2 comments/ 64436 views/ 10 favorites In That Moment By: cuckytoher Kneeling on the floor, the lock on m chastity device making a clicking sound as it bounced playfully off my plastic prison device, watching my beautiful wife drift in and out of consciousness as I massaged her feet with lotion I wondered what made men do what they do. And as I contemplated this I realized that it comes down to a moment. A moment is all it takes. The moment in which you decide to jump off the cliff or stay on the relative safety of the canyon's edge are the moments which define our lives. There's the moment before something happens, the should I and what ifs, and then there's the moments after it happens when you look back and wonder why you took the road you did. And then there is the moment itself. The moment in which you make choices and decisions which bring you to where you are now and define where you will go from here. Women live less in the moment then men and they make their decisions based on the long haul and the big picture. But men, we change by the moment. What does this have to do with me kneeling where I'm kneeling doing what I'm doing and cuckolding? It's simple, I made a decision in a moment and now, for better of worse I live with it. My wife Amber had always been fairly dominant over me. A bit strange because albeit being 10 year s younger and making much less money than me, and having only a high school education as opposed to my Master's degree and six figure salary she exuded a confidence and dominance I hadn't seen in women twice her age. We met in of all places a Dunkin' Donuts where I would stop every morning to get my coffee before going to my job as a lawyer. Amber is 5'2" but always wears heels to make her look around 5'7". She has deep brown eyes, and long, natural dark brown hair, but one of her best features has to be her 40 EE all natural breasts. She has marvelous wide hips and thighs and wears a size 7 thong or panty but most of the time she goes without them under her extra large tight fitting dresses. She is fully shaved and loves the feeling of it when she goes without panties. In short, she is a thick thighed, wide hipped, big busted goddess and I love her. Each morning she would greet me with a knockout smile as she served me coffee, flashing her cleavage. It seemed the more she saw me staring at her cleavage the lower her shirt was the next day and the bigger her tip was. I made it known that I was single and well off. It didn't take long before I came up with the nerve to ask her on a date and things moved fast after that. We dated for three months getting to know each other more and more. You could say we had typical new couple 'vanilla' sex during that time. And then one night as we lay on a blanket in front of a fire in my luxurious townhouse, both of us in the afterglow of sex Amber whispered to me. "Honey I want you to tell me your deepest, darkest desires. I want to know what makes you tick. We've known each other for only a short time, but I feel as if we've been soul mates forever." With that she reached down and began slowly caressing my balls and cock. In that moment, all my defenses faded away and my inhibitions went out the window. Like a sinner confessing his sins, I closed my eyes and confessed to her. I told her all of my dirty little secrets and desires. I laid my soul bare to her as she caressed my cock and balls into full erection. The harder I became, the more I opened up and confessed and in that moment right before I was ready to cum I blurted out my deepest secret of all. I told how I had longed all my life to be dominated, cuckolded and controlled by a big breasted rubenesque woman. Two weeks later Amber called me at work crying saying that she was being evicted from her apartment and had nowhere to stay. She was sobbing hysterically and said that she was thinking of just packing up and moving away. Although I was right in the middle of a big case, I dropped everything and rushed over to her tiny one room studio apartment. I calmed her down and told her not to worry that she could move in with me. Her tears stopped and I saw that bright beautiful smile that made my cock twitch. Our relationship flourished after that. We became inseparable after that and the sex got even better. Six months passed and I was utterly and completely in love. One night as we sat having dinner with Amber wearing a very low cut top and no bra, the candle light accentuating her gorgeous features, she told me she wanted to talk to me about something. "Baby, you've been great to me these past few months and I really appreciate everything you've done and I will never forget that. But I really feel like a freeloader here. I feel like you could just kick me to the curb at a moments notice and I'd be right back where I started." A tear welled up in her eye. "Oh Amber, you know I would never do that" "Shhh, let me finish," Amber said, wiping the tear away and clearing her throat. "I want to know that the man I'm in love with is just as deeply in love with me as I am with him. I want to know that we share the same feelings and desires and want to continue to deepen our love. But right now I feel like some cheap piece of trash. Maybe I should just move back to the west coast with my sister and get a job there." My heart sank. I was like a pirate watching a buried treasure slip away through his fingers only to be lost to the sea forever. In that moment I knew what I had to do. Slowly, I rose from the table, walked to Amber's chair and knelt in front of her. She patted my head like a dog's owner pats their pets head to keep him loyal. And before I knew it, the words were out of my mouth. "Marry me." I said, blurting it out and taking her hands in mine. She leaned forward and drew my head to her breasts. "Oh baby, are you serious? Are you sure? I mean I don't want you to think I'm threatening you or trying to trap you. I want you to be 100% sure this is what you want." In that moment, with my head buried against her magnificent breasts the scent of Calvin Klein's Obsession, her favorite perfume, wafting into my nostrils I was a dead man. Hypnotized by all that's holy and sacred in the human condition, in a word I was hooked. "No Amber, I want you more than I've ever wanted anything in this world. These past few months have been the most erotic and exciting of my life. It's as if I've found the one thing in my life that I have been missing all this time. You're beautiful, erotic, exotic, exciting, and I love you with all my heart and soul and want you to be my wife." She took my face in her hands and gently kissed me on the lips, her tongue probing my mouth finding mine. She stood and led me to the bedroom where we enjoyed the best night of sex I've ever had. As we lay there with moonlight streaming through the window, the shadows dancing off her gorgeous body, she asked me about a ring. I promised I would have a special surprise tomorrow night for her at dinner. The next night at dinner, I again knelt by my lovely wife to be and presented her with a tiny aqua colored box. Again tears welled in her eyes as she took the box from my hand and looked deep into my eyes. She was stunning in her black, low scooped neck dress with her breasts cascading out the top and her gorgeous tan legs and thighs, smooth and sexy enticing me. She took the box from me and unwrapped the tiny white ribbon, opened the box to reveal a 3 carat princess shaped Tiffany diamond that had set me back almost fifty thousand dollars. "Amber, my love," I said, taking her hands in mine. "I want you to be my wife. To share in my love and my life, I want you to be the only woman in my life forever and ever. Please marry me." In that moment our fate was sealed. Amber cried, hugged me and accepted my engagement ring. As we sat enjoying a glass of champagne she went to the other room and came back with some papers. It was a pre-nuptial agreement. She told me that she wanted our life together to be perfect and that she was prepared to make it so. She said that after the night I had made my wild confession to her she had been giving it a lot of thought and wanted our life together to be perfect for both of us and make sure that we both got what we wanted. She told me she'd marry me on three conditions which were as she read from the paper the following: 1.We were to stay married for better or worse forever. Which meant that if I divorced her I would forfeit all past, present, and future marital assets to her completely. This would virtually leave me penniless and homeless for the rest of my life. 2.She would be in charge of all marital decisions period. This would include how the marital assets were spent, where we went, what we did, who we associated with, right down to what I wore and where I worked. 