Goodnight, said the Sandman

Despite the comfortable surroundings, the extended shower and the single malt scotch, sleep did not come easy. The sky had become overcast late in the evening and without streetlights or moon, the darkness was as palpable as he'd ever seen. Random house noises also made the rounds, now and then a creak or click or rattle over the distant hum of the air handling machinery would startle him back to wakefulness. He grew impatient with himself, wondering why he was so jumpy and why he just couldn't sleep.

Finally he dozed, only to be sharply awakened by the sliding door to the balcony being opened. There, silhouetted against the starlit drapes only marginally lighter than inside the room, stood the figure of a goddess, wrapped only, so far as he could tell, in a flowing nightshirt. Hurriedly, she climbed into his bed and embraced him. He stiffened for a brief moment then more or less melted into her arms. The days and nights he had dreamed of her came flooding back with a terrible vengeance. She pushed him back onto the bed, holding his wrists, pinning him to the mattress, her lips trailing little kisses down his neck and chest.

"Oh, Kath..." she pressed her palm over his mouth and hissed in his ear. She then placed a single finger over his lips in a clear gesture of silence. After all, he reasoned, there were other people in the house. They continued their embrace in a silence disturbed only by the rustle of a sheet or the weighty breath of lovers. She seemed to practically worship his body, administering to his every erogenous zone, every favorite place with lips or fingers. She took his swollen member into her mouth slowly and gently, then faster and harder, more than once stopping altogether before he could reach a crescendo.

He happily rose to the challenge, rolling her over on her back and exploring that marvelous body with lips and tongue. Gradually though, he became uneasy. He held a perfect breast in his hand and licked around the nipple, wondering somewhere in the deeper recesses of his mind if this breast should be quite so firm on a woman of her age? The thought practically stopped him cold. What if this were Pam? How could he ever explain this to anyone? Sure she was old enough and had certainly made it plain that she was indeed a woman and experienced at that. Still, he couldn't shake the guilt from it. But she had flirted with him just as mercilessly as her mother. He kissed her roughly, probing with his tongue for a taste of the cigarettes she constantly smoked. There was none. She tasted of his flesh and faint toothpaste and nothing else he could detect.

Relying on his training and experience in photographic darkrooms and night missions, he began to explore her in earnest with fingertips and lips, searching for something that would distinguish one from the other. He'd never slept with Kathie of course, but he figured there should be something, some small detail that would give him the answer. He examined as intricately as the darkness would allow, her feet and ankles, her calves, the place behind her knees, her thighs which trembled delightfully under his touch. Then he buried his face in her, abandoning exploration for the pleasure of her responses. Slipping a single finger inside to touch that special spot on the roof of venus, drawing random runes and hieroglyphs there while his tongue telegraphed tomes of passion to her. He felt so drawn, so absorbed in the process of love it was almost like being suspended high in the air while a storm swirled about them in total silence.

At one point, she covered her face with a pillow and let a guttural moan be muffled by the down and percale. Determined now to throw caution to the winds, he climbed between her legs and eased his erection into her, burying himself totally. She tossed the pillow aside and joined him in his reckless abandon, wrapping those long strong legs around him and pulling him deeper into her. He felt, as their tempo increased, her fingers digging into the flesh of his shoulders. Did Pam have long fingernails? Did Kathie? He struggled to remember but couldn't.

Their passion increased with every thrust of her hips and he felt her teeth sinking into the flesh of a shoulder. So obvious was his next thought that he almost laughed aloud. Instead he uttered a muffled, "Uh."

She hissed again and placed a hand over his mouth. He ducked and buried his face in her neck. Picking a spot behind her, where she'd not likely see it in a mirror, he placed his lips carefully and sucked a tiny love bite. Tomorrow he would know for sure. She made no sign of being aware of the bite and their silent struggle only increased in tempo and intensity. Soon, it got the better of both of them and they reached a climax together, him with his face buried in a pillow to stifle a moan, her with her teeth sunk into his shoulder again.

Panting and dripping with perspiration, he rolled over on his back to catch his breath but to his additional surprise, she leaned over him to deliver a kiss then dashed out the door to the balcony, streaming the nightshirt behind her. The room fell silent again as he sat there, wondering what had just happened. He was still sitting and staring when the sky began to lighten. When he began to hear faint noises of people moving about, he took a shower, and mindlessly maneuvered through his morning ablutions. By the time he had dressed the smell of coffee brewing had reached him and he left to find the kitchen.

Kathie was in the process of making breakfast for everyone, a pile of crisp bacon and browned sausages were still steaming in the center of the counter, juice and coffee nearby, it was massively appealing but Andy went straight for the cups, pouring his black and perching on the farthest chair along the nook. Kathie managed a wan smile, but her eyes were red rimmed from weeping. She wore a blue terry robe with a high collar and her hair was tucked inside it. She made him welcome, but she looked as if her heart were broken. It didn't help the queasy questioning churning in his brain.

