TITLE:  ÒTHE BOYÓ  (Part 1 of 2)
AUTHOR:  Char Chaffin
CATEGORY:  Pre-X Files/Mulder/Other, Mulder/Scully Married
RATING:  R, for Adult Situations
SPOILERS:  Not reallyÉ
ARCHIVE:  Sure, Just let me know where!
DISCLAIMER:  They're Not Mine!!
FEEDBACK:  Please Please Please (Begging is so undignified, isn't it?)
SUMMARY:  A woman from Mulder's past ruminates on the joy of havingÉ and
the pain of letting goÉ

"THE BOY"

He was fifteen years old that summer; the summer I met him; the summer I
decided that I wanted him, body and soul.

I knew better, of course; although I hated to admit such a thing as
conscience would ever govern my actions.  I had always prided myself as
a free spirit, someone for whom the earthly restrictions of right and
wrong applied only infrequentlyÉ more a product of my generation, no
doubt, than the way I was raised.

Besides, I was a married woman.

Ah, but that didnÕt stop me from wanting him, stronger and deeper and
more compelling than anything else IÕd experienced in all my Òsowing
wild oats" heydayÉ before Matt and I were married, committed to one
another in the eyes of God.  Sure, I married very youngÉ perhaps IÕd not
known exactly what I wanted out of life on that hot August night when
Matt and I eloped.   Certainly I knew although IÕd been around a lot in
high school, and dated quite a little bitÉ marriage was a whole other
world.  And, I thought I was prepared.  We were very happy, for a long
timeÉ I would never have wished to look elsewhere, and neither, I am
sure, would Matt.

But I hadnÕt counted on a fifteen year old boy as the instrument of my
ultimate downfall.

He was my youngest brotherÕs best friend; Jimmy had met him during the
summer of Õ73, when the boy and his family moved right down the street
from my parentsÕ place.  Right away, he and Jimmy hit it off.  My little
brother was a quiet, intelligent kid, full of brooding thoughts centered
around Star Trek and alternate universesÉ a vivid imagination topped off
by an absolute passion for anything Ray BradburyÉ and this boy shared
JimmyÕs passions.  They were both tall and slender; both had dark hair
and tanned easily.  They spent that first summer playing endless
basketball, trying to out-run each other on the track field at schoolÉ
trying to out-talk each other during marathon sci-fi sessions.  Jimmy
was having a blastÉ and my mother was glad, for sheÕd always worried
about his dark intensity, his inability to easily make friends.  She
welcomed this boy into the family as if he belonged to her.  And the boy
responded shyly but gratefully; his home life was not very strong and he
needed things from my parents which he could not gather for himself, at
home.  Oh, I have no doubt that he was loved, by both his parents, in
their own offhand way Ð but there was a darkness in the family; my
mother had heard about a missing sister, whoÕd been gone for several
years, the events surrounding her disappearance mysterious and
heartbreaking.  The boy was happier with my parents, and Jimmy, than
heÕd been in a very long time, I imagine Ð even though he still rarely
smiled.

Into this mix I jumped, feet first, two years after the boy and his
family moved into our neighborhoodÉ one year after Matt and I moved back
to the hometownÉ and bought the little house on the end of Lane Street,
only five doors down from Mom and DadÕs.  By then, he and Jimmy had just
turned fifteen; their birthdays only a month or so apart.  I hadn't met
Jimmy's friend in that first year; my schedule was hectic and Jimmy was
always on the go; not too surprising that I wouldn't see any of his
buddies hanging around considering I didn't come down to the house very
often.  But I saw this boy at my brotherÕs birthday partyÉ and  the want
I felt was instant and painfully real.

I had walked down the street early, carrying the cake, for IÕd begged to
be the one to make it.  IÕd made JimmyÕs favorite, a chocolate praline,
and baked into it several fun little Star Trek tokens, the kind
especially made to be baked into foodÉ I thought heÕd get a charge out
of finding them as he cut into  it.  Balanced in one hand, my gift to
him in the other, I walked down that hot street to my motherÕs and swept
into the kitchen, dropping my bounty on the already-groaning tableÉ then
went into the bathroom to splash my sweaty face with cold water.  And as
I looked up, still wiping at my face, I happened to glance out the
window of that small bathroom, which looked out over the back yard,
where my father was busy setting up the grillÉ where the volleyball net
had been stretched, and the basketball hoop was hungÉ

And there he was.  Shirtless.  Tight jeans and hi-topped sneakers.
Long, mussed dark chocolate hair and a killer tan.  Finely-drawn
musculature over a slender, lanky frame, the kind of muscle tone you see
in young, athletic boys; just beginning to get definition in the
shoulders, and in the chest Ð but still a boyÕs body, still growing and
filling out.  But, those shoulders -!  Wider than most boys his age,
smooth and ropy with biceps and a light sprinkling of dark hair down
each brown arm.  Long., elegant fingers, handling the basketball gently,
almost casually, but with such assuranceÉ I stood at the bathroom window
in my motherÕs house and hung there, suspended for who knew how long,
just gaping at him.  IÕd never seen a more beautiful sight in my life,
then or now.  He was so graceful, there in our back yard, dribbling the
ball with fluid movements of those long legs and armsÉ sinking basket
after basket.  I waited for him to speak, wanted to hear his voice,
wondering feverishly if it could possibly sound as good as he lookedÉ
and when he parted those full, wide lips of his to laughingly retort a
challenge to my smiling brotherÉ the voice matched the face which
matched the bodyÉ which answered my question.  Deep for a teenage boy, a
little raspy on the upward syllablesÉ rather like listening to honey
sifted through finely ground sandÉ this was the boyÕs voice.  I closed
my eyes in actual painÉ perfect.  When I opened my eyes again, the boy
and my brother were circling each other in hot pursuit of ball control,
and theyÕd moved closer to the house, and into my viewing vicinity.  I
had a sudden, mad urge to rip through the screen covering that window,
to reach out both hands and grab onto those arms and yank him into the
bathroom and into my arms, straight into my fevered bodyÉ I actually had
to grip the sides of the sink to stop myself from doing just that.
Looking at my face in the mirror, I saw a Me that IÕd never seen before
Ð flushed with an overload of desire, eyes dark with it, hair almost
standing on end because of it, breathing fast and hard, as if IÕd been
the one out there, sinking all those baskets.  And I suddenly had to
meet him, had to touch his hand, in greetingÉ had to see the color of
his eyes, the texture of his hairÉ breathe in the fragrance of his
skin.  I had to.

