Yvette a rich young lady in her mid twenties is in a journey of finding true love, not a gold digger after her wealth. In her adventure, she finds her sexual obsessions getting in her way.... have a nice read!!

Sunset

after her father passed away.
She remembered to have cried for days when her Dad left this world. She felt as though a part of her had died. She sat here, or strolled below the trees, talking to only his spirit for days, not even her closest friends were allowed to see her.
“My father was more than a father. He was my best friend.” She soliloquized.
Yvette always felt him close here. She felt him from the smells embedded into the fabric of his recliner, the soft cigar and tobacco pipe smells, root beer candy lying in the plate of his favorite chair. She could still see the glass of whiskey, almost still fresh from his last visit, and the mahogany wooden chairs, crafted by him.
The garden was where Yvette came to think, pray, listen to the guidance of her grandmother... and now, sadly, her father as well. Her late grandparents enjoyed coming out here to relax, trim the flowers, meditate over problems they faced, challenges life threw at them, and questions they needed answers to.
“If I shut my eyes, I can still feel their presence, whispering, ‘it’s OK, Yvette, I am OK, and I am here, if you need me.’ My heart is broken,” she thought “The two closest persons in my life are now gone.”
For almost two years, after her father passed, Yvette took the journey every weekend to feel the presence, and to pray.
“They were the only ones who understood my feelings and what I meant by the deep yearning in my soul,” she thought, nurturing a mug of strawberry tea, looking around to the old bushes, where she could almost see her grandmother standing, clicking her tiny secateurs, to keep the plants in an elegant shape.

“You didn’t understand why I insist that Ben is the guy for me… well, I had to learn this on my own.”
“Sorry, girlfriend. I just can’t stop giggling when I remember. You basically exclaimed how nice and shy he is and how he does not want sex from you, like, that’s supposed to be… right? I don’t even know a fitting word, but it is sure as hell not even appropriate.” She enthused
They both laughed for a while, and started stretching themselves down. Grace laid on her back and lifted herself as high as she could. Her well-toned body glistened in the twilight. She did not have to stop talking, words bubbled out of her luscious lips effortlessly, not minding the strange position.
“You are the most sensual, desirable, womanly woman I ever met. You’re radiating sex, and yet, you always seem to have this strange relationship with your own sexuality. Guys need to be nice and gentlemanly, for sure. But if they don’t want to make mad love to you, like crazy, after a while, that is just not healthy…”
“Well, it seems he sort of gave up before things could get really serious,” answered Yvette dreamily, peeking out to the waking city, between the blinds. “He got busy. Grace, tell me this, does it take longer than a few seconds to just text someone, and say, ‘Hi, I am really busy but I was thinking about you’?” Grace, why can’t they do this?”
“God made them so,” said Grace, smirking “For us, it seems like nothing, an effort that is not even worth mentioning. But for them, it is huge effort. And it’s not about the texting itself, of course. God, how creative and dedicated they can be while sexting… no. It’s about priorities, it’s about focus. For us, they are always in the center of attention. They freaking rule our universe! That only changes when we have kids, so after that the kid and they are in the center. For them, it is different. We are somewhere behind in their minds, like, a decent background, you know, a safe heaven. They are perfectly alright without us, and when they aren’t, when they start missing us real bad, it is still about their feelings… their passion, their desire.” Grace paused for a while, mixing up the remains of the Frappuccino with her straw, at the depths of her glass. “And, actually, this is why we fall for them. We want to be worshipped. Unfortunately, men can’t really worship something they don’t see, what is not in front of them. So, will they text you, yes, sometimes, when they are so in touch with their gentleman side that they do it for real, because they know we care, they know it is important for us. But it’s not something that is coming from them naturally. But anyway…” she finished, hanging her gaze on the thinking figure of her blonde friend, now sitting on the mat with legs spread wide, “...how they behave when they are out of reach is certainly a good measure on how important you are for them.”
“Well, yeah, he kind of faded away.”
“Good! Let him fade away peacefully into oblivion! How about new pastures?”
“I couldn’t sleep one night, thinking about… what I’m always thinking about, I searched for someone new, a teacher, and then I’ve found Jocelyn, a spiritual healer - specked P.A., she knows your innermost secrets by the color of your hair and eyes, and I kept asking her about Ben, and she argued with me and said, no, he is not the one….”
“No wonder.”
“I am not here to tell you what you want to hear,” she said, “but what you need to hear. It was a soothing feeling, talking to her, but also scary… like everything else when you let go of something you are really attached to… and then she mentioned the white room…”
“The white room?” Grace sprang like a deer in the headlight. “The one your grandma’s been freaking you out?”
