1. Woulda
I stroll through the office, my mind intent on one thing. I glance to and fro, trying to catch a glimpse of her. And then I see her!
She's the most beautiful creature alive. She is sitting primly at her desk, her pure white complexion made all the more alluring by her deep blue eyes, her straight, soft, black hair.
She is my darling, my sweetie, my heart's delight. As I approach her desk the movement of my body attracts her attention and her head slowly lifts, her perfect round eyes coming to rest on mine. We hold each other's gaze for a second, secretly acknowledging our connection, our inner passion. And then we quickly turn away.
No one must know! The office is a hotbed of gossip. If anyone suspects for a moment that she and I wish to be together, that between us we share a secret unending white-hot passion, the news would instantly get back to the worst possible place: her husband.
Yes, she's married. Married, and with no chance of divorce. There are children involved. There are religious scruples. There's a mother-humper of a prenup. So here is what we are left with: stolen glances, stolen moments, broken hearts.
It's an old story. But our time together, brief as it is, is too precious to give up.
I enter my office and close the door. I have to maintain some degree of decorum. I wait ten minutes. Then I call her. She answers after the first ring.
"Hello, Moira Johnson speaking."
Her voice sounds so official and yet so sensual.
"Sweetheart, it's me. Are you alone?"
She never breaks stride. "No, sir, I'm not. But I could have it done within the hour, if that will suit you, sir."
"Oh, you want me to call you back in an hour?"
"Yes, sir, that would be fine. Goodbye, sir."
"Goodbye, my darling."
The sound of her voice will sustain me for the rest of the hour. But I need to be with her. My love is a fire that brightly burns and will last for an eon. The pain of her absence is almost too much for me to bear.
By lunch time we have talked on the phone. We have arranged an assignation; our first. Perhaps our only? She is as eager as I to consummate our incredible passion for each other. Moira's husband, as usual, must work late. He says he is meeting with an important customer. I don't believe him.
He's using her. He is taking advantage of her sweet disposition and forgiving nature to cheat her, to betray her.
But you can't tell that to Moira. She is the trusting sort. She cannot think badly of anyone.
And now this sweet thing, this paragon of innocence and virtue, finds herself in the middle of a mad passionate relationship that can only be leading in one direction.
We've fought it. Regardless of what her husband is doing, Moira has wanted to remain true to her vows. I've honored her feelings, knowing that part of her perfection is based upon the purity of her heart.
But I must have her. I will never pressure her into doing something she doesn't want, but this she wants.
We meet at the cocktail lounge of a mid-town Hilton. She looks sweet and sensual in her conservative yet tasteful business suit. We huddle in a corner booth, sharing secrets, finally exposing our innermost thoughts to the keeper of each other's heart.
Before long we are holding hands. The electricity of the touch is almost enough to set me off or melt me down. I want more, but don't want to spoil the moment. I must not, I cannot be the one to move the relationship to the next level. The decision must be hers. I can see in her eyes that she is struggling with her choices.
"Henry, darling, now that we are finally together, I find myself losing control. You look so good to me, the touch of your hand feels so good. Henry, I want to touch you all over your body. I can't help it. I've been so lonely."
I let her have a way out. "Moira, sweetheart, I don't expect any more from you than you've already given me. How could I? I've been blessed just to be in your presence."
"I know Henry, I'm so grateful that you've allowed me to go at my own pace. A lesser man would have given up long ago. But I love you so much! I needed to be sure. But I can stay away from you no longer.'
"Moira, if that is what you want, then that is what I want. But know this: I will never make demands on you. I need you like I need air, but I would rather suffocate without you than make you think the less of me."
Her smile is accompanied by a single tear that rolls down her lovely cheek. She takes hold of my hand and says, "Come, Henry, let's get a room. I need to be near you."
I stand slowly, then help her up. I walk proudly with her at my side to the hotel check-in and take an upscale room with a king-sized bed. Arm-in-arm we stroll to the elevator. I feel the pressure of her lovely shoulder on my arm as she gently leans against me, trying to increase our contact without being obvious. All I know is I need to hold her.
