What the hell had he just done? He'd found an excuse to see her for the next two nights! Had he taken leave of his senses, or what? He was saying things that he didn't seem to have any control over. Like asking her to share the full moon and the rain with him. And wonder of wonders, she hadn't expressed any hesitation. He didn't like this. He was somewhat of a control freak, and now all semblance of order was slipping right through his fingers. Mike didn't often feel vulnerable, but he did right now.
They were playing both Friday and Saturday, so he'd be over late both nights, and yet she'd still eagerly agreed. What the hell am I doing? Have I gone stark raving mad? Am I a glutton for rejection?
"They say the clouds will start rolling in tomorrow night," he said, half to himself. "And now, I have to split. The guys and I still have to discuss some stuff about the gig. It's a drag, but it's where it's at."
Leslie grinned. He had a funny way of expressing himself sometimes. But she couldn't help but find it endearing. He was totally his own person. She was disappointed he was leaving so soon, but so glad she was going to get to see him for the next two nights.
Mrs. Marston was all ears when Leslie told her the latest news about Michael. Veronica spoke up, something she didn't do very often. "I want to meet him too." It seemed Michael was gaining a fan club, and he didn't even know it.
"I was planning on inviting him to come here with me sometime next week," said Leslie. "That is, if he wants to come."
"Oh, he will," Mrs. Marston nodded sagely. "He's enamored with you." Mrs. Marston studied the girl's bright green eyes that fairly glittered in the sun, the long lashes that fanned her cheek, the long, silky blond hair that fell gently forward, over her shoulder as she picked a delicate flower, and Mrs. Marston could so easily imagine a tall, dark, handsome man adoring her. Leslie had such a youthful air to her—you'd never know she was 29, but then, that's what love does to you, thought Mrs. Marston inwardly. It makes you glow. She doesn't know it yet, but she's on her way to falling in love with that young man.
Full moon tonight. And Michael would be over. Leslie had spent extra time in the bathtub, bubbles nearly cascading over the sides. She was in a rare mood. It was probably the full moon, she told herself. Not just Michael's influence. But how could a woman help but feel waves of almost unbearable sensuality when she knew she'd soon be walking on the beach, under a full moon, maybe holding hands with a mysterious handsome stranger? Sounded like a cheesy novel. But that was exactly what was going to happen. Well, he wasn't a stranger any longer. But he had been… only a few weeks ago.
Breezy barked when Mike knocked on the door at 2:30. And for the first time, it was a full bark. A confident bark. It was deep and no-nonsense sounding, thought Leslie proudly. "Good girl!" Leslie praised her for being alert. They went to the door together, Leslie holding her collar. The grain of the leather felt good in her hand. In fact, all Leslie's senses were hyper aware tonight. She smelled his cologne as soon as she opened the door. Manly, fresh, understated. He was still in his band clothes. She liked the idea that he hadn't even changed before coming over to see her. Maybe because he was eager?
"Touch me," he said softly.
Oh my God. That kind of talk was downright hazardous! She wondered if he didn't know what it did to her. No… she didn't suppose he did. She touched him. She told herself it was because of the dog, but if he'd asked her to touch him without the dog's presence, would she? It would have been very tempting, particularly since tonight held a special quality—the full moon must be what was making her so amorous. Yeah, that must be it. Or would she have been just as amorous for Michael without a full moon? She was afraid of the answer.
In an instant she threw caution to the wind. To hell with it! He wasn't going to have to ask for the hug tonight. She went ahead and hugged him, and he hugged her back—more firmly, more securely than his prior hugs. Was he feeling the same way tonight? The difference in his body language was apparent. Their bodies were pressed closer than ever before. Always before, they'd hugged mostly with just their upper bodies, tension remaining in their lower bodies. Tonight something was in the air, whatever it was, and she felt him allowing himself to relax a bit and mold against her. Just a little bit, but it was there. She could actually feel him making the decision.
There was immediate sexual desire on her part. His body was right there, not unnaturally angled away, or with any undercurrent of tension. Surrounding her with his arms completely. Drawing her in more intensely. She took a step back then, confusion and bewilderment and fascination piling up on top of each other. The arousal was the most disconcerting part.