She sat with him while he ate, nibbling from time to time but not displaying much of an appetite. Instead, she listed the details of some things she wanted his help with, some legal or financial, some personal. There were some items, she said, that belonged to him now. He half listened, making some mental notes. Soon, Aunt Phyllis and Uncle Chuck arrived, chattering too pleasantly for the hour. Across the counter, across the missing decades, Kathie squeezed his hand and mouthed a silent thank you.

Andy found it difficult to keep his gaze off her. Watching her move through the kitchen, imagining that gorgeous body flowing under that rough textured robe. Eventually, she made her exit to get dressed and he was left with the aging couple to continue the consolation from the day before, like chickens, he thought, making so many sympathetic clucking noises. Of course, Phyllis did most of the clucking, Chuck was more interested in the food. Finally, he heard Pam coming, and felt as if the day might be dawning after all.

She glided into the room dressed in a white buttoned blouse with crisp three-quarter sleeves and a high starched collar, denim cutoffs and white deck shoes, her hair tied back in a huge pony tail. She looked for a moment like the perennial high school tease, but he noticed immediately that her eyes too were red rimmed and puffy from crying. She seemed truly glad to see him and fluttered about the kitchen filling a plate with food and sampling it. She greeted Aunt Phyllis and her Uncle Chuck with hugs. She waved a kiss to Andy and gave a theatrical wink. He smiled back, unsure of himself again.

She dropped into the chair recently vacated by her mother and devoured breakfast.

"You really have to tell me why they called you the Sandman," she insisted. "I heard why they called Daddy the Otter, because of the way he swam in the ditching drill, right?"

"Yeah," he answered with precious little enthusiasm, "That's right. The rescue chopper spotted him floating on his back, eating his lunch like an otter with a sea urchin. The name stuck." Phyllis and Chuck found this more than mildly amusing and pelted him with questions about the times and events that happened so long ago yet now were fresh again.

"Please, Andy, tell us," she begged.

"Its nothing," he said quietly. "It was just a name." He stared into the pool of coffee in his cup, wishing fervently to submerge himself in the murky liquid.

Pam refused to let it drop. "You simply must tell me, Uncle Andy. Please." It was the first time he's heard her say his name like that, and uncle to boot. He smiled in spite of himself.

"OK, I'll tell you, then you'll have to tell me something."

Pam began to blush furiously then caught herself and turned from them to get more juice for the glass she suddenly found empty. She offered him more coffee and he accepted. A hush had fallen in the room as if they were poised for a punch line.

"I was the best shot with a rifle in training," he began, sipping some of the dark brew before continuing. "I had hunted when we were kids and had practiced quite a bit. So they made me a sniper. The Otter and me were a team, him carrying the ammo and radio and spotting for me, I carried a scoped Fourteen, about twenty pounds or so loaded and with the scope and bipod. I could hit a target accurately from maybe a click away."

"Click?" She asked.

"Kilometer," he answered, "about five eighths of a mile, around a thousand yards."

"So, why the Sandman?" She pressed.

"Well, there was this song, about Mister Sandman, by some sisters a long time ago, and one of our officers, when he watched us spot and hit a target, remembered it for some reason and said 'say goodnight, it's the Sandman' and, well, it stuck too."

"Wow," said Pam, her face paling slightly.

"I remember that song," said Chuck and Phyllis nodded.

Andy stared into his coffee again, and a silence slipped over them, broken at long last by Pam.

"Um, Uncle Andy, the target. What was it?"

"Don't you mean, 'Who'?" He asked bluntly, looking up to let her see the pain in his eyes. No one said anything. At all. Slowly, Phyllis first, then Chuck, they got up and placed their plates in the sink. Without a word they left, moving toward the front of the house. Pam looked away from him, busying herself with the dishes.

"Is that why you never came back? Never came around?" She asked with her back still turned.

"No," he answered flatly and honestly.

She didn't say any more, just dried her hands and straightened things. He stared into the coffee again, watching it cool.

"How many?"

"What?" He looked up but she was still looking away.

"Targets," She said with a certain edge to her voice, "how many?"

"Nineteen, officially, two more not," he answered, again flat and honest. It was too late to sugar coat it now. He saw her shoulders shake for a second then she left the room, leaving him alone and staring into the cup again, his insides twisted and aching.

The day dragged on, going from bad to worse. They all piled into Kathie's car, with him wedged between Phyllis and Chuck in the back seat for the trip to the airport, where the elder couple were handed over to the luggage handlers and crews for their trip home with hugs and handshakes all around.

