Moonlight Becomes You: a short story Read Online Free PDF

in his eyes was one of honesty as well as passion. Maybe she was a fool, but she believed him.
    Yesterday she'd been stalking him down the hallway, convinced he was a vampire. Tonight he was in her bed, and she didn't care what he was.
    He understood that she liked his attentions at her neck, and while he didn't neglect the rest of her body he spent many wonderful moments there. Claire touched the hard curves and planes of his body, and discovered that he was particularly sensitive just below the belly button, especially if she touched him there with the tip of her tongue. As she had suspected, there was no awkwardness, no hesitation.
    Her curtains were open, so moonlight lit Simon's face as he spread her thighs and guided himself into her. Making love with him was like dancing with a lifelong partner, like waltzing without conscious thought—and maybe an inch or two above the dance floor. She didn't think at all with him inside her, not about vampires, not about being odd or boring, not about mirrors or crosses or garlic. There was just his body and hers and the way they came together.
    It did cross her mind once, briefly, that the water on the stove was probably boiling by now, but it was a thought that didn't last long.
    Simon looked at her face, he held her eyes with his as he rocked above and inside her, pushing deeper and deeper with each thrust. The way he looked at her... he saw her, truly saw her in a way no one else ever had. He knew her. He wanted her.
    He held himself deep, and for a half second it seemed that his dark eyes were touched with streaks of red. Flashes of fire lit the depths. Claire came again, and with Simon inside her it was more powerful than before, more important. More complete. Her body convulsed around his, and he came, too. They were so incredibly connected, so very much together, that she wondered why she'd ever been satisfied with anything less.
    And to top it all off, like the cherry on top of a hot fudge sundae, he drifted down and kissed her neck.

 
     
     

     
    Claire's job was undeniably tedious, and on Wednesday her mind was elsewhere as she mindlessly entered data into her computer. She yawned a time or two, and fielded the questions from her coworkers who were sequestered in nearby cubicles. Do you feel OK? Are you coming down with something? You look like you didn't get enough sleep last night. What happened? You're a little pale, someone said.
    She finally decided to tell them that a noisy neighbor had kept her up half the night. That was close enough to the truth, though to be honest she was much noisier than Simon.
    Maybe if she'd felt closer to any one of them she might've said more, but while they were friendly coworkers they weren't exactly friends. Most of her good friends were now married and had kids, so she didn't see any of them on a regular basis, not like in the old days. Oh, they got together and had lunch now and then, but the talk always turned to potty training and which kid had learned the alphabet at the earliest age and which schools in the area were the most acceptable. None of them lived close by; they'd all located in areas outside the city, where the streets were quiet and the schools stellar.
    There were occasional weekend barbecues or infrequent and horrific blind dates that made conversations about three-year-olds seem scintillating. No, her friends had changed, and so had she. Claire didn't feel like she could call even them to share what had happened.
    Besides, what had happened with Simon last night had felt so very, very personal. More intimate than sex, more important than the laughing and the touching and the orgasms.
    This morning was still a blur. Simon had given her a fabulous kiss that had led to more, and then he'd gone home—a conveniently short trip. Claire had been left with no time to get ready for work. She'd showered quickly and blindly grabbed clothes from the closet. The long blue skirt and blouse were comfortable. If the blues