Menu

Gwen Masters - Guest Author

Carrie White, Freelance Writer & Reviewer

For more information about Gwen Masters, please visit:

Website: http://www.gwenmasters.net/
MySpace: http://www.myspace.com/gwenmasters

Here is your teaser ;)

Ronaldo and Angela have known each other online for a very long time...now it's time to make that online romance a reality.

 

Angela held the letter in her hands. It was long and rambling, the kind of letter she didn’t often get from Ronaldo. His communication was usually confined to small missives fired off when he had the time, which wasn’t often. But he made the time for this.

She folded the letter to put it away, then found she had to read it again.

I can’t explain what these feelings are...

Angela took a deep breath. She smiled. The smile felt foreign, but it also felt good so she decided to keep it there for a while.

She wandered through her little apartment and thought about him, about what it would be like to have him in the hallway, right here. How broad would his shoulders look between the walls? How tall would he be? Though she knew Ronaldo, she had never met him. She had seen pictures of him but that was nothing like seeing him in the flesh.

A chance meeting over the Internet brought them together. He was struggling. So was she. They found a common thread on a message board, then even more commonality when they began to talk one-on-one. They discovered oddly parallel lives, the same trials and the same joys, two thousand miles away from each other. She found herself spending more time on the computer than she should have, because just beyond that screen, Ronaldo was there.

One night she heard his voice. She talked with him on the phone for hours. She listened to his fears and his secrets. His desires were something they did not discuss. He was polite as a monk.

Over time those conversations became more comfortable. They became friends. She laughed at his jokes and worried about his family. She told him things about her that no one else knew. She was lulled into comfort by the easy roll of his accent, that blending of the local and the foreign. A bit of California lilt and a bit of his Brazilian homeland, melding into one unique sound that caressed her ear through a telephone line.

Life happened. They both got busy. Their time on the phone decreased and one day she realized that it had disappeared almost completely.

Then came the letter. All that time, she had been on Ronaldo’s mind.

So the question that I really want to ask but am afraid to is -what is the situation with the men in your life now?

Angela read the words and her heart leapt into her throat. Her stomach began to quiver. “Funny you should ask that,” she said out loud, and then she laughed. For the first time in years, she was single. And for all the difficult things her ex-boyfriend had turned out to be, at least now she could say he had impeccable timing in dumping her.

So she told Ronaldo, she told him everything just as she always had. His relief was strong enough to be felt over the miles. He lamented that he was flying to Brazil the next week. His homeland. His family was there. He suggested that he cancel the trip altogether, that he come to see her. He wanted to see her. But more than that, he just wanted her.

“If only I had known you would come into my life,” he lamented.

“It’s your family. It’s going home,” she reasoned. “But I will be here when you get back.”

They made love that night over the telephone. It was a series of words and suggestions that became a blur of sensation. Angela was so caught up in the moment that she didn’t realize how far across that line they had stepped until he murmured, “Come, and I will come with you.”

And they did.

The next day she looked Brazil up on the map. It was in South America, a place she had never been. They were at war there, weren’t they? War with everything, but the only things that came to mind were drug lords with big houses and Lear jets and fast boats that made their way up the Mexican coast. Brazil hosted the Amazon. She spent a whole day reading about it, about the River basin and the favelas and the political unrest. She was interested because Ronaldo was a part of it but more importantly, it was a part of Ronaldo.

He was in that country right now. But he would be back, and she would be here. In the meantime she had his letters, those finely printed pages that she had folded so many times, they had permanent creases that pulled the notes closed when she wasn’t holding them in her hands. She had those letters and those memories of his voice rolling over the phone line. It would have to be enough.

When the phone rang late at night two days later, the last thing she expected was Ronaldo’s voice. It was filled with laughter and that usual glimmer of mischief.

“Are you having a good time?” she asked with smile.

“Open your door,” he said.

Angela swung around in her chair and looked at the window. A shadow fell across it. Her heart leapt into her throat, just as it had when she read that letter. She stared at the shadow, at the broad swath it cut across the blinds.

“Angela. Please,” he said softly.

His skin was bronze under the porch light. He was shorter than she expected. His eyes were darker than they had seemed in the pictures. His hair wasn’t quite as long and his smile wasn’t quite as broad, but it was Ronaldo. He slowly flipped the cell phone closed and slipped it into the pocket of his soft leather jacket. His eyes never left hers.

“You’re in Brazil,” she said helplessly.

“I couldn’t stay away,” he replied.

She took a step back, taking it all in. He was here. He was on her porch. He wasn’t in Brazil. Logic had taken a stroll, and Angela felt dizzy.

He smiled down at her. He stepped into the doorway without asking. Why would he? Then his arms were around her. The phone dropped from her hand to the floor. Her first thought was how soft his hair was under her fingertips, then how soft his lips were, how good he smelled...

“Ronaldo.” Her voice was a whimper, and the pressure of his arms around her was almost suffocating.

“I took a chance that you would be alone,” he said, speaking quickly, as if he were afraid. “I hoped you were. Are you?”

“Yes...”

“I know it’s crazy. I know it is. It was a crazy move, a crazy gamble. Crazy. I’ve never done anything like this before in my life. Changing all my plans...never.” He pulled back just enough to look into her face. He brushed away a strand of hair that had fallen over her eyes and Angela thought inanely how warm his hands were, and were all men from below the equator that warm? Was it a part of their makeup?

Ronaldo looked into her eyes. “You always have been the exception to my rules.”

Angela gently disentangled herself from his arms. Her hand stayed on his shoulder, as if he might disappear. She closed the front door and looked at him in the wan light that fell through the blinds.

“Come to bed with me,” she said.

He linked his fingers with hers. A furious blush crept up her face, and she was glad he couldn’t see it. He hadn’t been here five minutes. She wanted him to come to bed?

To be continued...

~~~~~~