her. Last night he had made gentle love to her. A killer? A man of uncontrolled temper? No. He was gentle, he was loving. She'd been right about him.
Rain beat against the window. She looked at her watch. 6:30 AM. If this was a weekday, she had to get up in order to leave for the office by 7:20.If it was a Saturday she could sleep until eight, then she had to do the laundry and clean her apartment. If it was Sunday she could sleep until ten and still make the eleven AM service at Our Savior Lutheran.
For twenty years life cycled on this way. Except for two weeks vacation in the summer and a rare sick day, every week matched the pattern of the one before. Not since she left her parent's home had anything varied. The days and months gave her a sense of security. Everything was regular. She belonged. She was part of her time. She was part of the A.E. Housman Co. of Chicago, Illinois.
The large man next to her stirred. He was her age, forty-two. He had a bulldog face set on a thick neck. Though his arms did not ripple with steroid-induced muscles, they were big. She rolled onto her side and pushed herself next to him until her breasts brushed against his chest. She kissed him lightly on the mouth and pulled back to watch him wake up.
His eyes opened.He blinked and looked around.Maggie smiled. She guessed he wasn't sure where he was either. The last time he woke up in the morning, he was in prison.
At first there was terror in his eyes. Then he seemed to calm down. " Mornin '," he said. It was the only thing he'd said since they got into bed the night before.
"Good morning, Joe. Isn't it a wonderful morning? I love you."
He propped his head up on his hand. " Rainin ' again," he said with a slight smile. He bent his head down and kissed her, first on the top of the head, then on the lips.She snuggled up close to him and they both drifted in and out of sleep, their lips together.
Suddenly she awoke, put her hand on his face, and started to giggle.
Joe moved his head back and looked at her. She anticipated his question. "I'm laughing because - I don't know why. I guess I'm just happy."
Joe said nothing, but in his eyes she saw a quiet happiness. He looked like a fisherman watching a sunset or a man standing alone in front of a magnificent waterfall. How different he looked from the Joe she went to see in prison.
When she first saw him behind bars, he looked out of place surrounded by cold steel and concrete.She watched as his love of trees and clouds and nature faded into the prison stone. Each time she went to see him, nature seemed further from him.Tension increased until at the end it seemed as if electricity crackled all around him. She could barely see the gentle soul of the man she loved.
Then a month previous, a mere month, he told her about the Adak prison and asked her if she would go with him, and when she said, "Yes, Joe, yes I will," she saw the quiet happiness again.
He circled his hand several times over her breasts, barely touching the tip of her nipples with his palm.
She could feel her nipples rise and harden and she felt him, full and large, against the side of her leg. She pulled herself close to him and kissed him passionately, trying to become one with him. She gestured for him to come into her. Slowly he got on top of her and gently, carefully, he entered her.
Maggie closed her eyes and began to move her body in slow, undulating circles. Joe bent down and kissed her on the forehead. She put her hand up and rubbed his rough black stubble. He put his fingers on her hair near the top of her head and moved his hand down slowly following the flow of her hair, just barely touching it.
How different Joe was than the last man she'd slept with twenty years previous. She'd met that man in a single's bar. He gave her a night of drunken sex, a night without love, without feeling,
Rain beat against the window. She looked at her watch. 6:30 AM. If this was a weekday, she had to get up in order to leave for the office by 7:20.If it was a Saturday she could sleep until eight, then she had to do the laundry and clean her apartment. If it was Sunday she could sleep until ten and still make the eleven AM service at Our Savior Lutheran.
For twenty years life cycled on this way. Except for two weeks vacation in the summer and a rare sick day, every week matched the pattern of the one before. Not since she left her parent's home had anything varied. The days and months gave her a sense of security. Everything was regular. She belonged. She was part of her time. She was part of the A.E. Housman Co. of Chicago, Illinois.
The large man next to her stirred. He was her age, forty-two. He had a bulldog face set on a thick neck. Though his arms did not ripple with steroid-induced muscles, they were big. She rolled onto her side and pushed herself next to him until her breasts brushed against his chest. She kissed him lightly on the mouth and pulled back to watch him wake up.
His eyes opened.He blinked and looked around.Maggie smiled. She guessed he wasn't sure where he was either. The last time he woke up in the morning, he was in prison.
At first there was terror in his eyes. Then he seemed to calm down. " Mornin '," he said. It was the only thing he'd said since they got into bed the night before.
"Good morning, Joe. Isn't it a wonderful morning? I love you."
He propped his head up on his hand. " Rainin ' again," he said with a slight smile. He bent his head down and kissed her, first on the top of the head, then on the lips.She snuggled up close to him and they both drifted in and out of sleep, their lips together.
Suddenly she awoke, put her hand on his face, and started to giggle.
Joe moved his head back and looked at her. She anticipated his question. "I'm laughing because - I don't know why. I guess I'm just happy."
Joe said nothing, but in his eyes she saw a quiet happiness. He looked like a fisherman watching a sunset or a man standing alone in front of a magnificent waterfall. How different he looked from the Joe she went to see in prison.
When she first saw him behind bars, he looked out of place surrounded by cold steel and concrete.She watched as his love of trees and clouds and nature faded into the prison stone. Each time she went to see him, nature seemed further from him.Tension increased until at the end it seemed as if electricity crackled all around him. She could barely see the gentle soul of the man she loved.
Then a month previous, a mere month, he told her about the Adak prison and asked her if she would go with him, and when she said, "Yes, Joe, yes I will," she saw the quiet happiness again.
He circled his hand several times over her breasts, barely touching the tip of her nipples with his palm.
She could feel her nipples rise and harden and she felt him, full and large, against the side of her leg. She pulled herself close to him and kissed him passionately, trying to become one with him. She gestured for him to come into her. Slowly he got on top of her and gently, carefully, he entered her.
Maggie closed her eyes and began to move her body in slow, undulating circles. Joe bent down and kissed her on the forehead. She put her hand up and rubbed his rough black stubble. He put his fingers on her hair near the top of her head and moved his hand down slowly following the flow of her hair, just barely touching it.
How different Joe was than the last man she'd slept with twenty years previous. She'd met that man in a single's bar. He gave her a night of drunken sex, a night without love, without feeling,
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