Into the back yard, walking slowly, almost hesitantly, nearer and nearer
to where my brother stood, joking and laughing with his best friendÉ
coming up behind this friend, not wanting him to see my face, just yetÉ
Jimmy spotted me first and reached out a hand to pull me close enough to
hug.  I wound my arms around his slick waist, hugging affectionately;
weÕd always been very close and sibling affection  ran strong in our
family.  I reached up, way up, to press a kiss on his cheek, and caused
him to flush a little, before he pushed me away in mock-annoyance and
called out, ÒHey, FoxÉ come meet my sister KellyÉÓ And I turned,
finally; I turned to face this amazing boy, heart pounding itself ragged
in my chest, looking up and up until I could at last see into his faceÉ
those eyesÉ

My God.

His eyes were hazel, a myriad of brown and blue and gray and green,
swirling mists of hazel as clear as a river stream; wide and large and
fringed with dark, curling lashes; they bore into me with an intensity
years beyond his actual age; sad eyes, expressively eloquent; in a
instant I saw the years of pain those eyes had experienced; the loss and
regret of familial bonds; the need, the repressed loveÉ the loneliness.
All in a moment; the time it took for his eyes to stare deeply into my
own; for his warn palm to swallow up my much-smaller handÉ for that
honey-rough voice to speak my name, mouth creased in a sweet smile which
almost put my entire body into sensory overload.  I supposed I smiled
back at him, and muttered some inane remark.  I supposed I let go of his
hand when he moved away a little; impatient to be doing something else,
as boys his age are wont to do.  I supposed I walked on steady legs (at
least I hope they were steady) to the picnic table which my mother was
setting, and gave her a hug, and made apologies for Matt (Matt?  WhoÕs
Matt?) because he was working and couldnÕt be there until later in the
dayÉ I supposed I did all that with a modicum of normalcyÉ because I
would never be the same, again Ð never in this lifetime.

JimmyÕs party was a great success Ð about ten or eleven friends of his
had shown up, all bearing some small but vital gift, and from the family
heÕd gotten quite a few of those birthday requests of his Ð a new pair
of NikeÕs, a new baseball bat; IÕd bought him some school clothes and
our sister Helen had sent him some money.  From his friend, from Fox Ð a
Star Trek collectorÕs book, which thrilled Jimmy to no end, and the boys
quickly made short work of the food portion of the party so they could
huddle somewhere and go over the book, page by page.  I helped Mom clean
up the mess left from thirteen boisterous boys, and we chatted aimlessly
about this and that; about my new job at the bank; about MattÕs new work
schedule which was forcing him to work Saturdays and part of each
Sunday; about our decision to hold off on starting a family, until I had
gotten my degreeÉ about how I wanted to drag my brother JimmyÕs best
friend Fox up a flight of stairs and into the first bedroom I could find
and down onto a soft bed and into my bared soulÉ

Okay, I didnÕt mention the Fox part to her.  But, oh, how I wanted, at
that moment, to be able to say it to her, to confide in her and have her
try to help me understand why I was feeling this way over a child who
was twelve years younger than me; to ask her if sheÕd ever felt anything
like this, for someone so incredibly taboo and forbidden it would be
like a crime against Heaven and Earth just to imagine itÉ it was all I
could do just to keep it to myself.  All I could do not to run after
those boys, think up an excuse to get Fox away from JimmyÉ God, I
thought, I am a complete and utter slime!  So, I held it all in; made
the happy small talk with my Mom and later, my Dad, as I waited for Matt
to get off work and join us on the wide front porch of my parentsÕ
house, there in the shaded twilight.  And, much later, after Matt had
come over and weÕd all had another piece of cake, and the boys had
returned from their Star Trek rap session, and had gone upstairs to
JimmyÕs room for the night (Fox was staying over)É later than that when
Matt and I had walked home under the clear night sky and gone up into
our own bedroom and removed each otherÕs clothes and made slow, sweet
loveÉ I silently asked for the forgiveness of about four different
people, including GodÉ for pretending it was a boy named Fox, making
that hot slow love, to me.

It was almost a month before I saw him again.

