The Key

Boldly now and without thought, Miranda placed her hand upon his. She knew the movement would initially send him the wrong signal as she took his hand that had been seductively running small circles upon her ass, placing his hand within hers. She felt him flinch, suddenly aware that he was perhaps being told he'd gone too far, and once again began to draw away. Before Brad could realize it however. Miranda then lifted his hand within hers and rested it gently upon the fullness of her breast.

"Touch me," she breathed into the flesh of his neck as she again pressed herself next to him, trapping his hand between them, securing it. She felt the lightest of touches as with trembling hands he began to run his fingers, then the palm of his hand ever so gently upon the fullness of her breast. Miranda allowed a small moan, escaping from deep within her being as the sensation of such ecstasy exploded deep within the forgotten recess of her mind.

"Oh God, Brad!" she moaned once more as his fingers dug into the softness of her flesh more urgently, more expectantly. She felt him fumble with another button, then another and another. The sudden coolness of the air enveloping her flesh, telling her that he'd undone her blouse completely as she herself then pulled it from the confines of her skirt, revealing the sexy black lace bra that she'd had no intention of allowing him to see.

"It unclasps in front," she heard herself telling him. He giggled, she loved the sound. She felt his deft fingers easily release the catch, then the warmth of his firm, yet soft hands as he claimed each of her twin perfect orbs.

Brad began to move her away from their seats ensuring as he did that no one from below might inadvertently look up from the dance floor and see them. Guiding her back towards the intimate dance stage, she felt the back of one wall suddenly halt his advance. She saw the lights dim even more than they had been as Brad located a nearby dimmer switch, all but throwing them into total darkness with only the barest of light to see by. Even the single burning candle upon their table gave out more light as she glanced over in that direction, nervously assuring herself that they could not be seen, and were still very much alone.

Brad continued to caress the softness of her breasts, his kisses more urgent now, more passionate than even before as they embraced. The warmth of his breath as he trailed a string of kisses down her neck, the touch of his lips upon the upper swell of one breast. Miranda felt herself breathing in deeply, holding it in anticipation as moments later, though they seemed like an eternity, the first contact as he drew in the hard extended excitement that she offered between his soft lips.

"Oh God, Oh God!" she moaned with abandonment.

His kiss, his tickle, and then the slow teasing assault of her nipple sent a thousand tiny prickles of lustful desire through her entire body. Once again she felt a surge of renewed moisture gather between her legs, uncaring now that she did, or that she'd not had time to do anything about it earlier.

He released her aroused nipple, his hand quickly reclaiming it before it had a chance to feel alone or neglected. His lips once again seeking hers in a renewed urgency, pressing against her now, her back supported by the wall as he leaned into her, and she...now boldly into him.

In doing so, she could feel his own arousal as it briefly brushed against her upper thigh. He began to move away, aware of the incidental contact. But Miranda moved with him, surprised and giddy with her own unadulterated boldness, keeping the contact, though brief still, light as a feathery touch as her hand now trickled down the side of his chest.

"Oh God, Miranda!" Brad allowed his own yearning moan inform her of his rapidly escalating desires. She felt the lightest pinch of her nipples as his fingers claimed each, gently pulling, softly caressing, his mouth once again upon hers as they danced slowly against the wall, their undulations gradually increasing as they moved against one another.

She was almost to the point of no return. Not wanting him to stop, but needing him to. Almost as though having read her mind, she felt a last final touch upon her breasts, then Brad stepped away, releasing her.

"Miranda, you need to know I want you, I want to be with you so very much. But you need to think and consider this before it goes much farther. The last thing I want to do is take advantage of the moment, no matter how perfect it might be...or is. You need to think about this for yourself and decide if seeing me is something you want to do, need to do, as much as I want to do."

She was surprised, slightly disappointed, yet relieved. Almost embarrassedly, she turned reattaching the clasp on her brassier, then buttoning her blouse, tucking it in before turning back towards him. He had given her this moment to recoup having returned to the table where he began fixing them each another drink, waiting patiently for her to rejoin him.

#

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Don't even go there Miranda! You know damn good and well what I mean!"

