No Goodbye

No Goodbye
 Ricardo

As I kissed the stunning brunette who had accompanied me, I couldn’t help but think about how strange the whole situation was. But the fact that I actually wanted a woman who wasn’t Alicia — that was such a rare thing for me that I wanted to savor it for as long as possible.

I pulled my mouth from hers, my hand tangled in her hair as I breathed in her scent. If there was one thing that had captivated me ever since we’d started talking, it was that unique fragrance that clung to her — a scent I now realized came from her soft, silky curls.

I kept breathing her in as I ran my fingers gently over her scalp, realizing just how sensitive that spot was for her. My other hand trailed down her neck and shoulders, never letting go of her hair.

I kissed the corners of her eyes, moved down her cheeks, and finally reached those red, delicious lips again — feeling her sigh of contentment against my mouth as I drew her tongue into mine with growing desire.

She clung to me, soft moans escaping her lips, fueling my arousal and the craving to have her completely.

I slipped the straps of her dress down her shoulders, and soon she was naked before me. She mirrored my actions, removing my clothes piece by piece and leaving them scattered from the door to the large, comfortable bed of the suite where I had checked in earlier.

Before I could lay her down, she took control, pushing me back with a delicate but determined touch until I was the one beneath her.

I let her take the lead as she pressed kisses across my chest, her mouth moving lower — until I caught her by the hair, gently but firmly, to show her I didn’t want her to go further. I guided her back up so our lips could meet again.

We parted only long enough to grab protection, and soon I was completely inside her.

The sex was intense and unhurried — I wanted to make it last, to stretch that moment as much as possible. Being with her exceeded every expectation, and I gave myself entirely to the rhythm of it, to her.

But the feeling of satisfaction faded surprisingly fast, and minutes later I was already pulling her close again, wanting more of the intoxicating sensations her body brought against mine — her taste, her warmth, the pull of her mouth.



When I woke the next morning, the first thing I did was reach for the soft, warm body of the woman with whom I’d spent an incredible, unexpected night — something that hadn’t happened in a long time.

The chemistry between us had been explosive. We’d made love several times, in every possible way, and my body was already craving more.

To my disappointment, the space beside me was empty. I thought she might be in the bathroom and lie there for a few minutes, listening for any sign that I was right. But the complete silence of the room quickly told me the truth — she was gone.

My head throbbed, a predictable consequence of the absurd amount of alcohol I’d had. Still, I dragged myself out of bed and checked the bathroom, just to confirm what I already suspected: she had really left.

“Ungrateful,” I muttered to no one but the empty room.

She had left without even saying goodbye. A mix of irritation and frustration welled up inside me. I didn’t know a single thing about her — not even her name. All I could remember were those honey-colored eyes, bright and alive, and that red mouth I couldn’t get out of my head.

I searched the room like a fool, hoping to find some trace, some forgotten token — a note, an earring, a lipstick mark on the mirror. Nothing. She had vanished as if she’d never been there at all.

How could I have had one of the best nights of sex in my life and not even know the name of the woman who’d made it happen?

I ended up laughing to myself at the absurdity of it. It was the kind of thing I would usually do — disappear without a trace — and now, ironically, I was getting a taste of my own medicine.

But exhaustion soon won over frustration. I lay back down and slept for hours — a deep, dreamless sleep. When I finally woke, it was already mid-afternoon. Hungry, I showered, ate a quick meal, and started packing my things.

Before leaving, I took one last look around the room. Nothing. No sign of her. Still, the image of the brunette — those honey eyes, those red lips — stayed vivid in my mind. Just thinking of her made my body react, as if she were still there, within reach.

I sighed, grabbed my suitcase, and walked out. But deep down, I knew — she wasn’t the kind of memory that fades easily.