I had been at the bank for about twelve weeks, finally getting the hang
of it; beginning to enjoy the people who came in and did their business
there, now that I had a better handle on the finer points of bank
telling.  I liked the Teller Coordinator, Susan; IÕd gone to school with
her younger sister Patty.  Matt and I had been away from the home town
long enough to lose touch with a lot of my friends, but surprisingly
many of the kids from his graduating class had settled there in Lambert,
and it had been easier for Matt to blend back in, than for me.  But,
slowly I was beginning to get back into touch with a few of my old
classmates.  Patty was still in town, I discovered; recently divorced,
sheÕd stayed with Susan and her husband John until sheÕd saved a little
money, enough  for a deposit on an apartment across town.  IÕd contacted
her and weÕd spent three hours on the phone, catching up on old times,
laughing like crazy, our ears sore from pressing them to the phone for
so longÉ when all one of us had to do was jump in a car and drive about
2 miles to the otherÕs house!  We hadnÕt even considered it, until weÕd
finally gotten off the phone.  SheÕd immediately called me back and we
laughed about our silliness for about half an hour longer before
agreeing to meet for a Saturday lunch and a movie matinee.  We got back
into the buddy routine easily, after that.

So there I was, standing at my window, counting out bills into a
customerÕs outstretched hand Ð and he walked in.  I immediately lost my
count and had to start over again; trying to concentrate and not stare
at him, there in line about three customers back.  There were four of us
tellers at the windows; I agonized over the possibility he would not
come to my windowÉ I agonized over what would happen if he came to my
window.  I agonized over the way I looked, what I was wearing, if he
would even remember who I wasÉ tried to concentrate on clearing the last
transaction away, preparing for the next one; shaky hands, cold hands, I
felt feverish and chilled, afraid to look up Ð until I had to look up,
to see who was sanding before meÉ

It was him.  Fox.  My youngest brother JimmyÕs best friend.  My future
downfall.

Wearing a green tee shirt with several small holes in it, and another
pair of tight faded jeans; hair carelessly finger-combed, lightly
sunburned on his faceÉ that face.  I stared at him unashamedly, almost
forgetting to breathe.  Eyes downcast at first, concentrating on pulling
something out of a beat-up leather walletÉ until he raised his head and
those river-clear eyes of his bore down on me; so seductively innocent I
started trembling, right there before him.  A half-smile on his face, as
if he knew he was the cause of some problem of mine but couldn't quite
put his finger on itÉ and that smile finally snapped me out of my
private lunacy and I was able to open my frozen mouth and force
normal-sounding vowels and consonants out of my dry throat.  In his
honey voice, he shyly said he wanted to make a deposit, and he laid a
small envelope on the counter.  With a hand that had mostly been brought
under control, I pulled the envelope closer and opened it, counting
about a hundred dollars in cash out on the counter.  I took a deep
breath and raised my eyes, drinking in his perfect, boy-man's face.

"Do you want to deposit all of it into savings, or keep some out?"  My
voice barely avoided being a squeakÉ God, I am a mess, I thought to
myselfÉ this is nuts!  I was so busy yelling at myself to quit acting
like a moron, that I almost didn't catch his reply.

"No, I'd like to deposit it allÉ I'm saving for Christmas presentsÉ" shy
smile again, a little pink across the cheeks as well.  I wrote his
receipt; put the money in the drawer, and slid the receipt across the
counter; as he reached for it, our fingers touched and the shock of it
caused me to audibly gasp.  He swung his gaze to mine, sharply; maybe
wondering if the crazy lady behind the bank counter had lost her marbles
or perhaps was suffering from basic lunacyÉ I think it was a little of
both, by then.  I managed to mumble a thank you and come again; he
turned to leaveÉ then he swung around again, and pinned me with his
eyes, and spoke softly.  "You're Jim's sister, aren't you?  KellyÉ I
remember you from the party.  You live down the streetÉ not far  from my
house."  Just those simple statements, and he was off, another shy smile
flung in my direction.  Leaving me alone, there behind a counter in a
bank on a hot summer day, one of the last days before school started up
againÉ a hazel-eyed boy in tight jeans and a torn green shirtÉ long legs
carrying him, and my heart along with him, right out the door and into
the bright sunshine.  I closed my eyes against the sudden pounding
behind my lids, and took my break early.  I had to get out of thereÉ I
had to get myself gathered up, get hold of my runaway emotions, before I
said or did something really dumb.  Susan asked me if I wanted to go
home early, noting my pale face when I asked her for an early break.  I
remember replying in a low voice, telling her thanks and I'd see how I
felt after my break.  She'd smiled at me and told me if I didn't come
back from break, they'd know I'd gone home, and it was only a few more
hours until closing anyhow.  I thanked her again and got out of there as
fast as I could.

It was only when I got outside that I remembered I'd walked to work that
morning, enjoying the  feel of  the cool air on my face and not
considering how hot it would get later on.  The last thing I needed was
to walk home in such heat when I was already flushed as if from a
fever.  I moved slowly, purse slung over my shoulder, trying to decide
what to doÉ and made a spur-of-the-moment decision to just go swimming
at Lambert Pool.  I already had a summer locker there, and always kept a
suit there as wellÉ habit from high school when I was on the swim team
and spent nearly every waking moment of each summer at that pool.  I
turned and began walking in the other direction, almost able to feel the
cool wetness of the water on my overheated body.  I walked a little
faster.

I came out of the women's shower room barefoot, wearing the skimpy
two-piece suit I'd left at the pool from earlier in the summer; I'd
forgotten I'd left it in the locker and had spent an entire Saturday
last month, looking for it.  It was an old suit but one of my favorites,
for it made me look as if I had a little something more on top than what
was actually there, and the high-cut bikini bottom flattered my legs and
gave some fullness to my otherwise narrow hips.  I'd pulled my long hair
back into a ponytail to get it out of my face, and slapped my sunglasses
onÉ and I felt ten years younger just then, walking toward the
glistening pool in a hot pink bikini with my hair in a bouncing ponytail
and a borrowed towel slung over my shoulder.  I staked out a lounge
chair, tossed my towel down and took a running leap at the lower diving
board, bouncing lightly on the very edge and cutting into the water with
barely a splashÉ God, it felt good.  Cool and refreshing -  I felt
better already.  The pool wasn't crowded at all, surprisingly there
wasn't the usual herd of screaming kids running around; I stroked over
to a ladder and began hoisting myself up - then realized there was
somebody standing on the top rung, and I looked into the sun, blinding
me for a moment, unable to make out a face but recognizing with a sudden
burst of internal heat that honey-rough voice which spoke my name shylyÉ
Fox.  I squinted in the sun, focusing on him, needing to see what I knew
would be so much more of him, his bodyÉ

He was so beautiful.

