Chapter 1: Sami

December 1

NO, his eyes were not how Mr. Darcy longed for Elizabeth’s touch, although his and Mr. Darcy’s tinge of grayish-blue burns like the hottest star in a pitch-black night. They twinkle, and they made my heart skip.

He laid his eyes on me. When I turned on my video camera on Tandem in the first ten seconds, he said he loved my lips. I felt a little nervous. I did not exactly know why. Maybe because this German guy, who looks like the epitome of the Aryan race, stares back at me, fumbling with words. Both of us were trying to break the ice. He smiled frequently and spoke softly, which made me feel a bit more at ease.

I was lying on the bed because my whole body ached. Lupus is such a culprit. For a short escape from the constant pain, why not channel my thoughts to something interesting?

He laid his eyes on my face, wrinkled, more open-pored, and eye-bagged.

“You are so beautiful!" he quipped.

I laughed. “Haven’t you seen my wrinkles and big eye bags?”

I put my camera closer to my forehead and then my eyes to convince him that his eyes were deceiving him.

“They don’t matter. I love everything I see in you—the way you smile, the way you bite your lower lip, and even your laughter. Everything makes me happy. It’s only now that I have felt happy. The whole day was too much.”

My heart skipped twice faster. The last time it skipped like this was around twenty years ago, when a college classmate and study buddy adored me. How could this young man make my heart play jump rope in the middle of his sentence?

I cleared my throat to catch some air and said, “Oh, I love your eyes—although they look very tired.”

“I am very tired.”

Then he shared something about his work-life imbalance, which I could relate to. I did not pick up everything that he said because I was fixated on his eyes. They’re the prettiest shade of grayish-blue. Wait, I have already said this, right?

I learned that his parents are Norwegians who settled in Germany. And that he works as a lobbyist for an airport rehabilitation project in Berlin. His English is polished, so I didn’t understand why he had to be on Tandem.

“Hey! You want to learn German? If you want, I can offer to teach it to you. I have time this evening because I will be in a hotel room, and I have nothing special to do,” his first message went.

It sounded objective, friendly, and polite.

So I said, “Hallo, Sami! Thanks for reaching out. If you're free in three hours, maybe we can talk."

“I would be free in four hours. Can you video call there too?” he quickly replied.

“I believe so. I have tried it with another language exchange partner before!” I said.

He asked about my time zone and if I would be comfortable talking to him so late, as the Philippines is 7 hours ahead of Europe during winter. I reassured him it’s totally fine. I was determined to improve my German, and I am used to sleeping at around 5 AM, following the European time zone, because I teach Europeans English.

I went back to writing my lesson plans for the next day. An hour passed, and Tandem buzzed again. It was the same German guy.

Sami asked, “What do you like to do in your free time?”

I gave the usual boring answer of a 45-year-old single woman suffering from chronic pain.

“Oh, it depends on the day. After work, I watch Netflix and drink a bit if I can't sleep. I also like to read, sketch, or write poetry while listening to music. When I am with my nephews and niece, we walk in the park. On weekends, I meet my friends over coffee or just go outdoors, like to the beach.“

“Do you do any sports?”

“I enjoy table tennis and bowling. But to be honest, I am not very good at these sports. I just play them to get along with my friends. I prefer dancing, haha! How about you?”

“I go to the gym five days a week, I watch Netflix and meet my friends, and I love to listen to music while I cook—dancing is very sexy! By the way, I always thought that Asian women had small breasts until I saw you.”

This guy gave me the millennial vibe. As a GenX adult, I find their generation more verbally sensual than mine.

Within the next few minutes, he was flirting with me about how gifted my body is.

So I said, “Why do I feel nervous about the call?”

“Hahaha! Because I openly flirt with you.”

He labelled the conversation that way. Younger people are more upfront than those of my age. Probably because they were born with the Internet and social media, so they are braver to express themselves just through their keyboards.
 
In this first video call, I was kind of nervous. Sami’s ocean eyes followed my every move, inviting me to stare back until God knows when. I have never seen such beautiful eyes so focused on every inch of me. They longed to see more of the bare shoulders that peeked from the thick blanket that covered my body. Both of us remained speechless. He seemed more reserved in an actual conversation than in text messaging.

I could see that his chest within his somewhat tight shirt was bobbing, and then he took a deep breath.

“Are you okay?" I finally asked.

He smiled, moved his gaze away from me, and blurted, “I don’t know. I’m so nervous.”

With those words that came out of his finely chiseled lips that flashed the shyest smile that I had ever seen, I felt I was the most beautiful woman in the world.

But I am not going to call him tonight. Even if I miss how he showed me everything to express how much he would like to feel me, I would rather be mesmerized by the memory of the special night that we shared.

I know it sounds weird. We were separated by our phone screens, miles, and time zones, but united by that magical spark. Our phones could have exploded because of the passion that we shared. It felt all was real, -- the panting, the squeaking of our skins, and the moans begging for rain to come.

And it did come pouring down the mountains on my chest, and he said he loved to dive in. It may be virtual, but he said he was very happy. And I was, too. I was just too shy to admit it.

The scenario plays in my head over and over: his eyes begging for my kiss, his manhood pleading for my touch, and his strong arms wanting to squeeze my whole body to cave me into his embrace. Those are the only memories of him that I want to keep.

He said I make him crazy.

Well, he makes me write and write more.



December 2

I thought it was just a virtual one-night stand.

Sami is smart, well-built, and charming. Any woman would throw herself at him. So even if I longed for him to say how much he wanted to feel my body and caress my breasts, I have tried to just put these desires on paper.

This time is supposed to be my healing journey. Why allow some lingering lust to lead to emotional attachment?