Miranda laughed. Darlene had given her a direct order to call her the moment she got home no matter how late it might be.

"Tell me everything!"

Miranda could almost picture her friend settling back in her chair comfortably waiting for her to describe in deliciously naughty detail everything that had happened.

"And I mean everything, from the beginning Miranda!"

"From the beginning?"

"Yes. So, what did you wear?"

Miranda did tell her everything. From the very beginning. She fingered the white petals of the rose that now stood in a crystal vase upon her vanity. Next to it, the small ornamental box that he'd given her. As she spoke, she fingered the tiny silver key about her neck briefly before releasing the catch, depositing the key and neck chain safely inside the box before closing it. She looked as well at the other box she'd purchased earlier, once again thumbing the lid as though it had perhaps found someway to open itself. It was still locked.

"Holy shit girlfriend!" Darlene exclaimed when Miranda had at last finished telling her about their evening together. As she'd retold it, Miranda had herself relived each and every moment vividly, describing as Darlene had so aptly put it, "Every naughty detail!" When she'd at last hung up the phone and finally began to prepare for bed, she slipped between the cool crisp sheets, her body once again aflame with desire.

It had been a while since she had actually touched herself. Now, with the urgent need, the unfulfilled desires again burning through her like a raging fire, Miranda succumbed to the sensations of her aroused flesh. She began at the beginning, again. She saw herself as though watching a movie, being escorted up the stairs by Michael where she stood gazing at the boyishly handsome man who stood waiting for her. She could even taste the pungently sweet-salty flavor of the Margarita as she recalled sipping it while secretly glancing towards him over the rim of her glass. Every detail just as crisp and as clear as though she were experiencing it all over again. She felt, remembering the touch of his hands and fingers upon her breasts, touching them in exactly the same way, recalling the sensation, recreating it as closely as possible.

Only this time, unlike before, Miranda continued the fantasy, this time he didn't stop, and this time, she smiled in the sweet ecstasy that claimed her as she envisioned what could have happened, and what...might yet still happen.

#

By the time she'd awoke, it was nearing almost nine-thirty. She'd had one of the soundest sleeps that she'd had in a very, very long time. Rare enough that she hardly if ever slept past eight, even on a weekend. "But nine-thirty?" she questioned aloud, surprised indeed that she had slept as long as she had.

Miranda headed downstairs to make coffee, then showered, her skin still tingling with arousal and excitement. She thought briefly of once again allowing herself pleasure, going so far as to capture momentarily those same exquisite sensations as she soaped and washed her breasts. Finding the willpower however, she hurriedly rinsed, soon after drying off and heading downstairs for that first morning cup of coffee. Silvia as well as Darlene would be there by eleven for an early morning brunch. She began scrambling the eggs in preparation for the omelets they'd be having, and began dicing up the vegetables, all the while imagining and remembering the feel of Brads strong arms, and aroused body as he held her so closely next to him.

"Knock, knock!" she heard Silvia yell out through the back door upon entering without an invitation to do so.

"Morning Sil!" Miranda greeted her friend, noticing a mischievous expression on her friends face when she did.

"What?" Miranda asked watching Silvia as she crossed the kitchen taking a seat at the table and began pouring herself a cup of coffee from a nearby carafe.

"Tell me everything, from the beginning, but I want to hear your version of it," she added.

Miranda couldn't help but laugh. "As soon as Darlene arrives, I'm going to kill her!"

"Oh come on now Miranda! Surely you didn't think that Darlene would keep me out of the loop forever, especially with as tasty a morsel as this one is!" she retorted back. "Now come on, tell me...I want to hear you tell it!"

And once again Miranda did, just getting started when Darlene in fact arrived.

"Oh goody! I'm not too late then!" she exclaimed excitedly taking another seat.

"What the hell are you so excited for?" Miranda asked her. "I already told you everything that happened!"

"I know! But I want to hear it again, just in case!"

"Just in case what?"

"Just in case you left any of the really good parts out!"

"Darlene!" Miranda said with a frozen expression. "I did tell you everything...including the 'good parts!'" she said.

