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IN MY HUMBLE OPINION ROkie White FEATURED COLUMNIST R Ray Collins FICTION |
We were strolling along Ocean Beach catching the last of
the day, watching the sun creep closer to the horizon and the
shadows begin to slide up the side of Sutro hill behind the Cliff
House and Seal Rocks. It was one of those days where, if we were
lucky, we might catch just a hint of green when the last of the
sun dipped out sight. Brulee was in an element far different from her mountain
home and we were glad we had brought her on our trip to the coast.
You had attended your lectures and classes during the day and
in the evenings I took you to all our old haunts, at least those
that remained after all these years. We had a wonderful time;
two people enjoying the present and the past as they intertwined
much as we are intertwined, on these cool San Francisco nights.
We had been to the opera and the ballet, you preferred
the opera, but said that you did enjoy the boys in their tights
at the ballet. And I know you enjoyed the opera even if it wasn't
that lusty wench Carmen. Puccini's Madama Butterfly filled our
hearts and we both cried when she sang 'Une bel dei.' 'One fine
day' her lover would return; while knowing full well that he
would not. Poor sad Butterfly. A tale of unrequited love and
clashing cultures and ugly Americans in 19th century Japan. We had had dined at the famous and the infamous for the
past 5 days and had our fill of San Francisco's varied 'Bill-Of
Fare' for a while. Now we were just letting the California sunshine
do its magic. No rush, no urgency, nothing to do but enjoy each
other. We sat with our backs to the seawall and watched Brulee
chase the waves. She is such a silly girl, doesn't quite know
what to do with this new friend. She runs back and forth until
they catch her and then she barks and barks because she is wet.
Like a three year old child, she has no understanding of the
moment, she is having fun and that is all that is important.
Much like us, we have no understanding of the moment except that
we are having fun with each other and that we, together, are
what is important. Time, is totally irrelevant. You began to laugh and chuckle and I knew that something
new and wild was coming; and you didn't disappoint me. You never
do my dear. You reached over and kissed my ear and said, "You
see the rocks out there, the Seal Rocks?" I merely nodded
as you continued in your easy way of explaining things. "Well
one night, back when I lived in this magical city and was probably
too young to know better, a bunch of us came out here, stripped
off our clothes and swam naked as jaybirds out to the rocks.
I'm not sure how I survived the swim; the water was freezing
and the waves bounced us all over the place. It scared the hell
out of me. Its amazing what we do in our youth." I kissed
you back and whispered that I was glad you survived while the
vision of you naked in the water danced in my mind. We held hands and moved even closer to each other and watched
the sun, now hovering above the horizon. The sky is alive with
gold, and purple, and pink, and magenta all moving in layers
and changing in precedence; first one and then the other. The
sphere of the sun, all tarnished orange, is being squeezed and
flattened by the atmosphere as if being pushed into the darkening
Pacific; and then, just as the last crescent drops from view,
a quick blazing flash of green appears and is gone in an instant. We held each tightly, knowing that we had shared one of
those rare moments when the elements join together to proclaim
fair days ahead and good fortune to those who had the opportunity
to catch that glimpse of green. We would take the fair days as
they came; but already knew that we had our own good fortune
by simply being together and sharing our knowledge of each other. Flickering light from hot dog fires built along the beach
began to grow stronger as the cloak of darkness moved over our
shoulders and into the sea. We called the puppy and made our
way toward the parking lot adjacent to a new set of condos that
had replaced three long blocks of fun and games and thrilling
rides called Playland At The Beach. A place of wild adventure
where a kid with a couple of bucks could escape into his own
never-never land called the Fun House, the Dodg'em Cars, the
Big Dipper roller coaster and the Octopus. Today, the condos
with their cathedral peaked roofs and minuscule balconies offer
only silent light from picture windows and the shrieks and yells
of merrymakers and the raucous laughter of the fat lady are heard
only in memories. Back at the motel, hotels do not allow 40 pound puppy dogs
within their confines, we shook the sand off Brulee, fed her
and watched her curl up like a youngster in front of the TV.
Stripped of our clothing, we closed the bathroom door and started
the thoroughly enjoyable pleasure of washing the days grit and
grime from each other. We lathered and worked out the sand from
each others hair much as we had with the puppy. Lather and wash,
lather and wash, and then conditioner. Then soap in hand I ran
my hands over your shoulders and down your back and managed to
over-clean your bottom. But it is such a cute bottom I could
not resist lingering and feeling every soft contour and curve. Then with a deep chuckle and a flashing laugh you kissed
me and began to lather my chest and my arms and down my legs.
Oh my, what soft delicate hands you have my darling. I pulled
you closer and kissed you back; and then, at the most inappropriate
moment, the water began to turn colder and as the temperature
dropped our laughter grew. We emerged muttering, laughing, hollering
and swearing at the capricious gods and dried each other off.
