Water's End

by Jessica Deforest

  "Let's continue this conversation over dinner. I can afford to take you somewhere nice now, like Meyer's Drive-in. They have the best fries in the world. Or Kansas."

  "Aren't you the big spender?" She laughed. "But we'd better stick to the fort. Let's go to the PX snack bar."

  The next Saturday Anne would make her first runway appearance. David had a shoot at a studio in the city, so they drove down together. She had never been so nervous in her life, not even on her wedding day, but when she got into the dressing-room area, she forgot all about her nerves in the noise and confusion swirling around her.

  Makeup artists and hairdressers worked everywhere, performing their magic in the midst of what Anne could only describe as insane chaos. Models ran about in various stages of undress, many of them wearing only panties or completely nude, while dressers dashed around carrying clothes, shoes, wigs and props. No one seemed to notice they were in the middle of a sea of breasts.

  A seamstress sewed one rail-thin girl into an outrageous yellow knit tube that had holes all over it. "Looks like a bleedin' piece of Swiss cheese, don't it?" the girl said in a cockney accent. "Good thing I don't 'ave any tits, or they'd fall through this 'un," she said, pointing to a hole below her left breast.

  A wardrobe helper rolled a rack into a cubicle against the wall. "Here's your spot," she told Anne. "And this is your stuff. Everything you'll wear is numbered. You brought black, red, and navy pumps, right?"

  Anne nodded.

  "Okay, get yourself into number one and line up behind Lynn over there." She pointed to a statuesque blonde in a purple sheath. "You're on in five minutes."

  Anne's first dress was emerald-green silk with a full skirt and cap sleeves. She got into it, slipped on black pumps, and stood behind the blonde, who turned and gave her an appraising look.

  "You new?" the girl asked.

  "My name's Anne Peterson. No, it's almost Mills. I'm getting a divorce, so it'll be Mills again soon," she said. "That's my maiden name."

  "I'm Lynn Cole," the girl said. "And I've got such a hangover. Oooh, I'd probably feel better if someone cut my head off."

  Anne was nearly bowled over by the smell of alcohol coming off Lynn. "You all right?"

  Lynn smoothed the skirt of the dress she wore. "Yeah, once I get out there. Just had a little drinky winky to help me recover. I need to get this day over with."

  The skinny girl in the Swiss-cheese dress sauntered over. "Let's get this friggin' show on the runway," she moaned.

  Lynn put a finger to her lips. "Shhh, Hermione," she said. "They'll hear you out front. You know how your voice carries."

  A woman in an elegant black suit walked past them and pushed through the heavy black curtain. Anne heard her voice over the PA system. "And now, a little number that can take you to an afternoon tea or an elegant theater date."

  Lynn slipped through the curtains. In a minute or two, the stage manager pointed to Anne, who felt a moment of sheer terror as she stepped onto the runway. But she had promised herself a good performance, and the confidence she always had onstage welled up from inside her.

  Her chin came up, her hips tucked under, and she even remembered to keep her toes pointed straight ahead. To her amazement, she realized she was doing fine. Just a little bit farther, she told herself.

  "To the stairs in the center of the runway, climb up, then down the other side, then to the end of the runway, pivot, and back again," the show coordinator had said. "And give me a pirouette at the top of the stairs."

  Everything went well until she got to the end of the runway, when, during her pivot, she heard a thud and turned to see Lynn sprawled in the middle of the runway.

  What to do? She wasn't sure, but she knew she couldn't get back with Lynn blocking her way.

  The string quartette began playing "I Could Have Danced All Night," and without thinking, Anne did something she had often done in school plays. She ad-libbed some stage business. First she did another turn, and then began to play an imaginary violin, dancing at the end of the runway so the green silk skirt flared around her.

  Although a titter went up from the audience, all eyes were on her, even when Lynn struggled up and staggered off. Anne danced her way back to the steps, did a last pirouette at the top, and glided behind the curtains with applause ringing in her ears.

