27.
It was quite the beautiful evening outside during the night of the Benefit Ball. It was surprisingly warm, with a gentle breeze and the moon hung high and bright in the starry night sky. Inside, the band stroke up an old, catchy, classical/jazzy tune and the many feet of prominent investors made their way out onto the dance floor. Meanwhile, in one corner of the vast room…
A tall, handsome man with lots of shaggy, thick dark brown hair that was streaked with attractive jet black strands in the front and underneath, stood off to the side amongst the shadows; chatting with a few desperate women. He had a slimmer-but-tough-looking physique, creamy light skin, beautiful turquoise eyes that were like a tranquil Caribbean ocean and an overall "dark" bad-boy air about him as well. The ladies engulfed by his company noticed—noticed very much and were pining for him at that very second. Considering, the well-known fact he was recently named one of New York's most eligible bachelors and appeared in the latest issue of Spin magazine after all…
He was donned in a black suit of pinstripe, but he wore no tie and the white dress shirt inside was not even tucked in. Several buttons of his were undone as well, to give a sexy appeal. Drake Wilder seemed to like to wear his suits messy and the studded black belt didn't exactly speak elegance either. However, all of this just made him more alarmingly dashing than he already was. He was an older rocker with much more respect, because of the fact that most of his lyrics came from the wonderful poetry he wrote and the music—always exciting and entrancing. Even his periods experimenting with the both the indie and techno-scene only made his songs more enjoyable.
Deborah haughtily pushed her way through the crowd of the rich, the famous, the drag-alongs and/or the party crashers, pulling Fran behind. Maxwell was left far behind with C.C., sipping a martini and in deep conversation with a crowd of prosperous theatre-goers who were looking to mingle.
"Debs, where are you taking me?" queried Fran in a bubbly, giggly voice (she had downed a little too much champagne,) as she was led to the complete opposite end of the gigantic ballroom.
"You'll see," replied Deborah, smirking.
"Tell me what you're up too—"Fran began, but then halted the sentence as soon as her eyes found a distant, but familiar face amongst a circle of people.
Fran stopped dead in her tracks as a flood of emotions broke lose from within that she had long forgotten and could have sworn had dashed in a no-longer operable safe in the way back of her mind.
"OH MY GOD!" she said, pronouncing the words slowly and softly. "It—it isn't possible."
She shook her head and closed her eyes. Deborah came closer to her and extended her arm, pinching Fran.
"Ow!"
"It's possible… and I'm taking you over there," announced Debbie, grabbing Fran's arm, but Fran robustly let go of her grasp.
"No way!" she protested.
"Aw, c'mon. I told you there'd be a surprise!"
"No… I—I can't. He probably doesn't even remember about me or even care," said Fran, turning her head down in despair. "I'd only get hurt."
"Oh, whatever. I have a hunch that he'd be happy as hell just to be graced by your presence for even a short amount of time."
Before Fran could even try to answer, she was suddenly dragged toward the group of gushing women surrounding the man and by then; when Fran realized what was going on, it was too late.
"Hey Drakie!" hollered acquaintance Deborah Blackwood to Drake Wilder, cutting through the admirers with Fran right behind.
"Deborah, hi—" began Drake in greeting, but his eyes soon fell and stayed upon the dark-haired beauty beside her.
"Drake... WELL I'm sure you know Fran, how could you not?" said Deborah, in an introducing-like manner that had a humorous nature to it considering the two people once knew each other very well, very well indeed.
"I'll leave you two alone," announced Deb, walking off hastily, for she wanted to take advantage of as much time alone with Maxwell as she could.
Drake ran a nervous hand through his hair and gazed deeply at Fran, while she looked away from him, not being able to meet his eyes, and stood silent.
The other ladies too backed away, but in jealousy, because the look on Drake's face was crystal clear in telling that he wasn't interested in them whatsoever. Plus, Deborah had somewhat "shooed them away," all in attempt to further exceed in her plan.
