From the Flea Market

Luisa

It was a foggy Saturday morning when Olivia went to the flea market in the parking lot of the base club. She was looking for a dresser, but instead stalled at a table with a motorcycle jacket, a hiking pack, a camera, and a collection of tea sets.

"Are you a tea drinker?" she asked the man behind the table.

He had a wide smile that covered half his face. He was young, but older than her. His dark hair brushed back away from his temple and he wore a blue sweater, stitched into squares around his collar. "I love tea," he said. "I started collecting tea sets, but then I realized I only use one or two pots. So now I'm trying to pare down."

"I've been looking for an espresso cup, but everything I've found comes in these big sets of four or six." She picked up a yellow one. "How much for this one?"

"That's actually a set," he said.

She noticed the green cup and the small, red pot and she tsked.

He smiled, "You only need one."

She nodded. "Well, good luck today."

"Thanks."

She was about to leave the flea market when she circled back to his table, stalling at a nearby one until he was unoccupied with other thrifters.

"Ready to sell me that espresso cup?"

He laughed, "Alright, one dollar."

"Thank you," she smiled. She picked up another cup with colored images of sheep portraits, 'New Zealand' printed on the handle. The other sets came from different countries, UK, Japan, China, Germany. "Have you been to all these places?" She asked.

"No, none of them. But I'd like to go."

She laughed at him. "How did you find these?"

He shrugged. "You know, thrift stores. I just thought they were interesting."

"You should go to these places. They're nice, I've been to some."

"Really? Do you travel much?"

"Yes. I love to travel." She looked up at him, he looked kind around the eyes. She noticed he didn't have a ring. "Do you have any trips coming up?"

"I'd like to take a road trip to Colorado when I get out in a few months."

"Do you have a travel companion for your trip?"

"No. Maybe my brother."

Her pulse began to race in her throat. "If you want, I can give you some travel tips or ideas sometime. Maybe over coffee."

"Sure. How should I get a hold of you?"

"Can I give you my number?"

He handed her his phone and her hands shook as she typed in the digits. She passed back the phone and put out her hand. "I'm Olivia."

He shook it, "Dominic."

"Well it was very nice to meet you, Dominic. Let me know if you want to talk travel sometime."

"Nice to meet you, too, Olivia."

He messaged her before she made it home.

D: Hey Olivia, it's Dominic. I hope you enjoy the espresso cup. It was a pleasure meeting you.

A: It was very nice meeting you, too. I'll take good care of her ;)

D: Are you free Sunday, for coffee?

At coffee on Sunday, he hugged her tight in the space between their chairs and the next, as if expecting this to be their first and last embrace.

After their brief small talk, he said, "I know you're an officer. I remember you from the training seminar I gave."

She nodded. "I know. I remember you, too."

"You know I'm enlisted?"

"Yes. But I also know you're a grown man and I'm a grown woman, and we don't have to be messy about this kind of thing."

"How old are you?" he asked.

She blushed. "Young. 23. But I've always felt older than my age."

"I've always felt younger."

She smiled.

"I should tell you, I have a daughter."

"I know."

He grimaced.

"We know some people in common," she said.

"It's a small service."

"Yes. This doesn't have to be anything, you know, if you're uncomfortable. We really can just talk about your travel plans, despite the fact that I find you very attractive."

"You're very beautiful."

She looked down in her lap and smiled.

"I don't want to just talk about my travel plans."

She hoped that he would be finished at that, but then—

"But," he said.

"Yes," she affirmed, though she did not know which 'but' he would mention.

"You're very sweet."

"That's not what you were going to say."

"I'm divorced," he swallowed. "I don't make it a habit of going out with officers, especially young, pretty officers who flirt with older men at flea markets." He smiled.

She nibbled at the tip of her thumb nail, then leaned back in her seat. "Have you seen this movie called Before Sunrise?"

He shook his head.

"It's about these two young people, an American boy and a French woman, college age, who meet on a train in Europe. They start to talking and he has to get off at Vienna. And while the train is at the station, he tries to convince her to get off the train with him and spend the day in Vienna together. He asks her to picture herself in 10 or 15 years. She's married, but maybe she's not as happy as she pictured she would be, and she'd think back to all the men in her life, and wonder if maybe she had made a wrong turn somewhere. That if she went with him, she wouldn't wonder if he could have been something special, she would just know that he was just another boy and she made the right decision marrying her husband."

"She gets off the train?"

"Yes, of course. The movie is all very romantic all, but the point is, do you want to live your life wondering what might have been, or do you just live? Just do what you want?"

"I see."

"For the record, I don't believe in soul mates. I don't believe there's one person out there waiting for you, and it's your destiny to be each other's other halves. I think that was something invented by a writer who never truly understood love. I believe I am a whole person and you are a whole person, and together, for however brief of time, we can be more. Everyone has something to give, some joy."

He leaned back in his chair.