Black trunks riding low on his lean hips, equally lean but strong and
muscled legsÉ slender waist and long, narrow feet - wet hair slicked
back, dripping on his shouldersÉ hazel orbs taking on the artificial
blue of the pool waterÉ gorgeous beyond imagining.  Standing there,
smiling down at me; white even teeth cushioned in those wide, full
lips.  He reached out a hand and pulled me up, there beside himÉ asked
me if I was playing hooky.  I found enough of my voice to reply that I'd
decided to take the rest of the day off.  He smiled and said he'd pretty
much done the same thing, and it was just too hot to work.  For the
longest time, we both stood very still, not speaking, just looking at
each other; I was memorizing his sweet face - I'm not sure what he was
looking for, but he somehow must have found it, for he nodded slightly
and finally let go of my hand.  Silently, we made our way over to the
lounge chair I'd snagged for myself; there was an empty one next to it
and he stretched out there, while I spread my towel on my chair and laid
down, on my stomach.  I was actually having trouble looking at him -
trouble meeting the gaze of a fifteen year-old boy, who was too tall and
tanned and mature-looking andÉ tasty would be a good choice of word -
for his own good.  For a little while, both of us just let the sun soak
in, not speaking; the silence not uncomfortable but not easy either.
Finally, I had to break it - had to know more about this friend of
Jimmy's who made my heart pound with just one glance through his thick
lashes.  I turned my head and regarded him steadily, noting the solid
rise and fall of his breathing, the lashes like fanned crescents on his
cheeks, the thick chocolate hair drying in the sun, curving into his
nape.  I cleared my throat nervously.

"Where do you workÉ Fox, isn't it?"  (Sure, I derided myself - like you
don't have his name emblazoned on your soul by now.)  He turned his head
just a little so he could look at me.

"I work over at the hardware shop, for Mr. EllersbyÉ been over there all
summer, since May.  My first real jobÉ up till now I've only done some
babysittingÉ" his voice trailed off, and he ducked his head, closed his
eyes.  I suddenly understood.  His sister, the one who had vanishedÉ the
one nobody would speak of.  Mom had told me a littleÉ Jimmy hadn't said
a word about it.  But the feeling I had from this boy, that he had
secrets; deep painful ones that he carried around on those
prematurely-wide shoulders, as if God had decided when this child was
born he'd need the width early onÉ the feeling I had was that Fox needed
someone to talk to, very badly; but he'd take a little coaxing first.  I
was selfish enough to want him to talk to me; to want him to need me,
just a little; to pry myself into some small spot in his heart and stay
there, long enough for him to become as aware of me, as I was of him.  I
put out one hand and touched his warmed skin; he jumped a little, as if
he'd not expected anyone to touch him.  I spoke softly to him.

"Your sisterÉ what's her name?  How old is she?"  He sighed and rubbed
at the side of his cheek, as if in pain.

"Her name's SamanthaÉ she's ten years old. She went away when I was
twelve, three years ago.  She wasÉ she was abducted."  He stared at me,
almost in defiance of his statement, perhaps wanting me to refute itÉ I
had no reason to refute it, for child kidnappings happened all the
time.  I didn't know yet that 'abduction' to him included aliens as the
perpetrators.  His next words confirmed that belief.  "KellyÉ do you
believe in the existence of life on other planets?  Do you think we're
not alone in the universe?"  I blinked at the unexpected aspect of the
question; gave it some thought before I slowly answered.

"I don't think we're completely alone, noÉ I think there's something out
there, but I never really gave much thought as to what it might be.
Why?  Do you think your sister was abducted by aliens?"  I'd read enough
about it to know that lots of people claimed abduction by
extra-terrestrials.  I didn't have an opinion one way or another; not
believing any more than believing the possibility.  He nodded his head
at my last question.

" I know she was abducted by aliensÉ because I was in the room when she
was takenÉ and I saw how it happenedÉ"  as he spoke the last word, I saw
tears welling up in his hazel eyes; one rolled down his cheek and almost
as if in a trance I saw my hand reach out for that tear, my index finger
gently smoothing it away.  And as I moved my hand from his face, he
caught it with one of his own, and held it tightly, and whispered
against my palm, "I miss her, so muchÉ my mom won't let me talk about
her, and my dad just gets mad when I talk about her.  I really need to
remember her, every detail of her face, the dumb things she used to sayÉ
what if I never see her again, Kelly?  All I'd have left are the things
I remember about herÉ that's all I'd have."  More tears; he buried his
face against his arms, turned away from me but still holding onto my
hand.  And I found myself rising slowly, and moving over to sit on the
edge of his chair, there in a deserted corner of the pool's deck area; I
held his shoulders and felt him shaking; I wanted so badly to make him
feel better, make him forget, however temporarily, the pain which had
been building inside him for three long years.  And so I did something
incredibly stupid and rash, considering we were out in public, in full
view of anyone who happened by - I turned him gently to face me, and
wrapped my arms around him tightly, right around his shouldersÉ and I
kissed his downy cheekÉ and then both his eyesÉ and then, as if I had
magnets on my face and they were being pulled to him by forceÉ I kissed
his beautiful mouth.

