Yes, the years have aged him; his hair grayed and thinning, his body tired and worn; however, his mind and memory remain sharp, clear. Daily, and eagerly, he thrusts his brain into various cognitive challenges; Mathematics, English Grammar, Poetry and certain technical interests, he especially loves writing, and recording and creating audio and video projects. Currently in the learning curve for 3-D Animation, one day, he breathes surreal life into his written works. Now retired he is without reasons to rush, and engages all concerns with selective pause; clarity is requisite, and prior to moving forward he must comprehend theory and technique, he must actively demonstrate competency. One morning, as he stares into the pages memory thrusts him into yesterday, to his old college town, and a moment he well remembers; for it was then that he met them…
Spring 1978 and upon waking, Antonio Estefan Rodello enjoys a good stretch, he slept well and lived inside a wonderful dream. He dreams in color and often flies. Most times, his dreams confuse him, they attach people and things that are without relationships in real life. Peering out the window, the April morning is bright and birdsong fills the air. Flowers bloom and waters rush inside brooks, streams, creeks, and rivers. The air quality in Cortland, New York receives high scores, and its community quiet, clean and friendly. Here, springtime is especially beautiful; and this has been his home for four years. The locality boasts the highest elevation east of the Mississippi, and because of this fact it is nicknamed Crown City. In one month Antonio completes his Senior year at S. U. N. Y.; and subsequent to graduation he wonders whether he would make this place his home.
Stepping into the early afternoon T. Rode, as his friends refer to him, meets the day with zeal, with great expectancy, and a love for something that he has found. The day is lovely, the sun nearing its apex, and the winds lightly brush him. About Noon on most Saturdays he walks to a local store. Today his purchase is unusual for most guys. You see, lately, the articles he reads are written by a female Psychotherapist; her works published by a magazine that expressly sells to women. Is the young man mentally deranged? Absolutely not. Certainly his psychological profile places him within the mean for what is modern day normality. Why then does he read her articles? His reasons are two-fold: 1. The Woman is immeasurably intelligent; and 2. Let us say that the matter regards educational pursuits?
Okay, to be clear: The Psychotherapist writes about sexual behaviors from a female perspective. She asserts that female homosexuality is far better, experientially more pleasurable than female heterosexuality. She superbly discusses the matter, and in detail: the professional is clear, concise, and deliciously constructive. As he leans down the long winding hill, the young man bursts with anticipatory pride.
Yes, a wonderful day it is, and T. Rode hurries to buy the monthly issue of SheCute. As he crosses Main Street to the opposite sidewalk, he takes his usual stroll to the corner of Court Street. From the cross corner Bev and Ginny, two students he knows, walk toward him. Meeting, they share smiles, and hugs and T. Rode fully enjoys these ladies. They always welcome him, treat him as though he were family. “What’s up T?” Bev asks as she tightly tucks the bag beneath her arm. “Yeah, Rodey, where’re you going?” The twinkles inside Ginny’s eyes touch his tickle place.
Displaying her usual playful manner, Ginny sweetly shoulder rubs him; his face fills with light, and T. Rode rubs her back. He loves her playfulness, her tenderness, and the lady knows it. “I’m heading to the store, the one you just left.” “For what?” The girls speaking with one voice. “Uhh, something that I look forward to each month.” “No big deal.” He shrugs, hoping to distract his friends. Never could he tell them that he reads a magazine that sells to women-no wayy!
“Hey Bev, Ginny, wait up!” Looking to the voice, the young man’s eyes widen. Hurrying out the store rushes the woman and her young daughter. Wow! As he stares up the sidewalk T. Rode once more witnesses a familiar stroll, OUCH! A bird whistles on the fly by; and who could blame it. The sensuous eyes, the bushy, curly, auburn hair framing a well formed head, strong jaw, and lovely chin. Oh, and how his eyes bend around her well formed lines, curvy. Did she step out of a dream and then into his life? How is it that such a creature could daily share his path leaving him blinded to her presence? Nothing of this woman seems left to chance, and everything of her is absolutely gorgeous! Sexy!
The affected man could hardly calm his thinking. To say that T. Rode is attracted to this person, is to lack in expression. Additionally, he is a solitary man; the quiet type, and soon to graduate from college; nevertheless, and seemingly, she (wittingly) compels him: further, what the hell is he going to do, now?
Again, here they meet at the corner, ever the same corner? He wonders how such occasions occur, without planning. “Hello,” her voice serene, her smile penetrating his eyes. She exudes intelligence, confidence, and oh, yes, cunning. “Hey,” T. Rode trying not to appear, well, as he already appears? “Where you going, man?” She has a way of speaking to him as though she has known him for a long while. “He’s going to the store for something special.” Ginny smartly remarks, giving T. Rode the “I know you” look. “Something special, what?” “Lola Lovely” seizes his everything with the question; her smile melting inside him. Strangely: A dull sharpness courses his veins, stabs his mind, while strumming his heart. “Oh, just something I like.” “Oh, yeah; and what do you ‘like,’ man?” She sees through him. He is unable to hide. She owns him. He likes it. He likes her.
“What’s your name?” Changing the subject, seeking usable information, T. Rode inserts male posture, exerts power, demonstrating confidence. Women prefer confident men, strong and protective men. “Why don’t you come with us?” Bev pleasantly suggests, although something of her voice, demeanor and eyes, say, “You-are-‘hers.’” “Where’re you going?” asks T. Rode, intuitively knowing the answer to his question. “Koshka’s house.” Until now, he was left without her name; and as you recall, he asked. Koshka: He knows that the name means Cat in Russian, and for her an excellent choice. He likes her name as much as he likes the woman. This event appears as something that has been planned for a long time; and now, finally, realized.
“Koshka’s house?” “Where’s that?” Somewhat uncertain that he should accept the invitation; coding: T. Rode calculates the odds; for, he senses that something is up, but then nothing risked, nothing gained.
Pacing closely to Mommy’s leg, the little one is attentive yet remains quiet. She is bi-racial and exceptionally beautiful. With dark eyes, hair, and creamy skin, the child is breath-taking; and something about her touches this man, warms his heart. Oh, please, be advised that his feelings specifically dedicate selection. They never permit allure to just any person; and especially children. Yes, such a beautiful day it is; and as the group of friends talk, laugh and toe touch Court Street, T. Rode glances at the child; already, he knows what that means.