Hello, yes I am back and its time to play. Let me apologize for my silence, I have been traveling with my boss and sharing a hotel room. Which does not leave a lot of private time for more intimate writing, and then I came down quite ill. I am better now and ready for action….Now where were we? Oh yes, Sebastian, the magician of my heart…
We met on a blustery day at the Hotel Del in Coronado. They have a delicious Sunday brunch special and the grounds are gorgeous. He met me out front, I was not sure what to expect. He had a kind smile and offered me his arm to escort me inside. He was tall, over 6 feet, a shaved head that you could see if grown out would make a ring of grey. He was solid, and you could tell he would have been quite the athlete in his younger days. But for his features he was distinguished and very attractive, however paired with my youth the onlooker could instantly tell what was happening.
I don’t remember what we ate that day, but I do remember being fully entertained the whole time. We recounted our lives, loves and history. He was a neurosurgeon and was originally from the East Coast-sans accent. He had been married previously, over a decade ago to a frigid woman who refused to fuck him and who almost took him for all he had. In the battle he had lost his children whom which he still has a lingering relationship with that holds on by a thread. Growing up he had a love for magic and card tricks; he owned every trick from his local magic shop and would practice tirelessly for hours. His father however prevailed and insisted he become a doctor-so he did.
I was coy, a little shy and sweetly innocent yet perversely sexy. My hand fluttered over his at the right moments, my head tilted so a strand of hair fell in my face, I looked at him with my big blue eye over the rim of my mimosa glass as a slight smile played my lips. I was good at seduction, it was in me, and I didn’t even have to try or force it. It ran through my veins, I was told once my body was built for sin. When he pulled out a dollar bill and continued to fold me an origami elephant I lit up the room. This was over two years ago…I still have the elephant.
We left like two lovers high on life and went back to his place on the beautiful San Diego coastline. It was like walking into a dream especially for a history major like myself. Or should I say like walking into a museum. His five-story house was beautifully appointed in the finest garbs of all the ancient civilizations. Bronze metal hung on brightly colored paint next to bows and arrows. Ancient deities lined the walls their faces masked in horror over the crystal gems and mad scientist tools that cluttered the tables. Every space was claimed with parchments and pen, Tibetan incense holders and tribal masks. I walked around like a child in wonder, gently stroking each item as if it would turn to dust beneath my fingers. Every heirloom had a story behind it, an adventure of how he had claimed it. I felt him come behind me and reach through my hair, grasping my jaw line to turn my face up at him. He told me he had never had anyone react in such appreciation to his house how I just had. I licked my lips and looked at him and replied who could resist such wonders of mankind through the ages. That was when he kissed me for the first time. A furtive kiss, hard and wanting.
We somehow found our way over to the kitchen where he poured me a drink; he only had cheap vodka and bad mixers but somehow managed to make me an acceptable cocktail. We also lit up a blunt and began to smoke as he pulled out his magic box. No kinky innuendos here, it was truly a box of magic.
He was showing me his digs when something dawned on him and he turned to me and asked—
“How is it that your divorced, who would ever want to lose you?”
I had never uttered the truth to a soul in my life. I don’t know why I told him, and truth be told I did not tell him much. My answers were fleeting as my heart pounded in my chest and my head swam with bud and liquor—
“My husband used to beat me…he used to tell me I would never find anyone like him….my father was an alcoholic who emotionally beat me down for a decade until I ran away with my husband to get away from it….It took me six years to finally leave my ex-husband.”
That was it, he looked at me with those eyes and stroked my hand and asked if I would like to see my future. I blinked away tears that were threatening to sting my eyes and told him of course and clanged my glass to his in a salute. He spent the next hour putting on a spectacular magic show and weaving me the tale of my future. Until we managed to stumble up the five flights to his bedroom…