Maria sighed as she slipped into her pajamas later that night. Max and Liz were having dinner at Isabel’s, but Maria declined her invitation. Liz understood why, even if Max and Isabel did not. She encouraged Max to let Maria be.

It was only seven thirty, but Maria felt like eating something light and going to bed early. She found the emotionally exhausting days to be more tiresome than the psychically exhausting ones. She’d spent most of the day out—thinking, and mulling over her options—making a choice.

She only hoped Michael would choose to make his appearance at a later time and place. When she heard the patio door click open at it’s own accord; she damned her bad luck. He didn’t say much as he ambled into the kitchen, and chose the first available stool to make himself comfortable on. He watched Maria with a guarded eye as she moved from the counter to the refrigerator and back again, ignoring him pointedly.

She poured salad dressing into a bowl, and then turned and made a sandwich. She set it in front of him and picked the stool on the opposite side of the counter, facing him.

“Maria?” Michael began softly.

“Can’t we just eat?” she returned, picking up her fork.

“I have to know if my place is here, Maria…with you. I have to know if I will be sitting here eating with you tomorrow night,” Michael insisted, placing his hand over hers.

“I keep asking myself why you’ve come back. Why me? Why now? Why not go to Max, or Isabel, or hell, even Liz? But I think I know what it is, now. I think I know why you came to me and not to one of the others. I think you’re looking for love now. I think you’re looking for what’s been missing from your life,” Maria replied, her voice steady. Inside, her knees were knocking together like she was still seventeen and about to have sex for the first time. She felt lonely—lost—a child.

“I’m going to ask one last time, Maria, do you still love me? And baby, believe me when I say this…this is the *last* time I’m going to ask. If you ever hear this question again, it won’t be from me. So answer * my* question now, and answer it honestly, and answer it forever.”

“I will always be in love with you, Michael. And that will never ever change. No matter who I marry, or who I wait for, my love for you will *never* change,” Maria whispered passionately.

“So you’ve made your choice then? You don’t want me?” Michael asked, his eyes boring into hers.

“I’ve made my choice,” Maria said, her voice steady, and determined.

Michael took a sharp intake of breath, and breath he could not let go of. It hung between them, bated, and baited—loaded. His heart stopped the beat-beat that was so necessarily to take his blood to his body. He waited, with fear, knowing his last chance was at hand.

“I’d rather have thirty minutes of wonderful than a lifetime of nothing special,” Maria finally said.

“Don’t throw movie lines at me, Maria…I’m serious.”

“Well, isn’t it true? Isn’t it right of me to take all of you that I can, while I can? To take all of what I need and love…and even if you do leave, I can carry those memories with me for the rest of my life.”

“You have to believe I won’t leave again,” Michael insisted.

“I believe for now…that’s the most I can give you,” Maria’s sadness was evident in her eyes, and Michael felt the undeniable urge to brush that sadness away—as if heartache were just dust in a corner where love has not been for too long to remember.

“C’mere,” Michael beckoned her to come to him and she did, sitting on the stool next to his. He stood next to her seat and wrapped his arms around her.

“I love you,” he whispered into her ear, into her hair, and Maria felt the familiar stirrings in her belly when she felt his hot breath on her neck. Michael’s fingers were in her hair, and his mouth was covering hers, finding and stealing her breath. She broke from him, panting for air.

“Easy, Michael…” she whispered.

“Why?…we need to,” his voice broke in desperation.

“I…I…I haven’t been with anyone else, Michael. I promised myself I would never be with anyone else until they made me feel like you made me feel,” she admitted, her eyes downcast. Michael tilted her chin up with his finger and saw the tears threatening to break free.

“I feel the same way,” Michael answered.

“So you haven’t been with anyone else?”

“You know I couldn’t have,” he replied. “And you haven’t been with anyone else, either?”

“You know I *wouldn’t* have,” Maria answered, her tears falling. Michael brushed them away. “Easy, now…” Maria wiped away her tears as Michael drew his arms around her. “So you’re a little rusty, huh?” he asked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Not that rusty,” Maria frowned comically. “I do have fingers, you know. I haven’t forgotten how to use them.”

“Maria…you keep talking dirty to me and we’re not going to make it to the bed…” Michael said, his voice strained.

“Who says I wanted to make it to the bed?” Maria bit Michael’s earlobe, causing him to shudder and abandon his senses as he took hold of her.

He moved his body, rolling her backwards into his arms and settled himself between her legs. Although they were still clothed, the position drove an intense tingling throb into her lower body. She could feel his hardness against her core as he began to move in careful thrusts with the rhythm of his long slow kisses. The action broke her forthcoming words into a low sob as he released her mouth long enough to drag his lips up and down her neck. She couldn't help but lift her hips gently in tandem to his seductive pulse. She wanted more, so much more—everything he had to give her. This was like a masochistic target practice, just introducing their bodies to the promise of pleasure that lay beyond.