  "Shoulda stepped on the bloody bitch," Hermione said in a stage whisper, stepping through the curtains.

  Anne heaved a big sigh and turned to find the tiny show coordinator silently applauding her. "Well done," the woman said.

  The rest of the show dragged by. There was a one-hour showing, a fifteen-minute intermission, and then another one-hour show. That meant a lot of changing and a lot of waiting to go on, and in spite of the activity around her, a lot of boredom, but Anne thought about how much she was being paid and decided she'd bring a book or some needlepoint to her next show.

  In spite of the commission she paid to the agency, she would earn more in one show than she did in a week at the fort, and she could visualize her college fund growing.

  The department stores always put on fashion shows, and so did women’s clubs, so there was a lot of opportunity in modeling. She wanted to earn college money, so she couldn’t pass it up, no matter how dull she thought it was.

  The show coordinator ran up to her when she finished her last set. "Terrific," she said. "And to think this is your first show. I've never seen anyone with more poise. That little violin-playing charade of yours got us through a very rough moment. What a way to get the attention off an accident. And the impromptu dance was perfect. We'll see that you get a bonus, dear."

  The petite woman patted her arm. "An auspicious beginning, indeed."

  Chapter 9

  She and David kept busy with modeling assignments, so they didn't go out as much as usual. One night, after a movie at the post theater, David came in for a cup of coffee before heading off for the barracks.

  At the front door he drew her to him and lingered for a kiss. If ever she had been totally lost, completely helpless, it was then. David's mouth met hers hungrily, and her own response both thrilled and terrified her.

  "That was close. Time to say goodnight," he said, pulling Anne's arms away from his neck.

  "But we hardly see each other anymore," Anne said, throwing her arms back around him and laying her head on his shoulder. "Here it is, the middle of May already, and I've seen you a total of six times since we signed with Chris. All we do is work."

  "I know, I know. I'm sorry. Things are bound to slow down soon. I promise I won't work so hard if you won't."

  "Okay." She rubbed his back and kissed him hard.

  He groaned. "Baby, if you don't stop doing what you're doing, we're going to end up doing something we don't want to be doing right now. Not until after your divorce."

  "You're really serious about this, aren't you?"

  He nodded. "Serious enough to take a lot of cold showers. Besides, in two more weeks, you'll be a free woman. Then watch out."

  Putting both hands on his chest, Anne gave David a little shove. "Okay. Out the door with you."

  Pretending to stagger, David stepped back. "See me in your dreams?"

  "Always."

  The next two weeks dragged by. When the ninth of June finally arrived, and she went to the county courthouse with her attorney, Anne was amazed to find that Joe hadn't bothered to show up. Nor had he contested the divorce; in fact, he didn't even hire an attorney.

  The whole thing was over so fast she hardly had time to think about it. At two o'clock she was a married woman, and by three o'clock she was single again, with her maiden name back.

  As soon as she got home, she called the office. "David? This is Anne," she said. "Anne Mills."

  "It's over." he said.

  Excited as she was, she could hardly contain herself. "At last."

  David sighed. "It's been a long time coming. Time to celebrate. Pick you up at six o'clock sharp. First, we'll go to the lake and have a
walk. Then it's off to Knollwood for dinner."

  "And then?"

  "We'll think of something," he said, drawing out the last word.

  She was disappointed when he called to say he had a flat tire and would be late. "See you about eight-thirty," he said.

  Anne glanced at her watch. Two more hours until he'd pick her up. Nervous and excited, she walked around her flower garden and filled the birdfeeder. Trying to kill more time, she cleaned out the birdbath and deadheaded some roses.

  After that round of activity, she needed a bath. Dumping twice the usual amount of bubble bath into the tub, she ran the water until bubbles tickled her chin and spilled over the edge. Then she added some of her favorite perfume and lay back in the old claw-foot tub.

  Fearing she would turn into a prune after soaking for half an hour, she got out and toweled off. She pulled on undies and a bra and then put on her favorite dress, a polished-cotton shirtwaist dress with coral-pink roses on a deep green background.