No, I'll take that back.  I didn't just kiss his mouth.  I devoured his
mouth.  I never gave him a chance to decide if that's what he wanted.  I
gave him no chance for decisions at all.  From the moment my lips
touched his, all the blood in my head, the blood which usually kept me
level-headed and sane, drained out from my cranium and poured down into
my very center, and my desire pounded through me again, the desire which
had been building for over a month.  My lips nibbled, licked and probed
at him; gently pried his lips apart and swept inside, overloading him
with sensory discovery.  He moaned against my mouth, and his hands
suddenly gripped me tightly, pulled me down to him; his lips opened wide
and he began kissing me back; really kissing me fully with all of his
mouth and all of his tongue.  He was a very fast learner.  In one
blinding moment, the pupil became the active participant, as he echoed
back to me everything I did to him, and his mouth.  I ran my hands over
his chest and shoulders; he mirrored the caress on my hot pink-covered
breasts.  I licked at his tongue; he sucked at mine.  I broke away from
him and gasped shakily into his neck, and he groaned against mine,
breathing just as fast as I wasÉ both of us shuddering.  I could feel
him underneath me, hard and hotly swollen, as fully erect as any young
man could hope to be, could dream of being.  But somewhere behind the
instant adult facade, there still lived a young boy who'd never kissed a
girl before, probably never even held hands very muchÉ definitely never
had the chance to become excited the natural way.  And I was doing this
boy a tremendous disservice by tearing away the very fabric of his
innocence, way too soon, before he even could dream of being ready for
something as intense as thisÉ by forcing him to experience it with
someone so far removed from his sphere of existence; someone who had no
right to even think those sort of thoughts about him, much less act upon
them.  And so I forced myself to let loose of Fox; to pull away and jump
to my feet; I think I muttered an agonized, humiliated apology to his
bewildered frame, still laying in the same position there on the chair;
grabbed my towel and ran off to the changing rooms.  I didn't turn
around, much as I wanted to; didn't see if he tried to follow - I just
got out of there as quickly as I could.  I cried all the way home.
Thankfully, Matt was still at work; he never knew what happened at the
pool.

I could never let him know.

*** to be continued in Part II -***

TITLE:  ÒTHE BOYÓ  Part 2 of 2
AUTHOR:  Char Chaffin
CATEGORY:  Pre-X Files/Mulder/Other, Mulder/Scully Married, Babyfic
RATING:  R, for Adult Situations
SPOILERS:  Not reallyÉ
ARCHIVE:  Sure, Just let me know where!
DISCLAIMER:  They're Not Mine!!
FEEDBACK:  Please Please Please (Begging is so undignified, isn't it?)
SUMMARY:  A woman from Mulder's past ruminates on the joy of havingÉ and
the pain of letting goÉ

Part II -

If Matt noticed how quiet and subdued I was, during dinner and all the
rest of the evening, he never let on.  He was very tired; he'd had a
long day and had spent a great deal of it out in the hot sun.  He'd
taken a shower before dinner and had fallen asleep on the sofa as soon
as dinner was over.  I was glad of that; my emotions were so screwed up
at that moment that it was all I could do to face him over dinner with
any amount of equanimity; luckily for me he was so tired he used what
energy he had left to eat his dinner and then drag himself to the sofa.
It was very hot in the house, and I couldn't stand to be in there
another minute, so I decided to go for a walk.  Outside the twilight had
slowly darkened enough for streetlamps to flick on, and our little
street was very quiet.  I slipped on a pair of thong sandals and turned
out all the lights but the one in the hallway, whispering to Matt that I
was going for a walk.  He mumbled some sort of slurred reply and
snuggled down into the sofa cushions even deeper.  I closed the door
gently behind me, not bothering to lock the door.

