From Viveka Portman
One night in Fremantle…
We met in the not-so-hallowed halls of the Metropolis Fremantle Nightclub, sixteen years ago.
I was standing at the bar drinking a bourbon and coke, trying to avoid the attentions of an unattractive middle age man in a cheesecloth shirt, when someone caught my eye. Dressed in a blue and white striped shirt, with shoulder length golden curls – Mark literally took my breath away. Bourbon unfinished, I turned to face him and said the only thing I could.
‘You have really beautiful hair.’
I’m good with words like that.
I don’t remember what he said next, but I think he bought me another drink and we went for a dance. When it was time to leave, we kissed and Mark asked for my phone number, and I gave it. Not really expecting him to call. He lived in Rockingham, and I lived in Claremont. I was a university student and he was boilermaker apprentice who spent all his spare time surfing. It seemed we were worlds apart.
He did call, about a week a later, and asked me to the movies.
My friends and family watched with interest whether this surfy boy from Rockingham would work out. I’m sure some of them even had bets.
I have always followed my gut instinct, and most guys didn’t even get past the first date with me. But not Mark, there was something intrinsically desirable about his quiet composure, his shy smile and his open hearted generosity. With his long curling hair and sandy-sea-blue eyes, I found myself falling for him. Though we never once uttered the words.
Our relationship began in earnest and continued that way for six months.
Then out of the blue, we broke up. Neither of us had ever had a long term relationship before and Mark feared we were getting ‘too serious’ and thought perhaps we should have a break. Incensed, I said I wasn’t a toy to be picked up and put down. We were apart for about five months.
I was miserable, I can’t really explain it, but life felt wrong without Mark by my side. I tried to meet other people, but no one and nothing seemed fit like he did.
As this was before the days of texting, I eventually sent him a long angsty letter explaining how I felt.
There’s a lot to be said about well timed, long angsty letters, because shortly after, he rang, and I discovered with much relief he’d missed me just as much. We’ve been together ever since.
If God is listening, I’d like to thank him for Mark, my companion, my friend and my rock. There’s nothing in this world I can’t tell him, and there is no one I’d rather spend my life with. Our lives are hectic now, with work, children and writing all vying for our time. Yet as I grow older, our relationship more aged and worn, I relish even more our time together and the magical friendship and love we share.
Viveka Portman is an author of romantic erotic fiction, and has a fascination about times past. With a bachelor degree in anthropology, Viveka weaves historical fact into fiction to create lively, realistic and thrilling tales, sure to titillate and engage the most discerning reader. Considered an upstanding member of society, Viveka does not make a habit of eavesdropping, gossiping or making vulgar displays of impropriety — except, that is, in writing.
Viveka’s erotic historical romance The Secret Diary of Lady Catherine Bexley, tells the story of a proper, well-brought up lady who wants nothing more but to feel like a woman…