Katherine:
The raucous cry of gulls pierced the early morning light. Were there birds in
heaven too, I wondered dimly remembering my early church-bound religious
training, or had my desperate lunge from the bridge taken me to another place?
Confused, my eyes scanned my new surroundings for a sign, any sign that would
give me the answer I so desperately needed...but to no avail. If this was
indeed the "other place", then I'd been aiming in the wrong direction. For
here, the light tranquility that I'd chased for a lifetime filled my soul in
abundance...carried on the delicate breeze that sighed intimately through the
French doors and caressed my skin like the lover that had forever filled my
dreams.
But was I alone in this whimsical world of fact and fancy, or was it in fact
populated by others, perhaps the one who held the "pink slip" on my newfound
paradise? Quickly I threw back the covers, my feet finding the finely polished
hardwood floors beneath them, the satin of the sheets sliding sensuously across
my bare flesh.
Bare?
I'd had clothing when I'd taken my ill chosen leap last night, of that I was
sure. How had I come to wake naked, and in this place? Again my eyes sought
answers in the dwindling shadows, until finally I turned and found a man, his
body slumped uncomfortably in a nearby chair, his chin dark with morning
stubble...sitting as though keeping guard over something too precious to allow
out of his sight.
He was pale, this man, as though he too had found the evening before more of a
trial than he'd planned. His long legs lay draped over the arm of the chair,
his brown hair in wild disarray. This must be his house...his room I thought,
guiltily taking in his obvious discomfort. It was his bed that I'd commandeered
last night, while he tried to find some restless repose in the large,
overstuffed leather chair on which he slept.
But my clothes...where were they...and who had...? And then a dim memory called
to me from out of the fog. No...not a memory, more of an impression, a vague
shadow on my memory of a voice...so soothing....and a touch in the twilight of
my consciousness...caressing me, exploring my moist, intimate depths as I
writhed in pleasure at the contact. Had that happened, I wondered...was it
real?
Again the breeze from the sea beyond licked hungrily at my naked flesh, making
me wish that I could forgo the conventions of clothing for the rest of my
life...but of course, that couldn't be. Even someone homeless, a street person
such as I'd become, was bound by convention to that meager extent.
Again I searched the room, this time seeking the soiled and sodden rags that had
covered me the night before, but finding nothing. And so, with great
reluctance, I wound the silken sheet about me, at once replacing the luxury of
my sensuously unencumbered state with a soft kiss of delicate fabric that glided
against my most intimate places as I crossed to the balcony.
It was beautiful here...so beautiful. It was a wonder that my eyes could be
drawn anywhere else...but they were. Again and again I found myself stealing a
glance beneath lowered lashes at my rescuer, for I was sure that was what he
must be...sitting so nobly in the chair that he'd adopted so that I could fill
his bed. Had he touched me, I wondered again...had he pressed his hand against
my warm and willing flesh before retiring to his self-imposed leather-bound
exile last night. Had he? The thought made my skin prickle...grow hot and
goose-fleshed with the thought of a passion I'd never experienced.
If he had touched me...would he do so again? Would I want him to?
I shivered involuntarily, my knees quivering at the thought. Would I, in the
full height of consciousness be able to feel the warm touch of his hand joining
us once again...and more? Would the fanciful yearnings of my secret soul
finally find a home?
Slowly I slid to the floor, my back against the wall, and studied this man who
had given me back my life. I imagined myself kneeling at his feet in
adoration... trust...submission, experiencing, wide-eyed the joys of passionate
surrender that had only been a vague desire in the hellish life to which I'd
become accustomed. We could live here...in Camelot...a dream world filled with
erotic sensation. I could imagine his hands once again and forever discovering
my secret passions, teaching me the ways of erotic love as we sailed through
weeks and years on a sea of our own making. It would be wonderful...perfect.
I jumped! In my reverie I'd failed to notice that he was no longer asleep...no
longer resting in his chair but was now standing over me offering me his hand.
"You don't have to sit on the floor," he smiled, His thumb lightly stroking my
knuckles. "And even though that red silk seems to suit you, I'm sure I can find
you something better for the moment."
He was a tall man, his voice soft, his accent...possibly from Australia or New
Zealand, was like a gentle caress. His hazel eyes warmed the air between us as
he took my hand and raised me off the floor.
Then, leading me like the child I felt I'd become, he guided me to a closet on
the far side of the room, filled with the most delicate and feminine confections
that I had ever beheld. It was a veritable treasure trove of light and swirling
fabrics, exquisite embroidery, sheer and free-flowing in a fabulous mosaic that
filled the tiny room.
"Take your pick," he offered, his eyes gently stroking my barely clad frame. "I
think they should fit. She...was about your size, I think. And you'll find
undergarments in the dresser. Help yourself...I'll be downstairs starting
breakfast. Come down when you're ready and we'll talk."
And with that His eyes once again captured my own, touching me...so intimately
before he turned and left me to my own devices.
The clothing was so wonderful...it was hard to choose what to pick, but finally
I settled on a sheer muslin peasant blouse, it's daringly scooped neckline
richly embroidered and held this side of scandal by a single golden cord. To
this I added a swirling, ankle-length skirt of bleached muslin, cut on the
bias...slit to show the curve of my right leg as I sat, and a pair of strappy
leather sandals. Then I searched the dresser for suitable underwear. The
panties I found were brief...cut high on the leg and formed of delicate wisps of
peach satin and lace...more pieces of erotic art than garments to be sure.
Though a little snug, I soon found a pair among many that suited my needs, but
the bras were another matter. These, though equally beautiful, were far too
small for my opulent bust line. Could I wear such a blouse, so low and
transparent without undergarments I wondered. Did I dare?
Slowly I slipped the blouse over my head and gazed at myself in the mirror.
Were those my nipples showing through the fabric...or just an illusion of
embroidery? Was I bold enough to find out?
I swallowed hard, recalling the dreamlike encounter of the night before. Would
he see my bare breasts through the thin veil of my blouse...my nipples
enlarged...inviting Him to touch...caress...suckle...
I broke from my reverie. First, I had to bathe. I wouldn't wear such delicate
wonders on my filthy body...it just wouldn't do. Quickly I found the adjoining
bath and dropped my sheet to the floor, stepping with a sigh beneath the
tingling spray of the large, luxuriously appointed shower. Everything I needed
was there...shampoo, conditioner, and a profusion of scented soaps. I would
want for nothing I thought as I gratefully began to lather my body, sliding my
hands over my warm, slippery flesh. It was all here.
The peace.
The tranquility.
And the man with whom I wanted to share the only thing I truly owned...myself.
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