Forbidden

Forbidden fruit. Shy love. Stolen glances. Murmured intentions. The exasperating desires for an unattainable something. Slowly, he grew and grew until he became a mammoth preying on my thoughts all the time. It was inescapable, inevitable, weighing me down.

*********

It was a hot day. I bought a thin white dress. It had long, printed pockets and a small tie up below the bust. It was pretty.

The dress made me happy. I swirled on the spot showing it off. I was at the beach, laughing in the sun. And then, I was not. The front porch of a bungalow was before me. It was late evening and the fading sunlight, filtered through the branches of the surrounding trees, was soft and jaded. I stopped swirling. He was there, looking my way. Water flew in the brick fountain behind me as he walked toward me. I seized up as time seemed to slow down. He made slow but deliberate progress as every step closed the metres, feet, inches between us.

And then he was so close I could smell him, almost, taste him. My sight blurred. He raised his right hand, all the while holding my gaze and I knew he would place it on my waist.

But then, the dream broke and I awoke sweating.

**A/N: I've picked this up from a short story I've been working on, called Forbidden, which is based on a young girl's unrelenting obsession with an older man. As it progresses, I might post more stand alone bits here. This is the first. :)