"Fran… it's been so long…" he began, in a sensual but soothing voice as he reached a few fingers out, hesitated, and then placed them right underneath her chin. When he lifted her face to turn her towards him, he saw tears brimming in her eyes and one was already traveling its way down her cheek—he wiped it away with his thumb.
"Why must you cry, my love, in sight of me? It causes me great sadness…"
"Oh Drake, I just—I'm just so happy to see you again; this doesn't seem real."
"To me as well, Frannie. All of this feels like some sort of marvelous dream," he agreed, cupping the sides of her face and then weaving his fingers through her curls.
"Ohhh… your skin, so heavenly soft; your hair… so silkily lustrous; your eyes so… so deep and hypnotizing…" Drake sighed softly. "It's all coming back to me now—like it was only yesterday when I last held you in my arms."
She placed her hand on his shoulder, slowly pulling it down until it was underneath his chest and then Fran looked him straight on.
"I—I know."
"If you would just let me hold you," requested Drake.
Fran nodded, bashfully.
He gingerly moved in closer, as if she was a stranger to him, and he gradually wrapped his arms around her. He squeezed her so softly; it was like he thought of her as some fragile porcelain doll that could easily shatter and break with even the slightest of touch. They embraced for quite some time like that and he had a hard time letting go of her.
An awkward silence fell between them afterwards.
It wasn't fair! How could life be so cruel? He finally met up again with the one woman he loved indefinitely and yet now, when he was finally able to have her, he couldn't for various complicated reasons that he didn't want to presently bother her with.
A lone tear fell down Drake's cheek.
"I've missed you, you know."
Fran leaned on her toes and gave him a quick peck on the lips to ease his sorrow.
"Whatever happened to us?" asked Fran, looking him in the eyes.
Drake Wilder walked away from Fran and entered a nearby balcony that overlooked a quiet, desolate street. He stood at the very end of it with his hands resting on the edge. Fran followed him until she was standing right next to him.
"Ever—ever since you left Fran, I could never forget you," he began, looking up at the stars lighting up the dreary night sky.
Fran stood unusually quiet and let him continue.
"Nothing seemed to matter anymore… that's why—I well, I eventually left my wife a few years ago. I felt so wrong for leading her on and it didn't matter anymore whether or not she birthed my child—even though she did, because I just couldn't let her believe that I still loved her when my heart belonged to someone else. You know, it just wasn't right… oh course she was bothered by it but she eventually agreed to let me go. She knew something was going on with me even though I never told her about us, and she even mentioned before I left that she'd lost me long ago."
"God dammit Drake!" said Fran softly but harshly, beginning to get tearful.
She turned her back and slowly took steps away from him. "That's exactly why I decided to leave in the first place—I never wanted to break up your marriage! It's so horrible… I feel horrible. Don't you see what we've done? What we did?"
Drake caught up with Fran and laced his hand through hers, soothingly rubbing his thumb over her skin.
"Yes and it's my fault in the beginning and I fully blame myself for what occurred between me and my wife. You, however, have nothing to do with it."
She angrily released herself from his grasp.
"Nothing… nothing? Nothing to do with it? I had a hell of a lot to do with it! I was the other woman!"
"Only because I chose for it to be that way."
"But I didn't even care then either. I wanted to be with you just as much as you wanted to be with me."
"And what's so wrong about that? It wasn't just a one-night-stand Fran. I needed to keep seeing you! I had to be around you! I… I married my wife too young. Way back then, I just didn't know what love was! The only thing I knew was that I cared for Karen deeply. Then, I met you. And God, you were only supposed to pretend to be my lover in that goddamn music video of mine, but there was such chemistry between us. I know you noticed it too. There was just no denying it and therefore, I felt the urge to see you again…"
Fran stood silent, and let him continue reliving their past and how they came to be together way back when. She never really did find out what it was that drew Drake to liking her so much.
Drake leaned against a large stone pillar by the window and nervously fingered the burgundy drapery enclosing it before he carried on.
