The Game of Love

Her name was Julie. She was first cousin to Diane Carson, my bride-to-be. I had known Julie since childhood, but a week before my wedding, I learned that I did not know her at all.

I was at a party thrown by Diane's mother Nina at the Carson's lakeside manor. It was not to celebrate our wedding, just a family and friends get-together. The Carsons were never happier than when surrounded by their extended family, eating, drinking, and dancing. At the slightest excuse, or sometimes for no reason at all, Nina would decide to have a party.

I was in high spirits that day. The son of a hardware store owner, I was marrying into one of the most prominent families in coastal Georgia. The Carsons owned farmland, the odd bank or two, even a small textile factory. But they wore the mantle of wealth with ease. They were gregarious and down to earth people. I never met a Carson I didn't like.

We young people were playing the new music, rock 'n roll, on the Carson's jukebox. We danced to Elvis, the Coasters, and our favorite, Jerry Lee Lewis. Over and over we played Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin' On.

The day started out sunny, but by mid-afternoon was dark and threatening. It began to sprinkle rain, so Nina asked me to go down to the boat dock to help William, Diane's nephew, tie up his canoe. After we had secured the canoe, William hurried back to the house but I stayed behind. And just like that the heavens opened, releasing a torrent of rain, a typical summer cloudburst. I began to run to the house, but decided to take shelter in a large gazebo near the manor until the worst of the rainstorm had passed.

I didn't realize until I sprinted up the gazebo steps that another person had had the same idea. It was Julie. Like me she was soaked, her white linen dress plastered to her skin. Her bra was plainly outlined, right down to the lace trim. I could even see where hooks held her hose to her garter belt.

As with most women in the Carson family, Julie had evocative brown eyes, thick eyebrows, and a mane of hair that could be dark or auburn, depending on how the light hit it. Two years younger than her cousin, Julie was more statuesque than Diane, her breasts more prominent. On the other hand, Diane's face was perhaps more expressive; her smile more friendly and warm. Julie's hips were full and round, but Diane's legs were a bit longer, more shapely. They were like any cousins, alike in many ways but different as well.

The rain peppered the shingle roof of the gazebo. Thunder crashed around us, and every few seconds the scene was brilliantly lit by a bolt of lightening. I shook the rain out of my sandy brown hair, saying "Wow, some storm, huh?"

I tried to brush the water off my clothes, and looked out into the storm. Just to make light conversation, I said, "Well, kiddo, have you got your bridesmaid dress picked out yet?"

Julie glanced around, realizing that we were alone, cut off from everyone by the sheets of rain. She gazed at me intently, as if she were weighing a decision that had to be made. The silence dragged on. Finally I said, "What's wrong, cat got your tongue?"

I realized that she was trembling. Cold from the rain? I thought. No. In a low voice she said, "Sometimes, Gary Dillon, I hate you!"

"Me? What did I do?"

"You don't even know, do you?" She clutched her arms together under her ample bosom, as if that would somehow give her strength in this most critical moment of her young life.

"Haven't a clue." I said.

Her eyes brimming with tears, Julie suddenly grasped me by my arms, her look a mix of anger and despair and to my surprise, adoration.

"How can you marry Diane? Tell me!"

I laughed nervously. "What do you mean?"

She gazed into my eyes for several seconds. Then, "Don't you know I love you, Gary! I've worshiped you since the day I met you! Oh if you only knew the nights I've dreamed of you holding me and kissing me!"

The sounds of the storm seemed to fade away. Julie stood there trembling, a look of fierce intensity on her face. I gaped at her, my mouth open in astonishment, amazed by the primal intensity of the woman.

Time seemed to stand still. I finally found my voice, saying, "Julie, are you serious?" But of course she was. Women do not joke about that. Especially women with the pain and hunger that I saw in Julie's eyes.

"Oh you damn fool! I wanted you! I love you so much, Gary! You're the only man I've ever wanted! And now you're marrying Diane! Oh, it isn't fair! Dammit, how could you!"

Tears flooding down her cheeks now, Julie turned and ran out into the rain. She slipped and fell, getting mud and grass stains on her dress, but quickly got up and sprinted to the house. It was as if she were running from the devil himself.

Stunned by what had taken place, I waited in the gazebo until the storm began to abate, then went to the house. Nina insisted that I change into some of her husband's clothes, which were more or less a fit. I did not see Julie for the rest of the day. Just before dark Diane drove me home in her father's black 1958 Cadillac.