3.I would remain faithful to her, but she on the other hand was free to pursue other relationships outside the marriage. She slid the paper across the table and I read it in my most lawyerly fashion. The language of the agreement was clear, concise and in all aspects a legal binding document. As I read the agreement, Amber stood up and walked behind me and stood there, her perfume strong on my olfactory senses posing an almost hypnotic air. Her long fingernails began caressing my neck and shoulders sending shivers down my spine. "Baby, I know this is what you want. What you need. What we both need. Our lives could change dramatically and we can both be partners from now till eternity. I know what you want and need and I can provide it. And you know what I want and need and you can provide it. We're a perfect match for each other. I feel like I was sent to you knowing your needs, and I know that I was sent to fulfill that need." Her hands were rubbing my shoulders now making her way down towards my nipples, and as soon as she reached beneath my shirt and I felt her nail drag across my nipples shock waves raced up and down my spine even more. In that moment ever rational, sane, logical thought, feeling and emotion left my body. It was as if I was in a trance and under her spell. Before I knew it she has slipped a pen into my quivering hand and I signed the agreement. That was it, my fate was sealed, and our fate was sealed. Things progressed quickly after a fancy wedding and whirlwind honeymoon cruise to Europe. Once back at home, Amber asserted her dominance over me more and more on a daily basis. I became the de facto housewife, maid, cook, breadwinner in the household. I would spend my days at the law practice supervising a cadre of underlings and making high powered decisions only to come home and have all that responsibility taken away by Amber. I was always provided with a list when I walked in the door if Amber wasn't home which most of the time she wasn't. I would be instructed to change into my 'outfit' as Amber liked to call it which was not the typical French maid's outfit that everyone somehow associates submissive men wearing. Amber however, thinks as I do that that particular outfit is so cliché it's not even funny. So Amber came up with what we believe is the perfect outfit that is workable and yet shows my position. I am totally shaved from head to toe at Amber's insistence. My outfit consists of my CB3000 chastity device always being in place, a short denim mini skirt that is so short it shows the tip of my chastity device, a pair of plain, flat soled cheap white sneakers, and a pink tie dye t-shirt that says 'cuckolded...and loving it' across the front in big bold letters. The outfit is comfortable enough for me to do all my chores in and at the same time there is never any doubt in anyone's mind that Amber is in charge. Sometimes when she's in a very playful mood Amber will do variations on the theme. A dog collar and leash have been added at times as I lick her pussy, earrings and lipstick on other occasions, and if she's feeling very cruel I'm forced into six inch high heels which kill my feet! But it's all about Amber and what she wants. Most nights upon returning home and changing into my outfit, reading my list, and completing all my chores, I start dinner and have it on the table at precisely 7:30 whether Amber was home or not. Some nights she would be there and others I would sit at the long, candlelit table alone and eat dinner by myself. Nights when Amber did come home, she would regale me with the details of her day. Sometimes it would about her shopping trips or visits to friends and other times it would be about trysts with her lovers. Oh yes, I forgot to mention Amber has taken on a lover since about a week after we returned from our honeymoon. His name is Jonathan and although I've never met him, I feel as if I know him intimately. I do his laundry, clean his condo, run his errands, wash his car and motorcycle, oh yes and most importantly clean his cum from Amber's pussy, but have yet to see his face or meet him. Amber thinks its best that way. She says keeping him in the dark in the background will only add to his mystery and lead to more excitement for me. I guess she's right. The other night after dinner as I knelt between Amber's legs licking her pussy while she at my freshly made crème brulee she raved about he day with Jonathon. `"Baby, we had so much fun today. I know that it makes you hard inside your little cage when I talk about Jonathan and the things that he does to me. After our trip to the mall today where I bought some pretty hot outfits at Victoria's Secret which I might model for you later if you're a good boy, we went to his place and oh my God did we have fun! His cock is so big that it does take some getting used to but once I'm nice and wet for him he fills me up so nicely. Oh and baby when he cums, he cums buckets! Well it least if feels like he cums buckets, does it taste like that much?" "Mmmph" was all I could mutter from beneath the table; my tongue buried deep in her pussy, scooping out Jonathan's cum and loving both had it made her feel and how it made me feel. She went on. "You know today he put me on all fours and fucked me silly while he put little lead weights hanging off my nipples and it was incredibly erotic!" His salty cum mixed with her juices rolled down my throat as I slaved savagely to get it all out of her, knowing it would bring her to another orgasm. My tiny cock strained against its cage begging for release and relief of some kind. All I knew was that my freedom and eventual release was all in her hands and at this point in my mouth. "Jonathan told me that he is going to have surveillance cameras installed in his apartment so that when you go over there clean and do your chores he and I can keep an eye on you. He doesn't want you snooping around in places you're not supposed to be and that way he and I can keep an eye on you and make sure you're doing all your chores. Isn't that wickedly sinful of him?" "MMMPH" my muffled cries were growing louder as I could hear her approaching orgasm and in that moment as she wrapped those beautiful thunder thighs around my head and exploded in orgasm, I once again would've done anything for her. Later that night after all the rest of my chores had been complete and Amber had taken a bath and was relaxing on the couch, she rang a little brass bell she kept next to her at all times in the house. The bell was my signal to drop whatever I was doing and come to her immediately. The moment I heard the bell I put down the laundry I was folding and scampered to the living room to find Amber sitting regally in her big armchair. She wore black, sheer, see through camisole and as I entered the room her beauty took my breath away. She told me to strip, and pointed to the floor for me to kneel. My clothes were off in a flash and I knelt with my legs splayed apart in front of her, naked save for my chastity device. Amber instructed me to put my hands behind my back and then she began to slowly play with my balls with her perfectly manicured toes. My cock was bursting in the cage; aching for release that I knew only she could give me. "Do you like it when I relay my day's activities with Jonathan baby?" Amber grinned a wicked grin and I immediately got harder. "Oh yes Amber. You know I love to hear your stories. I love knowing hearing about anything that makes you happy." Oh how I wanted to cum. On nights like this she would sometimes