Saturday 31 August 2013

A Close Match - Author's Notes

A Close Match
Have you ever met your doppelganger? Your double? I’ve met several people who have. And it’s happened to me, too. But the difference in my case was that the double was a man, not another woman. We were the same height, but his hair was shorter and, of course, he shaved.

Everyone remarked how similar we were, and began to wonder if we were related in some way. I checked: we weren’t. There was no sexual attraction between us; I was already married, anyway, and he had a girlfriend.

I met this guy over thirty years ago, and I often had a fantasy about what might have happened if we had been related, and if we had both been single when we met.

Here's the storyline:

Paula is just leaving a bar with her sister one evening, and glances at herself in a dark mirror. But it isn't a mirror, and she's not looking at herself; it's a window, and she's looking at her double. Paula looks again: she's wearing lipstick, but her double has stubble. He's a guy.

When she meets him again, people comment on their close resemblance. She's sexually inexperienced, but she falls for him big-time.

Why does her control-freak father prevent her from seeing him? And what is the dark family secret held by her grandmother? How can she escape from her miserable home life to be happy with this gorgeous man, her soul-mate?

So that you don’t get confused, I compiled a Family Tree associated with this story, and you can see it at this link.

And if you should ever meet your double, you must write and tell me about it!

SAMPLE EXTRACT

Gemma, Tony’s girlfriend and co-host at the party, had drawn the curtains in one of the other downstairs rooms and put on some slow music on a CD player. This had obviously been planned, for she had already prepared a printed sign which she stuck on the door: “Smooch Room”. And she began trying to encourage couples to enter her newly-established dance floor. She was trying to make the noisy drinks reception room less crowded.
One couple had already availed themselves of this new facility and began dancing slowly in the darkened room.
“It’s a bit early for that, isn’t it?” I asked. “It’s only three o’clock in the afternoon.”
Just then, the second track was starting on the CD player. It was The Mamas and The Papas singing their old sixties hit, California Dreamin’.
“I just love that, don’t you?” he turned to me.
“As a matter of fact, I do.” And I wasn’t just saying that. I meant it. “Shall we? Just this one?”
We put our drinks on a tray at the side.
“O.K., then,” he said, grasping my hand and leading me into the centre of the room. The rugs and carpet had already been taken up ready for dancing.
He held me at the waist, and our cheeks touched. Our bodies swayed and our feet shuffled back and forth in time with the slow tempo. My arms rested on his, my hands on his shoulders. I had never been so close to a man for a long time.
“Do you enjoy dancing?” he asked.
“I never get the chance.”
“We can dance as long as you like in here.”
And we continued until the end of the track. The other couple left the room; without thinking, we remained and danced through the next track.
“Are you all right with this?” he asked.
“I’m very all right with this, thanks,” I whispered and, spontaneously, I kissed his cheek.
“Good.” And he moved his face away, and our lips met. His tongue explored inside my mouth; my hands moved to the back of his neck, and I felt my body close against his. When his tongue withdrew, I took this as an invitation for mine to push its way in between his lips.
We continued rocking lightly, side to side, as our faces were locked together.
It was gorgeous. I didn’t want it to end. He said we could stay here as long as we wanted.
And then it happened. I felt him growing, hardening, in his groin. I pushed myself against it, encouraging it. It thrilled me.
Instinctively, he moved away. “Sorry,” he said.
“What for?” I asked. “Come back. Please.”
He obeyed, and our hands returned to their places on each other.
I kissed him. “I should be flattered that I can do that to you.”
“Don’t tease me, please,” he said.
“I’m not teasing you,” I whispered. “Aren’t you enjoying it?”
“Yes, of course I am.”
“Well, then....” I sensed that I had complete control of the situation.
“I don’t want to have an accident. You understand?”
If he wanted to rub himself against me, I certainly wouldn’t object. But there might be other people around. “All right, Dan. Shall we go outside for a while? We can always come back here later. Is that O.K.?”

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