A soft gleam of moonlight snuck past the ice blue sheer panels hanging motionless over a half-open window. The light chose to spotlight over the countless worn, stuffed bears and puppy dogs, reflecting off the wall's movie posters, picture frames, and plaques. Everything around the darkened room remained undisturbed, quiet, and tranquil. However, its sole occupant, long supposed sleeping, found no repose in the hushed ambiance. Though all else complied with the night's demands of stillness, a young lady sat erect, her head aching, weary from thought.

Only hours ago, Jeanette had been a different creature, excitement her sole emotion. The night of the college's gala party, she would attend the festivity with Terrence, the desire of every freshman girl, making her in turn the source of wonder and envy of them all. For days, everyone discussed the big date.

Consultations of hair, make-up, and wardrobe took precedence to biology and calculus. Reading assignments forgone, engagements postponed or cancelled, everything sacrificed to accommodate the all important rite of passage known as homecoming.

Decked in a form fitting burgundy dress, golden-chestnut curls neatly and painstakingly arranged into a clustered bun, Jeanette received the young man at the scripted hour. Her breath caught momentarily at the sight of Terrence dressed in his finest suit, the crisp white shirt resplendent against the dark contrast of jacket and slacks. The moment their eyes locked, time ceased. For her, his beauty was beyond compare. Thick, dark curls crowned the top of his head, with one rebellious lock falling over his forehead whenever he looked down. He had bright green eyes, which roved about the feminine form and figure, lighting as he smiled his approval. Producing a single pink rose from behind his back, Terrence carefully brushed his lips against Jeanette’s cheek. It was an amiable gesture, but the feel of warm breath lingering against cool skin made her flush with anticipation.

They were off; not having far to travel they reached the gymnasium in five minutes. The drive, though brief, had been charged. Taking advantage of their close quarters, he placed a hand on her knee, giving it the slightest squeeze. It was the encouraging sign she needed. He was interested. He found her appealing. She was thrilled and reciprocated the sentiment by placing her hand over his, returning the affectionate pressure.

Entering the transformed phys ed. building, Jeanette found it difficult to concentrate. It was not the shimmering drapes or the candlelit tables that captured her attention. No. He was her main attraction; all thoughts and energy concentrated on him. Every minute dedicated to pleasing Terrence, laughing carelessly at his jokes, smiling more than she really wanted to, allowing him to hold her tight when they danced; there was no room for distractions. She wanted the evening to end with the promise of another day for the duo, and she would do whatever it took to find that end.

Barely recollecting who won the honor of King and Queen or what song they had danced to, the event ended. The memory now nothing more than a blur, Jeanette momentarily wondered if she made the right choice in focusing so much of her energy on her object. However, her fear dissipated when she heard him ask:

"Do you want to go down by the pier?"

The pier! Yes, she almost screamed, the idea infinitely better than the after-party taking place in the frat house. Who wanted to be surrounded by thoughtless noise and drunken crowds, when the prospect of the river and stars loomed before her? But more importantly was the significance in his offer. He too, wanted her to himself.

"Sounds perfect," she breathed.

Terrence smiled his most bewitching smile, his full lips parting sexily over the perfect set of thirty-two stainless enamels. Escorting her back to his vehicle, they drove off into the magical, and hopefully, endless night.

To Jeanette’s disappointment, they found several other couples basking in the moon's meditative glow, but knowing the area well, and with some quick maneuvering, Terrence located a remote corner. There he shut the engine, and they sat in silence for several seconds. For her it was an uncomfortable pause, and she shifted her gaze past the window, while her escort comfortably removed his jacket, taking the initiative to speak first.

"Did you enjoy yourself tonight?" he asked in a hushed tone that sent chills racing up and down her exposed back.

Afraid her voice would squeak if she spoke, she bit her lip, nodding enthusiastically.

He reached for her hand. "You look fabulous."

Jeanette opened her mouth to say something witty in turn, but her thoughts turned into a scrambled mess the second their limbs touched. The nerve endings in her fingers fired at the sensation of his hand over hers. He began to caress it, tracing circles on its back, then front, massaging the wrists, inspecting the blue veins. The noticeable trembling embarrassed her, but he smiled. Continuing his inspection and soft touches, he said,

"You know, I could've asked almost anyone to come tonight."

Oh, she knew. She knew.

"But I asked you. Because I know you're special. I've known for some time."

Her intellect told her "some time" meant two weeks, dating to the moment they were paired to dissect the cow's eye in biology, but she didn’t care. Forcing reason to the side, she embraced flattery and affection. He admitted to favoring her above all others. People fell in love at first sight, didn't they? Well past the age for innocent crushes, the thunderous clamor of her heart told her this was no adolescent fling. This was real.

