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Spotlight – Down Memory Lane I Go With Greg

“What are we doing here?” I asked, trying hard to keep an almost panicky tone out of my voice, and failing miserably.

“You said you wanted us to go to a place that was private, and I said I could deliver on that, so here we are,” he answered with a smug grin.

“I don’t think this is a good idea, Greg,” I protested weakly as memories of all the times we had shared here came flooding back.

“Why not? It’s private, and we can talk without any interruptions for as long as we need to,” he pointed out.

“You know perfectly well why I’m not comfortable with us coming here so, I’m sure there is no need for me to spell it out,” I answered angrily.

“Actually, no! I don’t know why you aren’t comfortable with us coming here. It meets all the criteria you asked for in a venue, and if you are referring to the fact that we’ve made love here, you can relax as you have my word that I’m not going to take aantage of this location to make you do anything you don’t want us to do,” he assured me.

“It’s not that I think you’re going to take aantage of the location,” I continued my feeble protest.

“What is it, then?”

“I was kind of hoping for a more neutral location because you are right, there’s just too much history between us here,” I blurted out.

At my confession, Greg fell silent for a few seconds, and then slowly reached out his right arm across the gear lever, and gently laid it to rest on my left thigh: “Only fools forget or ignore their history, because it is responsible for bringing us to where we are today, and I know for a fact that you are a lot of things, Stephanie, but a fool is definitely not one of them. Come inside with me, and let’s talk. If it goes any further than that, it will be because we both wanted it to, and not because we’re prisoners of the past,” he concluded calmly.

At this point, I wanted to scream that while he might no longer be a “prisoner of the past”, I most definitely was, and that it was not him I was afraid of but, rather, myself. While he clearly seemed to believe we would be able to remain in full control of whatever transpired once we got into the house, I knew for a fact that I would be at the mercy of my body and emotions, which were already running wild, simply at the feel of his hand on my thigh.

Nonetheless, I didn’t protest any further and instead with a breathless “alright,” opened the passenger door. I was relieved to find that the house was unoccupied, and so at least I did not have to deal with the added pressure of facing anyone while trying to manage my own runaway emotions.

“Where is everyone?” I asked conversationally as Greg let us in with a key from his own key ring.

“Andrew is probably hanging out with the boys, and his mum travelled to the village for a funeral.”

“Is that why you picked this place? Because you knew there was no one home?”

“Partially I wanted to be alone with you, and I couldn’t think of anywhere else where we wouldn’t set tongues wagging,” he explained, and his reasoning made so much sense that I couldn’t argue with it.

“I would have offered you a drink, but I doubt if there’s anything sensible in the fridge. If you want me to ,though, I could drive up the road to go get us something from a supermarket,” he offered gallantly.

“No thanks, I actually can’t stay for too long because of C.G. So, there’s really no need.”

“How long do we have before you need to go?” he asked almost sadly.

“An hour or so, two at the most,” I answered regretfully.

Source : The Observer

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