Maria’s appearance was usually reserved and strict. Her smile rarely reached her eyes and there was always a shadow deep inside them. It was the result of a dark secret that for years she had concealed far inside herself and was not about to confide to anyone, ever. She remembered, as if it were just yesterday, that night on the island of Aegina. She was engaged to marry Yannis in two months time. In August she had gone with her parents to Aegina to see her bedridden grandmother, Maria, before marrying Yannis and moving with him to the provincial town where her fiancé had been assigned to a post, and she wanted to stay for a short while with the old woman. She didn’t know whether she would be able to visit her later because of how difficult it was to travel in those days, as well as not knowing what the conditions would be for her as a married woman. Three days later her parents left but she stayed on until the end of the week to look after her grandmother until the woman who took care of the old lady came back from an unscheduled trip to the town of Lamia where her eldest daughter had just given premature birth to her first child.
It was a warm and pleasant August evening. Her grandmother had dropped off to sleep and Maria went out for a walk to get some fresh air and relax from the fatigue of the day. It was a pity to go to bed and not to take in the magic of the full moon, the cool breeze coming in from the sea, and the sensation of her bare feet sinking into the sand as she walked along the beach. The scent of jasmine and the night flower bush coming from her grandmother’s garden just twenty meters from the shore filled her nostrils. She walked slowly along the beach and sat on a tall rock absorbing the incomparable beauty of the landscape around her; a setting gilded by the rays of the full moon that ploughed a shiny path across the dark water, as far into the distance as she could see.
She was enjoying the sensation of having the whole bay to herself and of being mistress of this corner of paradise. But she was wrong. She was not alone. There was another claimant to the dark kingdom with its silver highlights. A few meters away the glow of a cigarette intermittently lit up and went out. When Maria noticed the presence of the unwelcome intruder into her world she jumped up in fright. The man realized that his presence had startled the woman and shouted out to her, “Don’t be afraid. I came here, like you, to take in the magic of the evening!”
He approached her and introduced himself.
“Demosthenes Andreopoulos, civil engineer. I am from Salonika and I am in charge of supervising public works on the island.” He stretched out his hand and Maria felt herself obliged to give him hers, more from embarrassment than from any desire to do so.
“Maria Iakovou. I’m staying with my grandmother at that small house you can see there.”
They shook hands firmly, examining one another with curiosity. He was tall, athletic in build, with strong masculine features, thick brown hair, with a piercing look that seemed to look onto her soul. She, slim and dark-complexioned, with almond eyes like those of a gypsy, almost as tall as he, had a full mouth and an upturned nose that gave her face a mischievous look.
“A good-looking girl,” thought Demosthenes to himself.
“Manly and good looking!” Maria noted silently.
They sat down a little further along on a flat outcropping of rocks by the beach and started talking as if they had known each other for years. Was it the magic of the night, was it that they were all alone in the isolated dream-like cove, was it the concurrence of a fateful encounter that opened their hearts and loosened their tongues making them confide their deepest personal secrets without any inhibitions? Neither of them could say. Maria told him that she was about to enter into an arranged marriage with Yannis, who was a very nice man, and Demosthenes told her that he was married and had two children. He had married Martha when they were fellow students at university and he got her pregnant. His conscience had not allowed him to abandon her or to demand she have an abortion. Neither option was acceptable at the time owing to the then prevailing social attitudes. He did his duty, without having those feelings that, according to him, were necessary, and on which a proper marriage should be built - physical attraction and a deep love that would last for a lifetime. He respected Martha, adored his children, but he totally lacked the excitement of feeling that his wife was a part of his body and soul.
Demosthenes felt the physical presence of Maria invading every cell of his body. He felt a flush that made him dizzy and, needing to explain its disturbing effects on him, he justified his reaction, attributing it to the temptation of the night, to the salt scent of the sea, to relief at being finally able to confess the truth regarding his marriage about which he had spoken now for the first time in ten years, and moreover, to a woman who was a total stranger to him. A stranger? Why then did he feel her so close to him, so warm, so attractive to the very depths of his being? And Maria in her turn could not understand why she kept snatching glances of admiration at his profile, why could she herself feel the swelling of his well-exercised chest each time he drew on his cigarette without her facing him? She was too innocent and inexperienced to understand the age-old primordial workings of nature that now made her body and heart begin to respond to secret commands.
At some moment Demosthenes’ hand accidentally touched hers in the dark. An electric-like impulse passed through his body into Maria, in a split second, like lightning. Neither of them pulled away. They turned towards one another, looked into each others’ eyes, and their lips met in a kiss. Their breathing became deeper and after the first kiss there was another and another. Without saying a word Demosthenes picked her up from the rock and put her down on the sand. His hand slid onto her breast, to her stomach, and then he lifted her dress over her head. Impatiently he pulled at her underwear and started to stroke her naked body. She shuddered with each caress. It was the first time that she had not wanted to resist a man’s advances. She begged him not to stop exploring her body with his hard mouth. In a little while his hands pushed her legs apart and his strong member entered her. Maria let out a cry that for a moment restrained Demosthenes, but she immediately pulled him forcefully on top of her, urging him to continue. Their bodies, united, moved in a wild wavelike rhythm while their groans could be heard above the splashing of the waves. Demosthenes, lost in ecstasy, tried to hold back his climax which was about to erupt, waiting until Maria had reached her peak. He felt her vagina squeezing him, squeezing him, followed by a loud moan signaling satisfaction at her release. Demosthenes let loose his desire inside her with such force that it almost made him faint. Then he lay down next to her, clasping her tightly to his chest.
When he got his breath back he lit a cigarette and stroking her hair he whispered, “Did I hurt you Maria? It was your first time, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, Demosthenes, it was my first time and it was wonderful!” she replied, kissing him on his neck. A little later Maria, without any reserve, stroked his penis until it became as hard as steel. He re-entered her, triumphantly, and their bodies were soon flooded by supreme satisfaction.
Dawn was breaking when exhausted from their all-night embraces and with their bodies soaked in sweat, despite the morning chill, they pulled themselves apart. Naked as they were, they went into the water to wash off the damp residue of their night of love. Wet and trembling from the cold of the dawn air they put on their clothes, hugged, and kissed each other goodbye. There was no need for any elucidation at that moment. The adventure was about to end with the coming appearance of the first rays of the sun that in a little while would dissolve the magic of the evening. For the passion that had given them such satisfaction there was no tomorrow. They would each follow a private path back to their responsibilities and obligations.
Demosthenes watched Maria walking away until she disappeared behind the wooden garden gate of her house. He felt a tightening in his heart and a bitter taste in his mouth. He had unexpectedly stumbled on the Ultimate, and he had lost it, without having the right to pursue his claim. With a deep sigh he started on his way back with his mind and soul stamped with the image of Maria who had become his wife, his ideal and inestimable companion, for just one night.
Back at her grandmother’s house, Maria, lying fully clothed on her bed, brought back to mind, again and again, every moment, every word, and every movement of the dreamlike night. She pinched herself to make sure she was awake, that it wasn’t