She used one of his tricks, and cleared her throat awkwardly, turning and busying herself with getting Breezy's leash off the coffee table. They walked out into the night, the moon shining silver and lonely, keeping quiet watch over them. She could see his eyes well tonight with the extra illumination, and she saw something there that smacked of earnestness. Something extra…his expression was serious, sincere. His gaze was so direct she wanted to crumple under it.
"How did the gig go?"
"Really good, really good. We're beginning to get recognition. It's going to lead to good things. Had a call earlier tonight from a club that said they won't even require us to audition if we'll play for them. I guess word of mouth. And an owner of another club approached us tonight as we were packing up to leave. Guess he'd been watching us in the audience all night. Seems other clubs are starting to hear of us and want to give us a trial run. Unless things take a drastic turn, we'll be in high demand for at least the next few months. Takes a lot of pressure off."
He looked so pleased that she just had to hug him again. And then she realized it hadn't been her imagination… the feeling, and the physical closeness returned. In a nanosecond. The arousal certainly did. He was good at hiding his feelings—much more accomplished at it than she was. She felt his eyes still on her even when she looked away. He was measuring her response. She got the feeling he knew exactly how she felt tonight. She didn't want him to know! But there was no place to hide from those dark eyes.
"You're different tonight." He knew, alright. How much he knew though, was anyone's guess.
"Something is different tonight, true. Don't know if it's the moon or not. But I feel different." She didn't say any more for fear of blurting out the wrong thing. Giving herself away.
"Not different, Leslie. Just more intense." The words he spoke affected her as strongly as if he'd caressed her lovingly.
He'd nailed it!
Leslie reached down and unclipped Breezy's leash. Over the last few days, the dog had proven she was truly Leslie's dog. She never strayed farther than about 30 feet from her, and Leslie felt comfortable letting her loose at night, unlike the daytime when there were a lot of people about.
Breezy ran to the edge of the water, nipping at it, leaping, bounding, and running happily. Michael and Leslie watched her with amusement.
"Are we fighting it?" asked Mike out of the blue. He was so good at catching her unaware!
She didn't pretend not to understand. "I suppose we are."
"Does it distress you?"
"In a way. But mostly you just make me feel good… feels good to anticipate your visits… feels good once you get here."
Mike absorbed that. Then he struggled to speak his mind. "Leslie, this is difficult for me… " He didn't say more. His words seemed to remain suspended in space.
"Same here. You aren't alone in this, Michael."
"Do I see hurt in your eyes?" He was now facing her, had stopped walking, and she'd followed his lead. He brushed a wayward lock of her hair away from her face.
"Yes… and I also see hurt in yours."
Michael looked toward the sea, as was his habit when he was ruminating over something.
"When a person has hopes… and those hopes are dashed…it's not easy to walk away."
She thought about that. Was he referring to someone in his past, or hinting at something…? Leaving a thought unfinished?
"Tell me, Michael. How much did you love this person… or persons?"
"I'm not sure if I even did… but I wanted to love. Perhaps that was almost as bad."
She nodded in understanding. "Well, being friends is best for both of us when you think about it. Friends seem to be lost a lot less often than lovers." This last part sounded forced to Michael.
There she went again. Mike sighed. Just when he thought she was starting to feel something for him, she went back to the "friends" mantra. As if she were warning him away. Well, he was no fool. He wasn't going to get sucked into playing games again. He didn't like games that involved misery. Too many women led you on and then left you for someone else. And this felt like a tease under the moonlight to him…
He didn't hold her hand tonight, and Leslie was more than a little surprised. What was up with this man? He was as changeable as the tide.
Well, she had been remote and uninviting by mentioning the friends part again. She had to be fair here. She supposed she was making him feel really vexed. He was probably afraid that she'd become a tiger and scratch his eyes out if he tried to make a move. Was she leading him on? If so, it was unintentional. She, herself, was as scared as he was, and she was trying to protect herself, and in the process, protect him too. But how to tell him that? How to word it so he'd understand? So there they went, warily circling each other again.
