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I brushed that thought aside, and remembered the crush I had on her in school. It had to be her. The woman at the table had the same piercing blue eyes and facial structure, and only seemed to have filled out in the breast area and gained a little weight since those days 21 years before. She actually seemed kind of tiny now, but I remembered, in high school, I was just about the same height and weight as she was. I watched her as she read the menu, the reading glasses she wore on the tip of her nose. She was even more beautiful now to my eyes than the memory image I had of her in our senior year. As I decided to find out for certain if I was correct and stood, I again felt that peculiar flutter in my stomach, the same feeling I remembered having when I asked her to the homecoming dance, when I was a smallish 15 and shy. I walked the 25 feet to where she sat, glancing over at Miss Wild Child, who had turned in her chair, and was giving me a sly come hither look, complete with a steady. “She was sweet cream from the pitcher. She was the gentlest of waves on the beach. She was the most delicate, inner petals of the flower. Sugar on his tongue.“The motion of them turned hard and insistent, even violent. The king was afraid he may hurt the girl, but no, she was more than able to accept the most fervent of his attentions. Perhaps she was even matching them, as if he had awakened something in her, or she was coming into the discovery of it now, a door that, once unlocked, could never be closed again. “What kind of satisfaction was this that only birthed a new and more fervent desire? Where was the final the relief from this hot hunger? Where was the line between them? Had they always been two separate halves waiting for this moment when they would finally and eternally become one? “This was the fevered thought the king had as soon as the aching, shuddering, crashing, all-consuming force of his—"“I have to go," Rupin said, standing up like a shot, teetering on his feet.
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