Diane was wearing a pale blue sweater, almost see-through, matching in color the ribbons in her hair. Man she's gorgeous, I thought. I wanted her, counting the hours until she was mine to have and to hold. We had given our virginity up to each other two years ago in the back seat of my dad's 1952 Plymouth. Other sexual trysts had followed, but they were always hurried and uncomfortable. I wanted Diane all night and every night. I wanted to savor, slowly and fully, all the pleasures that she had to offer a man.

I casually worked Julie into our conversation. "Guess your cousin Julie got caught in that rain, too, huh?"

"Oh yes, she was a mess! She was crying too, 'cause she had fallen and ruined her dress. I felt so sorry for her. But we found some of my sister Ellen's clothes that she could change into."

"Who's her escort for the wedding, by the way?"

"My second cousin Harold, I think."

"Doesn't Julie have a boyfriend?"

Diane paused. "Not really. She goes out now and then, but nothing serious. Lotta guys will ask her out and she turns them down for no reason. It's almost as if she's waiting for the right guy to come along, you know what I mean?"

That night I lay in bed but sleep did not come. Diane, Julie and I had grown up as part of a clique that did everything together: Halloween parties, hayrides and picnics, boating and swimming in the Caloosa River. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized how Julie had always been around me.

When I was 14 and Julie 11, she had insisted that I be her partner on a canoe trip down the Caloosa. Once on a hiking trip she had sprained her ankle, and would allow no one but me to carry her piggyback down to the trailhead. I recalled a hayride in which she had lain almost as close to me as Diane, whom I had my arm around. Even as children playing tag, Julie had always chased just one person, me, when she was it.

By the time the gray light of dawn appeared, there could be no doubt. Julie had circled around me, wishing and hoping, and perhaps loving, for years. But unfortunately, her star was dim, too close to Diane's blinding radiance. I had never seen it.

CHAPTER 2

I spent an anxious week leading up to the wedding, but the days passed quietly and uneventfully. At the wedding rehearsal and dinner Julie said little to me, but the look on her face spoke volumes.

I married Diane on a beautiful day in late September, just as the hot sultry weather of summer finally lifted. After a picture-perfect ceremony in the Methodist church, we adjourned to the lakeside manor for the reception. When I joined Diane for the traditional bride and groom dance, the band played Cole Porter's Ca, C'est l'Amour. There were ahs from the audience, then rapt silence as they watched the perfect couple swirl around the dance floor.

Later I danced with Nina, who held her new son-in-law much closer and with rather more passion than I thought appropriate. But that was Nina. She had always been a lusty woman, full of life. I would soon learn that it ran in the family.

Eventually it was time for Julie. She was standing with two other bridesmaids when I approached her. "Julie, I'd like this dance if I may."

She smiled nervously as I took her hand. The band was on a break, and now music was coming from the jukebox in the reception hall, playing There's a Moon Out Tonight. "You're awful pretty in that green dress," I remarked for openers. She had no choice but to act as if she were having a good time.

"You bastard," she said, pretending be cheerful, "don't you know this is sheer torture for me! I had to stand there in the church and watch you put the ring on Diane's finger, and kiss her. And smile like I was happy for her! Oh God, will this day never end!"

"Look, I'm sorry, Julie," I said, "But I've loved Diane since we were in grammar school. I thought you and everyone else knew that."

Again the carefree smile, just two people enjoying a dance. "I know, but I couldn't stop loving you, Gary. God knows I tried! I couldn't help wanting you and praying that some day you'd notice me!"

And so the bizarre dance went. Somewhere in the song were the lyrics: There's a glow in my heart I never felt before, There's a girl by my side, That I adore

Julie blinked away tears, murmuring, "Why did it have to be this song?"

To onlookers I was just politely dancing with one of the bridesmaids. They could not see what I did in Julie's eyes. The intense, almost frightening look of longing, the hurt caused by love denied.

"Julie, I never knew," I said, "swear to God I didn't."

"Would it have made any difference if it you had known?"

"No, Julie, I've always wanted Diane, no one else."

"Oh I hate you," she smiled as the dance mercifully ended.

