my Prince

As we did every fall, my family converged with another for our retreat in the woods. This time, I was in for a surprise. Their three American-as-apple-pie sons, one of whom was my age, tagged along as usual. But they'd also brought an exchange student with them this year!

My crush started when I first laid eyes on him. Tall, dark, handsome, broken-English-speaking, well endowed, brandishing well-defined muscles and distinct makings of a mustache by age 12, he was. My heart swooned.

By the end of our weekend, I was woefully in love with this mysterious stranger. As our parties readied to depart, he and I stole away. We waded through sumptuous piles of autumn leaves that crunched underfoot. My senses were heightened to the hilt. I smelled his strong, sharp deodorant and felt his hand brush my arm. He stopped, so I did, too. We faced one another. Then I heard him speak in his deep, resonant voice. “My father live like King. I invite you. You come to my city.” Not only did these words thrill, I just knew that this was an actual spell. Once uttered, it would most certainly come to pass.

He leaned down quite a lot. Yes, I was a tiny mite at age 12. He kissed my cheek. He straightened, looking down at me out of eyes twinkling through heavy, dark lashes. He seemed so sophisticated next to my peers from the states, indulgent of my obvious attention. He kissed me again then, on the mouth this time. His lips were a bit chapped and rough. His upper lip wisps tickled. He didn’t probe, but sucked at me, as if he’d like to take a bit of my essence, along with the essences of cheese popcorn and brownies I'd just eaten, to keep until we’d meet again in his land. He broke away and picked me up, holding me straight out, up in the air! I, my body, my heart, my mood, my all, soared!