DSP-- Story: One Night, and Forever

The escalator that spilled commuters into the lobby was a newer addition, along with the glass tower that went up about twenty or so years ago, attaching itself to the old train station, like a new branch growing from a nearly dead trunk. The stone wall to the right of the moving stairway featured a mural, depicting travelers, dressed to the nines, waiting on a platform, in the glory days of the Reading Terminal. The convention center swallowed the whole structure, four city blocks, at least, but preserved a piece of the past in its occasional stone walls and wooden beams and the fabulous nineteenth-century façade.

Julie recalled coming here, as a girl, and reveling in the fading character of the dying station. She sighed. Was there anything more romantic than a train station? Even the platforms of these high-speed trains that carted thousands to work each day held a certain charm, when she was in the mood to appreciate it. And this morning, emerging from the platform to the sound of a piped in jitterbug, the mood rose in her and she grinned and hummed along, nearly kicking her feet up as she walked.

A bleary-eyed fellow traveler scowled at her. She shrugged. Too Monday for swing? But she loved the sound. She strolled. Shoved aside, she dropped her bag, and sighed as her belongings tumbled onto the tiled floor. She stooped to collect them.

"Need a hand, miss?"

"No," she began, looking up. "I've got - ."

She stopped, suddenly aware that no one was nearby. She looked around for the owner of the deep voice that had made the offer. There was no one. She shrugged again.

Wishful thinking, she supposed.

The work day was a Monday and a half, full of screaming phone calls and grumbling salesmen and paper cuts, but, finally, Julie was dragging her tired body back into the train station. She smiled, suddenly, when she realized the same tune was playing that she'd heard this morning. She turned to say something about it to the security guard, but no one was at the desk. She shrugged and walked toward the escalator.

The jitterbug ended and another song began right on top of it. Another classic, Glenn Miller's "Moonlight Serenade." A flash of light made her blink and a shadow passing by the corner of her eye alerted her urban instincts. She spun around in the empty lobby, then began to pick up her pace toward the escalator. She heard laughter. Light, pleasant. Exuberant. Clunky heels on a wooden floor and ice in cheap glass.

Her curiosity got the better of her and she backed up, slowly, her head turning upward toward, the loft one story up. The music and voices came from up there. As if dazed, she climbed the stairs, her eyes fixed straight ahead, where soft lights glowed just beyond a wall. The music grew louder with each step she took. It sounded more like a real band now than that piped in stuff. Her throat was dry as she reached the landing. She bolstered herself with a deep breath, then rounded the wall.

She was met by a darkened, empty hall. No lights. No music.

"Hah! I'm losing it."

Suddenly feeling spooked, she turned back toward the stairs, watching over her shoulder. She turned her head forward and found herself staring into blackness. She gasped. Behind her someone shouted and she turned again as daylight flashed and colors swirled before her eyes, slowing, eventually, taking on shapes and patterns, a flash of red becoming a skirt and a bit of brown transforming itself into a hat upon a gentleman's head. Voices buzzed all about her.

"Tommy, Mary! Get over here!"

She jumped at the shout so close to her ear.

A woman with bright red lips frowned and said, "Sorry about that, sister. Those kids just ain't listening today! Tommy! Can't blame them, really, it'll be the first time in nearly two years they seen their daddy. Mary!"

Julie stared at the woman, then looked again into what had been a darkened hall. She knew this place. People were dressed as they were in some of her favorite old films - men in soldier and sailor uniforms, women in smart, straight skirts and jackets with shoulder pads, or fuller, bouncier skirts with silk rustling beneath them. She looked down, startled to see her own twenty-first century look had been transformed into a white dress patterned with tiny blue dots, belted at the waist. Her low heels and pantyhose had been replaced by a higher heeled shoes and stockings.

Stockings? Discreetly, she moved her hand down to her thigh and felt the buckle of a garter belt beneath the skirt and slip. She giggled, feeling naked.

The only thing that remained of her original outfit was silver ring she'd bought at a thrift shop, not knowing then that it was real silver or that the blue stone set within was lapis lazuli. It was more of a man's ring, but she had added a little bridge to the inside so it would fit her middle finger.

