"Darkness and bitter cold surround me

There is no easy escape..

He comes for me when least expected

Yet, I cannot see his face.

I feel his warmth and firmness in me

But do I imagine this with disgust?

I want him, yet  I loathe him

I am alone... yet desire his taste."

                                

Julia could not rid her mind of those eight lines of poetry. She had written them more than ten years ago, after her first encounter with him. The words repeatedly echoed in her head and injected her body with relentless unfulfilled passion. She began to wonder who this man was, who continually invaded her thoughts with fear, desire, and utter disgust.

 

Daily memories of him delighted her, but she was terrified of his true identity. She hated him, yet longed to be with him again.

 

"This is absurd," she thought to herself.  "Absolute nonsense! What in the hell is wrong with me?"

 

Yet, the thought of this faceless man excited her.  She had to know who he was, and when he would come to her again.  But she could never tell anyone about him.  People would think she was delusional. They would tell her that no such man exists.  Little did they know that she had felt his touch,  kissed his lips, and heard him speak to her for many years.  She would have to be cautious with these secrets. This man was more real to her than her own husband, and that thought terrified her.

 

As the months passed, she had become more aware of his impending arrival, for he had left her clues that only she could sense.  An occasional scent of his musky skin would be carried by the damp sea air and surround her with past memories of him. Those memories ignited her and rekindled her hidden passion for him.  His brand of musk cologne was always intoxicating to her, allowing her to remember the sweetness of their times together. Sometimes his scent would drift from out of nowhere to pierce her thoughts with fresh desire for him, even when she was sleeping with her husband.

 

This faceless man's touch was such a delectable memory, like no other hands in her lifetime.  He was the only man who could rile her senses into oblivion and twist her mind into blind madness, with just the touch of his hands on her begging body.

 

He had no name, no face, but she knew him intimately.

 

She desperately wanted him.