Enchanted Again

by Nancy Madore

  “Yes.”

  “All right then. Just so long as you know what you’re doing.”

  Later, while waiting for Steve to find time for her between golf, his friends and anything else he wished to do, Jessica found herself wandering the crowded park outside her apartment. She strolled among the throng of people, clinging stubbornly to a mood of resentment and self-pity. The warm sun and cheerful people actually enhanced her melancholy, giving it a bittersweet quality. She felt obscured from the crowd behind a pair of dark sunglasses. She sat on a park bench and was actually savoring her discontent when the man approached her.

  He was older looking and disheveled, obviously unfortunate of circumstance, and her first thought was to wonder why he chose her for a point of contact. Perhaps it was simply her location on a bench that had another vacancy. At any rate, he sat down beside her.

  “Lovely day,” he said.

  Ordinarily she would have ignored the man, especially given the circumstances of the park in months past, but her current frame of mind made her more receptive to wretchedness; the more wretched, in fact, the better.

  “Yes, it is,” she replied.

  “You seem down in the dumps,” he observed. She did not turn her head toward him, but cast her eyes in his direction from behind her dark glasses. He was not as old as she first imagined. He was more ragged than aged. She felt slightly irked by this, but more so by his comment. It was always, she thought, the most hopeless who wanted to offer encouragement to others.

  “Just thinking,” she said with a stiff, mind-your-own-business kind of smile. She was beginning to despise him already. She had hoped for lighthearted banter or perhaps could have even tolerated a harangue of complaints detailing the abundant problems the man quite obviously suffered with. But she could not abide strangers who became too intimate too quickly. Their lack of boundaries frightened her. She turned her face abruptly away from him.

  “Having a bad day?” he asked. She silently fumed. She had been actually enjoying her misery until he came along.

  “I really don’t feel like talking about it,” she said with emphasis.

  “Ah, come on,” he persisted. “It’ll make you feel better to talk about it.”

  Why couldn’t a man ever just give a woman what she asked for instead of everything but? That is what she was wondering, but she said, “I don’t have anything to talk about with you.”

  The man laughed mockingly. She turned to watch him, focusing on his teeth, which were either rotted or missing. How ironic, she thought, unable to suppress a small smile in spite of her annoyance, that such a wreck of a man was actually mocking her. She couldn’t help wondering how that was possible. She was beginning to think she might be cursed. What the hell’s so funny? she wondered with a slight twist of her head.

  “I’m sorry,” the man said, turning serious. “I was only trying to be nice.”

  She stared at him, amazed. The fact that someone who hadn’t bathed in a week or so had the ability to make her feel bad was disturbing. “Look,” she explained slowly, her voice rising ever so slightly. “I just don’t feel like telling my life story to a total stranger, okay?” And she wondered, Why am I explaining myself to this loser? And then she thought, Why do I do any of the things that I do?

  “Well, if you don’t want to talk, you don’t want to talk,” he replied, stating the obvious as if he were revealing a hidden truth.

  “Excuse me,” came a third voice from behind them. Both turned and Jessica saw that the voice came from an attractive-looking middle-aged man. She stared up at him. “I don’t mean to interrupt,” he said with a slight grin. “I was just trying to remember…aren’t you…weren’t you…” He turned his head sideways and squinted his eyes as he acted out the part of the long-lost acquaintance to perfection.

  Jessica stood up and struggled to bury her sudden mirth behind her own imitation of trying to remember. “Yes,” she agreed with conviction. “It was…at the party…I remember…you were with…” She had walked around the bench as she went through this pretense and he kept it going by taking her hand in his for a firm handshake while simultaneously leading her away.

  “Nice to see you again,” he said smoothly. His smile was perhaps a little too perfect.

  “Thanks,” she said, laughing heartily now that they were out of earshot of the scruffy man who had been sitting next to her. “So stupid really…I couldn’t seem to extricate myself from the conversation.”

  “That’s because you’re too nice,” he said.

  “Is that why you went to the trouble of pretending you recognized me, instead of just telling him to get lost?”

