Anna Gazelle 1

There was this woman he saw. He knew when he first set eyes on her-- she was the answer to some persistent, wordless need. Before their first meeting, he was indescribably nervous; then the door opened on a warm smile and welcoming embrace that left no room for anxiety. A realm opened between them. He flashed to his high-school girlfriend, the devilish one he could never get enough of. Could it have been that long since he had felt like this?

She became his secret sanctuary; a meditative, spontaneous, riveting adventure. The view was unforgettable: playful dark eyes and high cheekbones framed by soft curly brown hair; a small pretty mouth with soft lips that effortlessly formed (and inspired) smiles of abandonment; a landscape of velvety white skin. Her warmth, her touch, her smell were intoxicating. The images and sensations were burned in his memory, and when he was alone they could overwhelm him deliciously if he lingered on them long enough. But it was her way of connecting with him, her way of feeling what he needed and responding exactly right and better, the way she accepted him exactly as he was, that let him let go.

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