torment me for hours this way before finally allowing me to cum in some demeaning and humiliating way which I never knew until it happened. I might be allowed to cum on her feet and lick it off. Or sometimes she would straddle me and barely let her pussy slide down over my cock leaving me bouncing around trying to reach into her farther. And other times if she was in a particularly cruel mood she would break out her special concoction as she called it. It consisted of Absorbine JR and vitamin E mixed together which she would then rub on my cock and balls. The sensations were absolutely intense. She would then spend the longest time edging me; bringing me to the brink of orgasm and stopping again and again and finally when she knew I could take it no longer; when she knew I was at the end of my rope and ready to explode she would stroke my cock incredibly fast and just as I was going to shoot she would let go of it and laugh. My cock would jerk and twitch as the cum tried to shoot forth however without any help from Amber I would lay there humping the air in what she would call a 'ruined orgasm.' But they were the things I longed for. It was total surrender and total control that I gave and she took. It was a release from the pressures of my everyday life. There was no pressure to make decisions and have to worry about the consequences of those decisions. And in my business, the consequences of me making a right or a wrong decision can run into the millions. That's how this was so liberating. I no longer had to worry about any of that. I happily gave total control over to Amber and she took it willingly and enjoyed it. I was her toy, her pet, her instrument to be used and played as she saw fit. Kneeling there as she bounced my balls up and down on her foot I was growing increasingly horny for I hadn't had an orgasm in two full weeks. Amber and I have almost what you could call a telepathy were all we need to do is share a look with each other and the other person knows what we're thinking. With an evil grin she reached down to her other ankle and took the key to my device from her anklet that read 'Hot Wife' engraved on it. "Does my little man bride want to cum?" Amber asked me teasingly. "Oh God yes!" I shouted. "How long has it been?" "Two weeks. Two weeks yesterday." I rattled off like one of my minions at the law firm does when I bark out an order or request. Ah if only they could see me now! "Oh my poor, poor baby has it really been that long?" "Yes Amber and I'm dying to cum, please let me cum!!" "She took the key and unlocked the lock and then gently slid the clear plastic tube off my cock. Then she gently removed the plastic ring from around my balls. My cock was finally free! The feeling of cool air circulated around my cock and balls and my cock twitched up and down with each beat of my heart. Amber instructed me to lay on my back on the day bed that I sometimes slept on in the living room if she felt like sleeping by herself. I lay there with my legs spread as she pulled on a pair of latex gloves and I knew what was coming. She pulled a small bottle out of the drawer next to the day bed and emptied a portion of her special concoction into the palm of her hand. She began rubbing it all over my cock and balls and the sensation alone almost made me shoot. The burning of the Absorbine JR mixed with the cooling of the Vitamin E provided an intense pain pleasure sensation the likes of which I have never felt. "You know I told Jonathan today that I did these kinds of things to you and he laughed and couldn't believe it. He wanted to know what kind of a man, especially a high powered lawyer would let his wife do the kinds of things I do to you? Well, I told him that you don't 'let' me do anything that I do what I want and you crave it. Isn't that right pumpkin?" Amber was stroking my cock faster now, massaging my balls with her other hand and as she did so while she relished in the fact that she told Jonathan all this, her tits bounced up and down inside the sheer camisole and drove me wilder and wilder as I went. In That Moment And that my friends are the moments I have been talking about. Those moments when you're right on the edge when it feels so good and yet you know that as soon as you shoot your load that feeling is going to be gone and so you want that feeling to go on and on. Those are the moments where men would surrender their lives to a woman. At least I would, and I had at that moment. I was hers and she was mine. And as dysfunctional as some people would view our relationship, we reveled in it! "Oh yes, Amber I..I...I...I love it and I love you!!! Oh God I'm gong to cum!" Just as I got the last syllable out of my mouth Amber let go of my cock and cum gushed from it twitching and pulsing without the help of her hand. I was in pure ecstasy. My load shot all over my stomach, cock and chest as Amber stripped off her latex gloves, scooped up my cum and fed it to me in her deliciously wicked way! That night as Amber got ready to go on her date with Jonathan, I knelt by her side as she did her hair and makeup rubbing lotion on her beautifully tanned feet and legs. I was back in my cage feeling the stirrings of the strange mixture of emotions that all cuckolds feel when their wives are going out. It ranges from jealousy, to excitement, to anger, to eroticism, to love. But in the end, we all suck it up and accept the humiliation because in a very strange way we crave, expect and accept it. "Baby do you think Jonathan will like my outfit?" She cooed, and as she stood she took my breath away. "Oh yes, Amber, I think he'll love it! You look gorgeous!" I made my way over to her on my knees and hugged her around the waist. "I love you Amber and you've made all my dreams come true." She patted me on the head and kissed the top of my head before breaking my embrace. She stood there legs spread modeling for me. Her outfit tonight consisted of a very low scooped neck spandex dress that was also very short. She wore black heels and no stockings or pantyhose. In my humble opinion there's nothing more beautiful than a BBW in a short, tight dress with big breasts. Amber was a goddess! She twirled around once, her hair flowing in the breeze and then walked out of the bedroom, grabbed her keys, gave me a peck on the cheek and handed me a note. And with that she was gone. I unfolded the note. It read: Baby, I want you to go to Jonathan's condo tonight and thoroughly clean it, change the sheets and make sure everything's just so as we're going to be gong back there after our date. You can bring Jonathan's laundry back here and do it. Remember Jonathan installed his new video surveillance system so we can watch and make sure you did a good job and didn't go sneaking around where you don't belong. Oh and I want you to wear your outfit over to his apartment when you clean, it's dark and no one should see you! Let's hope not! LOL! I'll be home later..be waiting for me... Love...Amber  I stood there for a moment, my heart beating in my chest so loudly I could hear it. My cock twitched in its cage as I grabbed the keys to the car and headed to Jonathan's apartment. I hurried to get out of the car and run into the condo and hoped no one saw me. Once inside, I did a quick scan around the apartment noticing the cameras that had been installed since my last visit. I quickly began my cleaning routine, dusting, floors, garbage, changing the sheets, gathering up dirty laundry, vacuuming, scrubbing the toilets and showers. I know Amber loved the way Jonathan made her feel, but this guy was a slob! He would throw pizza boxes on the floor, clothes and dirty dishes were strewn all over the condo. The bathrooms were filthy with towels all over, dried pee on the toilet and on the floors where he had obviously got up in the middle of the night to take a piss and had missed and not bothered to wipe it up. Ever mindful of the cameras, I tried not to show my disgust as I cleaned and shined the condo, changed the sheets putting on the satin ones that I knew Amber loved, setting out the lubricant that was her favorite on the night table next to the bed, and putting two champagne