Enchanted Again

by Nancy Madore

  “Oh, yes,” she laughed now. “How did your friend like the perfume?”

  “We’ll find out Christmas morning,” he said.

  Peter moved closer to Joyce unexpectedly and grasped her hand firmly in his own. She stared down at his hand holding hers. Under the present circumstances it felt something like a foreign object clinging morbidly to her flesh.

  “Well…” Brian faltered a little, becoming suddenly aware of the tension. “Merry Christmas, Joyce.” She couldn’t have said exactly why, but Joyce was suddenly so grateful to Brian that she could have kissed him.

  “Merry Christmas to you, too, Brian,” she said warmly, meaning it. He looked at her a moment before he walked away.

  Peter and Joyce stood there a few moments longer before they resumed walking together, still hand in hand. Joyce was deep in thought. Peter mistook her thoughts and asked, “Who was that?”

  Joyce looked up at him in surprise. “Why, he just explained our one and only encounter!” she said. She was still wondering over the sudden change in him. This was the most interest he had shown in her during their entire outing.

  “He was clearly interested in something other than perfume,” he said cynically. Joyce nearly laughed out loud, but something made her stop herself from doing so. She resisted the urge to immediately rush to the defensive and explain the situation more emphatically. It was slowly dawning on her that something of import had just happened, and she wanted to decipher what it was and, even more importantly, what it meant.

  Peter, who had before the incident been like a sullen child forced on an unwanted excursion with his mother, was suddenly now the attentive and charming husband. It was Joyce who seemed to be only half present as she watched him with a detached inner eye. Here was the Peter she had originally fallen in love with. Here was the Peter she believed she was losing.

  Yet he was back again, and all it had taken was a single word from another man! She marveled over how different Peter was from her. The same kind of encounter from another woman would have caused her to become distant and sullen. She suddenly realized that the constant reassurances she gave him were actually what she needed, not him. For her, those reassurances would have created trust and enhanced intimacy. But for Peter, they provided the cushion upon which he could rest his head in apathy.

  All of this Joyce realized in a mere instant. But she watched Peter thoughtfully for days after the encounter, carefully gauging how long his interest remained piqued. It seemed that he needed a reason to be attentive, and for Peter, that reason was to keep what was his.

  Joyce never uttered a single word about these realizations to Peter. It would do her no good to do so, and he would have adamantly denied them anyway. She merely adjusted her behavior so that it was not quite as straightforward as it had been before, adding a hint of mystery where before there had been none, and doing things that were improbable and inexplicable to keep Peter on his toes. She struck up conversations with strange men everywhere she went now, for those men became an excellent resource at the most unexpected moments. All of these little alterations in her lifestyle were relatively insignificant but had a powerful effect on the way Peter perceived her. She became, for him, a fascinating woman of mystery that both tortured and allured him. And when the effectiveness of any given behavior waned or failed, she would quickly find another. It seemed to her that the stakes were getting higher and higher in this game of theirs, but she could not stop. Even when it escalated to the point that she felt she had to resort to outright deception to get Peter’s attention, well, so be it. She simply must continue to create the illusion that she was losing interest in him. And it was not, she reasoned, quite as much of an illusion as one might imagine. She had watched Bob lose interest in her for years, allowing herself to be treated as if she was no more important than an old piece of furniture. She knew she would never be able to just idly sit by and watch the same thing happen with Peter. Now that she knew firsthand how easily another man could be found, she could do it again if she had to. And, in fact, hadn’t her outgoing behavior of late provided her ample opportunity to do just that? Her newfound appeal to the opposite sex not only piqued Peter’s interest; it also caused her to realize how desirable and lovable she was.

  As Joyce snuggled up to Peter, she secretly hoped she would never have to leave him. She loved him and being with him when he was attentive to her gave her everything she needed. A nursery rhyme from her childhood came to mind and a wicked little smile crept over her features as she mentally recited it, slightly altering the words as she went: Peter, Peter, pumpkin eater, had a wife and couldn’t keep her. He put her in a pumpkin shell, and there she kept him very well.