Fear of the unknown was losing to an intense curiosity and a desire to see this other world she had somehow found. She heard the long, low whistle of a train and her eyes fixed on the sign for the Pennsylvania Railroad. Julie smiled.

"Hey, you alright? You look - oh!" The woman beside her squealed and began to run, ending up in the arms of a tall soldier as a young boy and a girl clung to his legs.

Julie turned and took a step, but was jostled and knocked off balance and her bag spilled open onto the floor.

"I have the same luck no matter where I am," she said, realizing how strange that sounded.

She stooped to retrieve her belongings.

"Need a hand, miss?"

Wishful thinking.

"Miss?"

She looked up as he stooped down beside her and began to pick up her things. He was a sailor, with dark hair and blue eyes. He smiled as he handed her her comb and compact, brushing her fingers with his, then took her by the elbow to help her up again.

"Thank you," she said.

"Any time, doll. Hey, are you ok? You look lost."

She laughed in a short burst and he cocked an eyebrow as he watched her.

"Sorry," she said. "I'm just tired."

"Yeah, travel will do that to you."

He shoved his hands into his pockets, lowered his eyes, then raised them again, peeking at her from beneath a veil of long dark lashes, and asked, "You hungry? Maybe if you eat something, you'll feel better."

Before she could answer, the sailor spun her around and, with a sure hand to the small of her back, led her toward a set of stairs that wasn't there last time she'd looked. He held the door for her as they exited to Market Street.

Julie gasped.

Market Street, yes, but not the same street she knew. People boarded a trolley in front of Grant's five and dime; Grant's had been gone about thirty years! And there were all the grand old department stores, sparkling in the morning light: Strawbridge's, Lit Brothers, Wanamaker's. And Woolworth's was still Woolworth's, not the bargain drug store it had become in the 90s. A big black and white squad car whirred past and people stopped to watch it.

"Come on," said her sailor, locking her arm in his. "There's a great diner down this way. Their chipped beef on toast is better than my mother's - but don't tell her that."

Julie pulled away and said, "I don't even know your name or anything about you."

He grinned and said, "I don't know anything about you either, but I didn't let it stop me, did I?"

She frowned.

His grin widened and he said, "I'm Mickey McBride."

"Julie Dupres."

"That's pretty. French? I might be going to France. Or England. No one is saying for sure. I just know I'm shipping out to Europe tomorrow."

"To France?" she repeated.

"Don't know. Like I said, nobody's telling us nothing. Loose lips and all that."

"Oh."

"I hope I make it back."

"What?"

Drawn from her own thoughts, she looked at him, but he was grinning.

"Well," he said. "You know, especially since I gotta spend my last day all alone, in this big city, before I go off to fight for my country…"

His grin broadened and Julie laughed.

"Of course," she relented. "I can't possibly let a sailor who's going off to fight for his country spend the day on his own!"

They had breakfast in the smoky diner and talked for ages over coffee. Mickey had been a carpenter before the war started. The day after Pearl Harbor, he'd enlisted in the Navy. Julie felt she'd known him forever. He had one more day before having to return to the base and then ship out for points unknown, and he'd decided to spend it in the city, having spent the prior two days with his folks, a few miles out, in Bucks County.

"I really think of myself as more of a city boy," he told her. "I love the action here, the lights and the traffic and the shows. Hey, there's a good swing band playing at a hall down by the art museum. I hear they do all the hits. We could make our way up there."

"Sounds like fun," said Julie, nodding, and suddenly anxious to explore her hometown as she'd never seen it before.

She smiled when Mickey handed the waitress and dollar and told her to keep the change. They strolled the distance to the art museum, stopping in shops along the way, where Julie tried on fancy hats and long white gloves and delicate pearls. It took them hours to make the relatively short walk. Finally, he took her hand and began to pull her along the Parkway.

"Come on, baby, I don't wanna miss the dancing."

Running on high heels was no easy matter. She tripped, and he spun her into his arms before she could fall. Grinning at her scowl, he brought a large hand down on her bottom. Her eyes widened in familiar surprise.

"You still like that?" he asked.

"What?"