glasses in the freezer to chill. I scooped up the huge laundry bag with Jonathan's dirty laundry and hurriedly scampered from the condo stuffing the huge bag into my tiny Yugo; Amber had insisted I drive her old Yugo and she drive my Mercedes. I started the car and raced home wanting to get all of this laundry done and my other chores finished before Amber got home. I did the sheets first, they were covered in dried cum stains and as I stood at the washer I found myself sniffing them and touching them and wanting to taste them. I felt like a star struck high school girl as I stood there knowing that these cum covered sheets were used by Amber and her lover, my cock twitched in my cage. I spent the next three hours doing the laundry and cleaning our house. Amber insisted that I iron ALL of Jonathan's clothes that included underwear and sox. That took me a few hours and by the time everything was done it was two o'clock in the morning. I stripped off my outfit and put that in the wash, while I went to take a shower. Amber also required me to only take cold showers as she said it would always remind me of my place in our relationship and it would always make sure my cock stayed soft. The ice cold water cascaded down over my body as I washed the grime of the day off myself. I could feel my cock shrinking even smaller than its normal size inside the cage. After the shower, I dried myself off, made myself a cup of tea and drifted off to sleep on the couch watching an old movie. As I drifted off to sleep I could feel my cock twitch as I thought of my beautiful wife out getting fucked by her lover and how far our life had come since we met. And in that moment I was perfectly and contentedly happy. In That Moment "You can't save her Paul. You need to understand this. No matter how much you want it to happen, no matter how hard you try to make it happen, you can't stop it. Clara can't be brought back. This is not what I'm offering you. I'm sorry." Paul sat on the sofa and leaned forward burying his face in his palms. He breathed through his fingers and then sobbed once...but his tears had dried up long ago. He was spent and raw inside. He curled his hands into fists then rapped his knuckles against his forehead, at first with light taps, then with audible, punishing thumps. He wanted to feel something, anything that would jar the blockage in his skull. Yet there was nothing. He opened his eyes and stared into the blackness of his living room. He had spent the last twenty-four hours practically unmoving from his sofa. Night had come and gone and come again. Just outside his front door, he had heard the mailman deliver more cards and letters of condolence that he would never bother to read. He had long before yanked his answering machine from the wall and, even if his cell phone hadn't died, he still wouldn't have checked his voice-mail or inbox. Across the room on a shelf stood a row of picture frames. They were shrouded in shadow cast by the glow of the light that manged to seep into the room through the drawn curtains. Still, Paul could envision the images of the people in the photographs as plain as the days they were taken. They stared through the bleak darkness and right into his heart. He thought he could even hear them whispering to him. Or maybe it was really just him wishing they could whisper to him, tell him some secret to clear his jumbled mind. He poured himself another glass of wine, the darkness making the red of the Merlot swirl into the glass like oil. He slugged it back. It wouldn't have mattered if he had sipped it; the liquid still would have tasted sour. With a weary sigh he fell back against the sofa and lolled his head to the side. On the side table, a clock ticked steadily. Paul squinted at it. 11:50. Michael would be there in ten minutes. * * * * * Twenty-four hours earlier... Paul never was one to pray to angels. He was more interested in tangible things: the sweet taste of fresh grilled sirloin on his tongue, the thrumming vibration of his car around his body, the tender softness of his lover's inner thigh against his hand. Life was about what he could see and touch. But now he felt like he was falling forever into an endless void, his arms and hands grasping and flailing in the air, nothing to see, nothing to touch, nothing to hold on to. He felt totally lost in a vacuum as he sat by himself on his sofa in the dark. "Clara". Paul had no need for angels, yet he said her name like a quiet prayer. Even stranger still was his muted response when his prayer was unexpectedly answered. "Paul," a voice steady and crisp like the wind through the trees called to him. Paul looked up with a remarkable calmness unexpected of a man confronted by disembodied voice calling his name. Yet he watched in perplexing silence as strands and puffs of white light appeared in the middle of the room as if seeping through a hole in the darkness. They floated and pulled and tangled in the air before him. He felt warmth from their light. Not like the warmth of a fire, though, more like fingers of electricity dancing on his nerves, seizing him to attention. He knew this wasn't dream, yet he didn't feel anything like fear or panic. As the light continued to ebb and flow in front of him, an unexpected feeling of acceptance settled into Paul. His lips drifted apart and he forced a breath out, uttering the name, "Michael." Though he must have across the name hundreds of time during his life, it never had any personal significance to him. Yet when faced with something indescribable, when feeling a hungering need to put a frame around an impossible shape, "Michael" was what came to mind. The entity didn't take any exception to being christened by Paul but instead said, "I know you're hurting." Paul swallowed and shuddered. "I know you miss her." "Oh God, I miss her so much," Paul thought. "I want to offer you something." Paul held his breath, a rattling pang of anticipation grinding in his gut. "I'm giving you the chance to relive a moment with her again." He didn't care if he was drunk or if he was hallucinating or even if this was just a dream. Paul hung on Michael's every word like it was a rope twisting in a hurricane. He wanted to believe so much. Anxiously he asked, "I can see her again?" "A moment in your life spent with her," Michael said, his light shifting and curling, "For one hour you can experience it again, be with Clara again." Clara. When Michael said her name, it was like a spur against Paul's ribs. He sucked in air with a gasp, covering his mouth. His mind whirled. To be with her again, to touch her, to hold her, to smell and taste her... Paul suddenly sat up, a thought igniting in his head. With a wild look of realization in his eyes, he leaned forward and said, "I could..." "You can't save her Paul." Paul froze. He let the words sink in like an injection of ice water into his veins. "I-I can't..." his lips fluttered, "Why?" "You can't save her Paul," Michael repeated, "You need to understand this. No matter how much you want it to happen, no matter how hard you try to make it happen, you can't stop it." Each word felt like a hook pulling at his heart. Paul wanted to scream and yell but he couldn't find the words. "Clara can't be brought back. This is not what I'm offering you. I'm sorry." Paul sank back against the sofa. In his heart, he knew that he had accepted what he was being told even before Michael finished. He closed his eyes, defeated. Michael filled the silence with instruction. "I want you to recall every moment you've spent with Clara." Paul shook his head. "There are so many." "I know. The strongest, most meaningful ones will stand out though." Paul opened his eyes and thought for a fleeting second. A door within his mind opened a crack and a sliver of blinding light knifed through. It was overwhelming. Once more he shut his eyes tight. "It hurts too much," he sighed. He relapsed and pleaded, "I just want her back here with me." "There's nothing you can do, Paul," Michael assured him, "You can warn her. You can take her away from where the accident happens. You can be with her, shield her. Still, she'll be gone and you will be left as