Now she was wondering if, after that friends remark, he would even show up tomorrow night. She wouldn't blame him if he didn't. She realized she was sending out unclear signals—exactly what men always complained about.
Even with this desire she had for him, there was so much more she needed than sex… it just wasn't that simple. He didn't strike her as the one-night-stand type. Or the fuck buddy type. He could communicate, he was gentle, he was generous, dependable, not a moocher. He was nothing like the other guys that had been in her life. She wanted to run—run away from him for the first time since that night he'd chased her down. But this time it was for different reasons. She would be running from her own feelings as well…
Mike walked her to her door an hour later. It was late, she realized he must be very tired, so she mustn't be greedy. But she would have liked to continue walking with him at least another hour. He spent many hours a day practicing, and gigs took a lot out of him. She knew wanting more of his time was being selfish. And there was tomorrow night to look forward to. She let Breezy into the house, then faced him.
"Look at the sky," Mike indicated it with a sweep of his arm. "The clouds are rolling in, just like they said. We'll have rain starting sometime tomorrow. Can I still come over to share it with you?"
She loved how he put that… share the rain with her.
Danger….but she didn't heed that grim inner voice. "Yes. Let's plan on some hot chocolate for after we get back inside?" She was assuming they'd walk on the beach in the rain. Southern California didn't normally produce torrential, soaking rain, and walking in it for a while might be fun. She'd hadn't done it for years.
"Sure." He hugged her again then. He threw a kiss in too—on the cheek. His lips felt warm and soft, a whisper of his warm breath on her face, and she felt ridiculously like a teenager who doesn't want to wash her cheek ever again after being kissed by a boy she really liked. Actually, he stole the kiss, as she never saw it coming. He struck quick as a snake. Smart move. She couldn't very well refuse if it only lasted half a second. Yep, he was crafty…
Mike saw the light shining from the TV screen as he approached the pad. Damn.
"You sure go to the beach at night a lot," this time it was Davy when Mike slipped in the door.
"Don't you guys ever sleep?" complained Mike. "And stop interrogating me, you're not my mother," he snapped.
Ooouuuu, testy, thought Davy. "What're you doin' out there, just bloody walking?" Davy wasn't one to be put off easily.
"Not that it's any of your business, but yes… I'm walking."
"Why so pissy about it? You been making some secret drug deals or something?" Davy smiled, trying to charm some information out of Mike. It worked with a lot of people—especially girls. But not Mike. If he didn't want you to know something, he dug in his heels and refused to budge. He was every bit as stubborn as Davy himself.
"Yeah, drug deals several times a week. I'm rolling in dough too."
"He's become a beach bum," Micky stretched and yawned from the couch. "Guess we'd all better get some sleep. It's almost 4." Micky switched the TV off.
Peter just watched on, not commenting. What was so alluring for Mike on the beach at night? Peter was intrigued. Spending that much time on the beach at night was not typical of Mike.
"I think he's got blue balls. Either from going without, or trying to woo a girl who won't give in," was Davy's take on the situation. "That's probably where he's been at night." Davy nodded smugly, looking very satisfied with himself.
Man, he has no idea how close to the target he really is, thought Mike uncomfortably.
Only it was a bit more complicated than that. Unfortunately, it wasn't just a simple case of blue balls. It was mostly a case of yearning for…what? Something he'd never really had before. Trouble was, he wanted it all. Not just a girl, but a girl who would be an equal; who he could talk intelligently with, tell her just how he felt, laugh with, share life with, kiss, cuddle, hold hands. Making love would be a culmination of all that. The zenith.
The next day Leslie worked with Breezy on basic obedience commands. Sit, stay, down, come, heel. But her heart wasn't in it. So they played fetch in the house, and then on a long leash outdoors. Leslie lengthened the leash Michael had given her with some tough twine she'd found at the back of her property, so Breezy had about 30 feet to run after the ball.
Children came by and Breezy wagged her tail at them, seemingly knowing kids were not something she needed to worry about. They crawled all over her, and at first Leslie was watching every move, but it soon became clear that the dog adored kids. This dog seemed to have no vices… well, that is if you didn't count chewing on Leslie's shoes if she didn't put them away.
