1

Gazing down into dazzling blue eyes, Charles Tolbert marveled at the milky softness of his lover’s skin. Women had rejected him over the years, casting him aside like a half eaten candy bar, but now he was in love.

Charles stroked dirty brown hair, soft and billowy, like cotton freshly plucked from an aspirin bottle. He closed his eyes, took a whiff of just washed skin, the scent of clean, with a hint of soap lightly engulfing his nostrils.

When he lifted his eyelids, the beauty before him enticed him to tears, but he gently bit his bottom lip, fending off the surge of feral emotion. Without invitation, Charles pressed his lips against a mouth he could no longer resist, the moist touch of which sent his heart a flutter, his senses a blur. He pulled back, sporting a smile that could shame the angels in heaven. But as quickly as it came, his joy dissipated like steam rising from the sea.

“What’s wrong?” Charles asked. “Have I done something wrong?”

“I can’t do this anymore,” his lover answered. “I’m sorry, but this is wrong.”

Fear washed over Charles. He fell to his knees. “Please, I can’t bear the thought of losing you. I know we’ve both been under a lot of pressure, but I promise it’ll get better.” Picking up the white satin robe that lay across a beaten antique couch, Charles slipped it over velvety arms that caused him to lust over the head he’d kissed more than a few times, and the body he’d held with great admiration and envy. He took a few steps back, and admired his angel.

“You always say we’ll stop, but we don’t,” his angel said.

“I know, I know,” said Charles. “But let’s not talk about it now.

We’ll talk later. You have my word.”

No answer came, just wet eyes and red cheeks. Charles cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you. I love you.” There, I said it. “We’ll talk more in a few days, until then let’s continue to keep it quiet.” Still no answer came, just a wounded stare. His lover turned the doorknob and left the room. Guilt washed over Charles. He’d broken his vows again, caught up in an affair he knew would destroy his relationship.

He fastened his ice white, high collar shirt, and slipped into his favorite suit, dark and slightly wrinkled. A wood framed full-length mirror, as old as the building he worked in, caught his attention and forced him to look upon the ugliness he so abhorred. He turned away, chest heaving, mouth dry, and plopped down in a blue leather swivel chair behind his desk. Losing a love that brings me such childlike joy is not something I’m prepared to do. Chocolates, he thought. I’ll start with chocolates, then a shower of gifts. It’s a bit pretentious, but it’s a start.

Charles smiled at himself in the mirror, his jet black hair and boyish good looks overriding the monster that now retreated within. He checked his watch. I’m late.

He grabbed the tools of his trade and headed for the door, the monster in the mirror right behind him.