empty and hollow as you are now. Worse, you will have wasted this opportunity I'm offering you." "What opportunity?" Paul asked. "Without Clara, what's the point?" Paul heard the voice of Michael surround him. "Don't think about the loneliness of this room and trying to fill this space around you. Think of filling the void that's inside of you here." A sudden warmth swelled within Paul's chest. It filled him completely, lighting up his eyes. He sat up and inhaled deeply as if he were a baby taking his first gasp of fresh air. Just as suddenly, it disappeared. It was a brutal tease on Michael's part, but a necessary one. It left Paul bewildered and cold inside, but it also kindled a thought which he couldn't quite place yet. "That is what I'm offering you," Michael said. As Paul stared at the shifting tendrils and mists of light before him, they seemed to settle and focus into one entity, like a candle flame. He nodded slowly once, a sense of understanding stirring in his head for the first time in days. "What happens now?" Paul asked hesitantly. "I will come back at midnight tomorrow," Michael replied. "Together, we'll choose a time for you to return to be with Clara." Again Paul nodded. With that, the light slowly folded in on itself, collapsing to a pinpoint marble-sized ball before dispersing silently into the darkness. Paul was left alone once more, in the darkness, the emptiness, and silence. Within moments, hundreds of puzzle pieces of memories of Clara filled his head and swept him below like a violent undertow. His mouth agape and tears finally streaming down his face again, he fell on his side onto the sofa and cried and remembered. * * * * * Paul ignores the twigs and branches of the trees and bush snatching at him as he runs through the dark ravine. He is leaving the noise and crowds of the campus behind him. The flood lights from the midnight rally cast him in silhouette but eventually he outruns them as well and soon he is covered only in the grey-blue glow of the full moon above. Despite the darkness, he charges headlong into the tangle of woods, laughing and whooping. Clara leads him on this chase like a siren. She is also laughing and giggling as she skips and leaps through the woods like the dancer that she is. The two are filled with a giddy, youthful excitement. It had all started back at the rally with an innocent kiss on Clara's pink cheek, a not so innocent grope of her bottom, an indecent whisper into her ear, and a playful but stiff slap against Paul's head. The pursuit was declared with rascally laughter. At first, Clara's lithe body and graceful ease through the dark forest gives her a decent lead to start. "You're disappointing me Paul!" she calls back teasingly. Paul's running-back instincts kick in and he quickly makes up ground, aggressively driving his way through the clutch of branches around him. Clara senses that he's coming up fast and suddenly the chase becomes in earnest. Between running and laughing she can't catch her breath. Her heart pounds so hard, she has to swallow to keep it from beating up her throat. Her shoe catches against a twist of undergrowth and she trips, nearly falling into a ditch. Instead she pulls up and stumbles against a large maple tree. She embraces the trunk of the tree, gasping for breath. As soon as she turns, she lets loose a sharp yelp as Paul runs right up to her, inches from her face. With Clara pinned against the tree, Paul digs his fingers into her belly and sides, tickling her into near hysterics. "No! No! No!" Clara begs and chokes through her tears of laughter. "Stop! I can't breath!" "Who's a disappointment? Huh? Who?" Paul probes with a sharp grin. "Stop! Stop! I give up!" Paul leans back and cocks an eyebrow. "Yeah?" Clara swallows hard and nods. Even in the dark, her smile glows like a beacon. Paul burns his gaze into her wide, chestnut eyes. He moves in closer, prowling his face around her, drawn to her like a magnet. He reaches up and tangles his fingers into the tresses of her silky, raven hair, steadying her, urging her attention upon him. Merely inches apart, they exchange wisps of breath in the cool night air. Clara pulls in her lips and moistens them, glosses them. On that signal, Paul moves in with a forceful kiss. Her lips are impossibly soft. He inhales deeply, her jasmine scent mixing with the smell of fresh earth and trees to make an unexpectedly potent and arousing concoction. They linger on the kiss, savouring it. Their next is much more abbreviated and desperate. Soon their lips fold and press quickly in an ungainly tangle of lust. Just as quickly as their arms reach around one another in a bold embrace, so do their tongues dart out and twist and wrestle. Their mouths smack and gasp, the sounds of their fiery desire deadened by the thick foliage surrounding them. Paul slips his hand beneath her sweater and bra, quickly delighting in the feel of her soft, round breast against his probing fingers. He circles and teases her nipples taut and Clara groans her approval. Paul becomes distinctly aware of the hardening, swollen sensation below his waist. He takes Clara's small, soft hand and brings it downward, pressing it against his crotch. Her eyes fix upon him as he guides her palm up and down, massaging it along his straining shaft. She doesn't pull back, and when he frees her hand, she continues to rub him to full, unbridled attention. Their lips lock together once more. Somehow, almost unconsciously, they manage to each undo the clasps on their jeans. Boots and shoes are unceremoniously kicked off and aside, leaving the couple to find steady footing on the wooded ground in only their socks. Paul drops his pants to his ankles and then takes his time to help Clara peel her jeans down her shapely, pale legs and over her feet. Her panties quickly follow. Paul remains crouching taking a moment to admire the fine line along her clean-shaven crotch, only a moment. He pushes his face into her, pressing his mouth over her and probing his tongue against her folds. Clara reaches behind her and clutches her hands against the tree trying to steady herself. She shudders and trembles and gasps at every wanton caress of Paul's tongue. She leans hard against the trunk as he reaches behind her, grabs her ripe bottom and pulls her forward. When she feels his tongue breach her petals, she clutches at his head, twisting his hair in her fingers, and groans. Paul rises to his feet. Again they kiss as his boxers join his pants at his ankles. He feels the cool air curl around his pulsing shaft as he handles it, positions it. With a deft adjustment, he bends his knees and leans into Clara, pushing apart her velvety thighs, and then thrusts upward. Now he is engulfed by her warmth. She welcomes him with a languid moan. Like a horse on an open range, Paul breaks quickly into rapid, rolling motions of his hips. Clara is both tight and tender, her body giving and responsive. Clara wraps one hand around the back of his neck, the other at his buttocks as he lifts her from the ground with each fervent thrust. She curls and ankle behind his calf. When she gasps his name, it's like a kick to his backside. Paul responds with stiff, long strokes. Covering her mouth with his own, he stifles her swelling groans. He grinds his hips into her, driving deeper and deeper. He feels her clamp down on his throbbing length and soon he's ready to burst. His muscles strain and beg for relief. The desperation and urgency of the moment make it as exhilarating and thrilling as any roller coaster multiplied by ten. Paul never feels more alive and driven. With one final thrust, he buries himself in Clara. Both of them hold their breaths as they embrace each other, melt into each other. "Ahh...ahh-unn," Paul moans and shudders. He feels one brief, steady rush of fire through his pulsing shaft followed by shorter surges of delicious relief. As he fills her completely, Clara quivers and trembles in his arms. She inhales sharply, gasps and bites down on her fist as she comes with a warm, so satisfying release. Paul feels her flow over him. The dampness spreads onto their legs, chilled by the brisk night air. With Paul