The clock was chiming eleven as they returned to the bedroom. Trish turned down the bed, and taking the robe guided Sundown between the covers. As Sundown watched from her pillow Trish undressed.
She put no intent on her motions, no effort to be provocative or alluring, she simply removed her clothes, laying them across the armchair. It was precisely because she put no such thought into her actions that Sundown found it so entrancing, as if Trish bared more of her heart than there was body to show. When she stood beside the bed the look on her face was one of contemplation, considering how best to approach, how to offer what she wanted to give. It had been she in the passive role before, but now it was her turn to provide. It put a warm glow in Sundown's heart as she waited with the moment for Trish to decide how she would come to her.
Her decision was exactly correct, the one and only approach she could have taken that could disable all pretense. Trish scooted across the bed to sit against the headboard, gathering Sundown into an embrace as she went. When Sundown was cradled her in her arms, her face pillowed against the soft rise of a breast she seduced her into the moment with simple words, caressing her face and shoulders as she spoke.
"You have done so much, SQ, so much for so many. You rescued me from my despair, it was you who brought Jean to me in the first place back when we needed each other so much. You took that frightened girl Jenny and gave her peace, sent her home whole when she might have been broken for life. I have no idea how many others you've done the same for, and you've done it by yourself, alone. We are different, you and I. I know that. You dream of a man as strong and kind as you are. I can't be that for you, I'm not a man. But for now, for this little time, let me see you as he is for you in your dream, let me share your dream of such a man. SQ, it's the only way I will ever know a man that way, if you'll let me feel him as he is with you. I want your dream of him to take this virginity from me, for just this little time let me understand how other women feel with a man. It has to be your dream of him, I'll never be able to know it any other way."
Trish's words so touched Sundown her gift came active unbeknownst to her, and to the benefit of both. Without her will to guide it the visage took for it's model her first and greatest love, the love she'd carried near eighty years, the love that lost that had sent her into the same world they'd just invaded. In a strangely folded way she called back the heart of Jean Luc, her man, her husband, she gave her friend to him, asked he help her do for her friend as he'd done for her when they'd made love to her hidden younger self. It was not a thing of thought, it was love using what was to be found to help another. In short order Sundown was far beyond any thought at all.
The clock struck midnight unnoticed. Wrapped in the illusion neither kept a count of the times she cried out, writhing in spite of herself giving voice to the passion, feeding the fire in the other with shudders and pulsing tensions that suspended breath. Neither could escape the others' ecstasy, the illusion carried it to both time and again as the dream grew larger and more encompassing with each transfer. When the clock struck one it went unheard, when it struck two that also was unheard, for both slept in exhaustion, and both smiled in their dreams.
It was Patricia who awakened first. She did not move, she could not, not without awakening Sundown. They had slept entwined, having fallen into sleep still wrapped about each other. She could not move her body, but her thoughts ranged far and wide, the full scope of her life and loves, always returning to the woman who still slept in her arms. She took stock of herself, of the unique sensations that still lingered so many hours later. No interlude of carnal delight had ever, ever produced such sensations, or such sentiments. She sifted it, compared it, and in the end realized her request had been granted. It struck her full on, how much larger her world had just become.
She looked at the face that lay pillowed on her shoulder, wondering at the nature of the lover who had brought her to such a place. She noted that in sleep there were years visible on SQ's face never to be seen in the waking times. She wondered how old SQ was, suddenly aware she had no real idea. The face could have been twenty, or sixty, there was no way to judge, it was truly ageless. She wondered at the body that wrapped hers, the texture of the skin warm against hers, the fluid strength, a shape and contour that teased at some half forgotten knowledge. With a tiny start she realized what had eluded her: the contour of the hips said Sundown had carried a child, although the event had never been mentioned. She felt a pang, lest it were to some tragedy it remained unsaid, and then wondered if the man of the night before was a dream, or a memory.
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An excerpt from Rematch, from the tales of SQ St. Marie, the Sundown stories.
Must be a very good friend.
ReplyDeleteYes, a good friend.
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