The Workshop Encounter

Somewhere in the distance, I heard the murmur of high-powered engines. I must be dreaming, I thought. The lights in my apartment were never this bright. Maybe I am dreaming or maybe it is her? She always had this effect on me. After our exquisite lovemaking, I always had those indescribable dreams that were more like visions. When had it all begun, a month ago, six months ago, I’ve lost track, I let myself slip into a semi-dream state to relive those glorious days and weeks.
Slowly my mind found its way back to the beginning, back to that winter evening, two years ago. Sitting there in that large hotel ballroom, here I was again, half-heartedly participating in another boring workshop. Up to that point, I found myself going from one workshop to another. The subject didn’t matter.
At first, I had been enthusiastic about all the enlightenment and transformation stuff. After a while, however, each guru started to sound like the previous one. I noticed that in spite of all those uplifting, inspirational messages, my life hadn’t changed very much. I was still just one-step ahead of my creditors, six-months behind on my alimony payments, and in serious danger of being laid off from work.
Six months prior to this fated winter evening, I had finally found the motivation to do some additional new age workshops. I discovered that those workshops could be a great place for meeting women. True, most of the women who went to these workshops were a little strange. Sometimes you could find one that wasn’t wearing a crystal bracelet on both ankles or turquoise rings on each finger. I rarely met a woman with whom I could relate.

The Workshop

I hoped this evening would be different. As my eyes drifted casually around the room to check out the new crop of women, our eyes met. There was a momentary hitch in my heartbeat, when her eyes locked onto mine. I’d been caught in the act of reckless eyeballing with intent to see. Did she guess that I was more into prurient interests than the latest Zen Koan? Could she tell that I was thinking boobs, legs, thighs and pouting lips rather than OM? Inexplicably, a delicious thrill went surging down my spine. I tried to ignore that unsettling feeling when I noticed that her glacial blue eyes were still fastened on mine. She hadn’t seemed to blink for the last five minutes. I became increasingly uncomfortable. Was she reading my mind? Was that a hypnotic stare? Whatever was happening, I knew that I must speak to her as soon as possible.
With some not-so-casual shuffling and moving of my body, I managed to find myself standing right next to her during the fifteen minute break. I knew I had to act fast, and yet not be too obvious. As I rambled through the labyrinth of my mind, searching for the perfect opening line, she spoke.
“Hello, my name is Marsha. Who are you?”
“Oh, hi, I’m Gary.” I stammered, trying to hide my lustful thoughts.
“Are you enjoying the workshop?” she asked.
“Oh, I guess as far as workshops go.”
“Don’t you think the leader is really good?”
“Yes, I agree on that.” I said, going along to get along.
Suddenly I was aware of that look again. I noticed that my knees felt shaky. Her eyes were remarkable; they seemed to be looking right through me, right into my mind. It was as if I were standing there stark-naked. I finally recovered enough to make some passable small talk. What do you do? Is this your first workshop? Do you live in Boston or in the suburbs? A loud voice reminded us it was time to go back into the ballroom. I made a rather weak gesture of goodbye and meandered, back to the chair I had been sitting in before the break.
The next day at work, I reached into the pocket of the sport coat I had been wearing the night before and found a note. It said, “Please call me. I am at (508) 555-1254, Marsha.”
My initial shock was almost too much. My mind started to race out of control. I had to quickly bring myself back to the reality of the present moment, because I had meetings the rest of the afternoon. The meetings seemed endless and all through them, I kept flashing back to my encounter with Marsha. I could hardly get her out of my mind the entire day.
The days went by as monotonously as they ever did, and somehow I wasn’t able to get around to calling Marsha. It was as if I were avoiding making the call. There was a side of me that wanted to chase Marsha down and get her into the sack. There was another side of me, perhaps the more cautious side of me that thought she might be too much to handle. Sure, I was looking for fireworks, but I wasn’t sure that I wanted a full-blown Fourth of July. I chalked it all up to one of those memorable, but fleeting experiences.
“I’ll never see her again,” I thought to myself as I crumpled up her note and threw it in the trash. That same evening, I opened the mail while complaining to myself about all the strange mailing lists I must be on. I laughed as I glanced at the brochure that fell out of an envelope. The brochure proudly and garishly announced the first ever, “E.T. Workshop.” The tag line promised that one could, “Come to this workshop and have all your questions answered about extraterrestrial phenomena.”
“What a rip-off.” I thought as I placed the brochure on the pile of junk mail to be thrown away later. Yet, as I went to sleep that night, I couldn’t stop thinking about that workshop. I had always wondered about whether life existed on other planets. What would they be like? Were they smarter than us, or just vegetables? The next morning I could hardly wait to get the brochure and put the dates and times on my calendar.