"Don't worry, I know we hardly know each other. That's the point. I've picked up with men when I travel, for a few days or just a few hours. And I've noticed that when they don't know where you've been and they don't know where you're going, how can you possibly be afraid of them? And that's really beautiful because you can be exactly who you want to be, because you'll probably never see each other again. I find myself giving so much affection and joy to this stranger, and they give me endless joy and affection in return, that," she pressed her hand into the table top, "That I feel at peace. Does this make sense?"

"I think so."

"I'm telling you all these stories because I believe I'll find some life companion, but in the meantime, if you want of course, maybe we can give each other some joy and affection. I'm not trying to fall in love with you, Dominic. I'm trying to give you love, if you're willing to give me it in return, for however long or short feels right. And when it doesn't feel good or easy anymore, we can accept it and part ways as friends."

He studied the etching in the table, the outline of her hand against the wood surface. She did not pull her hand away.

"That's probably not what you're expecting, but that's what I can offer you."

"I'm 36," he said.

She smiled, "I like that about you."

"I want a mother for my daughter."

"Then I want that for you, too. I don't want to own you, Dominic, and you won't own me either. All I want is to spend time with someone who likes to spend time with me, too."

He touched the back of her hand with his thumb. Her chest rose and fell suddenly.

"I know you're curious. You don't have to decide now."

"We're not supposed to do this."

"I know exactly what I'm doing. I am the one responsible for it. You are the one who gets to choose. I trust you. Let me know."

He asked her to dinner a few days later. He drove and paid and she insisted he didn't need to. They had a pleasant evening and they didn't discuss their work, her offer, their future. At the end of the evening, he walked her to her door. She paused, turning toward him, not wanting to push him, but wondering. In the dim lamp of her porch, her face glowed softly, erasing any lines, her eyes shadowed with the light or desire, he didn't know. He laughed to himself.

"What's so funny?" she smiled.

He shook his head, putting his hand at her waist. He could smell her perfume this close. "May I kiss you?"

She nodded and he came close to her. He didn't touch her, not yet. He brushed her hair behind her ear. Their breath filling up the space between them.

"This is my favorite part," she whispered. Her heartbeat roared in her ears.

His lips came to hers. His breath was heavy and hot against her cheek as if had been holding it until now. Her arms folded around his shoulders and he leaned into her, folding her backward. He braced the two of them with a hand against the door behind her. He devoured her. She fit into him, with an equal, devastating famine.

They heaved apart for breath. After a moment, he came back to her, but she stopped him with a hand against his chest. He paused, watching her eyelids flutter, trying to focus on his face under his shadow.

He pressed forward again. Again she stopped him. He moaned.

Suddenly, he pulled away, blushing in their heat. In the space between them, her small hand was still an oppressive stone on his rib cage. He silently begged her to release him.

She smiled shy. She turned toward the door, but he tugged her shoulder back. He trapped her face in his hands, but faltered when saw her. Her eyes were heavy, her mouth open and gasping, bracing for his fury that she knew, she had attentively fed.

He released her. He licked his lips, "I want you."

She nodded and unlocked her door. Her keys chimed as she shuddered.

The house was quiet and dark and smelled of the afterglow of a lavender candle she had lit before dinner. She turned on a lamp. She took off his jacket and dropped his and her to the floor. He kissed her neck, dipping into the fall of her dress. Her head lolled backward. She moaned.

He picked her up in his arms, "Where's the bedroom?"

She led him, kissing him and licking the curve of his ear. The light from the hallway was enough to illuminate the bed. He dropped her on the mattress; she bounced and giggled. She turned on a lamp and draped a scarf over it to cast a soft, red glow across their faces.

She sat on the edge of the bed. He took off her right heel, then her left. The skin of her calves was soft and tight against the muscle. He massaged the meat there. She pressed her foot against his chest and he looked up at her. She hooked her foot on his shoulder and he obeyed.

Her breath, though light, was almost lurid in the dark room, encouraging him. Her ankles moved slow, but restless against his hips as his teeth occupied the space between her knee and hem line. His mouth traveled north, her ripeness thick and sweet in his nose. He felt blind. His nose pressed against her damp fabric.

She gasped. She begged closer. Her panties bowed under his hot breath, tickling her tiny hairs.

It had been a while since she was with a man. She moaned, drunk on the promise of the fresh hit worshipping to her between her knees.

He pushed her panties to the side, and immediately did away with them. He fanned out her thighs and wedged his shoulders between to keep her from second thoughts. He groped her breasts, yanking on her nipple. He needed her pleasure. He needed her to cum. He needed reassurance after so many years of grief.

She was kind and generous with encouragement. He gnawed on her clit and she gasped. He wiggled a finger inside her and pressed against her roof. She arched—

"Dom!"

Her body and her shrieks shook around him. Honey soaked his tongue. He lapped at it like water in his drought. For the same moment, they did not know who they were, but two bodies praying to each other in the dark.