He laid there watching the stars, thinking only 200 miles away was the woman he was to marry. The ring was in his pocket, the question all laid out in his mind, now all he had to worry about, was what Patricia's answer would be. That was, what was so agonizing, if only she were a biker bitch, not a woman of culture, and means. She said, she loved him, said that things like that didn't matter to her. Why couldn't he get it out of his head? She longed for the adventure of the open road, and he longed for a place to call home once in a while. It seemed like a match made in heaven.
A nagging feeling inside of him, kept bringing up objections, hadn't they planned it out already? They knew each others likes and dislikes, been together over a year and nary a problem. Why was he hesitating? What was that screaming inside of him? The crushing pressure on his chest? Everything was perfect, wasn't it? He lay back against his back on the cold ground. Tomorrow he would see her again. Everything would be ok then.
After he wished on a shooting star, that his soul mate would accept his offer, he finally drifted off to sleep. He tossed and turned under his blanket, scattered images seemed to haunt his sleep.Then he felt her right there with him. He didn't need light to know it was her. "Patricia? How did you know? Make love to me, my sweet lady." Their love making was more spectacular than he had ever experienced, as if the heavens themselves knew these two were meant for each other.
Touching her soft skin, hearing her moans as he caressed her breasts, only enticed him further. His fingers played with her hot mound, tickling her to heights of orgasm that made him jealous. Her nipples tasted like the sweeter than the sweetest of honeys. As she reached down and stroked his manhood, he could feel little sparks, making him so hard he could hardly wait.
Teasing her little love button, with his hard shaft, he entered her slowly, needing to savor every moment. The hot, soft, velvety insides, rubbed him with every loving stroke. Her kisses, sent him to his heights. When the final moment came and they both screamed into the night in unison. Holding her tight, he finally fell into a peaceful slumber.
When the golden light of dawn came to his eyes, he saw her rise. Her back to him, her tattoo so alluring. "Tattoo?" He thought. Patricia never had a tattoo. Rubbing his eyes he saw her clearly, hair as jet black as the wings of a raven. Her wings, were the glory of her body. He paused, wings, somehow even in his sleep deprived brain that registered as wrong.
When she said that he knew what had happened, knew with a cold fear than raced through his veins. She began to disappear, slowly melding into the morning light.
He cried out, "NO!" trying to grab her, to hold her. The morning light claimed her, no matter what he tried. He gathered his things and raced for his Harley. Starting it, he raced out of the meadow, and onto the open road. Racing against time, racing against death itself, he made it to her house in record time.
Banging on the door, to no avail, breaking in a window and climbing in, he raced to her bedroom. There she was as beautiful as an angel. He scooped her up, into his arms, holding her close. Water filled his eyes, as he looked down on her face so pale. Patricia's eyes opened, and she smiled at him. He had to lean down to catch her words. "At least we had last night. My love." Patricia said. Then a deep sigh as her eyes closed for the last time. Tears poured down his face, as he grabbed for the phone.
The Dr's. never did bring his Patricia back to him, never let him hold her again. Whenever he thought of her, in the years that followed, he remembered only the night he made love for the last time to his angel.