A few hours later I was at last alone with Diane in the master bedroom. As was the family custom, everyone had left, and we newlyweds had the lakeside manor to ourselves. My bride turned out the lights so that the bedroom was lit only by two candles. She emerged from behind the dressing screen wearing a short lacy white teddy . And nothing more. When she casually let it drop to the floor, I gazed in awe.

I had never seen any woman nude; could not imagine a creature this perfect. Diane had that soft luscious look of fresh womanhood; that fleeting time in a woman's life when her skin is porcelain smooth, when her firm breasts and butt are at that exquisite first moment of full ripeness.

I rose from the bed, wearing pajama bottoms, and took her into my arms. "Am I dreaming this?"

"Let's dream together," she whispered as she put her arms around me. Her taut breasts and rosy nipples pressed against me. I instinctively slid my hands down to fondle the most delightful derriere in God's universe.

Almost fainting with desire, I pulled her down onto the bed and let my instincts take over. I scarcely remember that first time; so eager was I to quench the fire within me. Afterwards we lay in each other's arms, I panting like an animal.

"Easy, tiger," Diane smiled. "We've got all night." And so we did.

The second time, just as I was nearing climax, Diane's body began to burn as if with fever. Now she became the animal, writhing beneath me like a feral cat, moaning and using explicit, even shocking words to let me know what I must keep doing to her. Diane's climax was a long searing moment of pure ecstasy to which she gave full voice. I was grateful that there was no one in the adjacent rooms, or even the house for that matter.

The next few hours passed in a blur of Diane's soft breasts and smooth butt; of her hot wet sheath eagerly enclosing and squeezing my cock; of the delectable tangy scent of woman.

Her lips on mine woke me the next morning. I was famished, but Diane had a different appetite. Only when her carnal needs were satisfied did we take time for breakfast. God, what have I gotten myself into? I thought. Then I added a postscript, God, thank you for whatever it is.

CHAPTER 3

That afternoon Diane and I left for our honeymoon. We drove to Miami Beach in my new sky-blue 1958 Ford Fairlane convertible, a wedding gift from her father. Our first morning there we came down for breakfast at the Ocean Surf Hotel restaurant.

"Well, good morning, newlyweds!" chirped the maitre d'. When the waitress approached our table, she likewise chimed in with a "And how are our honeymooners this morning?"

Now, how do they know we're newlyweds? I thought. Is it that fact that we're having breakfast at ten o'clock in the morning? Is it Diane's rosy cheeks and contented smile? The circles under my eyes, the dog-tired look on my face? Something must have tipped them off.

Any doubt that we were newlyweds was likely erased when I ordered. A tall stack of pancakes, three scrambled eggs, triple order of bacon, and so on. I ate like a plowman. A man must keep up his strength. Our week in Miami Beach just may have been the most exhausting of my life. Also the most wonderful.

When Christmas came that year, Nina of course threw a lavish party that all the Carsons were expected to attend. We exchanged presents, even sang Christmas carols. It was corny, and everyone loved it.

Julie lingered long after most other guests had left. The evening was warm for December, and just before midnight I went out onto the large stone patio for some fresh air. I was looking toward the Caloosa River beyond their lawn when I sensed someone beside me. I had smelled that perfume at the wedding reception.

"Hello, Julie," I said without turning.

"Hello yourself. Marriage seems to agree with you and Diane, I'll say that."

"Yes, we're really happy."

I finally turned to look at her. She was wearing a thin emerald green sweater that revealed a generous décolletage. We eyed each other in silence for a moment. "Do you have any mistletoe on you?" she asked in a low voice. "If you do, you're welcome to hold it over my head."

Another stretch of silence. With no thought but for the moment, I took Julie into my arms, gazed into her eyes for a second; and then, kissed her deeply. Not a friendly kiss, but the way a man kisses a woman, nothing held back. She hesitated; then, embraced me hungrily as my tongue found hers.

I moved my hands down and pressed them into her full buttocks, feeling at the same time her breasts flattened against me. I could not help but compare her to Diane. Do Julie's lips taste sweeter? Does her body excite me more? No, she felt neither more nor less arousing than Diane. Just different.

The kiss continued. I drew our hips together so that she could feel my hard cock against her. I could sense a faint moan from Julie. Whether it was pleasure or regret over what she could not have, I will never know. The kiss continued. If Julie wanted it to last ten minutes, so be it. If someone came out and saw us, so be it. But she finally broke off with a faint whimper, pushing me away. She then stood there, breathing heavily.