still inside of her, they kiss and hold their embrace. Their easing groans and gasps mingle with the sounds of rustling leaves and crickets. The expanse of forest they are hidden away in seems to collapse around them, the world narrowing its focus on this place, this moment - their first time. * * * * * Paul and Clara stumble through the door, laughing. Their halfhearted attempt at Paul carrying her into the suite fails miserably but they barely seem to care. It had been a long day and night already spent with too many family and friends. They love each of them dearly, of course, but they thank every angel and demon that they are rid of them. With an agile kick, the door closes behind them and they may as well have been the only couple in the only suite in the only hotel in the only city in all the world. Their laughter eases and they face each other, holding each other at the waist and smiling. Paul has to shake his head as he looks at her. How is it that she can be even more beautiful than she was just a minute before? That was the mystery of Clara that just seemed to tow him a long from moment to moment. "Mr.Price," Clara says with a curt, playful nod. "Mrs.Price," Paul says through a curly grin. Mrs.Price. Yes, he likes that very much. "Would you care for a night cap?" Clara rolls her twinkling eyes. "Sure," she says. She gives him a kiss then adds, "But maybe afterwards." Paul watches as she slowly backs away from him, a sharp grin angling upward to her flush cheeks. He angles his brow and asks, "Afterwards?" As she reaches behind her back and unzips her evening dress, she shrugs. "Yes," she teases. "Why? Don't think you have much stamina left after all that dancing and shots with your groomsmen?" He follows her as she leads him into bedroom. Suddenly, he remembers just how uncomfortable and stiff his tuxedo and shoes really are. He starts to remove them as Clara nudges him with her fingertips down onto the edge of the bed. Paul continues to undo the buttons on his shirt, but does so mindlessly. His attention is fully set upon the blushing bride swaying over him, slinking out of her dress like the naughtiest stripper in Vegas. Stepping out of her dress, Clara poses and holds it between her fingers off to the side for second then lets it fall to the ground. Paul hasn't moved for the last few seconds, his fingers in a holding pattern at one of his shirt buttons. He's totally transfixed by the vixen, Mrs.Price, standing in front of him. He watches as she holds her sheer lace bra with her forearm while reaching back and undoing the clasp of it with her other hand. Still covering her breasts, she performs a little swivel-shrug and the straps slip off of her shoulders. Paul hopes he isn't drooling, because there wouldn't be a damn thing he could do about it if he was. Clara drops her arm, letting her bra slide down and off, revealing the smooth curves of her white breasts. She stands tall before Paul, in her white heels, panties, garter and stockings. "Holy shit," Paul mutters, his lips barely moving. He shifts his seat in the bed, suddenly and painfully aware of the immense pressure building beneath the crotch of his stiff slacks. As if reading his mind, or perhaps the contorting look on his face, Clara asks, "Would you like me to help you with that, Mr.Price?" Clara's lithe, seductive figure curls down as she kneels on the plush carpet. It takes little effort on for either of them to push apart Paul's legs. She's already moistening her ruby glossed lips as reaches for his fly. With the pressure coming from behind it, it practically unzips itself. Paul braces his arms behind him as he shifts on the bed. He breathes through his mouth, grinding his teeth together as Clara helps him ease his pants down and over his feet. His briefs are tented upward from beneath, but he's soon free of it as well. Clara grins and offers him a cat-like purr as she takes him up in her tender hand. She gently strokes her palm and fingers over him, stoking his piece to a rigid length. Her slender pink tongue slides out as she leans in and licks him from his sack to his tip and then back down again. Paul's head drifts back momentarily as she caresses the tip of her tongue against his sack. He listens to her muted gasps and licks. The strain in his swollen shaft is enough to elicit a frown on his face. Every time she did this, it was like a fresh reminder of just how incredible Clara was at it. "Unn," Paul groans as Clara finally takes him into her soft, wet mouth. She sinks over him with a gliding stroke of her plush lips. Withdrawing from a moment with soft 'pop' and breathy gasp, she throws her mouth onto him again, spiking his tip against the back of her throat. She holds it there, revels in the feel of his pulse in her mouth, then slowly begins her bobbing motions, sucking on his length with a steady rhythm. In That Moment Paul strains breaths through his flaring nostrils. He smacks his lips and swallows. Gently he reaches forward and brushes his fingers through her hair, curling and tossing the wavy, long strands this way and that way. The way she looks up at him as she continuously strokes him with her lips and teeth turns him into a puddle. Clara lifts her mouth off of him. Her hand slides up and down quickly now, the smooth, taut skin of his cock slick and slippery with her saliva. A milky, glossy bead of liquid appears at his tip and her tongue darts out to sweep it up. She looks up at him, grinning. "Ah God," Paul groans his approval aloud. Minutes pass and Clara remains relentless and voracious. Paul feels his reserves begin to steel in his belly and hips. Emboldened, he grabs Clara's shoulders and leans forward. Her lips pull of from him and they are met with a resounding, intense kiss. He stands up from the bed and lifts Clara to her feet. He covers her throat with kisses drifting steadily downward to her chest. As his hands cup and fondle her soft breasts, he inhales her dark nipple and swirls his tongue around and around. Clara tilts her head to the ceiling and coos. Her breasts heave and sigh as they delight in Paul's heated touch and caress. Within a minute she is falling backwards, onto the silky soft sheets of the giant bed. A second later, Paul discards his shirt and joins her, lying down between her legs. They clutch at each other, lips kissing, tongues dancing. She feels his hand at her hips, fumbling with her panties. "Rip them," she urges. Paul obliges with a stiff tug. The thin lingerie tears off easily. He feels Clara's stocking covered legs draw up against his hips and squeeze and pull him forward. It's an unnecessary invitation on her part. The tip of his solid shaft is already in position and, with a mere ease of his hips, he enters her with one true thrust. "Uh-uhn," Clara groans softly, her sweet lips rounding open. Despite the immense build up he feels within, Paul moves in her with steady, easy strokes. In and out his cock glides in, feeling her tender folds against every inch of his skin. He enjoys the warmth surrounding him, he savours the softness of her thighs against him, and he even appreciates the way heels of her shoes scratch and dig into the back of his legs and butt. Each of her soft moans is his reward. Clara holds him close. She nips at his shoulder. She breathes and gasps warm wisps of air along his ear as she nips and suckles at his lobe. "Paul," she groans, "Ahn." Paul raises his head. He continues to roll his hips rhythmically, probing her with long, deep thrusts of his cock. He gazes down upon Clara. Her round, high cheeks are glowing pink, her eyes shiny and alight. Everything about her is so right. She feels so good, so incredibly good. He wants to just melt into her. Clara's ankles are now locked just below his butt. She guides him in, urging him on. She pushes her hips up, crashing her crotch against his, taking his throbbing length as far as it can go. She beckons him with her fervent gasps and moans. Paul's motions become more urgent. His thrusts are shorter and more stiff. Still he tries to make the moment last as long as it can, to drive the potency of it to its pinnacle. The pressure within is both painful and