In the locker room, under a hot shower, Buddy thought back to the first time he and Emmy made love. They had been friends in college, hanging out, studying and eating together for weeks with nothing but a few steamy kisses, until the Spring Dance.
He’d attended all the dances in high school, even though he wasn’t much of a dancer. His best friend and quarterback for the Kensington State team, Mark Davis, had kidded Buddy about getting a date. It didn’t take him but a second to decide to ask Emmy. Buddy had seen the beauty and sweetness of the shy girl, hiding behind her guitar.
As he toweled off, he pictured her in a teal blue, shiny dress. It had hugged her curvy figure like a second skin. Once she had shed her baggy jeans and big shirts, she had been the most gorgeous girl on campus. He had wanted her.
They had danced mostly slow dances as neither one had liked dancing fast. She smelled of spring blossoms and shampoo. Buddy had wished everyone else would vanish, evaporate somehow, so they could be alone with the music.
It was warm for April. Buddy had taken Emmy out to eat, then they ended up at the old, deserted barn on the outskirts of town. Emmy had expressed interest in exploring the dusty, smelly structure.
Buddy had picked her up as if she weighed nothing and carried her across the soggy ground. The moon had shone through a hole in the roof. He put her down on some hay and joined her.
As he put his car in gear, he remembered how soft her skin was. She was willing, almost anxious to give herself to him. He relished the idea of being her first. They had taken their time undressing, their shyness covered by shadows. He had been gentle and had tried to take his time, but the sight of her moon-kissed, naked body had stoked his passion beyond his endurance.
Stopped at a red light, the memory of his second try in that old barn, his amazing self-control and the pleasure he had received at satisfying her brought warmth to his heart. Tonight he was going to make love to her that same way. He could hardly wait to rekindle those old fires, still smoldering deep inside.
He turned into his street and raised his eyebrows at the sight of news vans blocking his driveway. Buddy maneuvered his way through the scraggly crowd. He evaded their questions, hammering him from all sides.
After murmuring “no comment” a dozen times, he pushed his way into the house and shoved the door closed. Silence greeted him.
“Gert! Gert! Are you here?”
A soft scuffling of feet greeted him. She appeared from the kitchen.
“What the hell? Where’s Emmy?” He dropped his keys on the front hall table.
“Gone, Mr. Carruthers. Gone.” She shook her head.