I was nervous when he took my hand from behind and whispered into my ear, "Come with me." I turned my head to look at him and saw that mysterious, Mooney smile on his face. The noise of the party faded away into the background of that moment and that smile. I remember thinking that a woman could lose herself to the charm of such a grin. So, I curled my fingers in his and allowed him to lead me out the door into the chilly darkness of the autumn night.
We had been playing a game for weeks now. It was a sensual game of cat and mouse, a game of flirtation and teasing. We were young then. I was nineteen and he was twenty. I was shy and had little experience with men and he was in love with that. And that night he made me the center of his universe. He made me special, or so it seemed to me at the time.
He took me to his apartment off campus and we sat together, still playing the game. But this was a new facet of the play. It was the first time that we were alone. We had known each other for some time but had only found this new fascination with one another recently. Or maybe it had been there all along but never recognized until now. Whatever the case, we were alone and we were enjoying it.
Mooney, named so for his platinum hair, was flashing me that enigmatic grin that made my insides turn to mush. We were sharing a beer and smoking a bowl and nothing else in the world mattered except that moment. Then he reached his hand out to stroke my face. He drew nearer and I could see the fire in his eyes as he leaned down to kiss me. It was a searing kiss that left a burn scar on my soul. I was lost then.
He took his time undressing me. He kissed and caressed each inch of flesh as it was exposed, exploring me as if I was a piece of fine art or a treasure waiting to be opened. When finally I lay upon the couch completely nude he stood to admire my body and then removed his own clothing. After that he returned to exploring my body in agonizing detail. When his scorching mouth found the apex between my legs my moans had risen to a fevered pitch. He used his fingers, lips and tongue to drive me over the edge and send me toppling into the tense oblivion of an astonishing climax.
When next I opened my eyes I saw him watching me and smiling that Mooney grin. I reached my arms out to him and he brought himself up along my body to settle his hips between my legs. He whispered erotic words in my ear that nearly caused me to have another orgasm. He raised himself up onto his extended arms and penetrated me slowly, teasing me with his powerful staff. I raised my hips up to meet him but he pulled back, ever playing the game. Finally he entered me fully and each commanding thrust brought me closer to the belief that I could find paradise in his arms.
Digging my nails into his flesh and thrashing wildly I was driven to higher and higher peaks of pleasure until, with a mighty roar, he found his own orgasm and filled me with his elixir and we lay together, panting in our exhaustion.
I could see the sunrise playing its dazzling colors on his white-blond hair and matching the fire in his deep blue eyes. He charmed me once more with his mysterious smile before I closed my eyes and slept in his arms.
It went on like that for months. We played the game and I drifted into love with him, happy with the world—until the day I realized that he would soon be graduating and I would still be facing another year of college life. It would be a lonely year without him but he promised he would return to visit as he kissed me at the door to my dorm that night. He told me he would call me the next day.
But he didn't call. When, finally, I decided to investigate I went to his apartment and knocked on the door. I knocked several times before his neighbor opened the door across the hall to ask what I wanted. I told him I was looking for Mooney and he said that Mooney had moved out that morning. He had returned home to New York. He was hundreds of miles away and I was left standing alone in that dank hallway.
It goes without saying that my young girl's heart was shattered. It occurred to me at that second that I had been a fool. I don't remember the walk back to campus. I don't remember if I spoke to anyone along the way. I only knew the ravaging pain I felt. It was a pain that encompassed my entire being—physically, emotionally, mentally.
I know that I returned to my room. I know that I had a conversation with my roommate who chattered on excitedly about some new guy or what her plans were for the summer. I know that I joined her and several others in the dinner hall. I cannot say if I ate anything. I only remember that with each passing minute my heart was breaking and I could not bring myself to voice my pain.
