Untouchable Desire

Desperation, poverty and hopelessness were only the few things that swirled around the sea docks. No one noticed the helpless and those that did turned a blind eye. Everyone had something better to do, had somewhere better to be and wouldn’t allow smelly children made of stretched skin and jetting bones to stand in their way.
England streets were cruel and only the tough could withstand the brutality the city provided with abundance.
Starvation was only the frosting that layered the bitter cake, the levels underneath were far worse. Prostitution at the age of six; being a murderer at the age of four were only a few of the things that made this world the beast it really was.
Of course, this was all from the point of view of people who knew each brick and crevices, I’m sure there are people out there who would disagree.
My name is Sasha, I am seventeen and have lived on the heartless streets of England since I was four. My parents are unknown; if I even have any, but I’m sure I did at some point. As a child I had imagined them to be star crossed lovers who ran away to be together, eloped and had made me with their love, but that was only a hopeless child’s way of thinking. As an adult I know better. I haven’t given up on love, but I am more cautious and more hard edged.
The sun is blazing over me as I sit up top of a barrel on the far corner of the dock; the cruel ball of fire had less pity for the unfortunate than the fancy men and women that flaunted across the boardwalk day in and day out with their fat coin purses jingling merrily at their hips.
It was them that kept me from starvation. Not the richly dressed figures jabbing their pointy little noises in the air, but the velvet pouches dangling from their waist. They didn’t notice me, they never did; why would they? I was a street rat, I was filthy and ungodly and nowhere near good enough for the likes of them. They would just as soon spit in my face than hand me a single coin from among the million others.
It didn’t anger me, I wasn’t spiteful, and I wasn’t greedy. I didn’t want their money; I didn’t want their pity, not today. Today I have come only to gaze upon the gift of God that had just docked. It was the first week of the month and I knew, like I knew my name that he would be arriving off that marvelous ship today.
He was incredible; a true specimen of what a man should be what a captain of a magnificent ship should be. He was kind and generous; I know this for certainty as he has never failed to drop five coins in my hand. He has offered more than once that I join him for supper, but I am not good enough for him, I am not fit to dine with someone of his beauty and grace.
I am not beautiful, nor am I even calmly. My hair is a mess of spun gold, when clean, but most of the time it’s matted and coated with grime. My eyes are blue and surrounded by black soot from the last chimney I cleaned that day. My ragged and shabby brown dress hangs down my body to stroke my bare calves. I am filthier than the cobble stones that pave the streets. I am ashamed to even peer into the beautiful sapphire orbs that always gaze upon me with such love.
He has asked for nothing, but the one thing I can not give him.
Each Monday as the vessels all begin to unload and men are bristling around with eagerness to present the fine men and women waiting on deck with their cargo, I sit and watch as the captain climbs down the narrow plank. He always knows where I am, he always finds me with those hypnotic eyes. He matters not that I am hiding or that I am filthy, he ignores all else to make his way to me.
My heart picks up with speed and I am sure he could hear it knocking against my breasts. I timidly glance up and quickly lower my head as he draws nearer. He is dressed in his usual pirate attire of black slacks and lose white blouse that was open down the front to showcase the mouthwatering ripple of muscles of his broad chest. The sight of his bare skin never fails to make my stomach quiver with a strange hunger that made me shudder in response.
His mane of raven black hair had gotten longer than the last time I gazed upon him. It now curled at the back of his neck and grazed his shoulders. The front hung low over his mesmerizing cobalt blue eyes. He still looked like the majestic heir of King William III, but now, with his once pale skin bronzed and the once lankiness of his arms replaced with hard muscles he truly looked like a man of the people.
To those not understanding me; I am in love with the soon to be king of England and I am not worthy of him.
But now if only I could make him understand that.
I know his question before he opens his mouth, I see it in his eyes, and I see it in his face. I hear it with every breath he takes, with every pump of his heart, but he asks me again as he does every first Monday of the month.
“Will you not marry me, Sasha my love? Make me the richest and happiest man in England and the world and be my wife. I ask you again, as I have been asking for nearly two years; marry me and be mine.”
Tears fill my hazel eyes and pave a clean path down my dirty cheek, but he doesn’t notice this and only sees my distress. Uncaring of his clean clothes, he pulls me into his arms and holds me tight. I try to pull free in fear of ruining his white blouse, but he will have none of that as he presses me closer into him.
“Jeremy, you will be filthy!” I protest my voice muffled in the broad wall of his chest.
“Maybe then will you accept my proposal and marry me.”
“I am nothing, my love; please forget me!”
His large, warm hand tucks under my trembling chin and tilts my face to his. The soft, silky strands of his ebony hair tickle my face as he lowers his mouth to mine, but doesn’t kiss me.
“I could not sooner forget you than I can forget my love for you. Do you not see that I can not live without you, darling? Put me out of my misery and kill me or marry me, there is no other choice for me.”
My arms band around his waist and I can hear nothing but the honey sweetness of his words. For that moment, that moment while he holds me nothing matters, but that he is mine, if only for that moment. His spicy scent of leather and salt surrounded me and faltered my logic, for that moment and I let him kiss me.
Warm flutters rippled between our joined mouths and tickle my throat. I feel his love for me like silk against my skin; I taste it like the sweetest, richest wine. When I am in his arms, I am the wealthiest woman on the earth and there is nothing else, but him for me.
“I love you, Sasha; marry me, I implore of you!”
I draw back from his arms and again I shake my head,
"I love you, Jeremy; but I can not marry you, not today, not tomorrow."
My heart was breaking all over again and my world was crumbling into blackness. There are no words for the pain I suffer each time I say no, there is no phrase in the human language to explain how much I would rather die than see the rejection in his eyes, but it has to be done!
Please understand this! There is no life for him and me! There is no fairytale ending, there is no future!
How could there be? I am nothing more than a street rat and he; he is the son of the king, but he will forever be my pirate prince.