Forbidden Love On A Full Night
Memories....

There was another dance performance that night. Aunt El invited me to go with her, but I refused. I was afraid I'd meet Ram there. Being near Ram, seeing him, talking to him, brings up so many memories - fun memories that are painful to remember because they remind me how much I miss that man. Remembering our past....

I was sixteen when I first met Ram. The event occurred at community meetings and West Java art performances. I went there with my best friend. We went to the fairground joking around, imagining it would be fun to meet real artists. My best friend Sherly quickly became bored, but I was so fascinated by the slow rhythm of drums, dances, and colorful costumes. People who love art are very friendly even though they like to be alone. I stayed there long after Sherly's mom picked up my best friend.

During the break, I went around the arena, looking at the booth selling trinkets, containers of pumpkins and tobacco pipes, bows and arrows. I bought a small white horse toy with black spots decorated with green feathers toska, and some fried bread. I was leaving the fairground when I collided with Ram. In the true sense. The man made me fall down and I just sat on the ground staring at the man, my tongue too faint to speak. Ram is so handsome. He was tall, white, very handsome, and seemed a little mysterious.

"Sorry," he said. The man - who was more precisely called a man at the time, not yet a man - picked up my belongings, then reached out to help me stand up.

I murmured my thanks, then looked at Ram as he walked towards the music arena. He looked the most prominent among the crowd, making it easy to follow him. I don't know if she'll sing, but she can't leave, I thought. Not until I find out.

I got a seat at the very end of the bench near the entrance of the music arena and sat down, then squinted a little. He sang on stage with his guitar. The discomfort is soon forgotten when Ram starts playing the guitar and starts singing.

I clapped loudly as Ram finished singing. He looked at me and smiled, and the smile grabbed me like a thunderbolt. Deadening. Destroys. But very interesting and very charming. It shook my heart that was only sixteen years old. I blushed because of her charming smile.

While waiting to see if the boy would sing again, I read a leaflet I took from the booth. It's called "Message for fans of the art show". Among the wide variety of information, the message conveyed to the audience that brandishing a finger was impolite, and taking photos was allowed as long as without a blitz, one had to ask permission before taking a private photo. Costumes and ornaments should not be touched, as some costumes cost hundreds of thousands to millions, and distracting dancers or standing before those who will dance or sing cannot be tolerated.

I stayed there until the last song and walked to the parking lot, then remembered that I had no ride and my phone ran out of battery. Sighing, I turned around and headed back to the fairground to look for a phone.

And I collided with Ramana Lingga for the second time.

"This must be fate" said the man after grabbing my arm so that this time I did not fall.

Hmm. The guy looks sexy in black jeans and a body-fitting t-shirt. "Surely," I said. "By the way, do you know where I can find the phone?"

"At there, near the restroom."

"Trims."

Ram took me to eat! I don't believe this! Quickly I nodded. "I want. But I have to call my dad to come and get me."

"I'm done for today. I can drive you home after that."

Usually I never want to ride in a car with a stranger, but, I was surprised myself when I said, "That's great. Thank you." Thank you."

Ah, embarrassing. I was impressed at that time. But...

Well, there's something about that guy, from the way he looks at me, the way Ram makes me feel something, that can't be resisted.

Ram took me to dinner the first night we met. She thought I was eighteen years old from the way I looked: in sleeveless dress, shaggy hair, and high footwear. He almost choked on his coffee when I said I was just sixteen. But finally he felt the three-year gap that separated us was not too far away. And, the fact that I was a rich man's son was another surprise for him. I caught the impression that he looked at me - a rich white girl - was poison. He even told me honestly that on the first day of our meeting, when he drove me home, walked me to the door, said good night and left me there, he intended never to see me again.

Although he intended to, I appeared at an art show in the next town. Ram sang wholeheartedly that afternoon, and he realized that I was watching him and just watching him. It was his best day on the road: he won every competition he entered. And I knew he didn't plan to have a conversation with me, he tried not to respond to my existence, he tried to be indifferent, he avoided, but agitated. Finally, at the break, he asked me if I wanted to have dinner with him after he finished singing. I agreed, and we had dinner, and the next thing I knew, we were sitting in his truck hugging. And. ah, somehow at first until we kissed in that dark truck. If I remember now I am am ticklish about it. That young girl who was like her when dating a guy, it's a shame to actually remember my age of only sixteen. But if I had been in my twenties like I am now, perhaps it would have been very memorable if the man had kissed me. As I remembered when Ram looked at me in the still darkness, when his right hand was curled behind his head and his left hand was embracing my waist...

Oh my God, even to this day I feel so clear. Like electricity electrocuting me.

Ram, when he removed his lips from mine, from that tender kiss, and whispered how much he missed me and wanted to see me again. This time it was deeper.. it was more masterful.and I felt there was passion there: from the touch of his fingers tracing my back, then. I'm shaking.

Fortunately, just getting there. Ram managed to control himself even though to him I was so passionate, making himself crave something he could not do to me: he tried to remind himself that the girl he kissed was still snot despite the beauty of the curves of his body so voluptuous.

Ah, if that happens now. I can't deny, this little widow dreams of a man's touch. I dreamt that it was him...

Ramana Lingga Pradita's.