Reminds Me of You

       Sommer Marsden

      ‘I thought that was you.’

      I looked up from my glass of Cabernet and my heart stopped. OK, not really stopped, but it did do that floppy thing it does that reminds me of a fish flailing on land.

      ‘Michael,’ I said, barely able to push his name out.

      He sat on the high bar stool beside me and other parts of my body responded this time. I shifted in my seat and tried to take a deep breath to regulate my pulse.

      ‘How are you, Claire?’ He put his big hand on mine and my breath froze in my lungs. Five years had passed since we parted ways and somehow his touch still rocked me.

      ‘Fine.’ It came out in a near whisper. I managed to remember my manners. ‘And you?’

      ‘Well, I was just thinking about you the other night,’ he said.

      ‘Why?’ I blurted it before I could stop myself.

      ‘I was travelling. The ocean reminded me of you. And a bout of … stress release led to more thoughts of you.’ He cocked one dark eyebrow and the stirrings inside me turned me inside out. I wasn’t just shifting now, I was wet.

      ‘I see.’ It was the cleverest thing I could think to say.

      ‘So what about you? You still with tall, dark, and boring?’ He waved at the bartender, pointed to my wine and held up two fingers. As usual, his demand was met with an inclined head and a hurried step.

      ‘Be nice,’ I said. ‘Paul wasn’t so bad. He loved me.’

      ‘I loved you too.’

      ‘But a lot of us was … sex,’ I finished weakly. I’d been wooed by a more stable, ‘normal’ relationship five years ago. I’d die before I admitted that within six months I was crawling out of my skin. A kind, loving man was wonderful, but when you’re a bad girl, turned on, and you wanted – no, craved – a spanking and couldn’t get one, it was maddening.

      ‘How terrible,’ he said, utterly straightfaced. Then his face crinkled as he laughed.

      When Michael laughs, women’s panties practically dissolve at the sound.

      ‘You never answered my question, Claire.’ He traced my fingers with one fingertip and a shiver worked through me. My mind went blank. Question? What question?

      ‘Paul …’

      ‘Oh, Paul!’ Then I let out a high little laugh as if I’d utterly forgotten who Paul was. ‘No. We’re not together any more. He was nice. Great. But there was something missing.’

      Michael accepted our drinks from the bartender, laid a bill on the bar and leaned in to whisper