  HUMPTY DUMPTY

  Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall.

  Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.

  All the king’s horses and all the king’s men,

  couldn’t put Humpty together again.

  Sandra picked Joe up in a bar—that was the long and the short of it—although this simple truth bothered her. She didn’t like the clichéd implications it brought upon her as a woman, or the idea of her and Joe beginning their life together on such a note. It bothered her so much, in fact, that she found herself modifying the event in the retelling of it, by changing a small detail here, or adding an extra feature there. These revisions seemed harmless enough; for what did it matter if people thought she met Joe in, say, a grocery store instead of a bar, or if it happened in the middle of the day instead of closing time in the middle of the night? It harmed no one, and made Sandra feel considerably better, to put aside the negative and focus on the positive, even if that positive did have to be manually incorporated into the event.

  The end result of these machinations was charmingly romantic, with even Providence lending her a hand in the event, which had evolved into an in-depth encounter that began when Sandra’s shopping cart collided with Joe’s as they both came around the same blind corner in a crowded market, startling other shoppers and causing food to fly off a nearby shelf and roll onto the floor in all directions. Sandra’s friends were as intrigued as the purported shoppers who lingered all around the incident to watch while she and Joe struggled to gather up the scattered items in the disoriented state that was brought on by the immediate attraction they felt for each other, and the palpable electric charge that sent sparks flying when their fingers touched as they both reached for the same can of peas, etc., etc. Throughout Sandra and Joe’s relationship, this version of their meeting would only gain strength in the telling, in spite of the glaring reality that Joe almost never ventured into anything larger than a convenience store and that, even when he did, he never committed to the amount of items that would necessitate the use of a shopping cart. In fact, in all their time together the two would never be inside a grocery store at the same time.

  Not only was it in a bar where Sandra first met Joe, but it was under circumstances where electrical charges and Providence were conspicuously absent. Joe was terribly drunk—so drunk that he had difficulty managing the most rudimentary of bodily functions, such as holding up his head without it wobbling disturbingly atop his neck, or keeping his comments along one single line of thought. He gazed at Sandra in confusion, slurring his words incoherently while babbling on about random topics. He was what her father would have called a “sloppy drunk” and had, at one point, even started to sob. Fortunately, this disturbing display of despair didn’t last more than a second or two, and in almost the same breath he began laughing uncontrollably.

  Sandra was captivated. Her sympathies were fully won over. To see such an attractive man—with seemingly so much to offer—brought to such a low filled her with compassion. She had been able to deduce in a matter of minutes that Joe was not only good looking and in excellent physical shape, but also gainfully employed. She had even caught the mention of a woman called Elaine, who she immediately presumed to be the cause of Joe’s distress. The fact that such a man could be so affected by a woman told Sandra that sensitivity was
yet another attribute she could attach to his character. All of this Sandra had concluded before she had time to finish her first White Russian.

  Notwithstanding these qualities that Sandra was admiring in Joe, there was one thing in particular that captivated her heart. Joe, for all he appeared to have to offer a woman, was deeply wounded. Looking into his eyes, Sandra clearly identified a genuine pain and vulnerability. She immediately recognized a deep-rooted and urgent need in Joe, and her own need to be of use was alerted. She was certain she could help him. She already felt she understood him. He had obviously been hurt, most likely by this woman Elaine. No doubt he was afraid to get close to anyone else for fear of being hurt yet again. Sandra felt he must be terribly lonely. She knew that she could soothe the hurt and provide the loving care that would let Joe trust again. Her own past injuries had prepared her for this, giving her the ability to empathize. A strange sense of authority and control came over her at the thought of bringing all the wonderful things she had to offer to Joe. She knew she was capable of overwhelming him with her capacity to love. This was her forte. She was caring and considerate to a fault. What was more, she possessed a keen talent for doing things well above average when she put her mind to it. Where in other aspects of her life she could easily become bored and lose interest, in pleasing the right man she would be inexhaustible. And she knew every trick in the book for making a man happy—having read every issue of Cosmo since she was twelve—so she was more than up to the task of capturing this man’s heart while expertly healing his wounds.

