Mr. Moon perused Maria over the top of his wine glass. Her face was full of laughter at a joke he had just made. He considered his sentiment towards her. He was certain he was not infatuated by the woman. Those feelings aroused during the performance were merely due to her mesmerising beauty, her incredibly sensuous body, and that tight red costume. Any man would be left short of words by her alluring beauty. He was no different.
She sloshed some wine down the front of her gown as she laughed a little too hard at Bobo chasing his own tail. Mr. Moon took a hold of her wrist, and she looked up at him. Their eyes met for a moment, and then she leaned forward. Mr. Moon quickly put his glass down and held her back.
“I think you have had a little too much to drink, Maria. You had best be off to your bed, lest you be struck by headaches on the morrow”. He could see the hurt in her drunken eyes, and he recalled another phrase his father had often spoken of. A drunken mind speaks the truth son, remember that.
If his father’s analogy were correct, then Maria evidently had strong feelings towards him. Her eyes spoke of love, and of sadness at having that love rejected. A surge of guilt welled up inside Mr. Moon. He hated hurting Maria, hated seeing her suffer. He hated it more when it was by his own hand.
He helped her to her bed, lay her down, covered her with blankets and kissed her forehead. Then he returned to the small table and drank from the bottle. His mind was troubled, and his thoughts wandered long into the night, as he drunk two more bottles.The morrow should be fun.