“She’s not been… well, yeah, basically. The white room from the journal.”
“It’s not a big deal anyway. White is trendy. Cool white leather seating, smoked glass smoking table, ebony statues, something modern on the walls…”
“Gosh, stop it. I imagined it exactly the same!”
“Not surprising. It’s straight out from a Miami version of Fifty Shades of Grey. What else did she tell you?”
“Yeah, well, anyway that sort of… gave some weight to her words. Not that she wasn’t spot on with Ben, because I feel in the bottom of my heart that she was, but after mentioning the white room too, I was sort of hooked on her words.”
“So?”
“Well, there is this guy…”
“Great! Go on.”
“Okay. Jocelyn said his name is J-something, Italian, fun, honest, loving, and…”
“Now I’m curious!”
“And there’s another guy…”
“WHATT?!” she exclaimed
“Yeah. An Egyptian.”
“God, Yvette, you really are headed into the thick of it…”
“But he is sort of a mystery character, Jocelyn said he is somewhat veiled… and that I will be intrigued by him when the time comes…”
“So, anything on the radar yet? Fun from Italy, or the Mystical East?”
“Nah, nothing, but seriously, an Italian? I hate Italian Men, really, hairy, arrogant and full of themselves! Judgmental, yes, I know, but ugh!”
“Ha-ha,Yvette, you’re such a kid but an adorable one for sure. Well, let’s hit the shower, it’s almost 8. Want to go in together?”
“Sure,” smiled Yvette, and she started to get out of her training dress.
“Just to be on the safe side, if some hairy, arrogant Italians break in!” laughed Grace. The two women, well over their mid-twenties, ran bare-naked into the bathroom, giggling like two little girls.
Chapter 3
Venetian Blinds
Yvette took a deep breath from the smells of the ingredients. She prepared the pans to mix up a nice calming body scrub, to get rid of all the negativity that was piling up on her heart.
The words “Italian” and “Hairy” circulated in her mind.
She contacted other Psychic Advisors as well, and it seemed that everyone is singing the same song in unison, that she needed to leave Ben behind. By this time, she was so saddened by this information, and the row of consequential confirmations. And although she knew deep down inside that it was the right thing to do, she also felt from the bottom of her heart that she definitely didn’t want to meet anyone at a bar. She really had enough of the old, creepy, aggressive losers wanting in her panties, and the young, empty-headed stallion wannabes who in fact had no idea what they want for real. But she was also sick and tired of driving 80 miles for a date that has been set online. “Forget that. Forget it all. The past may be hazy, with a rollercoaster relationship of sorts, but there’s no place for the future resembling a typical single, partying, dating lifestyle either” she concluded.
Days passed, mediation and prayer continued, and one morning she woke up to a voice:
“Put your profile back online and wait.”
It was not unusual for her to hear a suggestion, crystal clear. Sometimes she felt it as an echo of her own subconscious, suddenly radiating back to her from the high halls of the universe. Other times it appeared as a straightforward, conscious thought, and she just slowly realized. Seconds later, wouldn’t be able to weave that particular string of meaning in her mind so quickly and effortlessly only by herself. And, quite simply, sometimes she got guidance. She has been in a special contact with several Psychic Advisors, spiritual guides anyway, sometimes she felt something from one of them, and sometimes they referred to receive emotions or experiences transmitted from her. She just woke up with this thought, so she could not decide if it was the last remnant of her dream, or her first, conscious thought - or something else entirely.
Her sister, Sybil who knows her inside and out, wrote the profile for her - the eye of the beholder can describe the image what others see more clearly than she could describe herself by her own judgment. Yvette thought it is a funny plan, but she was quite happy with the results herself.
“I vowed to myself, I don’t want to meet a guy at the bar, I want the one who is supposed to teach me, love me, and grow with me. I wanted someone like my dad, a deep connection, and I would know him when I met him.” She told that to Sybil, Grace, and several of her guides as well, when talking about online dating.
She received 75 hits, 24 emails on the first day only, but no profiles that she could even reconcile with. No connection whatsoever.
She took a deep breath and did an advanced search, based on Taurus, her father’s zodiac sign. One profile was honest and forth-coming and the other profile: the pictures told a story. Yvette loved stories. This guy was the one - Yvette could feel the connection through the pictures. He seemed genuine and honest.
She did the unthinkable from her perspective and winked at them both. Although it was perfectly normal on a dating site, that members show their openness towards several other members privately - after all, they are there to get to know someone in real life, there is no such thing as cheating on someone you are not even together with… or is there? Yvette always kept her interactions to a minimum, and when she started messaging with someone, she immediately dropped communications with all other members. It was like from the very second that something clicked in her, she handled the applicant as the actual candidate for being the one, the one she could create that special, deep relationship she is looking for with.