After a moment she looked at me and murmured, "So I do get some crumbs from the table."

I sighed in exasperation. "Julie, what the hell do you want from me! I'm married! I've always loved only Diane, and I love her more every day!"

"Thanks for reminding me. Sometimes I go half an hour without thinking about that."

"Look, Julie, none of us can help the way things happened. They just did. But for God's sake stop moping around over it. Let it go, or..."

"Or what?"

"I dunno, direct your feelings, your passion into something. Become an artist. Write a book, adopt orphaned animals, anything to give your life some purpose for Chrissakes!"

I have often thought that those words may have started it all. At any rate, I seldom saw Julie after that night. She finished her degree in journalism at Emory University, and then moved to New York. Some time later we heard that she was an assistant editor at Look magazine.

CHAPTER 4

Over the next eight years I worked in one of the Carson banks, eventually becoming Vice-President. Diane and I lived comfortably, enjoying family life with first one and then two children.

One evening in February 1966 I came home early with a touch of flu. A package wrapped in plain manila paper was in the mail. I opened it to discover that it was a book. The cover read: Life Choices A Novel by Julia Carson

There was no letter attached, just the book. That evening I read without stopping the first two hundred pages. By then two things were obvious. First, Julie was a remarkably gifted writer. Second, like many first novels by young authors, the book was very much an autobiography. Julie had changed the names and locales, but anyone who knew the Carsons would know that while the main character was named Sarah, it was really Julie herself.

Diane was in the book, as was I, under the name of Lucas. Julie beautifully and poignantly described Sarah's unrequited love for Lucas. All the pain, the heartbreak, and the longing that I had seen in Julie's eyes those years ago were there on the pages of Life Choices. She did not mince words.

Life Choices was released across the country that week to glowing reviews. Diane was so eager to read it that she bought her own copy at the local bookstore. It was the last one in stock.

She read it in two evenings, scarcely stopping to eat. She finished about ten o'clock on the second evening. Later we sat in bed, propped up against the pillows. Diane was wearing a white peignoir. Her hair was longer now, and more full.

And she was seven months pregnant. I loved Diane most of all when she was pregnant and, afterwards, nursing our child. I delighted in her swollen breasts, the thick dark nipples, and the subtle but delicious changes in her body scent. She was never lovelier than in that state of motherhood.

"What did you think of Julie's book?" I asked quietly.

"It was incredible. I never dreamed Julie could write like that, with such passion. It had, shall we say, a very interesting plot."

"Uh huh."

"Did you know?"

"Yes. She told me how she felt a week before the wedding. That day of the party, when we had that big thunderstorm."

"But you never did anything about it? Or touched her?"

"No," I said. It was a lie, a little white one. How could I explain to my wife that one kiss? I didn't even understand it myself.

I gazed at my wife. "Diane, why does a man fall in love with a woman?"

"I don't know, hon. What do you mean?"

"Well, you're a beautiful sexy woman, but so was Julie. Why is it that whenever we were together, I couldn't take my eyes off you? Why didn't I notice her instead? It started when we were kids. And in high school, I'd wake up in the morning, and my first thought would be of you. Your smile, the sound of your voice. Why was it always you and not Julie in my thoughts?"

"You're talking about love, Gary," she said. "And no one understands it. It just happens."

"But see, I want to understand it! I'd really like to know. Because ever since that day at the party, it's weighed on me, bothered my conscience. Knowing that Julie was hurting so much, and I couldn't do anything about it. I couldn't give her the one thing she wanted, because you already had it."

Diane sighed pensively; then, stared beyond me for a moment. "Okay," she said in a low voice, "I'll tell you what I've never said before. At some level I did know that Julie loved you. A woman senses these things the way a man can't. I saw how upset she was on our wedding day, and I watched the two of you dancing at the reception. I knew what you were talking about. I just knew."

"And you didn't say anything?"

"When the dance ended, you came over to me. And the look in your face told me that I still had you. I could tell there was nothing to worry about."

After a pause she went on. "Gary, one thing I love about you is you're so ... so open. I always knew you were crazy about me. It was there in your eyes. You couldn't fake that. I even know when you're not telling the truth. Just like a moment ago, when you said you never touched her. That's a lie, isn't it?"