Terrence moved in closer, lowering his voice. "Do you taste as good as you look?" he asked.

At that moment everything disappeared but him. The smell of musky cologne swirled around Jeanette when he leaned in, and she could see those emerald irises fix their gaze on her lips. Her breathing quickened as she felt his breath. Unmistakable want filled the air. She could have fainted right then and there, but in the excitement of answering him said, "I, I don't know. I guess." A quick giggle escaped. Her mind chastised her puerile behavior, but he ignored the nervous reaction, instead satisfying himself with grabbing the back of her neck, and placing a gentle and tender kiss on her lips.

Oh heaven! Sweet, innocent bliss! Time stopped. Nothing else mattered but their mingled breaths and happy hearts beating harmoniously in time together. Those first kisses and embraces were pure delight, and all was perfection.

But the kisses grew aggressive. Terrence’s shy tongue grew insistent, demanding quick exploration of Jeanette’s mouth and neck; his careful hands transformed into steely vices limiting her movement. In one swift move, he pulled the handle on her seat leaning it back. He then jumped over the midsection console and straddled her, lifting the skirt of her dress while lowering her straps.

What happened? How could perfection change to menace? Jeanette’s breath and heartbeat quickened again, not with ecstasy but with fear, and as his hot hands tugged relentlessly at her underwear, she became aware of her “special” charms.

Managing to push his face away from hers, she recovered enough breath to yell out one fierce “NO!”
The small word hung in the air cooling Terrence’s actions if for a moment. His eyelids dropped, and looking somewhat shameful, he smiled again, trying to re-conjure her ardor and adoration.

"Oh, Jeanette…" he cooed, attempting to smooth her disheveled curls.

But the spell was broken. His voice no longer had any power over her, and his boyish glances were exposed as a manipulative act. Pulling her head away, she pushed against him a second time.

"No. I don't want this," she stated clearly and firmly.

"You don't want me?" he asked, a hurt tone in his voice.

Jeanette felt a wave of doubt wash over her, and paused. She did want him, but not in the matter he insinuated. It was too soon, too sudden. She needed time to think, but with him still on top of her, her dress in disarray, nature all around them, she felt herself at the disadvantage. No, a good night's rest would straighten this out.

"I'm sorry, Terrence. I want to go back," she whispered, hoping her gentle manner would soothe the disappointment.

The kind and patient eyes, hardened. The pupils dilated, an angry look crossed its features. The sweet, tender voice, became harsh and sardonic as Terrence said,

"You played me."

Stunned, Jeanette blinked at the accusation.

"You're a dirty whore," he continued.

"I don't want to sleep with you and that makes me a whore?" she managed to sputter indignantly.

"You give all the signs you do. You wear that sexy dress, slither up close, touch me, look at me, say you want to be alone, and then say no?" Terrence shook his head in frustration as he pried himself away from her. Staring straight ahead, he gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles whitening.

"Get out of my car," he ordered, without so much as a glance in her direction.

"What?" she cried in disbelief. "And how am I supposed to get back?"

"That's your problem, bitch."

The word cut through Jeanette. Blood boiling, she landed one hard slap across the right side of Terrence’s once beautiful face, now marred by anger. The hard sound of skin on skin startled them both, neither one moving. His face smarted, her hand tingled; he recovered first.

"Get the hell out!" Terrence roared.

"Fine, you piece of shit. Thanks for nothing," she spat at him, struggling out of the vehicle.

Not allowing her the satisfaction of slamming the door, Terrence pulled away. The tires were heard screeching from a distance, and thus ended the most romantic night of Jeanette’s life. To add insult to injury, she realized he drove off with her purse.

She walked the two uphill miles back to the dormitory, tears falling freely down her face, regretting every moment, silently and audibly cursing herself. What an idiot! How could he have pretended to be something he wasn’t? And she the greater fool between them, not seeing past the illusion created, wanting to believe.

Once safely back in the building, Jeanette removed her shoes from her blistering, sore feet, and when she reached the hallway, treaded softly through it. However, there was no need for the stealth-like steps, none of the other co-eds having returned. Walking into the room, she ripped her clothes from her body, and still feeling Terrence’s filthy hands on her, ran to shower.

The pressure from the hot water alleviated her downtrodden spirits. As she cleansed herself, she reflected, wondering what sort of tales would circulate. A new cause for anxiety came over her, and when she laid her head to rest, found it impossible.

And so Jeanette remained awake and uncertain what the next day would bring. But of one thing she was confident: she had done nothing wrong. Still, she sighed. Amazing at how in a few hours she lost a bit of her childhood, with no chance of regaining the loss.