"…So I talked to your friend Deborah one night after one of my shows. She was flirting uncontrollably with me and she hinted that she wanted me to sleep with her. I declined as gently as I could and then questioned her about you. She became a bit irked when she realized I didn't have my sights set on her personally, but she did relay some helpful information. I found out that you did, indeed, think I was attractive and that you were completely unaware I was involved with anyone romantically. Which, of course I evidently used to my advantage."
Fran shot him a hurtful glare.
"Yeah Drake Wilder, you were such a jerk that you lied to me and said that you were single… just to get into my pants!" spat out Fran, clearly upset.
"No! NO! That's not it. I just knew that the only way I'd have a chance with you was if I told you I was available. Deborah told me you were too good of a person to ever be interested in anyone taken and that you would under no circumstances, be involved in an affair of any sort, especially with someone's husband."
"See you knew! You knew how I felt about it, but you didn't care!"
"It was selfish, yes, but I had to get close to you. God, it was like love at first sight or something. And when we went on our first date… it was just so magical. Me and you—we were so alike, but yet, so different. You made me feel relaxed and surprised. I've never enjoyed someone's company like I enjoyed yours. We had the most enjoyable, amazingly fun time. You know we did, and it was basically the same for our following outings. But then, one night… one glorious night you allowed me to take you into my hotel room…"
Drake strode up to Fran and wrapped his arms around her from behind before he continued.
"And I laid you on my bed and generously removed each article of your clothing… one by one."
He gently unclasped her necklace and slid it off her collarbone. She cupped it in her hand.
"And each time I got rid of something you were wearing, I'd taste and caress the newly bare skin…"
Drake stroked her neck with the tips of a few of his fingers and then brought his lips to the same area. He ran his tongue across the area where her shoulder met her neck, and she pleasurably quivered and sighed.
"God Fran," he choked, coming out of his trance, but still holding her tight. "I swear I buried myself so deep within your body till we became one that night. Our hearts pounding in unison to the same rhythm…"
"Drake… Drake, please stop. Everyone's around," pleaded Fran, urgently, with her arms held straight down in retaliation.
"I assure you my dear, not a single soul can see us here."
"It doesn't matter! This isn't right… I'm sorry."
"Isn't right?" gasped Drake, pulling his dark hair back off his forehead with a swipe of his hand. "It's the most right thing in the world!"
"Maybe to you, but not to me," admitted Fran, lowering her eyes.
"I don't understand my love. Surely, you're mistaken."
He took a step forward towards her, fear rising within his being. How could she not feel what he was feeling? It was utterly impossible!
"I wish I was, but I'm not. You see I'm kind of, sort of involved with someone at the present time and he makes me very happy."
"You're engaged Fran? Married?" asked Drake, surprised and more than a little hurt.
"Well, yes… I mean—no! But I'm deeply care for him and things have finally started to work out between us. The fact is that I really shouldn't even be talking to you right now while he is on the other end of the building conversing with his fellow investors. He wouldn't like it at all if he knew. Excuse me—"
"Fran, no! Wait!"
"Drake—oh Drake, I love Maxwell with all my heart… and it took us so long just to be together. I mean, we're not actually together yet, but we will be in time. I just—you know, cherish every moment that I get the opportunity to be in his arms… as well as dreading every time we're apart."
"All of your heart Fran? You don't even have a small section of it left for me? You're not even truly his yet! Give me time to change your mind… Please? It's my only request."
"What we had was amazing, yes… but that's all in the past now and you need to accept that. It needs to stay in the past! I'll always love you—just never as much as I love Maxwell Sheffield. I really hate to end it like this and I'm so sorry if I hurt you tonight and ruined any plans of yours for us to have a future together."
"Don't worry… I'll be back. You can count on it. This Maxwell Sheffield is no match!"
"Do what you want Drake Wilder, but you won't have any luck with me."
"We'll see about that," whispered Drake as she left. "We shall see…"