Excerpt for Regan - a Love Story by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

To Jill – the Love of my Life

Regan – a Love Story

Henry Tobias

Copyright 2018 Henry Tobias

Published by Henry Tobias at Smashwords

All foreign words, unless in italics, are in the Oxford English Dictionary Online Edition

Other titles by Henry Tobias:

Just for Fun – an anthology of short stories

Henry Tobias Smashwords author page

Visit my website at: Henry Tobias Short Stories

'Just for Fun' an eclectic anthology of short stories

If you enjoyed my books please leave a review at your favourite retailer and tell your friends.

To Shirley Israel, my dear friend of more than fifty years and well-known South African artist, thank you very much for designing the cover.

I would like to thank the friends from my writing group, David Brauner – a constant inspiration, Esther Rafaeli – a reminder that you’re only as old as you feel, Marallyn ben Moshe – who keeps me alert and laughing, Helen Kreeger – for her British sense of humour and guidance in dialogue. Last but not least Miriam Drori – for her accuracy in editing.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Thank you for downloading and reading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favourite authorised retailer. Thank you for your support.

Regan – a Love Story

Regan and I first met many years ago when nearly every song on the new BBC 'Top of the Pops' was a Beatles composition. We were young and still trying to make sense of the world while navigating from teens to twenties, from youth to hopeful maturity.

The Jewish Society at our university was holding its first do of the year where old members renewed acquaintances and new students were welcomed. I was macher-in-chief, responsible for organizing the introductory bash of the year. We had hired a band, a poor-man's imitation, today called 'Tribute Bands', of one of the in-groups of the day, I've forgotten who, but maybe The Who.

The outside door was about ten yards away from where I was greeting party-goers. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed a stylishly dressed young woman; most of us wore denims. I turned to watch her enter the hallway through the main door, hesitate for a moment, turn her back as if to leave, waver momentarily, turn towards me again, pull herself erect, throw her shoulders back defiantly, pivot towards the strategically placed decorative mirror, smooth her skirt, coif her hair, check her make-up, swivel in my direction head held high and propel herself purposefully forwards.

She came closer. I took in her greyish-black wrap-around top with a rounded neck, the two unequal sides held together with a large onyx brooch. The matching skirt was straight with a slight flare, finishing about two inches above the knee – casual elegance. Her sea-azure eyes, tinted with green, whirl-pooled and mesmerized me. I stood open-mouthed, face flushed in awe, butterflies fluttering in my stomach, staring at this seraphic vision with a cherubic but feisty countenance. I wanted to reach out, touch her, make sure she was real. I was in love.

"Is this the Jewish Society get-together?" she asked in a low quivering voice.

"Yes, let me get you a name tag, makes introductions easier. Come with me." I took her by the hand – soft and warm. "By the way, I'm Jonny. If you need anything, I'm the one to ask. I'm chief cook and bottle-washer." I gave my friend and vice-chairman of the group a wink. "I'll be back in a tick. Hold the fort will you please, Bernie." He nodded. I left him to carry on. I really didn’t care. Only this wonderful girl, this divine being, mattered.

I steered her towards the table where Becky, our secretary, was adding new names to our mailing list and writing names on stickers. I didn't need the address of this gorgeous girl, I was going to deliver any mail, messages, notice of meetings, get-togethers, whatever, in person – by hand – for the rest of my life.

"I'm sorry, I'm being really rude. I didn't even ask you your name."

"Regan, r-e-g-a-n." she replied. I was completely discombobulated by her presence.

I grabbed the pen out of Becky's hand, wrote R-e-g-a-n with the care and reverence of a scribe writing the name of God in a verse of Torah scroll, trying with difficulty to control my shaking hand. Becky and I were friends but she frowned and looked at me as if to say, 'don't get carried away, think with your grey matter, not with your testosterone'.

"Just making sure we sign up all the new customers. Don't want to let anyone get away." I was babbling. I knew I was prattling but I couldn't stop myself.

I peeled off the label, holding it between the thumb and first finger of each hand. I turned around aiming to place it just below and to the right of Regan's left shoulder. I fumbled the label, Regan moved, my hand dropped three inches and I felt my hands press against her soft yielding breast and stuck the name tag right over her nipple.

"I'm… so sorry… let me try again…" I touched the softness of her bosom again, hesitated and blushed. "Perhaps you'd better do it yourself… I'm all thumbs tonight."

She just laughed, her equanimity surprising me. "Yes… I think I'd better."

My face was on fire. Luckily the lights were low.

"Come let's go a find a quiet spot." I had verbal diarrhoea. There were no quiet spots.

I steered Regan over to one side of the room and drew up a chair for her to sit.

"Would you like a drink?" I shouted above the music. "We only have beer, don't want anyone getting rowdy."

Purchase this book or download sample versions for your ebook reader.
(Pages 1-4 show above.)