  It was one of the pieces she got to keep from the Wendy West show, and she thought it was the most becoming thing she'd ever owned. It made her waist look tiny and showed off her bust.

  More important, it was also David's favorite. His eyes lit up when he got there. "You look fabulous," he said, handing her a bouquet of Tropicana roses that matched the flowers in her dress.

  She was thrilled. "How thoughtful. These are my favorite roses in the whole world. I love this color."

  "I know," he said, grinning and marking an imaginary number in the air. "That's one for my side."

  He drew her into his arms and kissed her, lightly at first, then deeper, until her breath came in little gasps. Pulling back, he looked into her eyes. "I have special plans for this evening. Let's go," he said in a husky voice, tossing an army blanket, borrowed from the barracks no doubt, into the back seat of his car.

  They drove to the fort in a warm silence, her hand in his. All the way there, they made love in their handclasp, his hand stroking hers, massaging her fingertips, kneading her palm, with her hand responding as the flames inside her shot higher.

  When they parked at the lake, it was nine o'clock, and a newly risen full moon, looking like a ripe orange, painted a rippled path across the water.

  "I think I have a name for this place," David said. "We'll call it Water's End. That will always be our special name for it, and no one will know what we're talking about when we say it, so it will belong just to us."

  She thought it was a delightful name for a spot that was so much theirs, and so private, where they had spent hours, sharing their thoughts and their kisses. That evening, she had little to say. They strolled out onto the bridge but fell into an awkward silence until a cat ran by in the gathering dusk.

  Startled, Anne let out a nervous laugh.

  David put his arm around her. "Scared?" he said.

  "Of what?"

  He drew her closer to him. "Of being free. Free to love me."

  She smoothed her hair and walked out on the little bridge. "I guess so. Fantasy is one thing, but this is another. I've been hurt, and I don't know if I can let go and believe in anyone again."

  He came up behind her and put his arms around her, nuzzling her ear, then turned her toward him. "Look at me, Anne."

  She searched his eyes and grew dizzy with what she found in them. Like someone hypnotized, she couldn't break her stare. The look he gave her came from somewhere deep within him. His gaze was full of passion as old as time itself, and magically, all her doubts lifted and flew away like ashes, dissolving as they took flight.

  "You know I love you," he said, kissing her hair. Then his mouth came down upon hers, soft at first, and more insistent as she opened her lips.

  Leaving trails of fire everyplace he touched her, his hands traced her slender back, and then rose under her arms, finding their way to her breasts. Her breathing quickened.

  She pulled away for a second. "We'll be late for dinner."

  "Who cares?" he said, pulling her to him.

  With a nervous giggle, she stepped away from him. "And I thought we would make love in a nice, soft bed."

  Once more he took her in his arms. "There's plenty of time for that, too."

  Running out of excuses, she said, "We'll muss my dress."

  "It'll wash," was the last thing he said before his lips met hers in a deep, searching kiss.

  Quickly, David fetched the blanket from the car and spread it on the ground beneath a vast weeping willow. Its branches, trailing the ground, made a dense green curtain around them, completely shielding them from view. In an instant, they were in each other's arms again. Silently clasped together, they sank down on the blanket.

  As David's kisses became more insistent, Anne met his desire with her own, a fire that had been banked for so long she hardly knew it existed anymore. He unbuttoned her dress and reached behind her to unclasp her bra, then slipped his hands under her breasts, kissing each one, caressing both with a tenderness that made her shiver in delight.

  "My darling," he breathed into her hair. He touched her, stroked her, setting her skin aglow, kissing her neck, her ears, her stomach, until she writhed in his arms.

  Then he undid his trousers and held her hand against his body. She could feel the coarse hair that grew there, and smell his tart male smell. The heat that came off him made her feel faint, giddy as her first glass of her grandma's elderberry wine.

  When she stroked his belly, he shuddered and shook with the joy of it, and she wondered at the delight that lay in something as simple as the touch of a hand. His fires fueled her own, and she felt the warmth rise in her thighs and hips.

