They strolled along the beach in companionable silence, hips occasionally bumping in a way that enticed him as much as he wanted to entice her. Howie turned and pulled her close, and there was a time of kissing and touching that quickened his breath and set his imagination afire with new possibilities…
It felt so right and natural that he thought about just enjoying the evening, forgetting what Grandmother had said about the will and that miserable little kid his dead wife had left him saddled with, and giving himself to this simple happiness of walking with a lovely woman, along a beach, as the full moon, nearly as brightly as day, dancing with the vivid green of her eyes.
“Let’s walk along the boardwalk, Howie. There’s lots of dark places tucked between buildings – places where no one would look…” Her smile was an open invitation.
Howard smiled, and his stomach twisted, the way it always did, at times like this. The woman had no idea what was in store; she was silly from the booze, and from the way he’d lavished money on her.
“All right.” Lots of dark places; lots of places where people wouldn’t look. His reason for wanting these places was probably different than hers; but he wanted her not to know that, not until he was ready. And, even then, not until he had her safely inside, where she could not run…
He caught at her hand, pulled her in, kissed her, letting her have this, letting himself…a last moment, where they could pretend that everything was still light and flirty and romantic, filled with the promise of a long night ahead…the full moonlight glinted in her eyes, set his mind racing, and his breath was a quick excited whistle, barely expanding his lungs. She smelled like alcohol, like spicy citrus, suntan oil, and the sweat of their dancing.
Yes, it would be a long night…but not the way Exuberance hoped.
They went up the slatted plank stairs, above the rocky shore, and, for a few minutes, they stood leaning against the rail, Howard’s arm around her waist, Exuberance leaning in to rest her head on his shoulder. They listened to the crash and gurgle of the waves, watched the way the moonlight- almost bright enough for day, but throwing odd shadows about – broke into fragments with the water, bounced off the rounded rocks.
All the time, Howard’s stomach was twisting, twisting, begging him to get on with it.
A part of him still wanted to resist -there might be none of this warmth and closeness left, once he’d begun -but, each time, he thought of the old woman calmly sipping soup as she disinherited him, and that snot-nosed, skinny little girl she deemed more worthy.
Howard stared out at the water, treasuring this moment, wanting to surrender to it. But, as always, the twisting wrung forth his ill-buried rage, and, even as he stood with an arm wrapped around this beautiful, willing woman, his other hand was in his pocket, tracing out the contours of his newly purchased, mother-of-pearl butterfly knife.
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Shan Jeniah's Lovely Chaos 
oh wow. chills. I loved this.
Fallon,
Yeah, Howard’s a chill-inducing guy. Heck of a backstory he has, too…