I had the most wonderful dream last night. It was about an Australian sailor I knew for a week. It was 1976, the bicentennial, and I lived on Ocean View Avenue in Norfolk Va. I lived mostly in cutoff jeans and halter tops, or bathing suits, as the beach was my second home. With my baby oil mixed with iodine, I would head to the beach every chance I got. The apartment building I lived in was filled with a wild assortment of characters, and my friends and I spent many a night setting and talking, watching the sun come up. Life was a party somewhere, a bottle of Annie Green Springs, and one of those funny little cigarettes that made you giggle like a lunatic.
One of my neighbors was from Australia. He was stationed at the Navel base, and when all the ships converged on Norfolk, for the big celebration, his buddies from the HMS Hobart, came to visit and party with him. I remember sitting in the doorway of my apartment, sketching whatever, when a young man approached me and asked me a question. I shook my head, stood up, and said, I don't quite understand you. He repeated the question. I moved him over a little and said, What was that? Then, very slowly, he said he was asking me to join the party they were having downstairs. Oh, I said. Cool.
When I got there, everyone else and his brother was there, but my eyes locked for second with the bluest eyes I had ever seen. During that brief moment I felt something akin to an electric shock run through me. I searched for those eyes again, but couldn't locate them. I returned to my apartment eventually, and then the two dorky boys from apartment 6 came up to visit. High as hell, they just sat there and annoyed me. Harmless they were, but pretty well fried. How can I get rid of these assholes, I wondered? Telling them to leave was pointless. So, I took them down to meet the visitors from down-under. Slowly I began to slip away, and when I turned, there he was. The beautiful man with the blue eyes. We just stared at one another. I have never felt such intense desire in my life. Before or since. We talked, and laughed, both waiting for the night, when we could be alone. No flirtation, no discussion, we already knew. I will not describe the intimate details, as they are too precious to share. But, suffice to say, that night I became truly a woman, not involved in a wrestling match, but dancing a slow and sensuous tango with a man who knew a woman's body. I was in awe.
We saw each other a few times afterwards, and then the bicentennial week was over, and the HMS Hobart was ready to leave port. He called me from the ship, saying he didn't know what to say. I said, Remember me, and hung up.
I don't know if he did or not, as I never heard from him again. I will never forget him. I carry no torch, or ever expect to hear from him. That whole week is tucked away in my memory, encased in golden light, the coming together of a man and woman consumed by desire, and quenching that desire with no ties, or expectations. Just the true joy of giving pleasure and receiving.
And, sometimes, if I'm lucky, I dream about that magical time, and awaken with a secret smile, remembering the sound of the ocean waves, and the magic man with the amazing blue eyes.