Meant to Be

Meant to Be

If it’s meant to be, it’ll be, it’ll be
Baby, just let it be

It had been a long night working at the bar. My feet were tired from the many rounds, my back sore from walking for 8 hours. Tips had been good, a nice addition to my savings. I called for a car service, excited to be done my shift, and able to see David. He had come into the pub 9 months previously with some colleagues. David was an older man, but very handsome with just enough grey to make him seem distinguished and successful. His thick American East-coast accent made my knees melt. Just the simple endearment of “Sweetheart”, the R sounding more like an A, made my body respond. I was smitten.

Doing a final walkthrough of the pub, I ensured all was good and headed for the door. The car sat at the curb, waiting to deliver me to my place of choice. I pulled on my feather down coat, securing it tightly against January’s bitter cold and ran out into the night. Swinging open the front passenger door, I asked the driver, “Mind if I sit up front? The back is so boring when it’s just me.”

He chuckled at this and said he would be happy for the company. I got in, slid on my belt, telling him the location of my drop off and away we went. The drive wasn’t long but lengthy enough for a conversation. The usual chatter took place, how the weather was awful, the local sports team was having a shit year, and how the shift had been. Just small talk, a passing of time.

At the last minute, I decided to stop and grab a bottle of wine, thinking it would be nice to enjoy a glass as I wound down and relaxed with David by my side. We stopped at a small place not far from my destination and I went inside, being as fast as possible, the chill of the night penetrating as soon as I opened the door.

I was away from the car for no longer than 5 minutes. The store was empty, except for me and the cashier, the bitter cold keeping everyone hunkered down at home. I returned to the car and slid into my previously occupied seat, replaced my seat belt and turned back around. Sitting forward I noticed that the windshield had fogged up. Thick white condensation clung to each window, drops of accumulated moisture primed and ready to run down each pane in rivulets.

Turning to the driver I asked, “How did you do that?”

“It wasn’t me,” he replied. “It must have been you because you’re so hot.”

I laughed at this thinking he was quite funny and very witty to come up with something so fast. His compliment removed the last bits of chill from the January air. He turned on the defrost and we sat and waited for the windows to give us a clear view once again.

While we waited, we talked. Turning towards him so I didn’t have to crane my neck, I noticed for the first time how handsome he was. A couple of years younger than David but holding that same authority that older men acquire. But he had a light to him that David didn’t possess, a jovial feel about him. When he smiled the lines on his cheeks were deep and well defined. I recognized the love of laughter there. A mask that reflected my own.

I felt comfortable with him in a way I didn’t usually feel with someone I’d just met. He was easy to talk to and asked great questions. He focused on you when you spoke and nodded as he listened. His eyes expressed his thoughts, a conversation of his own, written on his descriptive face. We talked for longer than it took for the windshield to be cleared, not noticing the fog was gone until many moments later. Checking the time, he cleared his throat and said, “I guess we can go now.” Feeling like a spell had been broken I sat forward in my seat and we continued our way. The air was charged with something I could not explain, something I didn’t have a name for. Not unpleasant, just…unique.

When we arrived at my destination and I walked inside, I felt like I was saying goodbye to a friend, someone I had known my whole life. It was a strange feeling, but as I made my way up the steps to David’s apartment, I shook it off, training my mind on the man before me, instead of the one behind.

David and I had a wonderful night. We shared the bottle of wine sitting in a jacuzzi tub, spent the remainder of that time touching and groping which eventually led to bed. The morning did not feel different than any other, but on that day my life would change.

Usually, David would have left before me, his schedule demanding his attention much earlier in the day. On this one, he was lounging in the living room and sat up quickly as I entered. The air between us became charged. Not with the usual sexual tension I had come to recognize. This man who was usually so confident and stoic seemed uncomfortable and anxious, out of sorts. This energy was foreign to us.

I sat across from him and waited, having an idea of what he was going to say. I had been broken up with before, I knew the signs. But this conversation did not go as I had thought, I was being given a choice. David had received a job on the other side of the world. Literally, 8000 km away. His time with me would end as the job would last 2 years, or I could come with him and leave my life behind. I needed time to think about it I told him and asked when he would leave.

He left ten days later. I wished him well at the airport, wiping tears away as I watched his form grow smaller as he passed through the international flight’s departure door. I couldn’t go, although I was tempted. The ability to travel and see a new part of the world held some appeal, but being his kept woman, sitting and waiting for him to return each day was not something I thought I could do. Also, I had to finish my school year and my degree. Our parting was amicable but bittersweet.

Six months later I was walking home from the afternoon shift. The bitter cold from January had given way to the warming of summer, the trees and spring flowers in full bloom. It was quite a long walk, but the fresh air would do me well. My shifts had been scattered now that school was finished, and the sun felt warm and inviting. I hadn’t started dating again since David left, not quite sure if I should or could move on. There wasn’t anyone I was interested in or I felt met what I considered the new standard.

I didn’t notice the impending storm until I heard the first clap of thunder. The reverberations through the sky echoed beneath my feet and I looked up to see black ominous clouds above me. They were swirling wildly and then came the first flash of lightning. I am not afraid of thunder and lightning, but the rain was coming down in sheets now, my clothing soaked through, hair pasted to my face in ropey strands. Just as I made it to the shelter of a pine tree, its boughs breaking the assault just enough, the sky opened and hail tumbled down.

The sound of the storm was deafening. I remember my grandmother once telling me that thunder was God, rearranging his furniture, but at that moment he could have been tearing his whole house down. As I stood under the tree, I thought of why I had chosen that day to walk home and why I hadn’t predicted the storm, the heat being too early for this time of year. Deciding to just wait it out, I leaned against the tree and watched the storm unleash its violence around me.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to stand under trees during a thunder-storm before?” A voice came through the cacophony. Looking to my left I saw a car, one I had seen in the past, and behind the wheel was the driver from many months before. A smile on his face, that low chuckle escaping his lips. He opened the front passenger door and told me to get in, then drove me home.

That driver became my Dominant a few years later, and my husband this last. I call him Mister K.

To see who else is talking about Fate for #wickedwednesday, click on the Badge.

For more tales about MrsK, see real-life, or for something kinkier take a peak at Fiction by MrsK.

Needing some visual inspiration? You might like Photography.

Recent Posts