But no matter how high she regarded her own instincts, how she tried to follow them, sometimes they did fail her. The guy he felt strong connection with, well, the first few messages were disappointing, their correspondence got less and less frequent, and faded into disinterest. The other guy with the storytelling pictures, well, he never replied.
That frustrated Yvette more than the other guy who turned out to be not interesting at all. That silence. The unknown is full of options, full of possibilities. The amount of possibilities is exactly equal to infinite at this point. How could someone bear that? She flew down to California to visit her girlfriends, but she kept checking her phone and prayed for the guy to finally show up.
“It was a foolish game - he might not revisit his profile ever again, for thousands of reasons. He lost interest. He met someone. Forgot his password and did not bother to reclaim access. Got busy with work” She would ask herself over and over again while expecting herself to provide the answers to the questions. It was like walking through a sunlit corridor, and trying to take in the view through the windows that are covered by venetian blinds. The image was somewhere there, behind, like a promise, but too distorted to become enjoyable. As you step closer to the window, either the sunlight blinds you, or the blinds themselves cover what is there to see.
Yvette knew she needed to get rid of this obsession quickly, otherwise she wouldn’t be able to enjoy the time spent with her friends. It’s not the same, not so careless, free and happy. It’s not her. She needed to lose that anchor to sail freely again, to be open for life, open for opportunities, and embrace the now.
After the mysterious guy’s profile picture kept popping up in her mind throughout a nice day of shopping in the mall, she had enough. She laughed at her friends, saying she needed to take care of something, and dashed out from the fashion store. She bought vintage letter paper, a nice, elegant envelope and proper wax for sealing.
She sat down with a nice warm latte in the coffee shop and wrote a letter to the powers that be, to the unseen forces who do the maintenance for the cogwheels of the universe, to the angels of Fate. She asked for an answer to her prayers, for the man to reply to her if she is the one to meet now, or peace of mind for herself, letting the guy fade into oblivion if he is never to answer.
She folded it gently, after blowing on the parchment to make sure the ink was dry. She felt much better already. She hugged her latte and warmed her fingers, looking around her. The bright and clean mall was full of people, they looked healthy and easygoing, young couples walking from a store to another, loners reading alone in the benches to pass the time or to wait for someone, elderly people enjoying a coffee, a grandfather playing chess with his grandchild on an iPad. A sudden cooling calmness descended upon Yvette. Everything seemed right and peaceful now, which she noted as a reassuring sign for the future. She faintly smiled and licked the foam of the latte from the corner of her mouth. She slightly blushed as she met the gaze of a young guy outside the café, chilling, with his back to the railing, and in her embarrassment, she slowly licked around her lips to the other direction as well - instead of looking away from him, which she would considered the decent thing to do. The guy, at the end of his teens, early twenties max, smiled at her faintly, and laid a little more back on the railing. Yvette, on the waves of her slight relief, which came from finishing the letter, thought for a playful moment: “What if I just give him what he is surely thinking of right now?” She sucked on the straw a bit, carefully avoiding eye contact with the guy, although she was indeed looking at him. Just not at his face.
She felt her calm harmony turning into a warming, peaceful joy inside her. She often felt a strong desire to serve, to give. She did not think about this to avoid feeling shame, but she knew that her ever long quest to find the man that is a perfect match for her is connected with this honest desire. She simply wanted to fulfill the desires of him, serve him, opening up to him, without the chance to experience disrespect, without humiliation, with peace of mind, and feeling accepted and cared for. This guy here, thin, but kind of handsome, if childishly, with his smooth face, they will surely never ever meet again. He would remember this for his entire life, oh, Yvette was so sure of that. Pleasing a man came naturally to her, their grateful satisfaction always glinted in their eyes, especially when she finished them off. It was easy, yet the men who got to feel her caring, praised her each time. And she could just offer this surprising gift now, like a goddess from another world, without any consequences. She swallowed the last drops of her warm latte, and wondered dreamily, if he makes a move.
Her phone vibrated, meaning her friends are done and messaged her. She cautiously packed away the letter and rejoined them.
Later, in the evening, they drove out to the coast with a few bottles of wine, enjoying the warm Californian breeze, sharing stories of love, sex and funny mischiefs and misunderstandings. After they finished the first bottle, Yvette rolled the envelope and put it inside. She threw the bottle into the ocean from the pier, as far as she could, feeling all the remaining weight drifting after the bottle from her shoulders.
They had a wonderful night from then on, and later they have fallen asleep all over each other, on their towels, covered in blankets...

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