I was finishing up my shift at the restaurant. It was a slow night and I had been relegated to clean-up duty since Nathan (the janitor) called in sick: he downed almost an entire bottle of Courvoisier the night before and couldn’t stop throwing up.
“Kurt, is that you?”
I hadn’t recognized the voice. Besides, no one calls me “Kurt” around here. I turned around with a raised ‘brow.
“Excuse me!?” I asked.
Even after seeing who it was, my confused expression remained.
“It’s Angie! Remember me?”
She reached into her tiny handbag, rummaging through it for something. She pulled out a piece of paper and unfolded it with haste. There was some writing on the inside, and she showed it to me, repeating, “It’s Angie…”
I interrupted, “I’m sorry, I don’t know…”
I focused my attention back to the paper.
“Good luck. I will miss you. Love Kurt” it read.
“Angie? Angie Cozier?” I asked.
“Yes! It’s me!”
The memories began flooding back in. We had met at a local café some years prior, one morning when I went there to get breakfast; I hadn’t gone there in weeks because I was out of town. I sat at the table reading the weekly newspaper and I heard a very unfamiliar voice say, “Good morning”.
I looked up. “Hi! You’re new here, aren’t you?”, I asked.
“Yup! I started last week.”
“Aha! Well, you’ll be seeing me a lot around here. This is my favourite spot after all.”
“I guess I will be seeing you, then!”
“For sure!”
She took my order, and the rest was history. We built a lot of rapport in the ensuing weeks and began spending a lot of time with each other outside of the restaurant. She told me she had come to my town after a hurricane ravaged her country. Eventually she had to go back home, and that’s when I wrote her the farewell letter. Over the years, I had wished to see her again, but we never crossed paths and I thought about her less with each passing moment, until she became a non-recurring memory, trapped inside my mind’s abyss. That is, until she showed up at my job.
“Here you are after all these years!” I exclaimed. I reached out and hugged her in delight.
She sank her head into my chest and let out a muffled “I missed you!”
I gently pushed her backward. With my hands still on her shoulders, I exclaimed, “Wow! How did you expect me to recognize you? You’ve changed!” I gazed at her in astonishment. “You’ve changed so much.”
“What are you doing here!?” I asked, curiously.
“Well, I just so happened to have moved here recently.”
“That’s great! It’s good to see you!”
The dress she wore barely covered her athletic thighs. “You’re in such great shape, too.” I complimented.
“After all that effort trying to track you down here, of course I am!” she joked.
My phone rang from across the room. “Excuse me, Angie.” I shuffled across the floor to answer it. It was my boss on the other end trying to figure out if I had already closed and left. I had completely become so engaged in the conversation that I forgot all about the other tables I had left to clean.
I shuffled back over to Angie. “Hey! I’d love to stay and chat, but I’ve got to finish up here. Leave your number and I’ll call you later.” She went back into her purse and pulled out a pen, writing her phone number on the back of the very letter I wrote her. “I want that letter back, so make sure you call me.” she said.
I chuckled and smiled at her. “Bye, Angie.” She left, and I went back to cleaning up.
I got home from the restaurant and looked up at the clock facing the front door: it was 1 am. “It’s really late. Should I still call her?” I pondered.
I set my clothes in the laundry basket and sat at the computer desk in my room, scratching my head indecisively. The phone and the letter were on the desk in front of me, and I gazed at her number for a while before deciding to call her.
“Hey, Angie. It’s Kurt. You’re still up!?”
“Yeah, I am. I’m usually up this late.”
“Great. Now you have my number. Talk later. I’m gonna get some sleep.”
Over the next few days, Angie and I hung out whenever I was off from work. I showed her some of the new places around town and invited her over occasionally for dinner. One evening, we were talking on the phone and at the end of the conversation, I invited her out for the millionth time.
“Let’s go out tomorrow night.” I suggested.
“Sure! Where to?”
“We can go to La Vue: it’s a restaurant that recently opened. I’d like for us to try it out.”
“Sounds good. What time?”
“Pick you up at 7 o’ clock.”
At 6:15 pm the next day, I got into my car and made the journey to Angie’s apartment building. I got there at about 6:58 and texted her, letting her know I was outside, and I waited inside the car until she was ready. Seal’s “Kiss from a Rose” was playing on the radio, and I whistled and tapped the steering wheel, rhythmically. I saw some movement in the corner of my eye and decided to look outside. It was Angie from her window; she mouthed, “Gimme 5 minutes” as she held her fingers up. She hopped around on one leg, apparently hurrying to put a shoe on. Within 3 minutes, she came downstairs.