Leslie visited Mrs. Marston and Veronica briefly after lunch. She took Breezy with her for the first time. She'd been keeping Mrs. Marston up to date on what was happening with Mike, but hadn't told her about Breezy purposely. She knew Mrs. Marston and her daughter loved all animals, so Breezy was quite a pleasant surprise for them. They fawned all over her, and so did most of the other residents.
Mrs. Marston smiled to herself as Leslie drove off. They were going for a walk in the rain tonight. They'd gone to get Leslie a dog. Last night they'd had a moonlit beach walk. Oh…. to be young and in love again. Living it vicariously through Leslie was almost as good.
As the afternoon moved on, the clouds moved in, and it looked like they just might get the rain Michael was so eager for. Soon the sky held ominous gray-black clouds, and there was little doubt left. Leslie felt warm and glowing inside, just thinking of seeing Michael's face at her front door again. She'd decided to walk Breezy before Michael's visit. It might put a damper on their fun if they had to towel off a wet dog with mud splattered all over her.
Around 8, it started raining. A nice, steady drizzle. She felt dreamy as she watched what seemed to be the ocean protesting against the rain out of her picture window. The waves looked a little angry—forecasting….what? The rain began to come down a bit harder, then lessen. Back and forth as if it couldn't make up its mind.
Not long after 2am, Leslie, clad in a warm pullover sweater and flares went calmly to the door to answer Michael's knock.
"Michael, you don't have to knock…" she was entranced with his eyes—felt as if she were inside them. They pulled her in, literally. She wanted to fall into his arms, and when he said, "Touch me," she knew it was no longer for the dog's benefit. The dog had started wagging her tail at Michael lately and licking him in greeting. He was in no danger. She knew the "touch me" now held a brand new meaning.
She ran her hand up and down his arm, her eyes never leaving his—strangely accepting that they were locked with his.
"Hug me," she knew this would be next, and it was what she'd been waiting all these torturous hours for. When they hugged it was less restrained than the time before. Each time, it became a bit more intimate. Her body was pressed against his for the entire length. Michael made some kind of almost strangled sound, and she realized there was a bulge resting against her belly. Not knowing whether to believe or deny what she thought she felt, she jerked back as if she were stabbed.
"Come on, let's go before it starts really pouring!" Mike followed her, taking her hand and fairly glaring at her, daring her to pull it away. Leslie giggled and started to run, pulling him along behind her. It was raining harder all the time, and when she saw a bright flash of light and then a clap of thunder not long afterward, she leapt into his arms. He chuckled. She thought she felt his lips touch the top of her head, but that had probably been her imagination.
Not even twenty minutes later, they were both soaked, Mike's near-black hair dripping down into his eyes. He looked vulnerable and strong at the same time. But she had to give him credit—he didn't beg to go back to her house. He braved the rain until she suggested they head back.
Once inside, Leslie exclaimed, "Oh no! I bet your clothes are soaked all the way through! I'm sorry!"
"Never fear… I took precautions. I have a dry set right here." He lifted the shirt, pants and socks off the end table where he'd left them. She'd never even noticed. That was how caught up she'd been in his eyes when he'd arrived. He hadn't been able to bring himself to bring underwear—she might see them…so he'd decided to go commando tonight. Peter did it all the time—why not him?
"You can change in the bathroom if you'd like… I'll change… in the bedroom." Now she was feeling awkward again. She seemed to feel that way more around Michael than at any other time.
He disappeared into the bathroom. Leslie went into the bedroom to change. She got her clothes off and had hurriedly dawned a blouse and pants, when she spied a very large spider on the wall. Leslie was horrified of spiders.
"Michael! Michael!" she screamed, running out of the bedroom and heading for the bathroom. Startled, Mike was out of there like a bullet, fearing the peeping tom was about again. He had his dry pants on, but he was shirtless, not having put the dry one on yet when she'd screamed. He had a towel that he was using to dry his hair. As he emerged from the bathroom, Leslie stopped dead in her tracks.