Then we fell onto the bed and soon the temperature rose again
as did out passion for each other. We explored each other with
kisses and flutters and caresses of softened hands and arms and
legs until finally, all passion spent, we lay within the soft
hollows of each other. "Darling, what with all that walking on the beach, the salty sea air filling our lungs, and the sublime enjoyment of each other, I hope you are as hungry as I am?" I asked as I felt the softening nipple of your breast against my cheek. "Sweetie, there is no stopping you. From sex maniac
to food maniac all within 30 minutes." "Well, after feeding the libidinous inner man so well
my darling, would you begrudge the rumbles of a belly shrunken
and shriveled with fasting?" "Of course not baby," you replied running your
hand down the length of my body. "But can't I first interest
you in something closer at hand before we venture forth into
the chill night air?" "You're laughing at me again and you know I'm so easy.
Come here darling and just let me hold you close to me and feel
your warmth against my skin." And then as if on cue, Brulee
began to lick all four feet huddled together at the foot of the
bed. With peals of laughter we knew that further passion would
have to wait and perhaps dinner was a better offering after all.
"You ready for a burger Sweetie? Lets do the Hippo."
You brightened at the suggestion and began pulling on your clothes. The Hippo, a burger emporium with a San Francisco flavor
all its own was located in a former auto dealership on Van Ness
Ave.. The cavernous interior, complete with monstrous him and
her hippos in bas relief on the walls was crowded and brimming
over with the general feeling of people enjoying themselves.
The menu offered over 50 different ways to enjoy the thoroughly
all American hamburger; and if it wasn't on the menu, all you
had to do was describe it to the waitress and the cook would
prepare it for you. With the gentle humor of Wolo watching us from the walls
you ordered a mushroom burger and tempura veggies while I opted
for the San Franciscan, complete with onions in the meat and
served on sourdough French bread with steak fries and ice cold
beer for both of us. Sipping our beers we reminisced about the beer joint that
once occupied the rear of the Hippo; The Monkey Inn, complete
with banjo players on the stage and peanut shells on the floor
long before the Red Garter down on Broadway copied the idea for
the tourists that got tired of Carol Doda's titty show at the
Condor Club. I looked into your beautiful blue eyes and they reflected
nothing but warmth and tenderness and happiness. "Now that
your classes are over, what would like to do for the rest of
our stay," I asked? "Well, could we go up to the wine country? I haven't
seen it in ages and it is so pretty this time of year." "Well," I said teasingly and laughing softly,
"I think that can be arranged." "Now what's so funny?" you asked inquisitively. "Oh, I just won a bet with myself. I just knew you
were going to ask that and I checked into some places and found
a nice little B&B in St. Helena that will take us and Brulee.
She wont be allowed inside but they have a full kennel in the
back where she can stay. They cater to guests with pets and come
well recommended. I'm sure she will be well looked after." You thought on this for a bit and smiled and said, "OK.
I guess that will be fine." "We can leave in the morning, go up to Sonoma, take
the mountain road over to Calistoga, visit a couple of wineries,
and then drop down into St. Helena in the afternoon. We'll check
into the B&B, see that Brulee is safe, sound, and happy and
then have dinner at Chateau Chamboise; where we can indulge in
a wonderfully prepared French Basque dinner and sample many of
the wines they offer." "Oh that sounds wonderful darling. We'll have so much
fun. But is this place really safe for Brulee, it will all be
so strange for her?" "I think so. After dinner we'll check on her and if
she is upset, well, we'll just all sleep in the car, or come
back here, or do something else; but I think she will be just
fine. She's a sturdy lass, just like you my dear." "And when we get back we'll go down to Monterey for
a day or two and stay with Harry and Beth and Brulee will have
2 acres of Steinbeck country to romp around in and chase rabbits." "Its a date kind sir. You are such a charmer, you
have talked me into it. Now pay the bill dear and lets get back
to the motel, we have some unfinished business to attend to,"
you said in that big throaty chuckle you have. "Well, if you insist dear, I am but your willing and
easy soulmate." "You're always telling me stories along the way darling.
That's what makes the journey with you so damned enjoyable,"
and you grabbed my arm and kissed me on the cheek. And standing
there in the fog with you looking so serene and peaceful I told
you that I loved you. You just smiled and told me that you knew
I did and not to weasel out of telling the story by getting all
romantic. "Yes my dear, one story, coming up, but one generously
served with dollops of romance and big heaping of love,"
I laughed as we threaded out way along Jackson Street; two people
so close and so happy with each other in a magical city by the
bay. © Copyright 1998 by Ron Samuel Ron Samuel, -- actor/writer grew up in San Francisco and If you want to know more about Ron, you can check out his
web site by clicking the icon: If you like the story, send him an e-mail and let him know. He'll even answer you. If you don't, well, keep it to yourself. And remember: that life is serious' |
