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"Oh, I did buy this solid gold chain to hold it around your neck," he said, plucking the chain and his school ring out of his pocket. My breath caught in my throat. For a young Creole man in New Orleans, the giving of his school ring or his fraternity pin was a step below the giving of an engagement ring. It meant that all the words and vows we had whispered to each other and pledged over the telephone would be consummated. I would be his girl and only his girl, and he would be my young man, not only in our own eyes but in the eyes of our families and friends.
"Oh, Beau!"
"Will you wear it?" he asked.
I looked into his soft blue eyes, eyes filled with promises and love. "Yes, Beau. I will," I said, and he put it around my neck, and then with his fingers he followed the chain down to the valley between my breasts where his ring sat snugly. I thought I could feel its warmth through my blouse, a warmth that traveled with electric speed to my heart and started it racing. He brought his lips to mine and I moaned, feeling my body soften and mold to his embrace. The parlor was only dimly lit by the illumination of one small table lamp and the flickering flames in the fireplace. Beau reached over and turned of the lamplight. Then he turned my shoulders and I permitted my body to slide under him on the sofa. His lips were on my neck, his fingers unbuttoning my blouse so he could follow my breasts to their fullness.
Filled with abandon, tired of the anguish and agony that had pursued me relentlessly these past months, I turned myself to Beau with kisses that were even more demanding. Everywhere his fingers traveled I welcomed them, and when he lifted the cups of my bra away and nudged my nipples with his tongue and then his lips, I sank deeper and deeper into the warm pool of ecstasy that had flowed down from my shoulders, over my waist and legs, and brought tingling to the tips of my toes.
I kept my eyes closed and just listened to the rustling of his clothing and felt his fingers move under my skirt and slip my panties down. I raised my legs and let him take them off completely. The realization of my nudity drove my excitement to an even higher pitch. I tasted his tongue, his lips, and kissed his closed eyes. Both of us were whispering "Yes" into each other's ears. I opened my eyes for just a moment and saw the shadows and light from the fire dancing on the walls and even over us. For a moment, perhaps because of the heat between us, I felt as if we were in the fire, consuming ourselves with our own flames. But I wanted it, I wanted it very much.
I opened myself to him and he pressed himself forward and inward, calling my name as if he feared he would lose me even at this moment. I clutched his shoulders, pulling down on his back and joining him in the undulation that would make us feel as if we had become one entity. Wave after wave of passion washed over us. I couldn't distinguish one kiss from another. It became one long kiss, one long embrace, one graceful turn after another.
"I love you, Ruby. I love you," he cried at his climax. I muffled my own cries in his shoulder and hung onto him with all my might as if that would prolong the ecstatic moments. Then we stopped moving and simply held each other and breathed hard, waiting for our pounding hearts to slow down.
It had all happened so quickly. There hadn't been much of a chance to reconsider, not that I thought I would have. I had welcomed him, welcomed the relief and the passion, the love and the tenderness, the beautiful feeling; and in moments, I had
smothered the darkness and the sadness that had haunted me for so long. As long as I had Beau, I thought, I would have sunshine.
"Are you all right?" he asked. I nodded. "I didn't mean to be so . ."
"It's all right, Beau. Let's not make each other feel guilty or dirty. I love you and you love me. Nothing else matters, and that makes whatever we do good and pure, because it's good and pure to us."
"Oh Ruby, I do love you. I can't imagine loving anyone else as much."
"I hope that's true, Beau."
"It is," he promised.
The sound of Gisselle's laughter coming from the stairway sent us both into a frenzy. We replaced our discarded clothing quickly and he turned on the lamp. Then I straightened my hair. He rose from the sofa and went to the fireplace to stir the logs just before John, carrying Gisselle in his arms, entered the parlor.
"We decided to see what you two have been up to," she said. "And John's so strong, it's faster and easier for him to carry me up and down the stairs than for me to use that stupid electric chair." She clung to him like a baby chimp holding onto its mother, her arm wrapped around his neck, her cheek against his chest.
Kneeling at the fire, Beau looked at me and then up at her.
"I know that expression on your face, Beau Andreas." She smiled at me. "Don't try to hide anything from your twin sister, Ruby." She looked up at John, who was holding her as if she hardly weighed a thing. "Twins sense things about each other, did you know that, John?"
"Oh?"
"Yes. Whenever I'm unhappy, Ruby senses it quickly, and when she's been excited . . ."
"Stop it, Gisselle," I said, feeling the heat return to my cheeks.
"Wait a minute," she said. "John, bring me to the sofa." He did so, and she gazed down at me. "What's that around your neck? Is that your ring, Beau?"
"Yes," he said, standing up.
"You gave her your ring! What are your parents going to say?"
"I don't care what they say," Beau replied, coming to my side. He took my hand. I saw Gisselle's look of surprise change quickly into a look of green envy.
"Well, there's someone back at Greenwood who's going to be heartbroken," she quipped.
"I've already told Beau about Louis, Gisselle."
"You did?" she asked, dripping with disappointment.
"Yes, she did," Beau said. "I must see if I can thank him for helping her at the hearing," he added. Gisselle smirked and then beamed with excitement, her facial expressions clicking on and off and changing as if her face were a television screen changing channels.
