I.

Lucy sat on the bed with a slew of letters and telegrams scattered around her. They were all from Ricky. She hadn't seen him in nearly a month as he and several of the boys from his orchestra were traveling to entertain American soldiers fighting the war. He would be throughout France and England before returning to the United States for a few U.S.O. shows, then finally, home again to New York. But that wouldn't be for nearly another month.

As the war had dragged on, it had never occurred to Lucy that as a naturalized citizen, Ricky could be called to service just like anyone else. When he finally was, it was in a show business capacity and she was glad that, at least, she had little to fear from receiving the dreaded telegrams that were borne by the military messengers that many of her friends looked out for on a daily basis.

That didn't mean it was any easier to live her day-to-day life without him. For the most part, she kept busy shopping with Ethel, lunching with Marian or playing bridge with Caroline. Writing to Ricky was her favorite pastime, however, and she almost hated to leave the apartment in case a telegram arrived. After she said that to him in one of her letters, she noticed that more of his correspondence began arriving by regular mail. She took it as a subtle commentary from him that he did not want her sitting in a room waiting for a telegram all day.

Today, though, as the rain pelted against the bedroom window, she was feeling especially lonesome for him. So she pulled out the box where she kept all of the letters he had sent and started to re-read them, one by one. It was the second box she had asked Fred to find from the basement, because the collection of letters had outgrown the first one he had given her.

She picked up one letter that was written on a sheet of pink paper. It was one of her favorites.

My Gorgeous Redhead,

Today we played a show just outside Paris. There were some French dancers there and since I ran out of my own paper to write to you, one of the girls gave me some of hers to use. I thought you'd like the color. We didn't see much of Paris, so I can't tell you what it's like. I'm sorry. Someday I'll take you here and we'll see it together. Just the two of us. The boys in the band are having a much better time than I am. They're finding girlfriends all over France. Sometimes I don't see some of them until we're on stage. It's alright with me as long as they're on time. One night they took me to dinner but we didn't even get through it without a flock of girls around. They love it, but it just makes me miss you more. In a couple of days, we'll be in England. I don't think there will be quite so much romance when we get there. I like to keep my letters happy because I don't want you to get upset. But I've wanted to write this for a week and I have to tell you. I miss you so much that some days I don't know how it is that I can sing a note. I just want to be home in New York. I want to play at the club like always and come home to you at night. There isn't anything I wouldn't do to feel you in my arms and not just have to remember what it's like. It's very hard to know that it's still quite a while before I can see you. But I want you to know that when I do, there isn't anything that my love starved body won't do for you. I love you very much. Think of me all the time.

Your Latin Loverboy

Lucy ran her fingers of the writing. The imprint made by the pen to the paper was tangible, but it was hardly a replacement for the way Ricky's skin felt against her. The first time she read this letter, and each time since, she felt the hungry stir of the intimacy with him that she longed to have again. Having him near her was always a thrill, but even she was surprised at the way her body responded to some words on a page.

The rhythmic sounds of the rain outside, coupled with the dreamy way Ricky's letters made her feel soon had Lucy scanning the words on the pages as she lay against her pillow. After a few drowsy moments, she fell asleep, her dreams relentless in their images of Ricky.

II.

Ricky looked out the window of the army bus that was taking him and the boys back to the barracks after a U.S.O show in Kentucky. Already down from the time away from home and Lucy, he was even more sullen knowing that he was just involved in the last entertainment those soldiers would see for a while; they were hours away from being flown overseas, to a battle that continue to rage. Those thoughts weighed on him deeply much of the time. He didn't want to think about how many of the men he had played for would be fated for a tragic end.

The musicians around him were simply glad to be back in the U.S., although they had had no complaints throughout France, either. Ricky smirked as he overheard his trombone player reminiscing about a comely blonde who'd taken him dancing one night, only to end up pulling him into a dimly lit washroom to perform a private dance. She spoke a language that he couldn't even begin to understand, but what did he care? As the men burst into laughter, Ricky pulled a folded and worn piece of paper from the pocket of his jacket.

He unfolded it gingerly, not wanting it to rip. He kept all of Lucy's letters in his trunk, tied together with a thick cord. But he kept this one on his person all the time. It was his favorite. It had been folded, unfolded, rained on, sweated on and on one occasion, cried on. Ricky read it again as his trumpet player regaled the boys with a tale of his own.

My Latin Loverboy,

Your last letter didn't make me upset at all. It made me happy that you miss me. But I'm sorry that you're unhappy. I'm going to make sure you keep that promise about taking me to Paris one day! I went shopping with Ethel today and I bought a dress. I won't tell you how much it was until you get home. It was on sale. It's beautiful, but it didn't make me as happy as I hoped it would. I miss you terribly. Tomorrow, I'm going to have lunch with Caroline and a friend of hers who I haven't met yet. Her husband is somewhere in Italy. I know you won't be home for a while yet, but I feel lucky to know that you will be. I don't think she feels the same. Every night, I go to bed pretending that you're next to me, trying to feel your arms around me. Some nights I'm better at it than others. No matter what, it isn't the same as you really being here. Don't worry. When you see me again, you may have all of me. Dream of me all the time.