“Sorry to keep you waiting” she regretted.
I assured her that it wasn’t a big deal, and we headed towards the restaurant. When we pulled into the parking lot, I saw her eyes light up when she saw the place; I let out a hushed chuckle; It seemed she was more excited than I was. We got inside and the venue was bustling. I could hear the unintelligible cacophony from dozens of conversations, the laughter, and the clinking of glasses. The waiters and waitresses moved from table to table, some taking dishes to tables and away from tables and some carrying their pens and pads. From behind me, I heard, “Can I get you two a table?” I turned around and snapped out of my trance. “Sure!”, I responded, and we followed the waiter to a table that was almost at the centre of restaurant.
Throughout the night, Angie and I spoke of old times over great food, and of course, alcohol. We got to talking a bit more about where we were in our respective lives: She was now an accountant for a Fortune 500 company: nulliparous and unmarried. I was the party-loving, childless bachelor working at a local restaurant.
The alcohol was setting in, and for the first time, we began flirting. It all started when Angie’s leg brushed against mine under the table. At one point I reached over and rubbed my hand against hers as it laid with her palm on the table, just as I mentioned something about how smooth her skin was. She turned her palm up while my hand was still resting on hers and started rubbing the back of my hand with her thumb. “So is yours”, she said, as we gazed into each other’s eyes. Looking away first, she slid her hand from under mine and asked to be excused: she had to use the ladies’ room. When she got up to walk away, I took the chance to appreciate how curvaceous she really was. Her pants hugged her ass like a glove, and her waist was almost half the size of her hips. I watched in amazement, and it was when I looked to the table on my right and saw a couple of guys giving me the look of approval that a proud father gives to his son, that I realized how animated my reaction was. When she came back, we made the decision to continue the night of boozing at her apartment.
It was my first time being over at her place.
“Make yourself at home!”
She left the living room to change into her nightgown and I sat on the couch and turned the TV on. When she came back, she plopped down next to me; one of the gown straps slid off her shoulder in the process, exposing the top of her breast.
“Well, what do you think of the apartment?”
“It’s stylish.” I looked around the room in intrigue. “You’ve clearly been busy getting the place together.”
“It wasn’t easy.” She reached out and gently squeezed my arm. “I could’ve used those muscles, but I didn’t find you in time.”
I chuckled.
“Be right back.” She used the very top of my leg near my hip as a crutch. “Lemme go grab us a drink.”
“Wait. I’m coming.” I insisted.
I got up and followed her into the kitchen.
“You can’t be in that much of hurry to get drunk, can you?”
I replied, “Who said I came for the alcohol?” She smirked, then turned around to face the faucet to rinse the glasses.
“Well, what did you come for?” she asked.
I walked over to the counter and put my body up against hers. “Isn’t it obvious?”, I whispered, while grazing my lips against her ear. She continued rinsing the glass for a while and then stopped when my lips started caressing her neck. She placed the glass onto the counter, turned around and gave me a quick peck on the lips. She then grabbed the glass, showed it me and jokingly said, “I think we got a little distracted”.
I smiled then went over to the fridge to grab a bottle of scotch. “I got the drink. I’ll be in the living room.”
I was browsing the channels when she came out of the kitchen. She placed the glasses onto the table along with a bucket of ice, then sat and asked me, “See anything you like?”
I turned towards her, looking her up and down. “At least not on the TV”. She laughed and took the remote from me. “Let’s watch this one.”, she said. After the movie started, she got up and leaned over to put the remote on the table, and that’s when I slapped her ass.
“Ah!”. She giggled and sat back down. “I’m a little worried that that won’t leave a mark.” she expressed.
I leaned into her. “Hmm. I was worried you’d be a little delicate. Let’s try that again.”
What happened after that? At the time, I couldn’t remember a thing; the scotch had taken its toll. I just knew that I woke up the next morning in a strange bed with a splitting headache. I looked to the other side of the bed, and Angie wasn’t there. I called out to her, and she came into the room in her bra and panties.
“What’s wrong?”, she asked.
“Nothing. I was just looking for something that actually looks familiar.”
She giggled. “I made us breakfast. Come outside when you’re ready.”
When she turned to walk away, I saw handprints on her ass: they were my handprints!
“Oh!” She turned back around. “I’ll show you the video we made, too.”
**[To be continued…]**
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/si98gz/reconnecting_with_angie_a_trip_down_memory_lane