Posted by: davesnewadventure | May 31, 2007

The Other Woman

Dave’s New Adventure: Adventures from the South American Continent: 02-2007
The Other Woman


The glare of the sun´s glint off the wing pylon flashed in my eyes as I squinted into the vast horizon of a pale blue and white sky. Beneath me, through the mists and clouds were the roads, farms, towns, and cities of midwest America. I was westward bound to Houston, Texas, where I connected to a flight to Lima, Peru. I´d returned back to where this mad adventure started, five years ago.

It happened again. The Other Woman seduced me. I was off to meet my mistress, a beautiful, sexy, flashy, and very dangerous lady, who was responsible for most of my breakups with lovely, faithful, and caring women, all of whom were, as a good female friend put it, “beautiful, cute, and wholesome. Good catches.” Yes, they were and are still good catches, but they were not for me. Like a fisherman, all I did was catch and release, only to go back to the Other Woman, time after time again.

Like most affairs, being with the Other Woman is akin to a drug addiction. It´s simply too difficult to give her up. She fulfilled a part of me which craved like an insatiable animal. She fulfilled my lust to wander, and she did it in ways which surprised me day to day. Everyday was different with her, and her unpredictability colored my experiences with a spice that set me on fire. One day, I´d wake up with her bright smile like the naked sunlight through the panels of my tent. Another, it would be her lusciously warm, playful, and sensuous touch on my body while skinny dipping in the tropical waters off Costa Rica. Or it´d be a wet, hot kiss in the warm rainfall in soaked clothes in the Amazon Cloud forest. Her grip on me was an embrace never forgotten, and forever savoured.

Yet, like all things treasured, to be with her often came at a tremendous price. Once, in a flare of insanity, she had a bullet with my name on it in the highlands of Guatemala. Another time, she bared her teeth, ready to kill me as I swam, unaware of her crocodile tears in a pond in the Peten jungle. And once, she damn near succeeded in throwing me off a bottomless chasm, high up in the mountains of the Andean Cordillera.

She´s as svelte as the wind, and her hair swept my face like a laughing breeze. Her beauty glowed bright as the full moon on a deep, dark night. She´s a fierce as a Puma, and just as powerful. Her eyes are only for me, because otherwise, she´d have finished me off long ago. God knows she´s had plenty of opportunities to do that.

Some friends said I was insane to go back to her. Others stated their admiration at my folly for going back to face such a woman. Other´s simply accepted it as my destiny. As for me, as I sat on the plane, I remembered the day I first met her, five years ago.

At the sight of her, for the first time in my life, I shook like an epileptic. Now, I´ve dated many lovely, beautiful women before, but her, she was different. The moment I met her, I knew she was dangerous, even deadly, but I didn´t fear that. As for beauty, she surpassed the beauty queens, and beauty, to me, was a dime a dozen. I tended to ignore such things. No, the attraction was far more powerful than that. The chemistry was borderline explosive between us. There was an allure about her, a beckoning that took me by the heart, soul, and mind, and she sucked me in so quickly, and so far, that it was too late when I realized that I was in too deep. When I shook that day, it was my conscious trying in vain to snap me out of her hypnotic stare, screaming, “get out! Get out while you still can!!!”

But it was too late. Like the fly in the Venus flytrap, the moment I landed was when all hope of escape left me. Yet, like the Venus trap, she slowly enveloped me. At first, she was gentle, and took me by the hand, leading me, showing me, until I was confident enough to lead her, only to discover later on that I could never lead her in. Oh no, she had to be the one in control. The few times I tried to break away, she´d force my hand, and I´d pay it in spades. My first time with her, she ravished me, and left me scarred, but in the process, she lit a hunger inside that will never be sated. Since then, it´s been an on again, off again affair.

After she forced the last breakup with my ex, I turned away from her, and went on to a pretty, but boring woman for two years. She had her moments, but the day to day, nine to five, day in, day out, banality of her wore me down. Interspersed were fleeting moments when I´d secretly run into the Other Woman´s arms. Once during a hot fling in Baja, Mexico, and another time for a two week escapade in the warm South Pacific waters and the steaming jungles of Vietnam. Those short times with her were fleeting, but they blazed like shooting stars in the midst of my last two years. And then I went home to the pretty, and bland lady, until one day, I couldn´t take it anymore. I left her, and for a month, rendezvoued with the Other Woman all across North America by train. From Vancouver to San Diego, to Santa Fe, from the California beaches to the Grand Canyon, I, her, we were in heaven. Before we departed, she looked me in the eye, with a look that a tiger has before consuming it´s meal, and said,

“I´ll see you back where we started, my love.”

My heart skipped a beat. She knew I couldn´t leave this time. She knew I couldn´t escape. I was hers, and I was at her mercy, but I could´ve cared less. It didn´t matter if I had enough cash to go, or even if I´d come back, if ever. All that mattered to me was the sensuous carress of her fiery arms again, mindful of the fact that at some point, I´d pay the price, but the rewards, the experiences, to be in her… grip, was exhilirating.

Her look and touch seared my skin. It was pain, it was pleasure, and it was a masochistic need to suffer and enjoy. So, in the weeks before my departure, I outfitted a new bicycle, and found the equipment I used the last time I was with her. To be with her again, to savour her touch, taste, smell, voice, personality, and danger, was all I could think about as I touched down on the runway. And so the adventure begins. I´ve returned, once again, into the arms of Fate.
The Steel Passport is back in action!


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