  “That was part of it, sure,” he said. “I figured it wouldn’t impress you to see another guy acting like a jerk.”

  “And the other part of it?” she asked him, curious. She had forgotten all about her earlier depression, along with her wish to be alone.

  “I wanted to see if you had a sense of humor,” he admitted. “I wasn’t sure you would play along. And besides that, you had the look of a woman who might really prefer to be left alone.” He watched her face as he spoke to her, and she felt inordinately flattered. She was much more vulnerable to kindness when it was presented so eloquently and by someone with all of his teeth.

  “That was my original plan,” she confessed.

  “Well, if you decide you would like to return to that plan, just say the word. I won’t be offended. I come here to be alone a lot myself. Somehow, it feels more private when it’s crowded like this.” That was exactly how she felt about it, too. She admired his manner, at once so confident and correct. With impressive perception, he had picked up on her insinuation that she may have changed her mind about being alone, but he did it in such an unassuming way that she could not help but be impressed.

  They had continued to walk throughout this exchange and ended up on a paved path that meandered all around the park for walkers and joggers.

  “I’m Jessica,” she said.

  “I’m Derrick. It’s nice to meet you.”

  They walked on in silence for a moment. Jessica breathed deeply as she took in the beautiful surroundings. A jogger came up behind them and Derrick moved closer to her so the jogger could pass by.

  “Pardon me,” he said as he brushed Jessica lightly. She liked him. When the jogger had passed, he asked, “Are you visiting the city or do you live here?” And all of a sudden they were talking. Jessica’s mood had turned sociable and cheerful. Derrick was attentive and forthright, but he kept the topics light, never getting too serious or personal. Jessica found herself comparing him to Steve, who was often distant and introspective. Steve did not have the natural charisma that Derrick possessed. At first, Jessica had found Steve’s reserved, detached manner intriguing, but lately it failed to charm. It was becoming apparent that what she had mistaken for depth was merely selfishness, and she felt cheated. She yearned for romantic overtures.

  It had come to the point in their conversation where they would part ways, perhaps forever, or make plans to see each other again. Once again, Derrick managed the situation with expert aplomb.

  “I would like to see you again,” he told her honestly. The subject of Steve had never come up.

  “I would like that, too,” she said, blushing and slightly uncomfortable. Guilt twisted her insides, but she purposefully ignored it, remembering Linda’s advice.

  “Tomorrow night?” He was not one to waste any time, she noticed. A strange trepidation gripped her. She was not ready to set a definite time.

  “I have plans…” she said hesitantly.

  Derrick picked up on her hesitancy and once again exercised discretion.

  “Why don’t I give you my telephone number,” he said kindly. “If you would like to get together, or talk even, give me a call.” He pulled a card from his pocket and placed it in her hand.

  Jessica left him feeling a disturbing mixture of giddy excitement and guilty anxiety. Instinctively, the conflict drew her to Linda.<
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  “Okay,” Linda began, trying to control her excitement as she settled them both on her couch with martinis in hand, never mind that it was still so early in the day. “Start at the beginning and don’t leave out a single detail!” She stared wide-eyed at Jessica’s face expectantly. Her enthusiasm was catching and the guilty feelings Jessica had been feeling subsided a bit in the exhilaration of something interesting to tell. She recounted all the minutest details of her morning in the park, leaving nothing out. Linda listened, enthralled.

  “That is exactly the kind of guy you need,” Linda announced when Jessica had finished.

  “You don’t even know him,” laughed Jessica. “I don’t even know him.”

  “Yes, but I know men,” replied Linda with authority. She quickly began summing up the crucial details of Derrick’s character, wrapping it all up with, “This Derrick sounds like he has the confidence to treat a woman right…unlike Steve.” The mention of Steve brought back Jessica’s anxiety.

  “Yes…” She sighed unhappily and took another sip of her martini. “Steve.”

  “Forget Steve,” Linda said with an annoyed little wave of her hand. “You have jumped through hoops trying to get a relationship out of him. He doesn’t deserve you. You have to go out with Derrick.”

