Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Gone (MF, rom) By Dryad

   _She was gone._

   He shook his head -- all their years together -- a tear slowly wended
its way down his cheek, as he began to pack her things.

   The blue dress she wore to their daughter Denise's wedding.  He
remembered how happy she was, how she felt in his arms as they danced
around the room.  The material was soft, clingy, sensual; like her.  It
floated around them, reminding him of their own wedding day, when her veil
floated around them as he swept her in his arms.  He sighed softly,
inhaling her lingering scent.

   Maybe this was a bad idea.  It was too soon, too raw a wound to clean
out now.  He didn't want to lose what he had left of her.  He closed the
half filled box and headed out the door.

   He found himself walking.  Not quite aimlessly, but meandering
nonetheless.  He ended up in the city park, a grand old place.  He walked
the avenue of ancient oaks that soared above him in an arch.  The squirrels
tittered at his feet, playing some sort of squirrel soccer with a nut.  He
smiled slightly, remembering how she would always throw them the saltines
she invariably kept in her oversized purse.

   They met in this park, near the large central fountain.  It was right
after the war.  He had come home, feeling lucky but feeling so very tired.
She made him want to celebrate, to _Live_.  Her dark sparkling eyes, always
so full of fun.  She used to chase him around the fountain until he
reversed gears and would catch her.  She would rock in his arms, slightly
out of breath, her breasts against his chest, as she tiptoed up to sneak a
kiss.

   It was as he was wandering that he bumped into her; Sandy, Denise's best
friend.

   "Mr.  Allard, I'm so sorry.  I heard.  It was so sudden.  She was too
young.  I'll miss her" She said empathetically, her hand on his arm.  He
was unsure whether it helped or made him angry.

   "Thank you," he said forcing a slight smile.  "It was quick; she didn't
suffer much." _Kid, what did she know?_ She fell into step with him.

   "This place," he shook his head, "it was so special.  Did you know,
Laura and I met here?  I proposed to her, at the fountain." He chuckled
slightly.  "I was never so scared.  I shook so bad, I actually dropped the
ring in the fountain." Sandy smiled at him.  "I could see you doing that. I
bet Mrs.  Allard just laughed."

   He nodded, smiling in memory, "We both jumped in, running our hands
around looking for it.  She was so wet...." His voice trailed off,
realizing to whom he was speaking.

   Sandy reached out for his hand, squeezing it.  "It's okay.  It's
important to remember her that way.  I'm not exactly the little kid you
remember," she pointed out softly.

   And to his chagrin he noticed her obvious warmth and personality.  A
body young enough to remember its soft curves but old enough to understand
them.  _She had to be what?_ He thought to himself idly, _29?  Yes, must be
since Denise was._ With dusk quickly approaching, it had begun to rain
softly and he observed her nipples harden as the cold water soaked her thin
peasant blouse before shaking himself out of his reverie.

   Sandy smiled at him, softly, empathetically.  She took the hand she held
in hers, and placed it over her breast.  "It's okay." She murmured softly.
His fingers trembled, first to pull back, then to rest over her breast. 
_So soft._ He shivered in memory, remembering when Laura had given him her
virginity.  A very private moment, one he didn't list when he explained why
the park was so special.  Laura felt so soft under his hands, his fingers
pleading as his mouth couldn't do.  And she gave, God, did she give.

   They ran through the rain, ran into the hemlock stand.  The thick
branches gave them cover from peering eyes and the falling rain.  He leaned
low and kissed her softly, putting all his boiling emotion into it.  His
hand caressed her face, memorizing each detail, the soft slope of her jaw,
the curve of her neck.

   She leaned into the kiss, pressing her firm breasts into him, her arms
wrapped around his neck, open and giving.  She showed him with her body,
reminded him he was alive.  Her leg went up to link into his.  Their lips
parted, their noses touching when suddenly they lost their balance and she
landed on top of him.  They laughed out loud, and she rubbed his bottom,
making the minor pain glow into something more substantial.  They rolled in
the soft loamy dirt and dried needles that made their temporary bed as
satiny as expensive sheets.  They smelled the damp spring rain, as their
heavy breaths curled over their heads.

   He pressed into her, kissing her, but suddenly shy.  _What next?  Should
I?  Can I?_ So tender of her, even now adoring her.  Her hands told him
though, pressing his shoulders so his lips were within reach of her chest.
His lips covered a chilled nipple through her thin shirt, warming it with
his tongue.  Emboldened by her shifting sighs, he laved the opposite one
with the same attention.  Her body writhed beneath his, her hips pressing
up to meet his.

   "Please."

   It was only a whisper.  He heard it though, rejoiced in it.  She would
be his.  He continued to trail down her soft stomach.  Her skirt was
bunched up, and he could see her exposed thighs.  He gently knelt between
her legs, kissing the inside of her thighs.  Her hands reached for his
hair, pulling him closer.  He nuzzled at her core, feeling the dampness on
her panties that had nothing to do with the rain.  Her hands reached down
to help him, peeling them downward, down with her stockings.  He sighed at
the sight of her.  The scent of aroused woman, spring rain and hemlock
would always make him remember.

   He flicked his tongue on the outer ridges, enjoying her moans and
squirms.  He breathed in her scent before nuzzling her core.  Her body
silently shuddered in response, and he felt her lips spasm quickly.  So
silent, so different from the girls he'd met in Europe.  They had to
announce to the world.  Her orgasm was silent, just for him.  His tongue
fluttered over her clitoris, lengthening her joy, until she whimpered low
and he felt her pull upon him, pulling him down.

   He knelt up, trembling, wanting everything to be right for her.  He
pressed his head against her opening, rubbing it softly against her
wetness, before pressing slowly into her.

   His body was shaking with the amount of concentration to retain his
control.  Slowly he pressed into her warmth.  Never had it felt like this.
So warm, so tight.  He pressed in fully, before sliding back out just as
slowly.  Her moan of desire stirred him, and he pressed back in.  Slowly he
built up the tempo, until he got lost in her, lost all control.  And then
with her soft sighs, he too had his release.

   As he came down, he opened his eyes.  Sandy was beneath him, smiling
softly.  He was stunned, even a bit embarrassed.  It seemed so real, but it
wasn't Laura.  _Laura...my Laura...She's gone.  _

   He collapsed onto her waiting, soft body, and wept, Sandy's arms wrapped
around him.  **************************

   To be followed shortly by a mirror story, "Return" from Sandy's point of
view.
   Copyright Dryad 2002 (gbbjg@yahoo.com) /~Dryad