She looked at him sharply, but his eyes were far away. He looked down at her suddenly and tried to speak, but no words came out. He swallowed hard.

He said, "Sorry. I don't know why I said that. I - I don't know what the heck I meant."

The lights were low in the dim hall and men in military attire danced with pretty girls, whose skirts swirled high in time with the swing band. Men cut in on their dance and she smiled at them all, knowing…knowing where they were headed when they left this place. Finally, she was back in Mickey's strong embrace, and the band played the "Moonlight Serenade."

Julie sighed. She would hear this song forever. Even when…even…when…

"I'm leaving soon," she whispered suddenly.

"Yeah? Where are you going, baby?"

She shook her head and blinked back tears.

"Nowhere," she whispered.

"Good," he said, pulling her to him. "I want you right here, waiting for me."

She smiled up at him. He placed a finger under her chin and bent his mouth to hers. His lips were magic, burning against hers, lifting her bottom lip as they parted. He started to back off, but Julie grabbed his head and pulled him to her again.

With her lips touching his, she murmured, "Don't let go."

"You're shaking, baby. What's wrong?"

"I just don't want to lose you, to lose this moment, this night."

"Honey, I'll be back. The Germans ain't so tough."

He rubbed her shivering arms and said, "I got an idea, something to warm you up and keep your memory fresh. Let's get out of here."

She caught the devilish glint in his eye and said, "Tell me more."

"I'd rather just show you."

"Mickey - ."

"Do you trust me, Julie?"

She looked into his eyes. Why should she trust him when she'd only known him for a day. And, yet, she did trust him. She'd known him forever. She trusted him.

"Yes," she said.

He smiled broadly, took her hand and kissed it, before leading her outside. They walked along the river, by Boathouse Row, under a full moon. The breeze carried the music from the dance hall to them. Beside a low wall, in a secluded spot, he stopped and kissed her again. His lips made a trail from her earlobe to her throat as his hands opened tiny buttons. He lowered his mouth to kiss the rounded tops of her breasts above the lacey fringe of her white bra and she moaned as her fingers combed his dark hair.

He surprised her by standing straight suddenly and hopping onto the wall, upending her and pulling her across his knees, sweeping her skirt and slip away in one quick movement. She opened her mouth to protest, then shut it again. She didn't want him to stop. She wanted him to begin what she knew he was about to do.

*Now.*

He didn't disappoint her. His hand crashed onto her silk-clad bottom, drawing a gasp from her. He spanked her again, stinging her and making her squirm. At least a dozen more smacks before she felt the garters snapping open against her thighs, and her panties being slowly lowered to her knees, felt the cool night air caress her burning flesh.

She groaned.

"You ok, baby?" he asked.

She murmured a response and he caressed her smooth, hot cheeks, slowly, teasing, inching toward her swelling pussy, then back up, tracing the crack between her bottom cheeks, till she was squirming again.

"You ready for the rest of your spanking, baby?" he asked, his voice grown husky with feeling.

"Yes…please…"

"Ask me to continue."

*What?*

"Ask me, baby," he crooned. "Ask me to spank you some more."

His voice was filled with the same urgency she felt.

"Spank me, Mickey," she said, forcing the embarrassing words from her throat. "Spank me again, please?"

He obliged. His hand fell in earnest now, on one cheek, then the other, close to the top of her thighs, and on the summit of her bent form. The tears she'd been holding back since they'd danced, began to spill now. She tried to squirm away but only intensified her mass of emotion and mounting passion as she rubbed against his hard thigh. She called out his name.

Suddenly, the spanking stopped and one large hand dipped between her thighs while another fumbled with his own clothing. He stood her up and bent her over the wall, never taking his hand from her body. Spreading her wide, he plunged his hard cock into her ready pussy, and fucked her hard. She grasped the wall and lifted to meet his thrusts, crying out as her passion built to a peak. When he began to slap her bottom again, she was lost. She came with a wild scream, and felt him fill her as he climaxed with a gasp and a groan.

Fully dressed again, they sat on the riverside, under the moonlight, her head against his chest.

Smoothing her hair, he asked, "Will you wait for me, Julie?"