"Oh? Really? And what about after you hung up the phone with me?" she asked pointedly. Miranda blushed.

"Darlene!"

Darlene laughed. "I knew you would, hell girlfriend, I was while you were telling me!" she admitted openly.

"Darlene!" Miranda exclaimed once again. "You're really are incorrigible you know that?"

"I know. By the way, you don't happen to have any fresh batteries do you? I brought a friend a long just in case!"

Even Silvia's eyes widened at that remark.

"Darlene!"

#

Silvia stood at the stove finishing up their omelets. Miranda had once again related the entire experience to her two friends. Only when she'd finished telling them the story once again did Darlene finally ask to see both the rose, as well as the cute little ornamental box she'd described.

"Be right back!" she stated bounding up the stairs. She opened the little box removing her tiny silver key placing it about her neck. She then took the box along with the white rose, and as an afterthought, the loaf-sized cedar box she had also purchased from 'Vickie's Treasure Chest'. Heading back down stairs to join her girlfriends, Silvia was just setting their omelets on the table in preparation for them to be eaten.

"Wow...beautiful rose!" Silvia stated. "You do know the significance of what a white rose means don't you Miranda?"

"I think so yes. Purity? Singularity? "Honesty?"

"All those yes," Silvia stated in agreement. "Virginal too," she added "not that you are of course," she said with a wink. "But it means that he was giving it to you without thought or intention of having any other designs or motives in mind. In other words, he was coming to you openly, honestly with but one thought on his mind, to get to know you."

Miranda smiled, lifting the rose, inhaling, enjoying the sweet fresh aroma of it's almost perfumed scent.

"Let's see the box!" Darlene asked taking it from Miranda. "It really is cute!" she commented, passing it over to Silvia. "Hey, isn't that the box you purchased from the crazy lady?"

"She's not crazy. Well maybe not entirely anyway," Miranda amended handing that box over to Darlene to examine. She too fingered the lid briefly trying to pry it open.

"Be careful with that Darlene. I don't want to break it for one thing. And for another, I thought about taking it to a jeweler or something, perhaps even a locksmith."

Darlene continued to examine the box, turning it over and over within her hands, gently shaking it and even listening when she did. "You know M.J., I think there's something actually still inside here!" she exclaimed.

"No! Really? You think so?" Miranda asked.

Darlene continued to shake it for a moment, still listening. "I really do M.J.! I swear, it sounds like there's something inside anyway. Sort of shuffles back and forth, not too heavy though. Maybe there's something wrapped up inside it with a big wad of tissue paper or something!"

"Let me see that!" Silvia all but demanded. Darlene passed the box over to her. Miranda once again sat fearfully as Silvia toyed with the box as well, giving it a shake, listening just as Darlene had done. "I think she's right Miranda! There really is something inside here. Now...if only we had the key!"

Nervous, Miranda extended her hands out in order to retrieve the box from Silvia before she actually did anything to help force the delicate lid open. As she did, the tiny silver key resting upon the chain between her breasts swung forward catching Silvia's eye.

"You know, wouldn't it be funny if the key you're wearing actually opened it?" she suggested lamely.

Darlene's expression suddenly turned somber. Then wonder filled her eyes. "Miranda? You don't think do you?" she began.

Miranda placed the cedar box down onto the table, immediately removing the chain from around her neck. "This is silly," she began. "There's no way that this key is going to open that box!" Miranda attempted to insert the key. It didn't seem to fit. "See?" she said not daring to force it to fit any more than she had. The key was simply too delicate as it was to risk breaking it inside the lock.

"Try it the other way," Darlene suggested. "Slowly, don't force anything!" she cautioned unnecessarily.

One again Miranda attempted to insert the key. This time is appeared to slide in easily, though that was still no real assurance that it would work. She glanced up at her two friends, holding it, though refusing to make the attempt to turn it.

"What if it does break?" she asked worriedly. "Maybe we should just wait!"

"Turn the key!" both women stated in coincidental unison. Miranda did. The locked turned, the lid opened. Carefully, Miranda turned the key back removing it, she briefly examined it to ensure that it was ok.