  Sandra brought Joe home with her that very night. And really, what else could she have done? She could hardly have just stood aside and allowed a man of such potential drive home drunk. In the instant when she first decided this, she assured herself in all earnestness that she would not let herself be intimate with him. She would simply get him safely settled into the warm and cozy bed of her guest room. He would awaken the following morning alone but comfortable, nestled lavishly in the softness of her mildly scented blankets, lulled out of his sleep by the richer, more urgent smell of gourmet coffee brewing downstairs in the kitchen. There, he would be greeted with the cheerful sight of Sandra, perfectly groomed and wholesomely feminine, cooking him a hot breakfast and showing genuine concern for his welfare.

  Upon arriving at her house several hours later, however, Joe seemed to sober considerably, and for the first time that night he was suddenly fully aware of Sandra. He reached for her eagerly—almost desperately—and murmured earnest little observations about how beautiful she was. She was too flattered and delighted to rebuff him, and besides, having witnessed his pain in the bar over what she presumed was Elaine’s rejection of him, she could not bring herself to further diminish his ego by turning him down now. But more than that, inside Sandra there was awakened the strong yearning to be wanted and needed and admired by a man like Joe. She rested limply against the wall and gave herself over to the wondrous feeling of him taking her face in his hands and breathing warm, ragged breaths over her skin as he spread passionate kisses everywhere. She moved her arms up around his neck and clung to him and his kisses became more demanding.

  In spite of herself Sandra was aroused. Often, she would be so caught up in pleasing her partner—particularly on a first encounter—that she wouldn’t have time to think about her own pleasure. But Joe surprised her with the intensity of his desire, and she found herself losing control under the influence of it. He was suddenly everywhere at once; with his one hand groping for a breast beneath her sweater while his other hand cupped one round buttock and squeezed it gently. All the while his lips burned a hypnotic trail along her jawline from one ear to the other. Once he had established her willingness to be more intimate with him, his passion quickly escalated. He seemed to be attempting to touch every part of her at once with his hands while his tongue devoured the inside of her mouth. Then quite unexpectedly, in a sudden impulsive burst of energetic decisiveness, Joe picked her up in his arms and held her cradled there, glancing all around them for the bedroom. Not seeing a clear path in that direction he looked questioningly into her face.

  “It’s upstairs, I’m afraid,” she said with a nervous laugh. She bit her lip in expectation of the awkwardness when he put her back down—for she hardly expected him to attempt carrying her up the stairs in his condition—but Joe caught and held her eyes in that instant, really looking at her for the first time that night, and a slow smile crept over his features. It was a real smile, filled with genuine amusement that reached his eyes. She saw that he had nice teeth and noticed the dark shadow of thick stubble on his unshaven face. She was struck by the full force of his masculinity in that moment and it filled her with a kind of longing that went far deeper than her basic desires of the moment.

  Without further hesitation Joe moved toward the stairs and effortlessly carried her up to the second floor. Sandra was impressed and delighted by his fortitude, and when he placed her gently on the bed she impulsively pulled him down on top of her. With this small gesture from her, the last of Joe’s reserve melted away and he began eagerly pulling off her clothes, virtually tearing them from her body. His breathing was heavy and ragged but he was clearly determined. She let him undress her completely, and then lay sprawled out and shivering on the bed while he stopped unexpectedly to simply stare at her. His passion was suddenly subdued while he looked her over with extreme deliberation and keen fascination, drinking in the sight of her and then leisurely moving his hands over her flesh as if to confirm that what he was seeing was real.