  “But…I’m not ready to lose Steve,” Jessica said.

  “Then don’t tell him,” Linda replied simply. “Personally, if it was me, I would rub his nose in it. But not telling him might be better. Wait until you’re ready to dump him for good. Old Stevey boy won’t know what hit him.”

  “I don’t think I could do that to Steve.” Jessica felt another pang of guilt.

  “Why not?” Linda chewed thoughtfully on an olive as she prepared her next line of reasoning. “Don’t you know that is exactly what he would do to you? Why do you think he can’t commit long term? For God’s sake, wake up! He’s holding out for the bigger, better deal. He has the charm of a cockroach, which is probably why he hasn’t found anyone else yet, but if and when he does, you’ll be out like yesterday’s trash.”

  These words had enough reality in them to stir the old anger and resentment that Jessica had been mulling over. “You’re probably right,” she conceded.

  “Call Derrick!” Linda said, bouncing excitedly on the couch. “Call him right now and tell him you had a change of plans for tomorrow night.” But Jessica was not ready to do that. She needed to think about it. What, really, was her obligation to Steve? It was true that they had made a mutual promise not to see anyone else, at Steve’s request, but why not make a more permanent commitment then? What did their agreement really mean when one of the two kept it temporary? How could such an agreement be binding when they couldn’t even discuss what it meant?

  Later, when Jessica got home, Steve was waiting for her in an unusually gregarious mood. He greeted her with genuine affection for a change, holding her tightly in his arms for longer than was usual. Then he led her to the couch, positioning her on his lap and asked her about her day. Normally, this kind of attentiveness would have acted as a cathartic to Jessica’s hungry soul. On this particular occasion, however, his romantic behavior had the opposite effect. She felt confounded by his sudden attentiveness, which reminded her of a bad hairstyle that suddenly looks fabulous on the day you go to the hairdresser’s. Why couldn’t he have made this effort the previous night, when she had wanted to talk? She wondered if he suspected something. But how could he? Even so, as the night wore on, Jessica became convinced that he must have sensed her inner detachment from him. Her friend’s advice to “shake the sugar tree” came to mind. And once again the old resentment reared up inside her. His generous behavior seemed almost malicious to her when it was doled out for the purpose of controlling her.

  Still, there was enough love remaining that she could feel herself melting somewhat, in spite of her misgivings. By dinnertime, Jessica was fully enthralled with Steve, and secretly sighed in relief that she had not stepped over the line by calling Derrick. And by the time they were ready to retire, she was filled with desire for him. At least there, between the sheets, Steve’s quiet determination suited her to perfection.

  Jessica pondered this in the shower, as she prepared for bed. There really were so many things she loved about Steve. She shuddered as she thought about his hands, so lean and strong, embodying everything that she loved most about him. They were awe inspiring in their beauty and grace and precision. Like him, they were meticulous. In everyday life, it could be tiresome, his quiet insistence to have things so particularly his way; but at night it pleased her to have his sinewy and capable hands laboring over her body, effectively bringing it to life. They brought her pleasure and comfort and safety. She scolded herself for her earlier indiscretion. She had given the man from the park way too much credit. Anyone could be charming on a first encounter. What did she know about him, really? She felt embarrassed. This was always the way with her; she idolized the men she met too quickly, only to begin picking them apart once she had them in her life, searching for…searching for what? she wondered.

  She told herself that she owed Steve the opportunity to prove himself as she crept into bed and his waiting arms. She snuggled close within his warmth. Very slowly and stealthily his hands began moving over her skin. They started at the small of her back and from there his fingers moved up along either side of her spine, not just moving, but meandering—almost crawling really—over and along her tingling flesh. He kissed her as his fingers made their way over her, and his kiss was hard and intense and warm, awkward by comparison to his expert touch, but pleasant for all that. There were no words exchanged between them, for Steve remained quiet in the bedroom, too, but when he touched her this way, it seemed to Jessica that his hands were saying what his lips could not.