After the supper hour had ended I left my companions to stroll alone in the campus darkness. I heard a familiar voice as a walked around the corner of a building. It was my best friend, Marck. He seemed to sense that I was there and turned to see me standing some yards away. He smiled at first and waved. But his hand dropped and his smile faded as he saw the devastation on my face. He left the small, boisterous crowd of men and moved swiftly to my side.
"So you heard," he said softly. That's when I crumbled. I fell to pieces like the shards of my heart and he gathered me up to take me back to his room. He held me through the night as I, unable to weep, leaned against him and drew strength from him.
That was ten years ago. Marck stayed my friend through the years and, when his parents passed away, my family took him under their wing and became his own. In all the time we spent together we avoided that one subject that had injured me so deeply. Eventually Marck moved to Chicago to further pursue his career. I stayed downstate to be near my family. I dated a little but avoided emotional entanglements of any kind. Marck found love and married a beautiful woman. I loved my visits with them. Their home was a very happy one and always a joy to be a part of.
Then, on that tenth summer after college, they decided to have a reunion party. It was Labor Day weekend. They invited all the people that had been in our circle of friends in those innocent college days. In truth I was looking forward to seeing all those dear and wonderful faces. Especially since it was announced to me that Mooney would not be there. I had no desire to see him as he had never seen fit to contact me after what he had done.
I was on my second glass of wine, laughing at something Don (or was it Scott?) had said when the front door of Marck's immense apartment opened up. We all turned in that direction and there was a collective and audible gasp as Mooney's white-blond head entered like a glistening apparition. I could feel the eyes turn toward me; could feel the ice that gripped my scarred heart.
Marck, ever conscious of my feelings, moved to immediately greet him. His wife, Jewell, was at my side in a flash, leading me out of the room. I stumbled after her in shock. She got me into a bedroom and sat me in a chair. She stayed with me long enough to be assured that I was still breathing and cognizant of my surroundings.
I heard the voices in the other room. People were happy to see him. They asked how he had been. Then Marck said, "Hey, I thought you told me you weren't going to make it. What changed your mind?"
There was silence after that. It wasn't a long silence but it was long enough for me to know that Mooney had not answered the question. The party seemed to resume by and by but still I sat in my chair. I couldn't think. I couldn't move. I couldn't feel.
Pull it together, idiot, I advised myself. You don't want him to see your weakness. Never give him that chance again. I took a deep breath and prepared myself for the inevitable. I stood, smoothed my clothing, raised my chin and rejoined the party with a cool smile on my face. I kept tight control of my emotions and worked to keep at least half of the people there in the space between Mooney and me. I avoided any more alcohol and did all I could to help our hostess keep the guests happy.
Someone suggested that we walk to the Lakefront to catch the cooling summer breezes coming off the water. Marck's apartment was only 2 blocks away and there were still a couple of hours of evening sunshine so away we went. We walked two by two and three by three up the city sidewalks and the scent of the lake was heady and sweet. It drew us like a siren's song. We laughed and joked and remarked on what a marvelous day it was.
Somehow I lost my focus and discovered that I was walking without a companion at one point. I began to hurry to catch up to the group of women just ahead of me when I felt a warm strong hand encircle my upper arm. A familiar voice in my ear whispered, "Are you avoiding me on purpose?"
I stumbled slightly and looked around hoping to catch Marck's eye. I couldn't see him. Finally I turned to see that baffling smile and deep blue eyes. I felt my belly lurch slightly and became angry with myself. I returned his smile and simply answered, "Yes."
"Emily," he said in his most irresistible voice, "Are you going to be mad at me forever?"
I shook my head and laughed. "I'm not mad at you, Moon. I stopped being angry nearly a decade ago. Too bad you weren't around to see it."
He released my arm then and slowed his step. I turned to see him watching me with an unusual expression on his handsome face. Could that be hurt I saw there? I smiled serenely and continued along my way, reaching the beach with Don and his wife, June. She put an arm around my shoulders and gave me an understanding little hug. I smiled at her to let her know that I was going to be just fine.
.... There is more of this story ...