The night air was a little cooler now, and a light breeze blew along the
tree-lined street; a breeze that had been lacking all day.  I shoved my
hands into the pockets of my cut-offs and walked slowly, my eyes
somewhat unfocused, trying to keep my mind carefully blankÉ not wanting
to think.  I'd pulled the rubber band out of my hair and had let it fall
freely, brushing against my back, curling down to my waistÉ thinking
once again of just getting the whole mess cut off.  It was so heavy and
hot in the summerÉ but I hadn't had a haircut since I was six years old,
and my hair was my one vanity.  Thick and wavy and somewhere between
blonde and redÉ I had inherited my mother's coloring, while Jimmy more
closely resembled our dad, with his dark hair and eyes.  I pushed the
reddish mass out of the way and walked on, looking at my feetÉ
contemplating my small toes and the pink polish on the nailsÉ until I
walked straight into someone, bumped smack into them and almost fell
over.  One strong hand reached out to steady my armÉ and I looked up,
startled, into Fox's smiling face, there in the moonlight.  I couldn't
breathe, or speakÉ I stood there with my mouth hanging open, staring at
him, frozen like a statue.  He wasn't moving either, and his eyes were
traveling all over me, from the top of my head to  the toes curling in
my sandals.  He reached out a hand to touch my hair, sliding his fingers
through the heavy strands, weaving  them in between his skin, and he
murmured deep and low, "Like pale fireÉ so softÉ like liquid fireÉ" His
hand was trembling, just a little; matching the trembling in my body,
all over my body as I stood there only inches from him, feeling his hand
twining in my hair and his words like something thick and sweet,
dripping on my soul.  His eyesÉ so intensely riveting, they'd held me
pinned there endlessly; I couldn't look away.  I'd heard my mother say
that hazel eyes were a boring colorÉ I'd have to tell her she was
finally wrong about something, for Fox's eyes were anything but boring.
Their ever-changing hue affected me like nothing I'd ever encountered.
I was so focused in on those eyes that I'd scarcely noticed his face
coming closer, and closerÉ until his full bottom lip touched my cheek,
and slid along the prominent bone thereÉ and reached the corner of my
trembling mouth, and hovered there, wispy-lightÉ until with a shuddery
groan I wound a hand through his thick, cool hair and pulled at him
until both those lips were covering mine.  It was as good as I'd
remembered itÉ better because everything I'd shown him hours before had
come back to him with a vengeance - and he was proudly demonstrating to
me how well he'd learned.  His mouth was relentless; it probed and
nipped and rubbed every inch of mineÉ and his tongue found its way
inside my mouth and mated so well with mine that I could full believe
they'd been soulmates in many different livesÉ And his hands tugged at
me, until I fell against his warm chest and felt his whole body, every
inch of it pressed to mineÉ And I had never felt anything as arousing,
as exciting, as that body, and that mouthÉ never.  Matt had never made
me feel this wayÉ never.  At that moment all my addled brain could
assimilate was the sure knowledge that  no one in my life would ever
come close to making me feel what this boy, this teenage boy, was making
me feelÉ with just a kiss.  One endless kiss which moved as we moved,
our heads and our mouths against each others', as we ran hands over
chests and shoulders, around waists and cupping hips, holding our lower
bodies tight against each others'É feeling the hardness of him as he
felt the wetness of me.  Out on a street just one block over from my
house, where my husband Matt slept on our sofa in a darkened living
room, no idea on earth what was happening to his wife just one block
away, in the deep darkÉ with a fifteen year old boy named Fox.

How long we stood there in the dark, behind a maple tree, kissing and
holding and feelingÉ I have no idea.  It was a moment, not nearly
enough; it was eternity, still not enough.  He was so hungry for it, for
love, and acceptance, and passionÉ very hungry for all of it, and I was
more than willing to feed him.  All the loneliness I'd sensed in his
soul, the emptiness and the sadness, the need to make a connection
somewhere, with someoneÉ it was all there in the dark, slowly
dissipating in the night breeze as I held him and kissed him.  It wasn't
enough, not nearly enough, couldn't ever be enough, needed all, all of
him, every inch, every drop of himÉ I hadn't realized I was moaning
these words into his mouth, his neck
and his hair until he answered me in a hoarse gasp of agreement, hands
now pulling shakily at the hem of my loose tee shirt, tugging at it
until he loosened it from my cut-offs and his hands slid along the bare
skin of my back and around to the front of me, until those shaking
fingers found my bare breasts, and cupped me there.  I could feel my
heart jumping around in my chest cavity like a ping-pong ball, and I
moaned into his hot neck as he felt my skin and probed the softness
there; such amazingly talented hands and fingers.  And somehow my shirt
was off and lying in a heap on the grass, and he had sunk to his knees
before me, arms tightly wound around my hips, his mouth opening on my
breast, lips against my nipple.  My legs gave way beneath me and I slid
down to his level, boneless and limp, now on my knees as well, suspended
there against his open mouth and hot tongue until both of us crumpled to
the ground.  But as he pressed down into me, there under him on the cool
grass, as his hands moved to the zipper of my cut-offs and fumbled with
it, I finally snapped out of the red haze I'd been soaked in, and with a
sudden shock of icy awareness, realized just where we wereÉ and what we
were doingÉ were about to do.  I pushed at him, hard, and scrambled
away, enough to put vital space between us there on the ground.  He
stared in dazed confusion, not fully comprehending why I'd stopped him,
only aware of his body and what it was screaming for him to finish, with
me.  I put out a shaky hand when he moved toward me on the grass, and
gasped out, "Fox, noÉ we can'tÉ we can't do this, I can't do thisÉ to
you - not fair; God I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over meÉ"  The
sudden hurt in his wonderful eyes just about killed me, for I'd been the
one to instigate the awareness that caused his painÉ and at that moment
I felt truly evil.  I owed him one hell of an explanation, and I didnÕt
have a clue where to start.

"Fox, listen to meÉ this is wrong, so criminally wrong of me, to be here
like this, with youÉ I'm an adult, I should know betterÉ you're so
young, and so innocentÉ the only excuse I have for myself is so purely
selfish - I saw you, and I wanted you, simple as that.  I never stopped
to consider what damage I could do to you, or anyone else, and I'm sorry
for that as wellÉ" I stopped and wiped at my face, not knowing when I'd
begun to cry.  Next to me, Fox was very still, eyes downcast, but I
could tell he was listening to me, at least.  "Look, FoxÉ you're so
young, so much younger than meÉ even if I wasn't married, there are way
too many years between us.  This would never work, neverÉ I'd probably
be thrown in jail for corrupting and seducing a minorÉ you need someone
your age, or at least closer to it than me, and you need to be able to
experience all the fun of growing up in your own time and place, and not
being forced to rush it.  Only fifteen and you already know way too
muchÉ"  He pressed his hand against my mouth, stopping my words.  His
eyes were tearing up, but unclouded by hurt, clearer and full of
resolve. He whispered low and sure.