Try as she might, she could not pull her gaze off his bare torso, or his thick wet hair that was all mussed up from the towel. My God, he was breathtaking. Black hair on his chest—the same hair that had peeked out at her from the top of his band shirt not that long ago. Flat abdomen, toned arms that told her he'd been working out. And the flattering extra weight he'd recently put on.
Mike saw her—how could he not? She was openly gawking at him, and he felt like he was under a magnifying glass, or a microscope… whatever. All he knew was her eyes were traveling up and down his body, but mainly zeroing in on his chest, as if she were in a trance. Damn, but he felt inadequate! She was probably really regretting seeing him without a shirt.
It was right about then that he realized his fly was open. She'd screamed right as he'd been getting ready to zip it up. "Shit!" he said, half to himself as he turned his back to her in order to take care of it. Leslie was so embarrassed that, at this point, there was nothing left to do but laugh. And laugh she did. Luckily Mike knew she wasn't laughing at him, and he joined in, somewhat. His naturally reserved demeanor didn't allow him to totally let loose like she was doing—holding her stomach and bending over at the waist. It reminded him of the way Davy laughed when something was really funny.
"I'm sorry…" she squeezed out between bursts of hysterics. "But your… your fly…." Then she was a captive once again to fits of laughter.
When they could catch their breaths again, Mike said, "Why did you scream like that, anyway?"
"Oh! The spider! I forgot about the spider! It's on the wall in my bedroom!" she pointed in the direction of her bedroom, but stayed stationary.
Mike went into the bathroom, got some toilet paper, entered her bedroom, and came out with the spider, which he deposited outside her front door.
"You didn't kill it?" she asked in wonder.
"No, Peter has a fit if anyone kills spiders. He always puts them outside, so everyone else picked up the habit in order to avoid Peter's…wrath. Sorry, it was an automatic reaction," he flicked his eyes to the floor as if ashamed. A real man would have killed it. He wondered if that were what she was thinking.
"That's kind of sweet…" she said, and he wasn't sure if she meant him or Peter. Mike headed back toward the bathroom to finish getting dressed and toweling his hair, and saw out of the corner of his eye that Leslie was trailing him.
He turned around when he reached the bathroom door, looked at her with question marks in his eyes, then gripped the top of the door frame, tilted his head slightly and waited to find out why she had been following him.
Leslie found herself staring again. It was deadly quiet but for the sound of the raindrops on the roof. Her eyes took him in. The hair under his arms was abundant, black and plush looking. It enthralled her. Her fingers just itched to touch it. Her feet moved of their own volition, and she knew there was nothing she could do to stop them. Slowly she closed the space between them. In a daze, she allowed her hand to move haltingly toward him. She had to know how it felt. If was just as soft and silky as she imagined it would be. Her pointer finger finally reached his armpit, touched, and lingered there.
At the first touch, Mike flinched slightly, but didn't move. First it was just one finger that trailed over the hair, so very lightly, up and down, Mike's flesh nearly quivering like a horse's skin when a fly lands. Soon her other fingers joined in, stroking now, sliding slowly up and down, combing through it. Leslie glorying in how sexy it felt, how furry and just as soft as she'd hoped for. Not being able to stop now, she directed her fingers to move diagonally over to his chest hair. Her fingers burrowed in it, and she sighed out loud. As if in a dream, she couldn't believe what she was doing—how bold a move it was.
Mike trembled. She actually saw it. His eyes were unfocused and hooded. His breathing was irregular. He was nearly panting. The atmosphere was charged, and it wasn't caused by the lightning outside.
Mike felt almost drugged. He swallowed a gasp when she first touched him. He'd never had a woman do something so erotic to him. It wasn't exactly what she did, but how she did it. It was an overwhelmingly sensual experience. She'd looked to be fascinated with his body. He was flattered to no end, but had no idea how to proceed from here. He didn't want to do anything to shatter this moment. So he kept a quiet resolve to let her take the reins, and as much as he ached for her, nevertheless, vowed to allow her to do with him whatever she wanted.