She shut her eyes tightly.

Mickey continued, "I want to know you'll be here for me, when the war is over. I want every night for the rest of our lives to be just like tonight."

He lifted her chin gently and looked into her eyes, waiting for the answer she knew she couldn't honestly give. Much as she wanted to. But, if it would help him to hear the words, if it would make his days and nights on the battlefield a little bit easier…

"Yes," she said. "Of course I'll wait for you."

He kissed her gently, lingering, tasting her. Inside, the band played "I'll Be Seeing You" and Mickey hummed along. Julie closed her eyes again and held onto him with all the strength she had. Somewhere between the music and the dawn, she drifted off to sleep. When she awoke, the sun was creeping up again and birds sang in nearby trees.

It was nearly time now.

They returned to the Reading Terminal in silence.

He purchased his ticket, then turned to her and lifted a stray curl from her face, studying her, then meeting her eyes.

"I love you, Julie," he said. Her throat tightened, but she managed to say, "And I love you. And I'll wait for you."

Impulsively, she pulled the lapis lazuli ring from her finger and placed it on one of his.

"To keep you safe, a good luck charm," she said.

His eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed as he studied the ring.

"I think I had a stone like this once…what am I saying? No, I never had anything like this."

He kissed her lips and said, "Thanks, baby. I'll wear it for as long as I live."

A train whistle shouted and a conductor called out. Julie and Mickey both looked toward the platform, then turned back to one another. Neither even noticed the throng of people around them now. Once more they kissed, each determined to take the kiss with them when they parted. He gave her a final grin and slapped her bottom hard once more before turning away from her.

The parting was acute. She bit back a whimper. Moisture formed on her forehead and upper lip and she began to shiver. Her head hurt. She closed her eyes and covered them with her hands, taking deep breaths to calm and steady herself. And she realized, suddenly, that all around her was silence. She moved her hands and opened her eyes to the dark hall that had long ago replaced the train station. No trains. No people. No music.

"No!" she cried out. "Mickey! No!"

Back in her work-day clothes, her watch letting her know that she had not even missed her trip home, it appeared as though nothing had even happened. But it had! It had happened!

She couldn't fight the tears, and she wiped her face as she made her way down to the suburban rail lines, avoiding faces as she went. She called out sick the next two days and moped around her apartment, crying often, her heart aching. On the third day, she forced herself to dress again, and it was then that she noticed that her ring was missing. The ring she had given to Mickey.

She *had* given it to him!

She wept once more before going to work and trudging through the day. As she entered the old train station that evening, her heart twisted at the haunting sound of Glenn Miller's "Moonlight Serenade."

"Oh, damn," she whispered, as her tears welled again.

Not seeing where she was going, she stumbled and her bag fell to the floor, its contents spilling once again. She bent to collect her things.

"Damn, damn, damn!"

"Need a hand, miss?"

She tried to ignore the familiar voice inside her head.

"Miss?"

A hand touched hers and she looked at it, at the silver ring that sat on it, at the blue stone that crowned the ring. Lapis lazuli.

"Mickey!" she cried, raising her eyes to his face.

But it wasn't Mickey. Even if the eyes were so very familiar.

"How did you know my name?" he asked.

He helped her up and stood, and she saw the Naval uniform he wore.

"Well, it's Michael, really. Mike. Mike McBride."

He reached out his hand and Julie took it.

As though drugged, she introduced herself.

He asked again, "But how did you know my name?"

"Um…you look like a Mickey. Did you say McBride?"

He nodded and said, "Only my mom calls me Mickey. It was her brother's name and she named me after him. He was her hero. He died on D-Day."

Another twist to her heart.

He held up his hand and said, "This was his ring."

He looked at the ring, then met Julie's eyes.

"Hey," he began. "I know this will sound like a line, but, have we met before?"

"Maybe," she answered.

Her heart fluttered, threatening to fly away.

"Are you ok?" he asked. "You're flushed."

"I'm fine now," she said.

"You want to get some coffee, sit for a little bit?"

"I'd like that."

He held out his arm to her in that old-fashioned way she'd always loved, and she took it. And this time, she wouldn't let go.