"Kelly, I followed you today - I followed you to the pool.  I wanted to
see you, wanted to be with you, to get to know you.  I felt what you
felt, that first time we metÉ donÕt you think I knew it was wrong?  I
may be young, but I'm not stupidÉ I know this isnÕt right, that you're
married.  I also know you canÕt really be very happy with him, if you're
looking for something else.  Your age and my age, that doesn't matter,
not a bitÉ what's inside matters, how we feel, in our hearts.  Say it's
impossible because you belong to someone else, or because you arenÕt
serious about wanting meÉ but donÕt block it because of a dumb thing
like an age difference."  His last words were breathed against my hair,
for he'd reached out both hands and pulled my unresisting body back into
his arms, holding me tightly, afraid, I think, that I'd push him away
again.  Which, with a lot of regret, I did.  Just far enough to see into
his face, though - not completely away, not yet.  I wasn't ready to give
him up, just yet.  But I wanted him to really understand what was at
stake here - and it wasn't my marriage or my sanityÉ it was him.  He was
at stake - his future, his present age and the need to be young and
carefree and innocent until he was truly ready to give it up to the
right person - and that person could never be me.  Oh, how I wanted it
to be meÉ for the rest of my life I would regret that it wasn't me.  I
would wonder, years from now; wonder who the lucky girl was, the one who
got his truest innocence, who took it into her heart and cherished it,
and who gave it right back to him.  That's what he deserved, this
hazel-eyed, chocolate-haired boy with the body of a man and the heart of
an angelÉ who quoted poetry and spoke Greek and loved a sister who'd
been taken by an unseen forceÉ who would someday grow up to be a
splendid man.  I didn't worry about which girl in his life would take
his cherryÉ I knew that experience was highly overrated.  The one I
hoped for him, who would take him in hand and make him the kind of man
the world needed him to beÉ that one woman was out in the world
somewhere, waiting just for himÉ and I prayed that night, and many
nights thereafter, that he would find herÉ the one who would complete
Fox.

Of course, nothing more happened between us, that nightÉ or any other.
I had somehow gotten through to him, although I had my doubts he really
believed me when I told him I could never leave Matt.  But whatever he
believed, I think he finally accepted itÉ because we both stood up, and
brushed the dry grass from our clothes, and he didn't watch me when I
put my tee shirt back on.  I placed a hand against his cheek, and
stroked the silk of his skin, one last time; allowed myself a small
kiss, on his sweet bottom lip; he closed his eyes and shuddered a
little, but didnÕt try to hold me.  I missed that final touch; all my
life I would probably want it.  But in not taking it,  we were both
protecting ourselves from any further hurt.  I walked away in one
direction and he went in the other, and neither of us turned around to
lookÉ well, at least I didn't, though it was killing me not to.  And in
the days and weeks and months which followed, as my resolve strengthened
and I slowly got my system back to normal, I was very glad I hadnÕt
turned
back - because I would probably have gone running to him and would have
climbed up into his body and never, ever come out.

School started up again, for both Jimmy and me; in my junior year at
Lambert University, working part-time now and going to school full-time,
I was so busy I hardly ever got to see the family, even though they were
only a few doors down.  Matt and I separated, in the middle of the
Christmas holiday; this was my fault and I accepted the blame of the
break.  I had not been able to fully put my feelings for Fox aside, and
although I never said a thing to Matt, he somehow knew our marriage was
sorely lacking, and I was just going through the motions.  After a
while, he let his frustration show, and my predictable reaction to his
anger and tension was the final nail in a coffin that had actually been
closing shut months before we even moved back to Lambert, though it took
the move and the events which I instigated, to make us both realize it
wasn't working for us anymore.  Matt moved away from Lambert and I put
my life back together again.  Eventually I met someone else, and got
married again; Ted Watson was an accountant at the bank where I still
worked part-time; he was tall and dark-haired and sweet, lanky slim with
hazel eyes and a wickedly dry sense of humor.  I loved him as much as it
was possible for me to love anyone, I guess - and when he proposed, six
months after we met, I accepted.  He was the complete physical opposite
of Matt's blonde stockiness - and very easy-going, very intelligent.  He
loved science fiction.

I told myself many times that his resemblance to Fox was a mere
coincidence.

So many years since I have thought of that episode in my life; so many.
Funny how life seems to blend the monumental events in one's life into
one long sequence which undershadows each day, each year; until one
small thing brings that event into sharp focus, and then all the
memories come back, sweet and hot with a tinge of bitter, as fresh and
tart as if they'd occurred just five minutes ago.

I saw him again, you seeÉ Fox.  My brother Jimmy's best friend that
fifteenth summer of theirs; friends they stayed until he and his family
moved away, right after school ended in June.  Jimmy was desolateÉ until
he met Kate Fairling and found out all about the joys of having a
teenage girl worship the ground he walked upon.

I saw him again and it all came back to me in a crazy rush of heat and
need and desire still so strong inside of me that if I'd not been
sitting when I saw him, I would have quite possibly fallen flat on my
face.
I was waiting for a flight, sitting in the middle of O'Hare in the
middle of the day, half-heartedly flipping through a magazine, waiting
for my flight to be announcedÉ on my way back from visiting my daughter
Lisa and her husband KennyÉ from spending a delightful week with my
grandchildrenÉ so glad to be with them and able to forget, just for a
little while the inevitability of having to return to Lambert and my
empty house - for my Ted had passed away and it had been two years and I
missed him very much, every single day.  And I still regretted so much
my inability to love him as completely, as single-mindedly, as I knew
he'd loved me.  But, I digressÉ