  It was her turn to shudder as his hands found their way lower. Slipping her panties off, he caressed her, tracing a path down her thighs, across her hips, and finally between her legs.

  Cupping her tenderly, he moved his fingers ever so slightly, gently finding places she had never been touched, until she flared with such longing that she feared she would turn into some kind of animal.

  Her body took over, pressing unashamedly against this hard young man, so beautiful and so male. She must fit herself to him, be a part of him, and take him into herself. Reaching down, she clasped him, feeling how he throbbed and stiffened in her grasp.

  With a moan, she opened her legs and guided him into her. Although she was moist, it was difficult for him to enter her. Slowly, carefully, he eased down upon her, withdrawing, moving slightly into her, and then advancing a bit more until she accepted him fully.

  "My God, you're tight," David said.

  Anne felt some pain, but it was sweet, and as his kisses continued, she could feel herself open to him, blossoming like some exotic flower eager to engulf him and take up all his sweetness.

  Gradually, he began to move, slowly at first, striking chords of pleasure that rose throughout her body. Putting his hands under her hips, he lifted her to him, and she held him closer, feeling the wonderful roundness of his hips.

  As his thrusts increased, her body moved in ways she had never even imagined, until she abandoned all pretenses, bucking like a colt.

  "David, my darling, I love you," she gasped as she felt the fire build.

  He groaned.

  His hot rush inside her triggered her own release, and she climaxed over and over again, coupling with him in the way lovers always had, since the beginning of time.

  For the first time, she felt complete, truly a woman. Although she'd had sex with Joe, sort of, she had never made love before. Not like this. Nor had she experienced a climax before. She did not tell him this, but sensed he knew by her response.

  With great wonder, she realized there was nothing wrong with her. It was Joe. He was lacking in an important part of his anatomy. Having grown up in a house where there were no men, there was no way for her to know about such things until now.

  David lay upon her, head resting on her shoulder, breathing heavily, as she gasped for breath. They were both covered with sweat, grass, and not a little
dirt, but Anne had never been happier. Her back itched, and she would probably have chiggers, but she didn't care.

  He rolled over to one side, still breathing heavily. "You know," he gasped, "I never thought we'd make love here, but when you think about it, what more appropriate place?"

  "You're right. I think we fell in love here."

  "Wrong," he said. "I fell in love at the office. When I first saw you."

  Brushing her hair out of her eyes, she sat up. "You too?"

  David rolled over, flat on his back. "Yes. From the very first second."

  "I thought that only happened in the movies." She scratched a mosquito bite.

  He laughed. "Maybe, but they wouldn't put it in the movies if it didn't really happen sometimes."

  "Shh," she said. "I hear something. Quick, we've got to get dressed."

  Hearing footsteps nearby, they hurriedly zipped, buttoned, and adjusted their clothes.

  "Hello? Anybody there?" A man's voice rang out, and a flashlight shone through the willow branches.

  "Just us," David replied. "We were sitting here listening to the frogs."

  "That's right," Anne said.

  "Oh, don't let me disturb you two. I'm just out walking my dog." The man chuckled. "Lovely night for lovers, isn't it? Come on, Tag," he said, and strolled off toward the polo field in the moonlight.

  "Lord, it's bright as morning out there," Anne said.

  "But not in here. No one can see us. It's our own private little place, cool and quiet." He pulled her to him once more.

  "Might as well forget dinner. I hope you're not hungry," she said.

  "Only for you."

  They made love again, slowly, and then drove to Anne's house, where he lifted her over the doorstep and carried her to her poster bed. Moonlight spilled through her high bedroom windows, turning the sheets silver.

  For a short time, they slept before waking again to make love. Throughout the night they coupled, then slept, in a natural rhythm like the tides, ebbing and flowing in love.

  Anne even made love in her dreams, waking confused and wondering if any of it were real until she felt David's warm body beside her. In his sleep, his face was all Greek sculpture and Roman god, but he wore the expression of a Boticelli angel.