"What's inside the box?" They both said in total unison once again. Miranda gently lifted the lid peering inside.

"Oh my God! Look at this!" she exclaimed in complete and total surprise.

#

Inside the antique cedar box sat a stack of carefully refolded letters, all bound together with a faded piece of satin ribbon, once white, now horribly yellowed with age. Miranda carefully withdrew the stack of letters, half expecting them to fall a part, turning to dust. She tugged gingerly on the ribbon, surprised when it pulled open just as easily as it might have the first time it had been tied together.

"Who are they all from?" Silvia asked.

"I don't know." Miranda began to separate the still neatly folded letters, noticing as she did that none were inside envelopes, so there was no address, no last names that she could immediately see. Carefully unfolding the first letter, she immediately noticed the delicate handwriting as well as the date. March 16th, 1939. "Wow! These are pretty old!" she exclaimed excitedly.

Miranda noticed too that each folded letter appeared to have a matching piece of correspondence folded inside. Each of these written in what obviously appeared to be a man's printed response, all dated within a short period of time of the original outgoing correspondence.

"Read one!" Darlene urged now becoming just as excited as Miranda herself was.

Miranda picked the first letter and began. "Dear Wil, It still seems like only yesterday, and not two weeks since you took me to the church dance and held me in your arms. Then later, when you rowed me out onto the lake, and we sat there inside the boat, again with you just holding me gazing at the stars. I thought then it was the most perfect night of my life. That first kiss, the feel of your lips when they first touched mine sent shivers racing up and down my spine. I wanted more, even as I knew you did. But you were a perfect gentleman, so unlike all the other boys I have dated who wanted more. But you weren't like them. You didn't even press me for a second kiss though I wanted one so desperately! Now, you are away from me for three month's while away in boot-camp. I'm not sure how I will survive waiting here to see you again until your return. But I will have that night beneath the stars to remember you by until you come back to me. Affectionately, Grace."

"Now I'll read his response," Miranda told them both. His letter was much shorter, written on what appeared to be some sort of special armed forces stationary that was relatively small, half sheeted with barely enough room to write any kind of a message let alone a decent letter.

"My dearest Grace," it began. Miranda sighed taking a moment to read it again. "I too think of that night often. Nearly every night before I retire to bed. Always exhausted, but thinking of you, and looking forward when I can return to you so that we can share another night beneath the stars together. Yours Truly, Wil."

As Miranda continued to read, each letter seemed to become more personal, more intimate. And though neither Grace nor Wil came right out and said anything that might have been too amorous in nature, it was obvious they were both thinking it, hinting at and eluding to the time when they would soon be together again. There was excitement as Wil wrote an extra letter home to her that said he'd graduated and would soon be there, would soon be holding her in his arms again, and promised to do so, never letting her go the entire time he was home on leave.

After that, there was another series of letters dated a month later, with again matching correspondence, only this time Wil's responses seemed to take longer and longer. It was obvious by the cryptic replies written back to Grace, that he was somewhere over seas that he could not tell her about, nor what he was doing, nor where he was at. Even so, their letters spoke of love and devotion for one another, and finally, a longing and commitment to share their lives together forever when next Wil returned home on leave. Miranda soon discovered that Grace had finally written to tell Wil that she was pregnant. That she wanted the baby even though her family was horribly upset and disappointed in her. They'd counseled her to give the baby up for adoption, secretly, quietly. But that she had refused. She longed for his return, wanting to share the rest of her life with him.

There was no return correspondence to that letter. And there were no other letters that continued on beyond that one either.

"What do you suppose happened?" Darlene asked.

"I don't know. Maybe upon hearing that Grace was pregnant, he got scared or angry that she was foolish enough to have done so. Who knows? Whatever the case, or whatever happened, it appears their relationship ended there," Miranda guessed.

Silvia had sat quietly listening to her two friends refraining from saying much of anything. "I think you're both wrong. They were too much in love, cared about one another too deeply to let something like her pregnancy destroy how they felt about one another. I think something else must have happened."

"Like what?" Darlene questioned.