Catalina                          

by sloanranger

Part 1

"Don't please," the girl whispered, "I can't."

"Lina," the young Naval officer said, his voice cracking; "You know how I feel about you."

His mouth was moving from her neck to her face, kissing her, breathing her in, finally burying itself into her long black hair.

"When you return, Rafi," she said, trying to pull herself away, "we can marry, then."

They sat  on one of the many benches at the harbor overlooking San Diego Bay, one that had afforded them sufficient privacy over the past weeks.

Lina's blood was circulating rapidly - her body hot to the touch though it was only April and a cool night at that.

His hand touched her arm and the shock ran through her entire being. Her neck trembled where his arm cradled it,  and when he took her fingertips and brought them to his mouth – one by one he burnt them with his lips.

"Do you think I can wait nine months, Lina?" He said. "They're talking about firing MacArthur. If this thing keeps on it could be a couple of years before I get back."

"I'm sorry, mi amor," she said, her sibilant voice anguished, her eyes glittering, filling with tears.

(To be continued).