Sunday, January 23, 2011

(exerpt 7) Elixir: Love

Elixir: Love
June Donahue was my first major love affair. Her father was a juvenile court judge in West Virginia. The Donahue name easily tipped the scales of influence and prestige in the state of West Virginia.
June was a vision of ultra-feminine mystique. Like a young starlet in the glossy pages of Vogue or like Elizabeth Taylor in National Velvet, she possessed an equestrian refinement that would easily magnetize even the queers at college. She was a young socialite, a debutante, a miss this and a miss that.
She’d host elegant affairs at the home of her father, the judge. She had a younger, equally adorable sister.
C.J. scored an invitation to one of her spring socials and invited a few friends to accompany him. Always open for adventure I decided to go.
We drove into a stately, gated mansion encompassed on all sides by lustrous automobiles of status.
Being the swashbuckler, I stepped in all continental swagger, like a young Errol Flynn. I wore a tan turtleneck, a mahogany blazer, black pants, chestnut shoes and cap. I sat down to assess any prospects and there she was, this slender, dark cinnamon diamond with huge doe eyes. She wore a low-cut cucumber-green gown, which offered a glimpse of two delightfully plump breasts, her accouterments translucent enough to invite your eyes down the curvature of her body - the intelligent arch of her behind, the subtle sway of her hips. We made eye contact and the earth ceased to revolve.
I observed her greeting each guest, playing the genial host to this suarez. While all the bourgie boys made their plays, she graciously flashed a heartbreaking smile my way.
Patiently, I waited for the perfect opportunity. As she made her way through the crowd I stood up and introduced myself.
“Sweetheart, I’m the best dancer in all of Virginia. May I treat the lady of this affair to a dance?” Again, she flashed that heartbreaking smile.
The chemistry between us exploded on the dance floor. I picked just the right song to show off all the latest moves I’d mastered in New York.
It was Cotton Comes to Harlem in Virginia. I threw her up in the air, round my back, between my legs, the works. All eyes on me.
The lights went down and the slow jams began. She was melting like caramel fudge in my arms. My phoenix rose and softly we merged, gently grinding, right there on the floor.
It was nonverbal seduction; I’d hardly spoken a word. I simply displayed my machismo; she simply wanted nothing more.
Valiantly, I threw down the gauntlet. “Look, it’s you and me now. Let’s
dismiss this party, everybody else can go home. It’s you and me right now...” Like a pro, she bid them all ado and we dove back into the fire of
foreplay. And we played... She was a senior in high school. I was a college freshman. Even though
she was extremely popular, the brightest star in the socialite constellation of the who’s who set, she was under the dictatorship of her father.
He strictly supervised his girls to the point of abuse. She never was allowed a boyfriend and her social life was regimented around the “important” functions all well-bred girls must attend.
Yet, she had an unquenchable appetite for sex. She was light years from a virgin. Our lovemaking hit some plateaus that frankly shocked me. That’s when I knew...
The judge was an absolute asshole with me. Once I realized the secret I absolutely despised him. Quickly, he forbade June to have any contact with me.
She sent the big lettermen up to my college to sequester me to some hidden place where we could meet. No. I wasn’t about to sneak around for her sick bastard of a father. If we couldn’t be together in the wide open we wouldn’t be together at all.
All the bourgie boys, the top athletes, all the ones who couldn’t have her, begged me to reconsider.
“Don’t you know who she is?” “Don’t y’all know who I am!” They’d tell me how she just cries all the day long. She won’t leave the
house. She swore she’ll kill herself if she can’t be with me. It got so bad until one day an unexpected visitor knocked on my door.
It was the judge. He was a nasty, arrogant bastard but humbly, he walked now through my door.
“Orion, my daughter’s sick. She’s bedridden. She won’t go to school, she won’t even speak to me. All she asks about is you. Please come see my daughter.”
“Get on your knees you sick bastard. You caused all this. You’ve been so nasty, so arrogant towards me. I know everything.
“What kind of man would sleep with his own children. What kind of judge are you? You should be in a jail, you perverted ass nigger! Get on your knees and beg me before I call the law on your sorry ass.”
The bastard broke down in tears. He didn’t admit my accusation, but he didn’t deny it either. He begged me, on his knees, to please come see his daughter.
He begged and begged while I tortured him with all my psychic strength and might. I couldn’t bear the weight of leaving June in that kind of condition.
When I arrived at the residence it seemed the whole street was in a deep blue funk. Looked like winter in early fall.
I walked into her room as she slept there, pale, like a vampire had sucked all the life out of her.
“June, it’s me. It’s Orion.”
She looked up and the sun it seemed dawned in her face, her beautiful cinnamon hue begun to glow again.
She jumped into my arms. We held each other for maybe an hour, no words were spoken but volumes were said in the silence.
From then on, the house was mine, the car was mine, the bank account was mine, and June was mine.
The judge became a little boy around me. Never did I reveal to June my knowledge of her and her sisters’ dark past, but that’s what it was now, the past. Her sick father would never again go near them. She was free.

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