  She moaned and rolled onto her back as his hands worked their way round to her breasts. He was the first man who caressed her breasts without mangling them. He did not brutally crush them with his hands, disfiguring them, or pull at them greedily like a nursing child. With the same gentle expertise one would use to nimbly thread a needle, he tenuously approached her breasts with the tips of his fingers as receptive as antennas. They lightly grazed the tender undersides of the fleshy mounds, causing them to raise and tighten. Next, he flicked over the stiffening nipples and back again, only just teasing them to hardness at first, but then more methodically stroking and pinching them, applying just the right amount of pressure to coax and give pleasure. When he touched her like this she felt that he truly must care for her. She believed he was, at that moment, more aware of her needs than his own, to bring her pleasure with such painstaking precision.

  But too soon his hands moved away and onward, stealing closer and closer to the object of his own need and desire. Like ten individual organisms acting of their own accord, his fingers crept systematically over her abdomen, inching over the entire span in their trail, leaving the flesh rigid with glorious bumps reaching out for more. By the time they tentatively probed between her legs she was shuddering with pleasure.

  In spite of her ever-growing arousal, Jessica could not help feeling equal parts distress and pleasure with every advance of Steve’s hands. Like the glass half-empty, she was aware of a loss whenever he abandoned one part of her for another. She was ever conscious of a poignant longing for something more. This longing was not for the climax that they both might shortly achieve, but rather, for a pinnacle never to be reached. It was a longing for the one thing that was always missing. Even now, while she reveled in his absolute attention and rigorous concentration as his fingers nimbly coaxed her clitoris to life, she sighed in mutual pleasure and discontent. Her pleasure was bittersweet; for she was always keenly aware that his efforts were bringing her closer to the end. It pained her that his flawless caresses seemed to be rushing her toward the end she was longing to delay. And she felt overall that for all his skillful lovemaking, he really cared little for her. This was the only time she received his full attention, and he spe
nt it pining after the conclusion. It was not that he would find satisfaction before she did—he was far too cunning for that—but rather, that he needed nothing more from her once it was over. And she knew also that no matter how long it lasted, it would never be long enough for her. If only she could find a way to capture his attention so fully outside of their lovemaking she might not suffer so. And so, with the usual mixture of discontent and resentment dampening her desire, she opened her legs to his touch, and allowed her body to melt under his adept and perceptive caress.

  As was the case with all of his caresses, upon reaching her most sensitive area, Steve did not disturb and annoy her with his fingers as other men were often known to do, but with that same meticulous precision of his, he carefully worked the length of one finger between the lips of her labia while expertly massaging her clitoris with another finger from that same hand. In this way he carefully gauged her responses to him, expertly tracking her progress by the swelling and wetness of her inner flesh. If his efforts were not achieving the desired effect, he would adjust his strokes over her clitoris accordingly, all the while keeping his finger securely inside her cunningly measuring her readiness for him. And even as she writhed in pleasure around the rigid finger that held her, Jessica had the sense that he was really only waiting, like a spider in a web, to open herself up enough for him to spring. He kissed her tenderly while his fingers kept coaxing her. By and by she succumbed, crying out and clawing at him feverishly as she climaxed.

  Without a word Steve withdrew his finger and moved up and over her to straddle her chest, poising himself over her mouth. His breathing was ragged, but otherwise he made no sound. She opened her mouth and took all of his rigid fullness inside. Suddenly she was seized with a fervent desire to pull a reaction from him. If only she could incite the same passion in him that she was feeling. She began to suck on him more energetically than was usual. Still, he remained silent. She was becoming almost enraged by his lack of emotion, and was determined to draw him out there in her bedroom, even if she could not reach him in any other part of their life. She longed to have him feel what she felt, and was determined to make him feel it. She would have welcomed even anger from him if that was the only response she could muster and she began to nip at him, lightly at first, as she sucked on him even more vigorously. She felt him stiffen at the light nipping, and became more brazen with her teeth, careful not to actually injure him, but with the intent to give him discomfort. Steve pulled himself out of her mouth carefully, and moved wordlessly between her legs. With remarkable control and self-possession he mounted her.