A few days after our first nerve-racking online meet-up (that was supposedly a German learning session), I couldn’t stop myself from reaching out. Damn the Bridgerton scenes dwelling in every fiber of my being!

“Are your eyes grayish-blue?,” I texted.

“No. They are just blue,” he replied after a few hours.

He was definitely busy, and my ego was screaming, “Do not text further! It will just ruin your mood. You are okay being single. And you are doing well on your own!”

I wanted to say, “Your eyes burn like the hottest star in a pitch-black night.”

But I erased it. And just said, “Ich hoffe, du hast einen schönen Tag.” (I hope you're having a good day.)

Quickly, he replied, “Ich hoffe du auch. Was machst du? " (I hope the same for you. What are you doing?)

And just like that, I quickly said, “You have been my muse… Just saying… I have been writing more these days. So, thank you!”

His reply: “I enjoyed it a lot, too!”

Enjoyed. Sounds like a piece of entertainment: a record that you play on a Sunday morning, a sports game that you watch over beer and pizza, and a beautiful concert that ended with fireworks.

Fireworks.

I may be wrong, but I think I saw fireworks in his eyes when I dropped the blanket that covered my body last night.

There were lights flashing here and there from those lagoons of crystal blue shouting, “I want to see you! ”

I remember how it felt like some baby rockets flashed in the sky when he beheld the cracks between my breasts.

“Oh my God… Where do they end?” he gulped. He emphasized that my breasts can’t seem to fit in the screen.

“They end somewhere,” I blurted with shy laughter.

“I gained a lot of weight, so the fats are distributed everywhere in my body.”

“God, you’re so beautiful. I really want to kiss you right now,” he breathed softly.

He tried to steady his voice, which I found so captivating. I felt like an enchanting song lured me to ask him to see the forest underneath his shirt.

“Would you like to take off your clothes?”

I was surprised to hear this coming out of my mouth. But here’s the song that was playing in my head. I could hear it louder, so I needed to find out what was lying there, if I could sing along to this mystical song, drowning my reasons.

He gladly took off his clothes, and I saw the hair on his body and shivered. It’s like a magical forest topped with luscious auburn trees planted on his wide chest, his beautiful abs leading to his abdomen. He tilted his phone to show me his Calvin Klein boxers. Oh, how I needed a glass of water!

Aside from the fireworks in his eyes, there’s too much heat from the forest in his body. I felt like the smoke from the forest fire needed rain, either from my kisses or the water flowing from within me.

“Where would you like to kiss me then?" Iustered the courage to ask.

His smile widened, and I felt more water gushing out of me.

“Here…” pointing at his lips.

“Here…” pointing at his neck.

“Then here and here,” pointing at his chest and tummy.

“Most especially here,” he teasingly opened his Calvin Klein and made his shaft move.

There’s more and more water gushing out of me. Now I really wanted to undress for this German so I could tell him how I wanted him to lick me and eat me down there.

“Oh, God. It wants to come out!" I flirtatiously referred to his shaft.

“Do you want to see it?” he sheepishly grinned.

“I don’t know.”

Electrified, I hid under the covers again and peeked.

“Do you want a big cock?"

He was turning red.

“Maybe, yes. I haven’t seen something like it…”

“Okay…”

He tilted the camera back to his chest. I could almost hear his heartbeat.

“Are you ready?”

His ocean eyes were shredding the covers and piercing my soul.

“I don’t know…”

I laughed shyly. But gosh, how excited I have been!

He then tilted the camera onto his boxers. And there he put the guy out. A towering, proud officer who commanded me to kneel and pay respects.

“Oh, my God!"

My bed was so wet with my dripping pearls between my legs.

“I want it in my mouth!”

“Do you want to suck it?" he asked softly. And he began to caress his dick. Its head is glistening and inviting...



And so, in this second or third exchange of messages on Tandem, I remember every inch of his manhood as he lovingly teased me, “Do you remember my big dick?”

“I won’t deny that. It’s really something! I wish you were here so you could kiss me."

"You make me crazy."


**********************************



“Okay, that was totally hot. But it was totally NOT you!”

Melissa puts down the manuscript on her desk. She stares at one of her best-selling writers in awe. Rita is, or should we say, 'was,' a renowned children’s book author. She thought she had known the deepest sentiments that drive Rita's pen to open worlds that children can explore and experience.

“It’s a game changer,” she said as politely as she could.

“Mel, I know that for the last twenty years, I have always been a fairy tale weaver, the good godmother, or the friendly storyteller down the block. But I just want this change,” Rita answered.

Rita was not expecting that this manuscript would easily be approved by Asian editors. But she still gave it a shot. Her career has taken off since she was mentored by Melissa Tan. But she knew if she kept on pushing for this genre now, their professional relationship might need to be parked.

“Peri-menopause?” Melissa giggled, trying to make the conversation lighter.

She wanted to give Rita the career boost that she worked hard for. But the market has become tighter. Younger writers with fresher ideas came. More writing platforms opened doors for other kinds of themes for children.

And the millennial demographics who are now parents themselves, choose storybooks that are popular on social media. Because they believe that trends are better measures of book quality than teachers’ recommendations. Schools, literary geniuses, and book clubs have not been the go-to experts anymore.

Analytics is now the core basis of publishers. And writers need to adjust to the new way of determining who gets published.

“Well, yes, probably. But the book industry’s game now is to sink or swim, isn’t it?” Rita explained.

She knew that Melissa knew so well what she was trying to point out.

“Another major heartbreak?”

Melissa was asking hard questions. She wanted to understand why Rita was choosing this genre now.

Rita shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. She avoided the familiar calculating stare of her mentor.

Melissa made themselves coffee. “This would be a long discussion,” she thought.