Once Upon a Night

         He walks in and smoothes back his long black hair with his left hand, but he doesn't spare a second before he smiles at her.  She pretends not to notice, because she's played this game before.  She casually glances down, to see that her drink is almost gone.  She smiles to herself and turns to meet his gaze.  Too soon.  She's eager to meet him, and now he knows it.  For the moment, she seems to be at a disadvantage.  He knows this too, and he meets her gaze with a sign of slight interest, tinged with the dominance he has now obtained.  He doesn't look around, and neither does she.  For this brief moment, they are the only two here.
         Let's set the scene.  It’s a dark night, with a dark moon, or a new moon, as they call it now.  In the kind of bar that shouldn't even exist after the 1930s.  You know the type; you only read about them in stories like this.  The kind with smoke that has replaced oxygen as the dominating force in the aether.  The kind where people go to get into trouble.  There are lights here, hanging from the ceiling in lamps that hold them.  They don't really pierce the darkness.  They can barely hold it back.  There are other patrons here, too.  They smile and talk quietly together, content to provide the pleasant backdrop for the only two here that matter.  A few of them occupy the dance floor, gliding like ghosts in the smoky darkness.
         “Good evening.  May I have this dance?” he asks, standing in front of the woman he has not taken his eyes off of.  He is not overly tall, with a slim build that compliments the angular features of his face.  While he is not a gorgeous person, he maintains an attractive look that has no attached age.  He has a gentle manner, though he does not seem feminine in the least.  He gives off a slight aura of sadness that does nothing to make him less appealing.  If one were to notice minor details, it would be noted that he is wearing black clothing from head to toe.  He smiles.
         The young woman standing before him smiles and tries to answer, but seems to have lost her voice.  She is awestruck.  She is below average height, but she gives off a sense of being tall in her stature.  She is not rail thin, instead wearing a medium, healthy body.  Her curves compliment her smaller size.  Her auburn hair spills over her face, and she brushes it back as she looks up at him.  The dress she wears is a stunning dark blue, with no straps and a bottom that ends at that scandalous point just above the knee.  “ . . . I . . . yes.” she finally answers.
         It is not a long dance.  He wordlessly takes her to the floor, and a slow, jazzy piece of music strikes up in an all too- appropriate manner.  He pulls her close to him, and they begin a slow dance that is everything two lovers could ever want.  He looks into her eyes, seeming to peer past them.  She knows that something has changed now, but all she can do is hold on to him.  This night will change everything, she thinks to herself.  She can already tell.
         “I'm Mary.  May I ask your name, Stranger?” she says, hoping that she hasn't just destroyed the mood for the entire evening.  He smiles again.  She doesn't want him to stop.
         “You can call me Joseph.” he replies, and gives her a look that makes her wish that everyone else in the world could leave them be.  “You dance wonderfully, Mary.” he says.
         “. . . thank you.” She wishes that her world could end here, so that she can be spared the pain of ending this dance.  It is not a long dance.  Only as long as the dance that one remembers.

*

         It is much later in the evening when Joseph and Mary find themselves enjoying the rare pleasures of an eternal night together.  They have now retired to her small apartment, and she is eager to undress this god of romance before her when a panicked thought seeps into her mind.  What if she is being too promiscuous?  She looks to Joseph, and he catches her gaze.  He softly shakes his head, and her fears melt away.  She is not being easy; she knows this now.  She is merely being intimate with her one true desire.  This is merely the start of something wonderful.  “You make me feel sexy,” she says, and she means it.
         Disrobed now, the two lovers feel the warmth of their bodies as they press against each other.  It feels as wonderful as one would expect.  She kisses him softly as she feels his perfect skin.  She marvels at his unblemished nature, and whispers to him in amazement.  Her clothing discarded, she looks down at herself.  He catches her chin in his cupped hands.  “I love you, Mary.  I always have,” he whispers to her, and she can see no trace of deception in his eyes.  She begins to cry, tears silently streaming down her face.
         “What about . . . the future?” she asks, not caring what his answer will be.
         “There is no future.  There is only the present, here.”
         “Does . . . does that mean we are going to . . . be together?” she barely manages to ask, now being on the verge.
         “Is that what you want?”
         “Yes,” she gasps out.  And her tears have dried by now.
         “Then let's be together.”

*

         They explore each other in a way that is only possible in a couple's first night together.  In dreams.  She finds her self-conscious nature dissolve, and he feels the hairs along his body stand up on end.  This is why he is here; to find her; to give her this.  He is here for her, as he always has been.  When the time comes, he pulls her toward him, and kisses her with a passion that will not know death.
         She gasps as he enters her, and he smiles gently.  He knows what she feels, and what she wants to feel.  She has told him all this before, alone in bed on the coldest nights.  He is soft with her, and he is hard with her.  He treats her like a goddess, and he shows her that she can indeed be a whore.  He shows her everything that she didn't even know was possible, and it has very little to do with her body.  It has everything to do with the way that he touches her, and the things that he whispers to her.  It has everything to do with her body.
         Her mind fades to nothing as her passion heightens.  She should join him, she thinks.  She should find a way to give him some echo of the feeling that he is giving her, but she is unable to even move.  It is all she can do to hold on to him, and wait to discover whether or not this will destroy her.  In truth, she finds that she cares little about the outcome.  That is thinking too far into the future.  This is the present.  There is no future.  There has never been a past.  There is only the present.  She feels herself on the verge of tears.  She understands what he has been trying to show her.  It doesn’t matter.  None of it matters.  She lets go.

*

         It is late, and he recognizes that he should not be here.  He should dress, and leave, and be as silent as a shadow as he does so.  They will find him if they look close enough, and then she will be in danger.  That is something he has never wanted.  He should go.  He looks upon her sleeping form, and he moves to rise.  He doesn’t make it.  He can’t rise, and he begins to understand this now.  He can only be here, with her, as always.  He looks up at the ceiling, and marvels at the darkest areas, those spots where nothing can be seen but blackness.  He kisses her gently, and he waits for the coming dawn.  Odd, he thinks, that they always assume we can’t feel love.  Angels can feel anything, but my kind can’t know anything of love?
         In time, Mary stirs.  It is late, or early, and she has awoken from a dream.  Or, into a dream.  She looks to Joseph, and is unaccustomed to the reality of her situation.  There is someone in bed with her now, someone she has scarcely known for hours.  She doesn’t quite know how to react.  He stares at the ceiling, and she wonders at the odd fact that he looks almost . . . unreal.  She wants to speak, to break the silence, but dreads the awkward moments that will begin.  How do you tell someone that you are in love?  How do you tell someone that you’ve only just met, that they are the most important one in the world to you?  Mary stares at him, unsure of how to proceed.  He looks to her.  He wishes he could explain it all, but the rules do not allow it, and her human mind would not understand.  He leans in to kiss her, and whispers softly “I love you,” before fading into night.

*