P is for “Poke” #nanowrimo #fiction

“Let’s go for some poke,” Galen whispered in my ear, giving me goosebumps all over my body.

The term sounded a bit crude but if “poke” meant what I hoped it did, I didn’t care. Galen wouldn’t have to ask me twice…

With the hint of malasada still lingering on his lips, Galen tasted better than I could ever have imagined.

I’d only kissed three other men before him – my first real boyfriend in college, my ex-husband and the man I had let kiss me in a weak moment that I had chosen to forget a long time ago. None of them could compare to what Galen stirred inside of me.

At first, Galen’s kiss was soft like a feather brushing against my mouth. His lips teasingly lingered on mine as he took his time, allowing me to set a slow pace that I didn’t care to have. But with each kiss that I responded to, Galen returned it with a little more passion and urgency.

When we slowly fell back onto the blanket, our lips never left each other and I was completely under the spell he had cast. We kissed for what seemed like an eternity, like teenagers who knew nothing beyond the instinctual next step until we heard giggling nearby.


Photo credit: The U.S. National Archives via Foter.com / No known copyright restrictions

Our lips broke free, our heads swiveled around and we found two little girls staring at us. We both bolted upright just as their parents came running after them to lead them away. I finger-combed my hair back into place as best as I could and tried to catch my breath. When I looked at Galen, he was smiling from ear to ear.

“What?” I asked, feeling a little shy.

“Maybe it was a good thing that we were interrupted. Otherwise I don’t know what would have happened next,” Galen laughed. He pulled me up with him as he stood, held me close and gave me a long lingering kiss that I never wanted to end.

How could I find such a man, at this point in my life, thousands of miles away from home on a trip to escape my troubles? Life was being cruel to me in so many ways…

“Let’s go for some poke,” Galen whispered in my ear, giving me goosebumps all over my body.


The term sounded a bit crude but if “poke” meant what I hoped it did, I didn’t care. Galen wouldn’t have to ask me twice.

“Uh, to be honest, I’m a little embarrassed to say that I haven’t done that in a long while. I consider myself pretty ignorant of anything related to “casual” sex…”

Galen raised his eyebrows in surprise and broke out laughing.

“When I said “poke”, you thought that I meant “sex”?”

Galen continued laughing as he scooped up the blanket, placed it under his arm and then grabbed the box malasadas. Confused that I had missed the joke, I took what was left of our coffees and followed him to the car.

“Isn’t that what it means?”

“Not at all sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. I liked the sound of that. 

Poke is a salad of bite-sized pieces of raw, fresh fish mixed with seaweed and kukui nut relish usually served on rice. I’ll take you to one of my favorite poke places I usually grab some for dinner when we get back to Lahaina. They have every variety of types and flavors ans if you like sushi, you’ll like poke. My treat.”


Photo credit: Frank Hamm via Foter.com / CC BY-NC-ND

I shook my head.

“Everything has been your treat since you’ve been taking me around to all these wonderful places and introducing me to all these different Hawaiian foods. I want to treat you for once…”

Galen opened the car door for me to slide in and refused.

“No. It’s my invitation so it will be my treat, And if you bring it up again, I’ll be insulted. I believe that men should act like gentlemen when it comes to treating a woman right. “Going dutch” on a tab with a woman is not my way.”

As Galen circled the car to get in, my woman’s mind could have psychoanalyzed his words to death but I let it go. I wasn’t foolish enough to think what we were doing was dating. At the most, I could say that we were “seeing” each other and even that was stretching it when I had two expiration dates looming above my head – my return ticket home and my diagnosis.

But I didn’t want to think about it – the future was now.

“Ready?” Galen smiled and placed his hand on my thigh.

“Definitely,” I said, placing my hand on top of his.

As we drove back to Lahaina content in our silence and listening to nothing but the hum of the tires against the hot road, my cell buzzed with a text from Meghan.

“Is that your friend Meghan?” Galen asked.

“Yeah, she’s checking in on me.”

Hey! I didn’t hear from you today. What’s up? Still hanging with Mr. Perfect? You never did text me his picture you know.”

I texted her back.

Yeah, sorry. I’ll get a photo of him when it’s the right moment, okay? Actually, Galen and I are about to go for a poke.

Instead of seconds, minutes passed before Meghan responded.

Uh, I’m not sure what or how to respond to that…Have fun? Be safe? Don’t break the bed? But please don’t take a picture of him while any poking is going on okay?! 🙂

Realizing that Meghan had no clue what poke really was either, I burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Galen glanced over curiously.

I leaned my head on his shoulder and got myself comfortable.

“I’ll tell you after we poke.”

Continuation – Q is for “Quiver”


Photo credit: Nicole Lee via Foter.com / CC BY-NC-SA

©2017 Marquessa Matthews

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