... ... ... IS THERE LIFE BEFORE LOVE? ... ... ...

Once she thought she loved. But young and distressed, she only let some feelings and a man to patch a hole, to stuff the void, to amuse her from her grief. More grateful to him than enamored. Although, at the end he did hurt her... by cheating. But she got over that. With cool and dignity. Forgave him not, yet, understood.

Since 18 they had been dating for six years. Whether she was his first she never asked, but apparently, as a male he needed more of experience. Seriously, she couldn't blame him for that. Insulted as a woman, yes. But so wise even then, or unaffected either, to just let him go, and... herself get away from New-York which held too much painful reminders, his betrayal least of all.

Nevertheless, to reinvent herself she aspired. And, in fairness, any man was currently unrequired in the picture, though, pretty foggy itself. She tasted what relationships are, and with that her exclusive in number practice had enough of comprehension. Could there be something more to it - she wasn't interested. Her mind, heart and body liked to be uninvolved and untouched. She really was self-sufficient, to the point sometimes she thought she could be an alien. Not shutting off from the world, from people or from love, but plainly having no inner demand and no Freudian clue why. As no fear of anything too.

Meanwhile, incidentally watching couples, in earnest as if from the Moon, she wondered how humans came to meet, came to want to get to know each other, came to establish deeper connection to long for more. Even when seeing a nice-looking face, nothing beyond that allured. No lovable internals to drag her attention. Well, as friends - let it be, many pleasant and amicable around. But finding someone a full favored package to get closer and more intimate with - the stars didn't align...

...Until, after seven years of her comfy and proud autonomy, the steel doors opened to view a man, in his turn stood transfixed to behold her, leisured against the wall. Hm, he as if waited for invitation, afraid to disturb her privacy, even though, he yet didn't know she oddly chose that elevator as a peculiar refuge from outside heat.

And so, the longer they gazed at each other - as time slowed down perceptibly - the more she melted into him, imaginatively. But when he finally dared to enter and politely asked to press a button, "What floor?" at the sound of his voice something harshly twirled in her gut as if on the rides. Involuntarily she bit her lip and was lost for a dumbly prolonged moment before softly answering, "Any."

There she read his light and mute amusement, spiced with nothing impure at all, but on the grounds of gallant respect, as also awkwardly captivated he eyed her. It delighted. But then the doors opened again and, a bit hesitating and wordlessly, he stepped out, on his way, receding into the distance, turning his head to peek at her once more. Crap.

Thus, disjoint with the stranger, but a piece of her invisibly got attached to him and followed. She, though, tried to reject the thought as a delusion. He's nobody. And no chances. Her mind actually was preoccupied with other things, more vital, to wit: her job to sink her in doubts whether it's enough already...

In this fashion uncounted minutes of her isolated idleness passed with no naive expectations pestering, as they disappeared along with the man... 'Till another shift of the elevator, a click and the same delectable emergence for her in the same divine awe of his. Taking her breath away to free a room for unsensed silly hope. This time he couldn't stay speechless, kindly joked whether she worked as a liftgirl. And simple as that their interaction grew from spellbound contemplation to sweet and canny verbal form.

She let out her thinking easily and magnetically, as if to his personal appeal, and for him to hang on her lips, willingly and loyally. Mesmerized by his cozy attention and affable attitude, ooh, she could venture in chatting for hours - what's absolutely against her nature, but she would, just to be backed by his comments, funny, clever, sincere. Yet, eternity itself had other plans that day, as well as them both, therefore, in somewhat ten more minutes, so terribly few but so valued, he excused himself to leave her wiping what used to be a rubble ice inside her chest - now a puddle on the floor.

For sweating blame the weather. But he... he was responsible for all her inside wetness, softness of her mind and pliability of her body... if only he took a chance to examine those right there... she'd give consent... or blatantly initiate her own exploring of his beneficial physical traits... Such were her several shameless attempts at fantasizing since then, poor sinful lass ablaze with lust, but next abruptly cut herself off. Because she didn't do carnality. For her anything sexual does engender and flourish strictly in love, one deep and conscious. Away or without that - no. Wrong, unwanted, forbidden.

And so, always sane and rational, but entertaining an idea of love at first sight - of course, NO! Rather rebelled hormones, damned burning hot weather, aboriginal needs. And all that no bother for her to harness, to escape, to expel. While his image would fade soon anyway... and she'd be back to unaffected peaceful reality...

Ha, so sure she's the master of her Universe, she never fancied that fate, co-operated with time, early in the game concocted a scheme, advanced and sustained. Whether preferred to disbelieve at first, but one can't resist being involved... into entirely different, true and unique story. And even though, at their second encounter technically he came to save her, but those were merely external issues. No struggling emptiness to fill it or be distracted from it by intricate means, when a great while ago handedly and instinctively she learned to live and share from the grand fullness of her healed and mature heart.

Thereupon, let the man be... as an enticing cherry on top of her build-up independent life. A single cherry, seemed just a transitory garnish, let it be... Then suddenly to become a winy, chocolate and coffee frosting altogether, securely covering and courteously embracing the days of hers... Holy cats, okay, let it be... And eventually total paradise-flavored impregnation of every slice of her existence and her essence... Entrusted, absorbed and gratified!