Back in the car, the silence was deafening. Pam rode in the back seat, smoking, Kathie drove and Andy tried to make small conversation periodically. They covered two banks, a legal office, the office in the factory, an insurance agent and the chapel where the funeral had been. All day Andy tried to position himself for a glimpse of Kathie's neck, hoping to see a sign, the mark of confirmation he needed. Furtively at first, almost desperate at times, he maneuvered unsuccessfully and the morning passed into afternoon without a sighting. They had lunch at a pleasant café where they sat outside under an awning and nibbled at pasta. No one seemed to have a decent appetite. Finally, the weary trio made their way back to the house, collapsing under the combined weight of the summer heat, massive mounds of paperwork and simple grief.

Once again, Andy found himself leaning on the handrail of the deck, sipping iced Scotch and staring into the leaves. He had been there for a time when Kathie came out to join him, a drink in her hand. Judging by the edges rounded off in her voice, it wasn't her first. She started talking right away, telling him things, private things about her previous married life. She wept openly at times and he tried to offer her comfort, but she seemed determined to release herself from the burden of these words so out they flowed. Some of the details were amusing and they offered weak laughter in tribute. He said very little.

Just as the sun was hiding behind the far hill, she hugged him tightly and he responded in kind, holding her to him as if rescuing her from some precipice. It was then that he took advantage of the position to search the back of her neck. Through strands of dark hair he spotted a red oval, right where it should be, and his heart practically leaped from his chest. He kissed her, but she stiffened in his embrace and he kept it short and sisterly. She took him to the study and there she gave him some remembrances, a notebook with pages written in pencil and pen of the screenplay they had written in class together, an album of pictures and a few personal items she merely wanted to share with him. She talked about the past and avoided or ignored any references he made to the present or the previous night. She claimed a headache after a while and went to bath and bed. Pam was nowhere to be seen. He watched as Kathie walked slowly away, wondering if there was anything he could say or do that would really help. He doubted it, so he made himself a Scotch and retired.

Blessedly, sleep came easier and sooner than the night before.

He was again rudely awakened by the sound of the sliding door opening. The darkness was just as deep as it had been the night before and he could see so very little. He welcomed her with open arms though and they soon settled into their silent explorations. Andy felt bound to do the very best he could for this, perhaps the last, opportunity to make his long lost dream come true. She went down on him expertly, devouring his manhood with what seemed to be great enthusiasm. He happily responded in kind, giving her blessed release several times with his lips and tongue before she pushed him away and straddled him. She took over then, controlling the tempo and the depth to which he sank into her with each thrust of their hips. Soon he realized the end was near yet completely out of his control. As she neared yet another climax, he felt her body begin to demand his. Without his willing it and completely unable to halt it, he exploded into her, into the night, screaming silently into a pillow.

His breathing heavy and labored, he struggled to regain equilibrium and breath. She didn't run away as soon as before, either. She stayed there, her head resting on his chest, sticky with sweat, her breath coming in large gulps. Finally, when he could trust himself to actually whisper instead of shouting, he risked a whisper, "I have always loved you, Kathie. Always. I have always desired you, wanted you, I just couldn't compete for you."

She didn't reply, or attempt to hush him.

"We both had such respect and admiration for you, he never even touched another woman, not with all the chances he had. And I understood why. Understand even better now, you are magnificent." He tried to look at her, let her see he was sincere, but the darkness was so near total, no details would resolve. Then, without a word of response, she jumped up off the bed and raced out the door. He followed her to the balcony but still couldn't see which door she had entered. He went back to the bed and stared at the ceiling until the sky lightened again.

He showered and packed without hearing much movement in the rest of the house. He had some time to get to the airport before his flight, but the situation felt so out of control, he needed to return to what passed for normalcy in his life. He had just closed the trunk of the rental car with his suit bag inside, now stuffed with memorabilia and his dirty laundry, when both women came out onto the front porch. Kathie was in her familiar robe but Pam was already dressed in a pair of bright pink running shorts and a white sport bra. A silk scarf matching the shorts was tied carelessly around her neck. He strode back up to them, not certain of what to say except that he regretted having to return so soon and wished he had more time, perhaps later in the year. They all nodded but the silence between them grew awkward and he knew it was time to go. He hugged Pam first, resisting an unexplainable urge to grope her just once, then kissed Kathie one last time. She returned the kiss, even stronger and longer than he expected. It had the effect of nearly removing his will to leave.

He reluctantly pried himself away and bid them goodbye. They stood waving as he got back into the car and started the engine. He fastened the seat belt to shut up the alarm, and saw in the mirror that Pam had left the porch and was running to the car. Reaching for the controls, he lowered the window as she approached and leaned cross-armed on the driver's door.

"I couldn't let you leave, Uncle Andy, without giving you something of mine." She said to him in that grownup little schoolgirl voice. She untied the scarf from around her neck and stuffed it into his shirt pocket like a boutonniere. Then tossing her head and turning, he caught sight of a dull red bite mark on her neck, just where he'd left one. She kissed him on his cheek and jumped back from the car, waving and shouting, "Bye Uncle Andy. Have a nice trip."