I sat, and pretended to read, my mind still full of the grandkids and my
familyÉ and I looked up when I heard the sweet high giggle of a young
childÉ and there he was, right across from me, within spitting
distance.  And although it had been so many years; twenty-six years
since I had last seen himÉ I knew it was Fox.  There was no mistaking
that lanky shape, that deep chocolate hair and those wondrous hazel
eyes.  Older, more beautiful than ever, dressed elegantly in a charcoal
wool suit, snowy white shirt and a contrastingly wild striped tieÉ the
look of him brought it all crashing back to me, and I had to grip the
arms of my chair to keep myself from running over to him, from flinging
myself at himÉ because there was a small child in his armsÉ a little
boy, with dark curls erupting all over his head and wide, lovely blue
eyesÉ a sturdy little boy dressed in gray striped denim overalls and a
bright red henley shirt, little hi-topped sneakers on his feetÉ a
laughing child being tossed with tender care between his father and his
mother.  His motherÉ

I stared and stared at the woman who'd borne this older Fox a child,
hoping against hope that she would be the one I'd wished for him, all
those years ago; the one who would take his innocence, regardless of how
many partners he'd had - the one who would give him everything; would
make him into the man he was meant to beÉ would complete him.  The one
I'd be so thankful for, even as my envy and jealousy of her would bite
into me, hard.

She was very petite; about the same height as me, and her short fluffy
hair was just a shade or two redder than mine.  Her blue eyes were wide
and soft with laughter as she tossed her son around , tugging him to and
fro by his little suspenders.  Pale skinned, dressed in a dark green
pantsuit which was tailored to sweep her small body lovinglyÉ delicate
hands and feet.  A diamond solitaire on her ring finger, matched to a
plain gold wedding band; small pearl studs in her ears, a single strand
of matching pearls around her slender throat.  Brimming over with love,
for her son, and for the man called Fox  - I could feel it from where I
was sitting.  So much love; it flowed in waves, all over her family;
deep and strong and pure.  I glanced at him again, under my lashes, not
wanting him to see me, vain enough to think he might recognize me, after
all these yearsÉ

To find he was looking straight at meÉ and he knew who I was.  My eyes
widened; my heart began to pound; surely I was misreading his stare; he
couldn't possibly remember me!  But, somehow, he didÉ somehow he'd
retained enough of my face in his memory to be able to register the
similarity between the younger meÉ and the much older version sitting
here now.  He leaned over to his wife, whispered something, kissed her
mouth gently, and got upÉ my knees started knocking togetherÉ he was
walking, graceful and looseÉ I was trembling now, afraid to look up,
seeing his feet only, just his feet, encased in expensive black leatherÉ
closer and closer, a spicy cologne discernable now, so closeÉ and his
hand touched me on the shoulder, and I forced myself to look up, into a
face I'd dreamt about for more nights than I cared to rememberÉ a face
I'd fallen for so completely that I'd assured its place in my life by
finding and marrying a man with a superficial resemblanceÉ to that
face.  I swallowed hard and managed a small smile.  His answering smile
was warm and blindingly sweet.

"KellyÉ I donÕt believe itÉ it is Kelly, right?"  I nodded slowly, and
he sat down next to me and took my hand in his, brought it to his mouthÉ
kissed my palm gently.  Hung onto it, as his hazel gaze wandered all
over my face; my hair.  He smiled again, wider.  "You look wonderfulÉ
you haven't changed very much at all.  I would have known you anywhereÉ
that hair!  You still have the most amazing hairÉ"  he touched a strand
of it, which had come loose from the French knot which I always wore.
"Is it still waist-length?"  I nodded, dumbfounded at the thought that
he'd remembered the length of my hair.  I finally found my voice.

"I cut about a foot off, ten years or so ago - but it's mostly just the
sameÉ  more gray here and there, I guess!" Actually, the gray streaks in
my hair looked more white than gray, giving it almost a sun-streaked
look.  So far I'd been lucky and hadnÕt had to resort to coloring it
yet.  I looked him over, just as closely, found myself whispering, "How
you've grown up, so strong and handsomeÉ just as I knew you wouldÉ I'm
so glad to see you.  So glad to know you've found the life I always knew
you deserved.  Your little boy is very beautifulÉ and so is your wife.
I'm happy for youÉ" My words trailed off as he leaned in closer, until
his lips could touch my cheek, until he could whisper in my ear.

"Her name is Dana - and she is the center of my universe, the reason I
draw breathÉ and I would never have had a chance with her, if the time
I'd spent with you had not taught me the caliber of woman I needed to
hold out forÉ I knew I'd only be happy if the woman I loved someday,
would give my heart to someday, would be as generous of spirit, as kind,
as youÉ" He smiled at me again and brushed another kiss over my pinkened
cheek.  "You told me what to look forÉ and it took me a very long time
but I finally found her.  So, even though it's twenty-six years late in
comingÉ thank you."  His words brought tears to my eyes, but I smiled
through them, and laid a hand on his face, needing to touch his skin
just once more.  I spoke softly to him, "You're welcomeÉ Fox."  Then I
took my hand away, and stood up, for my flight was being called. There
was no more time, no time to meet his wife, whom I felt I already knew;
to give his little son a hugÉ just time enough to say a quick good-bye,
and reach up on tiptoes to hug him, to feel his length against me one
more timeÉ to wave at him as I walked to the gate; he stood there with
that sweet smile on his beautiful face, and waved back; his son in his
arms and his wife next to him, a smile on her face as well.  I walked
through the gate and down the ramp and onto the plane which would take
me back to Lambert, and my little house just seven doors down from his
old place, there on Lane StreetÉ and for once, I didnÕt mind going back
there alone.

This time, I was bringing Fox back with meÉ in my heart.

End

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