immensely satisfying. He can feel the hairs behind his neck bristling. "Clara," he groans. Within seconds, she digs her fingers into his back and tenses her legs and stomach. Her lips part wide and for a moment she makes no sound. Then suddenly she trembles and groans, "Ahh! Huhn!" Her body quivers and rattles uncontrollably, her desperate moan announcing a dripping wetness coming in full release from deep within. Hearing and feeling his lover come with satisfying abandon, Paul tightens his buttocks and stomach and gasps, "Uhn!" A rushing stream courses through and out of his swollen cock, jetting into Clara. As he clutches her tight against his exhausted body, nuzzling his face against hers, he holds his breath and gasps again, spurting more sticky, rich fire. He doesn't know how long it lasts, lost in his lover's embrace. She fits so perfectly in his arms. Only when he feels her fingertips gently stroking his back and his hair does he become aware of the time again. Paul lifts his head back. As he looks at Clara, he carefully pulls aside the strands of hair that have fallen across her face. He brushes his knuckles against her cheek and traces the outline of her lips with his fingers. All the while, his eyes never leave hers. Clara smiles like the dawn. Paul never wants this moment to end. * * * * * Paul stands outside the door to his house. He's been standing there for five minutes, holding a bouquet of flowers. It's not as if he's locked himself out, though. He stands there because he's still trying to think of what to say to Clara. Two hours earlier, he had stormed out of the house after they had another one of their heated arguments. He can't even seem to recall exactly what it was about. Yet he winces as he recalls some of the hurtful things he said. Clara had said some nasty things herself, but he's sure whatever he said was worse. Paul looks down and shakes his head, smirking to himself. He doesn't know why he argues so much with Clara. Not as if he ever won an argument with her. "Hi Paul," someone calls out from behind. He jumps a little and turns. His neighbour is walking by with his dog on the sidewalk. "Flowers for the little lady?" the neighbour asks. Paul grins sheepishly. "Yeah." "Argument again?" Paul shrugs. The neighbour smiles and nods. "Good luck!" Paul forces a chuckle and actually says "Thanks." He looks at the bouquet and realizes how stupid he must look. Finally he goes through the door. He stands in the foyer and peers around the house to the kitchen and living room. "Clara?" Hearing a thump from the floor above, he makes his way upstairs. He goes into the bedroom and finds it empty at first but then Clara emerges from the en-suite bathroom dressed in a bathrobe and a towel wrapped on her head. Clara pauses and glares at him with dead eyes. Crossing her arms, she leans against the bathroom door frame and says, "Is that your form of apology?" Paul frowns and grind his teeth. Even he thinks that he's a bit pathetic. Still, he shrugs and says, "Yeah...maybe?" Clara shakes her head slowly. "No?" Paul asks. "Drop those in the trash, come here, and apologize properly," Clara instructs. Following her orders, Paul dispatches the flowers and walks over to her. He opens his mouth to say something but Clara smothers his lips with her hand. "No. Shut up," she tells him, "Don't say you're sorry with words. Action." "Action?" Paul mumbles through her fingers. Clara arches her this dark brows and nods. "Yeah. Action." As soon as she lifts away her hand, she moves in and plants a smouldering kiss on his mouth. It's so sudden and expected, but it only takes a moment for Paul to realize and accept what was going on. He was going to enjoy apologizing profusely. As they continue to kiss, Clara takes control and shoves Paul onto the bed on his back. She crawls over him and stops and straddles him just below his chest. There she takes a moment to remove the towel from her damp hair allowing the darkened raven strands to fall heavily against her shoulders. Paul strokes her thighs as he watches her disrobe and toss her garment aside revealing her lovely nude shape. There is a very harsh and wicked look on her face as she continues to shimmy upward until she's splayed her legs apart over his face. An enticingly clean and floral fragrance fills his nostrils as he inhales her scent. Clara looks down from above. "Start apologizing, Paul." With hands firmly stretched across her round buttocks, Paul obliges and buries his lips against her crotch and presses his tongue into her tender petals. She's as tasty as she smells. Quickly he works her folds apart, whirling his tongue in rapid, slick circles. Clara swirls her hips and breaths deeply through her nose, sucking in her lips. She tilts her head back and succumbs to the delightful touches of Paul's agile tongue. Paul nuzzles his face closer. He teases her clit with nips of his teeth then tongues the hood. He feels her quiver and shake. When he clamps down with his lips and hums, Clara groans aloud and nearly buckles above him. Clara grinds and gyrates, bobbing her torso up and down. She massages her breasts, pinching her nipples. Her head snaps to and fro, at once forward , then to the side against her shoulder, then back. She gasps and moans relentlessly. Paul is lost in the moment, tasting and pleasuring Clara, listening to her sighs of ecstasy above. He thinks he could do this forever. Momentarily, reluctantly, Clara moves away but only to turn around and reposition herself. She continues to straddle Paul's face, lowering her crotch towards him, but now she's able to unzip his fly and release his swelling cock from beneath his shorts. Paul reaches up around her butt and pulls her down the last inch so that he's mouthing her folds again. He redoubles his efforts, licking and kissing her tenderness even as he feels his shaft sliding into her mouth. Clara has a firm hold of his length. She winds her hand up and down, and her mouth follows the same path. She sucks at his tip, whisking it with her tongue, before plunging down on him. She pulls off then presses his hard, wet shaft against her cheek as she runs her tongue down then back up. Paul's breaths are warm and heavy on her crotch and thighs. She is damp with his saliva and her own wetness, and he savours all of the mingling flavours. Now with every deliberate, long ling of his tongue, with every soft nip of his teeth, Clara trembles then groans. The vibration of her throat rattles through his cock and he's quickly brought to his throbbing apex. A duet of gasps and groans, of wet smacks and hungry slurps, fills the bedroom. Paul and Clara are both trembling and reaching their point of release. They hold on, mouths full, tongues working with fervour and zeal. Paul digs his fingers into her butt, clamping down. Clara responds by tightening her thighs against his face. Suddenly, he hears and feels her loose a deep, guttural groan and then tremble uncontrollably. His mouth and tongue are met with a flowing wet release; she spills out over his face, down his cheeks and chin and neck. The sensation of his lover's climax is more than enough for Paul. He tenses his butt and stomach and groans, "Uh-uhn!" Clara wraps her lips around his tip and accepts what she can of the quick spurts of viscous cum splashing into her mouth. She hums and moans, rolling her tongue around him, slipping around on the slick spunk. As she pulls her mouth off, she maintains her grasp even as a final spurt pours out and over her fingers and hand. The two are spent, both slowly squirming in the bed as if relaxing each muscle in their bodies one at a time. They both continue to sigh their satisfaction and approval. Finally Clara slides off. Paul can barely move. He remains on his back gazing at the ceiling, a subtle smile on his wet lips. Clara curls up beside him and he wraps an arm around her. "Apology accepted," she says. Paul stifles a chuckle, his smile broadening. He looks at her and says, "Yours as well." He holds her close and thinks that in moments like these, sometimes it's nice to say he's sorry. * * * * * 11:55 p.m. With the few minutes remaining before Michael's arrival, Paul's