Your Gorgeous Redhead

Ricky folded the letter again and tucked it back into his pocket as the bus pulled up to the barracks. Still laughing, the boys gathered their instruments and started off the bus.

III.

Lucy felt nervous for reasons she couldn't even understand. She glanced at the clock on the night table. Ricky's train would get into New York in an hour. She estimated it would take another hour to get from the train station to the apartment in evening traffic. Just enough time to shower and get ready after having gotten Ricky's dinner in the oven. She wanted to look more beautiful than he'd ever seen her, not wanting to disappoint him after what must've been two long months of imagining her.

It seemed that her whole body was shaking as she tried to act as though it was normal to be so clumsy while doing something as mundane as showering. Everything from soap to shampoo had ended up at the bottom of the tiled tub. Finally finished with her task, she perched on a stool in front of the vanity, her hair fresh from a visit to the beauty parlor that morning. She spent an age perfecting the makeup around her eyes and the red hue of her lips. Holding the silk robe around her slender form, she stood in the closet, laboring over what to wear.

IV.

"It's yer lucky day, mister. It's been a long time since I hit every green light in THIS city." The taxi driver had been rambling all the way from the train station, but Ricky couldn't help take note of that statement as it seemed particularly true. He had thought that the drive to the apartment would take at least an hour at this time of day.

It couldn't have come at a better time because he didn't think he could stand even one more day away from home or his wife. He missed her sweet disposition, the clever way she spoke, the way she corrected his English…and he'd spent his fair share of nights wanting to punch something in an effort to release the wanton energy that grew more unrequited every day.

He looked out the window a moment as the taxi stopped in front of the brownstone, and he looked up at the window on the third floor…the one that he knew was his bedroom. There was a light lit as the sun had started to go down.

"Mister. Mister, I said that'd be five bucks!"

Ricky absently gave the man his fare and a tip. Other than providing him with his destination when he got in the taxi, Ricky hadn't said a word to anyone since he'd gotten off the train.

V.

Lucy peered at the clock again when she heard a soft noise coming from the front room. The bedroom door was closed and she wasn't sure she'd really heard anything at all other than her own heart pounding in her ears. She dismissed it when she saw the time. It was impossible for Ricky to be home yet.

She sighed in exasperation, unhappy with every single dress she put her hands on. None of them felt right. She was so busy pushing hangers around the closet that she didn't hear the bedroom door open, nor did she hear the soft footsteps on the carpet.

She turned back to where the first dress she had looked at was hanging and in the corner of her eye, she saw a figure. Lucy turned completely around and looked silently at him. She wasn't sure she could believe her own eyes, which had tricked her into seeing him dozens of times in the last two months.

Ricky was looking back at her and said nothing as she approached him slowly. His lips broke into a small smile when it seemed to him that her eyes were searching for something to assure her that he really was standing there. When she was close enough to him, he reached out and pulled her into his arms.

Overcome and unable to say anything, Lucy's arms flew around his neck and the only thing she could manage to do was kiss the warm tan skin of his neck.

The touch of her lips against his skin lit a fuse in Ricky that had been smoldering for as long as he could bring himself to remember. Before Lucy even knew what to do next, her feet left the floor and she was firmly on the bed. Her heart palpitated and her eyes widened as she watched him nearly tear every piece of clothing from his own body, and she was soon intoxicated by the sight of him. He moved over her, his eyes inches from hers. She waited for him to speak but he didn't say a thing and she couldn't muster enough breath to do so herself.

Based on his earlier, frenetic pace, she believed he would ravage her with a quickness for which she was completely prepared. Instead, he touched her face and his eyes softened. He kissed her, his tongue carousing the inside of her mouth. Her heart went from its frenzied pounding to a complete stop as his hands unapologetically cast open her robe and found the peaks of her breasts.

Ricky's focus quickened again as his lips left hers and adhered to one of her nipples as his hands crept down over her trembling stomach. Her mind went hazy and there was nothing for her to do except cry out in pure, breathless ecstasy as his fingertips caressed the sweet center of her womanhood.

Lucy was helpless as he picked her up and moved underneath her. She felt a throbbing between her thighs as his hands moved up and down her body. Her back arched when she finally felt the unmistakable probe of his hardness against her. When she sank into him, she felt euphoric and heady. She had ached for him so long.

As quickly as she had found herself on top of him, he moved her again to lie underneath him as he reclaimed control of their encounter. He plunged into her fully and masterfully, a sharp cry escaping his lips with each thrust. The sound of it gave her great satisfaction as she hadn't heard his voice in all the time he was away and he had yet to speak to her.

After several more moments of his fevered strokes, waves of orgasm pulsed through Lucy's body and she cried out for Ricky in desperation. Her hips reflexively strained for him as he released the eruption of his passions into her soon after.

Ricky lowered himself to her side, having given her every indescribable emotion and physical hunger that he had felt while he was away. He wrapped his arms around her and Lucy melted into him. He kissed the top of her head and she calmed to the sound of the beat of his heart.

"Ricky, speak to me."

"Te amo. Eso es todo lo que puedo decir."