It began with a note. I was sitting in my study reading up on Poe when upon the giant oak door there was a knock. The sound bounced around the room like a harpy in a cage before finding the sounds of the terrible rainstorm outside. The fire crackled and in my suede chair, I bade my butler enter. I knew it was my butler Jonathan because he is the only one on my staff that is not terrified by thunderstorms. It could not have been a guest because on a night such as this, they would have been mad to make the journey to my estate. Had this been the case, however, they would have seen a house full of servants quivering under their blankets at the sound of thunder. Such things are most embarrassing.
Jonathan carried a folded note with a wax seal that had the markings of an acquaintance from my curious past. I knew in my heart what it was before he even said a word so I stripped myself of my robe and stood naked by the fire.
“Sir, I can see everything,” my butler said.
“Better to be startled naked by the fire than to be startled in your pants, dear Jonathan.”
“Very wise,” he said and handed me the letter. It smelled of strawberry soap and there was only one person I knew who would dare pull such a stunt. It was she, the she that all men have. The untouchable entity who becomes an obsession, the addiction that infiltrates our dreams and hormones. And though we swear to travel to the ends of the earth to seek them out, we hope it will never come to that.
“It is she, isn’t it?” Jonathan asked.
“It is,” I replied.
Thunder crashed outside and a collective shriek bounded through my estate. I went over to my bookshelf and removed a book with a picture of an umbrella on it. Inside was a photograph of myself as a much younger man with a beautiful young lady by my arm. The sight brought me back to the days of true exploration before I had made a fortune in lewd magazines, back when a boy was just becoming a bigger boy. Now, though I am a man, I still think about that little boy stealing kisses and hand jobs from that little girl. Perhaps we were not so little and it is my imagination that tricks me the same way apple juice can look like urine.
As I exhaled long and slow, I knew this was going to end with pirates. It always does.
The letter I opened with the flat underside of my finger and read the words a few times before I uttered an obscenity under my breath.
“What does it say? Is it good news or bad?”
“A bit of both I’m afraid. All it says is ‘I’d like to see you.’”
Jonathan gasped and held up his arms. At that moment I knew he wished he was naked as well.
“Are you going to?”
“Might as well, I have nothing else to do. Go pack my things and also, could you make me a sundae? Vanilla ice cream with caramel, whipped cream, and a cherry?”
“Yes sir,” Jonathan said and bowed to leave. As his head was down he tried not to glance at my member but the temptation was too difficult to pass.
The next morning, I boarded my row boat fully prepared to paddle into the vast blue of the ocean. I knew not where to find her or how I would send word that she was being sought out. Instead, I would let fate tickle the armpits of my adventure.
As I turned to view my Oceanside manor, I could see windows being opened up where furious love making was taking place. But as the old saying goes, “when the master is away, we screw until our hair falls out.”
But furious bouts of love making were not on my mind just yet. Sure it had penetrated a thought or two, but such desires must wait. When I said that it started with a note, it was not entirely true because every adventure starts with the hint of a notion. Perhaps I knew this note would someday come and that she would want to see me and perhaps I was prepared. The note was merely a green flag waving in my face screaming at me to go.
W. Tyler Paterson is a charming dude who plays music with comedy band the Shock-Ts.