  “You’re beautiful,” he murmured. He seemed surprised by this. She instinctively sucked in her waist a bit more, but aside from that, she really did believe, at that moment, that she was beautiful. She had no doubt that Joe found her to be so. There was no denying his desire. She wanted the moment to last forever. And it seemed as if it might as Joe merely continued to gaze at her body, moving his hand lightly down the length of it and then back up again as he stared, lingering over the sight of her nakedness much longer than any other man had ever done before him.

  But in due time Joe’s desire, which had been silently welling up inside him like the calm before a storm, became too urgent to delay. Without letting his gaze stray from where she lay, he quickly began removing his clothes. Sandra watched eagerly, noticing with delight how his hardness popped up conspicuously when he lowered his pants. Once his clothes were discarded Joe wasted no time in joining Sandra on the bed, immediately and possessively taking her into his strong arms, anxiously pressing his lips against hers, and forcing his tongue into her mouth. The sharp stubble on his face assaulted her skin, leaving it tender and vulnerable to even the feathery caresses of his breaths as they rushed out over her face in warm, irregular gusts. His excitement kindled Sandra’s, filling her with intense eagerness as she clung to him, pressing her body vehemently against his. She tilted her head back, succumbing more fully to the never-ending flow of kisses he kept showering over her face and neck. She let her hands roam over his body, exploring his muscular back and shoulders with exquisite pleasure, delighting in the hard feel of him as much as he was relishing the delicate softness of her. She impetuously thrust her hips up to meet his hand as it meandered down the length of her stomach and ventured lower. She could not wait for his fingers to reach her; the entire area between her legs was alive with yearning, engorged and saturated and aching for his touch. When Joe felt her velvety wetness, he instantly stilled, pausing momentarily to look down and gaze contemplatively at the lustrous fluid that clung to his fingers. He seemed almost mystified by it. He gently spread her legs wider apart and once again worked his fingers in between the swollen folds, almost absorbing the silky moisture into his being as he probed and prodded her body with discomfiting persistence and deliberation. She waited, trembling, as he single-mindedly occupied himself in this way for what felt like an eternity.

  But now again Joe’s sense of urgency returned with renewed force, and without warning he flung Sandra’s leg
s up high, pressing them as far as he could up over her shoulders, and plunged himself into her so vigorously that his testicles slapped against her buttocks in that first single thrust. She cried out in surprise just as his mouth came down over her parted lips to capture the cry in his kiss. She shuddered in response to being so utterly subdued by him.

  Joe began vigorously moving in and out of Sandra’s body with rhythmic force. He kept up a steady tempo of intense, arduous strides for several long minutes without hesitation. All the while, between gentle kisses, he commented with delightful insolence about how good her body felt, how soft her skin was, how large her breasts were, how wet she was and, most of all, how much he was enjoying what he was doing to her. Sandra received his inexorable thrusts and licentious remarks in a kind of stupor, shrouded behind a filmy haze of ecstasy that was tinged with a strange and painful yearning she knew would never quite be satisfied. She feasted on the pleasure she could easily grasp, constraining her limbs to become even more open and yielding to Joe, who seemed to be pummeling new bursts of sensation into her body with each and every thrust.

  Eventually Joe stopped, once again curiously serene in the midst of his intense passion as he lingered, motionless but still joined with Sandra, for a long intermission where he simply held her, stirring almost imperceptibly every now and then to pull her closer to him, or to press his lips to hers. After a restful period of perhaps four of five minutes, during which he appeared to be gathering strength, Joe ravished Sandra all over again.

  For more than an hour it continued in this way, with Joe, in turns, going from being violently passionate to tranquilly savoring the event, so that one minute Sandra found herself caught up in the heat of his passion and the next she was melting under his overwhelming tenderness. It was actually the effects of the alcohol that brought about the sudden bursts of energetic arousal in between slow, languorous periods of reverie, but for Sandra, it made for one of the most passionate and sensual evenings of her life. Joe’s fiery outbursts made her feel desirable and enhanced her own excitement, while his contemplative tenderness in between caused her to feel, perhaps mistakenly, that he genuinely cared for her.