W
AS SHE SMILING AT him? At him, Major Marcus Reno? A hot wave of excitement coursed through him, a sensation he had not known for years. Before responding, he glanced quickly over his shoulder, to be sure that glorious smile was not meant for a handsome young officer standing behind him. Indeed, there was no mistake. Ella, beautiful Ella, belle of the garrison, was looking at him. At him, and no other. He inclined his head in a courtly manner and tightened his stomach muscles, keenly aware of the roll of fat that hung over his belt. He felt almost bashful, unsure of how to comport himself, because it had been such a long time since a woman fine as this one had shown him favor. There had been women--a man has needs after all--but none like Ella, with her slender figure, dark, luxuriant hair and luminous gray eyes. This flirtation, if that is what it was, was all the more wondrous as he was a man twice her age with—the Major did not deceive himself—a reputation dark as his complexion. Their eyes held across the dance floor and Reno felt his heart thumping against his ribs like a bat in a
barrel. He scolded himself. Get a hold, man! Ask her for the next waltz, bring her a cup of punch. In the end, he did neither of these things. Her father, the colonel of the regiment, appeared at her side to say it was time to leave, so the major retired alone to his quarters where he poured himself a half-tumbler of whiskey and stretched out on the narrow bed. He was too excited to remove his boots, let alone sleep. Could it be the future still held promise for Major Marcus Reno after all? Was it possible that disastrous June day, the events that had poisoned his life every waking moment since, would not follow him into eternity like a malodorous ghost, tainting the very air he breathed and turning others from him before he had a chance to make known his true self? Might he, at last, be free? He fell asleep, tumbler in hand, and, for the first time in many nights, experienced a sweet and deeply satisfying erotic dream. The next day Reno went about his work with uncharacteristic cheer and vigor. He was cordial to colleagues, patient with the men. All the while his dark, protruding eyes searched the post’s dusty streets and boardwalks for a glimpse of her. Finally, in the late