Two weeks later, as I walked into the hotel ballroom, I hoped I wouldn’t see anyone I knew. I was a bit anxious about meeting Marsha again since this was the same place where we’d first met. After calculating the odds against that happening, I felt more relaxed. While glancing around the room, and trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, a hand touched me lightly on the shoulder. In the eternity that passed from the time of that touch to turning around to see who this was, I must have processed ten thousand thoughts about who must have caught me at this crazy workshop.
“Hello Gary! It’s great to see you here. Where have you been? Didn’t you get my note? The staccato of questions almost pinned me to the wall.
“Ah, ah, Marsha, I ah ……..Ah”
“Yes. It’s me Marsha.”
“Gosh.” I said while trying to hide my shame and embarrassment. “I did mean to call you.”

Marsha An Exotic Looking Woman

My body temperature began to rise as her inherent warmth seemed to light up my internals. I hadn’t remembered being this close to her. I hadn’t remembered Marsha’s exotic, breathtaking scent. I hadn’t remembered the lilting, hypnotic tone of her voice.
“My God, I’m bewitched.” I thought to myself.
By now, she had rested her hand on my sleeve, as if to keep me from running away. I felt the subtle energy of her touch move up my arm. At this moment, I was lost. My mind was tossing in a sea of fantasies about what might be. What would she do with the awesome power she had over me?
Now that it was time to move into the workshop, I was determined to sit with her. I had to know this woman. I had to be close to her. I had to have her. However, instead of sitting with me, she moved to the slightly raised platform at the front of the room. She was the workshop leader. Marsha was one surprise after another.
Everything about her was radiant as she sat across the table from me in the dimly lit café we found around the corner from the workshop. By now I had gained a measure of confidence, at least enough to carry on a vaguely intelligent conversation. The trivia of our conversation masked what I really wanted to say – “Drop everything. Come to my place and let’s make mad, passionate love the rest of the night.”
As we talked, I thought to myself that I couldn’t say what was really on my mind. I had to be cool. Maybe I could drop a few hints into our conversation. As I rambled on in my mind, trying to avoid having those words tumble out of my mouth, she leaned forward and whispered into my ear – “Let’s Drop everything. Come to my place and let’s make mad, passionate love the rest of the night.”
For a moment, the words seemed to roll around in my head before turning into a bright, neon sign – “LET’S DROP EVERYTHING. COME TO MY PLACE AND LET’S MAKE MAD, PASSIONATE LOVE THE REST OF THE NIGHT!!!” Then my mind shut down, or blew a circuit, I wasn’t sure what happened, but I found myself climbing the stairs to her townhouse.

I awoke the next morning, feeling deliciously alive. My body tingled with a new sort of subtle vibration. Had all that mind-boggling lovemaking been real? Had I really experienced what I thought I experienced? Could it be possible? I had been with several women before now, but it had never been like this. As I tried to remember, I wasn’t sure whether I was drugged or whether I had fainted from the sheer force of the ecstasy we had generated together. Whatever happened, I knew, in a very deep part of myself, that I would never be the same again. I knew that no other woman would electrify my body the way that Marsha did. I tried to forget that precious moment, when our lovemaking brought tears to my eyes. That wasn’t something I could tell anyone. When I turned over and looked at the clock radio, I was suddenly jarred back to reality.
“Oh, my God!!, I’ve got to get to work.” I shouted aloud as I sat upright in bed.”
“Relax, beautiful man.” I heard her soothing voice say, from somewhere, it must have been the kitchen. “I found your business card, called your office, and told them you wouldn’t be in today, because you have come down with something.”
Before I could make sense of what she had said, she was back in bed beside me, covering my face and body with wet sloppy kisses.
‘Who needs work anyhow?” I mused as I plunged back into the white, hot heat of our mutual passion.
Suddenly, after letting go of these wonderful, lustful memories, I was back in my bedroom hearing the increasing murmur of turbine engines. The engine murmurs turned to a high-pitched whine, jerking me abruptly out of my reverie. Somehow, I was drawn to look out the window, barely noticing that she was missing from her warm spot in my bed. The window and the room were filled with a rainbow of extremely bright colors that seemed to gather themselves and move rapidly onto the horizon of the emerging new day.

The Roar Of Engines
As I stepped back from the window to try to regain my senses, I saw the bright, shimmering hologram of Marsha’s beautiful face etched on the windowpane. In a flash, who she was, all came together; her electrifying lovemaking; her in-depth knowledge of extraterrestrials .