She felt him push her legs apart even more, and felt her dress slide slowly up her thighs and it was so unbelievably sexy she could hardly stand it. She broke away from his kiss to pull her dress up over her head and expose herself to his gaze. His eyes trailed from her matching bra and panties, down to the lace-top thigh-high hose that used to drive him crazy with desire, once upon a time. Seeing her sacrifice, he removed his own shirt deftly and replaced the empty spot between her honeyed thighs. He licked her lip with the tip of his tongue while his fingers brushed the satiny material over her breast. She pressed into his hand with a small whimper and he wasn't too surprised to find himself stiffening even more in response to the sound.

“Okay, okay,” she admitted finally, in desperation. “I was just kidding about not wanting to make it to the bed.”

“I don’t know, baby…this counter top is starting to look pretty good,” Michael’s arms tightened around her and she felt herself wrapping her legs around his waist.

“Take me to bed,” she sighed, and he fought for control over his body. He couldn’t see where he was going as Maria consumed him, but it didn’t really matter. For every wall or doorway he accidentally shoved her against, she became more and more aroused, dry humping his erection shamelessly until he picked up and moved on.

Finally, he reached her bedroom, and managed to set her on the covers, and removed his pants before she was on him again. He gently pushed her back on the bed, and she waited for him to make the next move. His hands moved over her bra clasp, and like magic, it was open. She looked up sharply into his face, but she could read nothing there. She lifted up slightly to remove her bra, and she could see Michael was already busy with her hose. He rolled them down, taking full advantage to feel the flesh beneath.

“I love these,” he lifted them up, as if to show her. She grinned in return.

“I know you do…and my thighs are still perfect, see? Silky and smooth,” she beckoned to him as she caressed the tops of her thighs. Michael hooked his fingers on the sides of her panties, and he dragged them slowly down her legs, leaving a slightly damp trail wherever they met skin.

"Oh my God," she whispered and felt strangely like she wasn't taking anyone's name in vain, but instead was offering a prayer of thanks. In fact, she felt like she was laid out, passive, as if on a sacrificial altar, her body throbbing in time with the deep-resonating hum of the earth, and in Michael’s body also.

“Your breasts are so beautiful,” Michael sighed as he moved catlike up her body, before settling his hardness between her thighs once more. She felt his hard shaft move between the flesh of her thighs, in a sweet promise of what was to come.

“They’re still soft and sweet,” she moaned. “See?”

“I see, Maria…I see,” Michael ached to be inside her, ached to be with her once again. He placed open-mouthed kisses on her breasts and collarbone. “I love you, Maria,” he looked straight into her eyes. Maria felt a shiver of lust run through her body, and felt Michael poking at her entrance, stroking her clit. She spread her legs for him and he entered her easily. Michael felt like the dam had opened as he slid slowly down in the dark, slick depths of her core. He felt like he was in a vise, and he would not be released until he gave her everything. She locked her ankles around his lower back, and pushed against him, desperate to start the rhythm. Michael moved out, and then slid back into her body slowly. She matched his long thrust with two short ones of her own, begging him to stop the torture. He slammed into her harder than he had planned, but she groaned uncontrollably, more loudly and passionately than he’d ever heard her moan before. She bit her lip and sighed. He moved quickly, pumping in and out and in and out and in and out until she was screaming—screaming to the heavens how much she loved him and how good she felt. He followed quickly after her, a little less dramatically, perhaps, but no less enthusiastic. She lay beneath him until he moved next to her and wrapped his fingers in her hair. Her insides were throbbing, trembling, quivering with the throes of passion that she still felt stretching her body gloriously.

“That felt *so* good…” she sighed, relaxed, pleasured.

“Better than I remembered,” Michael responded.

“Much, much, better.”

After that, an “I love you” and a “ditto” was heard, but neither could be sure afterwards who said what and who said it first. Michael lay down against her pillow and Maria melted on top of him, meeting his lips again and again, whispering crazy things in between and pausing occasionally as his hand strayed up her belly.

Finally, Michael drew away panting. “I have something for you.”

Maria fell next to him and tried to draw her breath. From his pocket, Michael removed a small golden ring with a small diamond on it. Maria took it from him and slowly, surely, tears began to roll down her cheeks.

“I can’t accept this from you. You must be crazy.”

“C’mon, Maria. We were made for each other—even I can see that now. You know me—every part of me.”

“Michael, I can’t do this now. I love you, but this is too much, too fast.”

“But I thought…”

“Let’s just give it some time? I have always loved you, but it’s going to take some time to regain that trust. Let’s just go slowly. I’m not saying no for all time, but I’m not going to say ‘yes’ right now, either.”

“I guess I can understand that,” Michael sighed. “I can back off.”

“Just…just be there for me. That’s the best thing you can do. Just stay here, and be here with me. Trust will come with time. I love you.”

“And I love you.”

“And Michael?”

“Hmmmm?” he sighed, dreamy.

“When in the *hell* have you ever seen Steel Magnolias?”