So, this is in the fall of 1997… and I was 25 years old and working as a digital film artist at a special effects company in Vancouver, BC. It was my first time working in a foreign country, and I had left everything behind in the US. I only brought a suitcase of clothes, some books, and basic necessities and was settled into doing the work.I had only moved to BC in the spring, and it was my first time in Canada.
I was unattached, doing the poly-solo thing, and living by myself in a penthouse. It was a Hollywood style apartment at the very top of a tall building by the bayshore. It was hard work, everyday, starting at 6am, finishing 8pm most days… good pay! But no time to really “date” anyone, much less have a relationship!
I’d get up, walk the 6 blocks to the SkyTrain, then another 6 blocks to the studio and back again through downtown Vancouver. I was in fantastic shape, some of the best shape I’ve been in my life. I was skinny, muscular, and unfortunately sexually FRUSTRATED AS HELL.
I liked going to BDSM clubs when I lived in San Francisco, but there were none really in Vancouver at the time. There were some munches, occasional parties and get-togethers, but I didn’t really know many people there and the Internet was nowhere near as widespread as it is today.
However, I did try to work 4 days a week rather than 5.. which meant that most of the time I had F-Sat-Sun .. long weekends, and I would explore Vancouver, hang out in parks, museums, and even go clubbing a bit. Not much, I hate the loud music scene… but I did like quiet, contemplative bars and cafes.
… and one day, at a cafe I saw a young lady whom we’ll call “j” for privacy.
She was sitting on her own, out on the patio of the 2nd floor deck of the cafe that was right across the street from where I lived near the bayshore.….
in my favorite seat….
overlooking the water and beach.
She had a medium sized sketchbook on a tiny slanted easel on the table. The view from there is beautiful and I thought she was working on a landscape or something of the sort. Nobody really ever came up the 2nd floor, since there was no service up there… just places to sit.
So, instead of my favorite table, I sat on one nearby and opened the book I was reading to relax, with my English High Tea set up on the table by the barista with scones, clotted cream, jam and such on a plate.
She paid me no mind, and I liked having her quiet company as I read my book.
J was short. Very short. 4-foot-5 territory, with an unruly mop of bouncy black curly hair that tumbled down to her shoulders like a wave of water. She had piercing green eyes, a round soft wave, freckles on her cheeks and nose and between her breasts. She was dressed simply — a sundress, with spaghetti shoulder straps and her bosom that threatened to spill out of it.
I would be lying if I said I didn’t turn and look at her from time to time as she sketched. She was beautiful in the soft overcast morning light.
… and she kept furtively looking at me, as I read my book. I was more direct about looking back, and admiring her politely.
Not flirting, it seemed to me, just curious. I wanted to see what she was sketching, and she wanted to see what my dog-eared, well worn book was.
Of course, it took the barista coming upstairs to break our deadlock. His name was Tom, and he knew us BOTH well as customers that had been coming there for a while. He asked me if I wanted another pot of tea ( I always did ) and he already had a cup of hot steamed milk he was giving to J. The steam from it swirled and moved delightfully in the cool air of the day.
It also gave J the excuse she needed to engage with him, then she turned to me. “That must be a VERY engaging book!” she said with a bright, slightly playful note in her voice. “You’ve only looked up from it a couple times since you got here… what is it?
”It’s “The Story of O, by Pauline Réage” I replied with a smile. I was pretty sure she wasn’t going to be familiar with the book… “I’ve been meaning to read it through for a while.”
“The story of… Oh?” .. she paused .. “The letter O? Or ‘oh?’ Like the question?”
“The letter,” I teased her. “Fifteenth letter of the alphabet.” I made an “O” shape with my mouth, and chuckled softly.
She looked at me sideways… it’s hard to describe what that was like… J always had a way of tilting her head ever so slightly when she asked a question, that was more of a statement than a question….
Of course, I didn’t know that yet… that comes later in the story.
Tom had already silently brought me a new pot of tea, and a fresh scone and jam and butter. I hadn’t noticed… he was just THAT good at being ‘unseen’… great barista.
“What are you sketching?” I asked. I had expected she was sketching the view, since that’s what was in front of us.J picked up her sketchbook, steamed milk, and then unceremoniously dropped herself into the chair across from me at my table.
“Want to see?” She said, playfully. “I don’t know.. you might find it surprising!”
“It’s entirely your own business, I don’t really mean to pry.” I replied, “but you’ve been sketching for a while.”
She teased me back and pulled back just a small corner of her sketchbook. The only thing I could see was that she had drawn a few, very detailed, links of what looked like a steel chain you’d use to secure a gate in pencil.
I looked around the patio, puzzled. “I don’t see that anywhere on the patio… what is it?”
“Oh.” She said.I looked at her like she was having fun with me.
“Oh? As in the letter, or the question?” I felt silly bantering with her like this, but she had my attention.
“OH!” She said, with a bit of extra emphasis and a grin making the same “O” shape with her mouth… then licking her lips. “The PERSON … O” and she looked at me with a smile in her eyes and on her lips.
She pulled back the cover… and indeed, what she had been drawing was … O. Chained from her collar, arms behind her cuffed, and tied to unseen hard points off the page — the chains rendered in pencil, fading at the edges of the page.
I looked straight into J’s deep green eyes. It’s the first time I really did so, and I still remember it … her eyes were big, always with a hint of mischief in them, a sparkle of someone very intelligent, but also playful and hungry for … something.
“That’s quite a coincidence.” I said. Here was a young woman, whose interests OBVIOUSLY coincided with Mine… the universe seemed to be conspiring… and I don’t believe in conspiracies or more than mere coincidence.
“I see…. So that was a rather disingenuous question you asked. You knew full well that it was, indeed, O… the person!” I chided her, frowning in an obviously mock-serious way. Extending My hand, I nodded to her.
“My name’s M… nice to meet someone with an interest in common. What’s yours?”
“I’m J…” and then she gently put her hand into Mine, and I took it and shook her hand with a firm grip.” I felt her arm and her whole body relax all at once. It’s hard to describe, but she literally submitted to the handshake, melting into it.“It’s a pleasure to meet you, M.” She said, and her eyes almost, but not quite, met mine.
“I have to confess that it’s not a coincidence.” She demurred softly.
“Oh?” I said.
“The person, or the letter?” She quipped, with a grin and a laugh.
“The question!” I said, laughing.
“Tom told me you were reading that book, and that’s why you came up here to read privately.” She said, very quietly. “I saw you a couple times and asked who you were, and I wanted to meet you…”
“Aaaaaahhhhhh….” I replied, a groan in my voice, “Of course it’s Tom.” I let out a chuckle. “They say that baristas, and bartenders, are both the keepers of all the secrets in the universe. I think, frankly, they are all aspects of a well-meaning trickster god of some sort.”
J laughed, and it was the first time I’d heard that laugh. It was sweet, light, and soft. The kind of laugh that could fill you with the feeling of running through a field on a cool spring day. You would want to do anything to hear it again.
She continued… “I’d like to know more about that book, and about you. Would you like to go walking with me after we finish here?” I still had J’s hand in Mine and she leaned up against me like a cat, and I became utterly aware that the only thing she was wearing, was that sundress… and that her hair smelled of fresh cut apples, and that the feeling of her against me evoked an instant response.
“I’d like that.” I replied… and it was the very beginning of something wonderful.…
(( to be continued in part2 … I have a meeting I have to get to… and this took a while to type up ))
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/vuklxl/vancouver_nights_mf_ffm