mind was in overdrive. He clutched at his temples and tried to focus. Laughing together, crying together, travelling together, dancing, eating, running, sleeping...making love. He wanted to experience everything again but he couldn't think of one single moment that embodied all of that. He decided that the times he made love to Clara were the best moments he could experience again. He was sure that an hour wouldn't be enough, he would want to stay inside Clara forever, but what else could he do? There could be no more significant point in time with her; he was certain of it. Even then, out of all the times they were intimate, how could he choose one moment? Just then, he saw a pin prick of light appear in the air in front of him. It widened and grew then a cascading white glow poured slowly into the space, shimmering and sparkling like crystal particles of dust. Paul sat up and steeled his jaw as he watched the light emerge and form into what he could see as Michael. He inhaled deeply to steady himself as a quivering feeling of anticipation swelled in his heart. "Paul," Michael said softly, "It's time to take you back to be with Clara." Boldly, Paul asked, "Is there any way I can have more than an hour?" "No," Michael replied, "Not a minute more. I'm sorry." Paul nodded. He had asked and he had to accept the answer. He waited, unsure of what was to happen next. Hesitantly, he asked, "Do I...tell you the moment I want to return to?" The breezy voice replied, "That's not necessary. You already have." Paul frowned, wary of what that might mean. "When?" he asked, anxiety dripping into his voice. "A point where every minute spent will say all you want and need to say to Clara." Michael's light began to flare like the sun, embers flashing in Paul's eyes. "But..." Paul fumbled over his thoughts, "There's so much...I just want...I..." Michael reached for him, swallowed him up with fingers of light. Paul wasn't on his sofa anymore, he wasn't in his living room, in his home anymore. He felt like he was being thrown backward, spinning and spiralling through a twisting tunnel. He heard his heartbeat blending with his heavy breaths in his head. It was as if he were in a cloud, as if he was the cloud. He reached out. "Clara!" Then...nothing. * * * * * "So, Paul. Are you coming over?" Paul blinks and shirks back in his sofa. He looks around. It's still dark...except now it's raining outside, a downpour. "Paul?" He has his phone at his ear. The voice on the other end belongs to a woman. It's not Clara. He mouths the word 'What' three times before he finally utters it. The woman giggles. "Don't tell me you're afraid of a bit of thunder and lighting?" Paul stands up and looks around in the dark. Clara. Where is Clara? He struggles to figure out what's happening and reaches for the clock on the side table. It's 5:30 p.m. October 22. He shuts his eyes and thinks to himself, "5:30. Raining. October 15. Where's Clara? Think, think, THINK!" "Just this once. I'd really like to see you tonight, Paul," the woman says. There's an enticing lilt in her tongue. He freezes, a sudden realization smacking him across the face like a load of bricks. "Sylvie," he drones. The woman chuckles. "You can say my name a little less like as if you're reading a road sign, don't you think?" Paul spins on his heels, dragging his fingers through his hair then covering his mouth. It's that night. Oh no. "You could be here in fifteen minutes even with the rain," Sylvie says and adds, "The trains aren't running with the tracks flooded. It'll probably take her over an hour or more to get home. You can just tell her you went to see a friend, got stuck with them in the rain." 'Her'. Clara. Clara won't be home for almost another two hours...and he wouldn't be there to greet her when she finally did arrive. Things were never the same between them after that. "No, no, NO!" Paul screams in his head. "She'll never know." Paul shouts aloud, "NO!" He hangs up on Sylvie and launches himself to the door and runs through the rain to the car. He strains the ignition and, as he backs out of the driveway, he dials Clara's cell number. "The number you have dialled is not in service...please hang..." Goddammit! He should have known better. Clara was always forgetting to charge her phone. A normally thirty minute drive to her office downtown turns out to be an aggravating torture test of snarled traffic and flooded roads. Paul tries every shortcut he knows, cutting through parking lots and alleys, and against one way streets. As he drives he tries to gauge where she might be by recalling what Clara had told him of this night. How she walked through the blankets of rain to street corners where shuttle-buses were supposed to be waiting only to find a massive crowd huddled together at the bus stops. How she tried in vain to hail taxis only to get splashed as they drove by hitting the puddles on the streets. She walked and walked to get home...because Paul would be there waiting for her. "Oh God," Paul cries, and smacks the wheel of the car with his palm. He checks his watch: twenty-five minutes remaining. How could Michael do this? Why this day? Why now? All he can think about is to see her. That's all. To see here, to hold her, to be with her. It didn't matter if they said nothing, if they did nothing else other than hold each other close. He just needs to be with her, be with Clara. Fifteen minutes. He is wedged into bumper-to-bumper traffic now. For half a heartbeat he considers ploughing his way through the other cars. It's no use. He looks around to get his bearings, figure out where he is. Then he opens the door, climbs out of the car and runs through the rain searching for Clara. Even though the rain subsides, it's still a slog. The sidewalks are slick and crowded, people walking in every direction. The lights of the storefronts are dizzying and seem to close in on him. Yet, desperation and urgency drives him on and keeps him focused on one thing, one person. "Clara!" he shouts repeatedly, till his lungs are ready to burst and his throat dry. Five minutes. He falls against a light pole, leaning heavily against the cold, wet metal. Still, with each time he breathes, he pushes out her name. It's hopeless. "Paul?" Paul freezes, staring at the ground at his feet. The voice is like a tender caress at his heart. He lifts his head slowly, closes his eyes and turns. When he opens them... "What are you doing here?" Clara asks. He soaks in the vision of her like the sand absorbs the rain. His heart beats so hard he feels like he's being shoved from the inside and he stumbles back a step. "Cl...Clara," he gasps, "I found you." Her coat is drenched, her shoes wrecked, and her hair is scraggly and pasted all over her face. She's never been more beautiful. "Yeah? What are you nuts?" Clara says. A crooked, sweet smile tugs onto her lips as she eyes him and asks, "You didn't...did you come for me?" Paul nods as he slowly steps towards her. "Yeah," he says, "For you. I came for you." Clara's shoulders slump and she throws him a sympathetic look. "Oh Paul, you didn't have to do that," she says, "I could have caught a bus or taxi. It must have been awful trying to drive down here tonight." "I just," Paul says, hesitating to choke back a tear, "I just needed to be with you now." "Right now?" Clara says with a grin, "Right at this very moment?" He almost laughs. "Yeah, right at this moment." She shrugs. "Okay. I'm fine with that." He reaches out and gathers her in an embrace. She fits so perfectly in his arms. "I'm glad that you came," Clara says as she nuzzles up against him. "I'm sorry," Paul whispers, "So sorry." She doesn't hear him. She settles into his embrace and hugs him back. Paul is unaware of the people walking around them. He hears nothing else except her soft breathing. He feels nothing but her gentle frame in his arms. She's tangible and real and she's so warm. As he holds her, her warmth fills him completely mind, body, and soul. In That Moment In two weeks, Clara will be gone. With a minute left, Paul holds her a little closer and entrenches this warmth he now feels into his heart. This moment will last him forever.