in the back of my mind and I was "in love" again. I
was began to make my way over to her, but just then our guide for the
evening decided that there was enough people to start the tour. He
clapped his hands together to get our attention, asked us all to gather
around and gave a short introductory talk about what we were going to
see tonight.

Then he asked us all to move outside. As I turned around I noticed that
the woman who was to be the new "love of my life" had been standing
behind me, talking to a friend of mine called Paul. I don't remember
what he said nor what her answer was. But my heart jumped when I heard
her voice.

The only way I can describe it is as the cutest accent I have ever
heard, but that doesn't convey the impact it had on me. For me one of
the most important things about a woman is her voice. I love accents
and the way a woman uses words and the textures of her speech, all add
to my attraction for her. And here was a woman able to sent shivers
down my spine, even when she wasn't talking to me.

Paul asked her what her name was and I heard her reply  "Alexandra",
before I got separated from them as the crowd squeezed its way through
the door. Outside we turned right and  followed the guide down the
street. I watched Alexandra as she walked along ahead of me. She was
wearing an orange track-suit type jacket, with faded blue jeans. And I
thought that she had one of the nicest bottoms I'd ever seen.

We followed the guide around the corner and down a little alleyway. He
stopped outside the gates of an old Jewish cemetery that I hadn't known
was there. Unfortunately the gates were locked so we couldn't get in to
explore. But our guide gave us a brief history of it standing on the
pavement out side.

I noticed Alexandra sneak a camera out of her pocket and point it
through the bars of the cemetery's railings. I walked over to her and
reached her just as she was putting the camera away again.

"Nice shot?" I asked.

"Umm, yes," she gave me a petite smile and I almost kissed her.

There was silence for a moment. Our guide had started to walk on and
the group was following him. She turned to follow and I walked beside
her.

"So what's your name?" I asked, even through I'd heard her tell it to
Paul a minute ago.

"Alexandra," the word danced off her tongue.

My heart was beating so loud and she spoke so softly that I had trouble
hearing her. "Alex?" I asked.

"I prefer Alexandra," she replied.

"Alexandra," I savored her name.

We walked in silence for a few moments. Then I asked, "So is this your
first time down at the Camera Club?"

"Oh no. I've been to several meetings," she smiled.

"Really," I was surprised. "I must have been asleep not to have noticed
you before."

She laughed softly. "Well I've seen you around."

"Yeah?" I smiled at her. "Well I go to most meetings." I laughed,
"Guess I must be addicted to them."

She was a few inches shorter than me and as I looked down at her, she
smiled up at me. Our eyes met and I was lost. There and then she stole
my heart with the sparkle in her hazel eyes.

The rest of the tour is like a dream to me. I have a hazy impression of
the group following our guide around the streets and alleyways,
stopping here and there to be told about the historical significance of
this or that building. But I judge the highlights of the tour not on
the historical pedigree of the buildings, but how close I managed to
get to Alexandra as we stood and listened to the stories of our guide.
I remember talking to her, but I don't remember what we said.

To my now jaded memory it seems as if I spent the whole tour running
about the group trying to be as close as possible to her for as long as
possible. The reason I had to keep running to catch up with her was
because she kept moving away from me. It wasn't that she didn't like
me, or so I thought, it was just that she wanted me to chase after her.
A fact to which I should have paid more attention at the time.

But at the time all I thought about was being near her, to be close
enough to touch. To talk and listen to her. She had an irresistible
attraction for me, like a moth to a candle flame. And I circled closer
and closer to the burning passion.

After the tour a group of us retired to the pub as usual. Alexandra
joined us, but sat at the opposite end of the group from me. During the
night I switched from conversation to conversation, gradually working
my way along the group towards her. But unfortunately I didn't get to
her before closing time.

For the next week I could think of nothing but her. When I went to bed
my last thought was of her and when I woke she was in my first. The
physiologists say that men think of sex once every five minutes, well I
seemed to have changed that thought to Alexandra. At that time I knew
that I was going to have sex with her. Now I know I wanted much more
than just sex from her.

It was a sensation of almost physical hunger. I wanted to touch her and
see her and be with. To smell her even ! I've never paid much attention
to smell with a woman before. Except on the odd occasion when I meet a
woman who seemingly uses a perfume designed to fumigate the whole room.
But with Alexandra it was as if I wanted to devour her with all my
senses.

I can't remember what the lecture at next week's meeting of the Club
was about. But I do remember the disappointment I felt that she didn't
show up before the meeting started. However after the announcements
were read and the meeting was concluded I turned to find her sitting in
the back row.

I smiled at her and she smiled back. So I made my way over to speak to
her.

"Did you enjoy the meeting?" I asked as I stood beside her chair.

"Yes," she stood up. "But I missed the beginning."

There was an electrical tension between us. I wanted to grab her and
hug her, but I couldn't.

"Oh, you didn't miss much," I smiled, while the smell of her perfume
sent my heart racing.

"Good," she smiled back.

I couldn't think of anything to say. Or rather the only things I could
think of were along the lines of, "Lets go back to your place and have
mad, passionate sex.", which didn't seem appropriate to either the
location or the stage our relationship was at.

"I think I'll go up stairs for some coffee," she started for the exit.

"Err, yes," I replied and watched her make her way through the crowd.

Paul tapped me on the shoulder and asked, "Are you coming for a pint?"

Normally I would but today I wanted to follow Alexandra up to the
coffee dock. "I'll be down later, Paul," I said. "Tonight I feel like a
cup of coffee first."

"You ! Coffee?," he faked amazement. "Are you feeling all right?"

"I do drink coffee on the odd occasion," I replied.

A few other people headed for the street exit. "See you later," he said
and joined them.

I made my way upstairs and got myself a cup of coffee. I saw Alexandra
browsing through the couple of cupboards that the club stored its small
library in. I went over and stood beside her.

"Anything interesting?" I asked.

"Oh," she looked up. "Yeah. It's all about nineteen twenties  fashion
photographs." She turned the book to show me its pages.

"Oh yes," I half turned and looked at the book. "They had style then,
didn't they?"

"Yes," she slowly flicked through the pages and we looked at the old
style glamour photos.

I was leaning back against the wall, but close enough to her to feel
the heat from her body. As she flipped the pages she lent back and
towards me, pressing her shoulder against my arm. I wanted to put my
arm around her shoulders and hug her close.

Instead I cleared my throat and asked, "Do you want to come out to the
movies with me on Friday?"

She looked up at me, "This Friday?"

"Well yes," I smiled.

"Well ..." she hesitated. And my heart stopped beating. "I think that
would be very nice." And I sighed with relief.

"Meet you at half seven outside Eason's newsagents on O'Connell
Street," I said.

"OK" she smiled back.

I almost left then, but Alexandra turned the page of the book and held
it out so that I could see. So we stayed there for the next hour,
flicking through photography books.

Then Brian, another member of the club, offered me a lift home, as he
lives out in my direction.

I hesitated, not wanting ever to be parted from Alexandra.

"Oh," gushed Alexandra, "Do take your lift."

So I said "OK." And "Goodbye" to Alexandra. And took Brian's lift. And
spend the next few days thinking only of Alexandra.

-------------
Copyright Declan Stanley. All rights reserved
http://www.DeclanStanley.com

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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