[1 Jan 2001  Washington DC]

DINO

A new year.  A new world.  New family.  New house.  It was the first time in years I hadn't either been working on New Year's or celebrating with my usual.... excess.  Not quite sure how I felt about that.  Part of me missed the excitement.  Champagne.  Confetti.  Counting down the ball with a drink in my hand and a pretty girl or two in my arms.  Kissing in the New Year.  Again and again and again.  C'mon!  An occasion where it's not only permissible but expected that you kiss lots of pretty girls?  What red-blooded man wouldn't miss that?   

Then there was this other part of me kinda marveled at how hollow they felt in contrast to this year.  There was no big party.  No confetti.  No champagne.  Hell, I was too tired after five nights on the road with a two-year-old to even stay up to watch the ball drop.  I fell asleep in the flickering light of the TV just after 11 with Andy snuggled up against my side.  Heather covered us both and tucked us in, but she woke me a few minutes before midnight. 

Outside, you could hear the celebrations had already started.  Catcalls.  The crackle of fireworks.  Yelling and shouting and general merriment from the people who just couldn't wait for the 3...2...1!  before they went a little crazy.  I know how they feel.  Heh.  I'm one of those kinda men myself. 

It was pretty humble as celebrations go.  We shared a toast in cheap plastic hotel cups filled with a splash of Andy's juice.  Counted down the last few seconds silently in deference to the sleeping child.  The flickering image on the TV exploded with fireworks and confetti, illuminating our darkened room.  Outside the shouts rose to a crescendo and trailed off erratically.  Inside, our child slept on as I swung her around and gave her a soft kiss on the cheek.  I'm not sure whether it was my imagination or not, but we each seemed reluctant to give up the embrace.  We exchanged a quiet 'Happy New Year' and parted before we crawled into our separate bed.  First time I'd ever slept with Andy.  It was strange.  And nice. 

And for the first time in years, I didn't go to sleep feeling hollow.

The morning came early.  I couldn't help but be a bit amused.  It was one of the first times I'd been feeling human at 7 a.m. on January 1st.  Heh.  It was a great time to move, as well.  Busy while the world was still sleeping it off.  We had the diner and the roads nearly to ourselves.  I whipped out my phone and listened to Terry's message one more time.

 

 

I chuckled at that.  Kept right on grinning while he rattled off an address and the key code to the garage door.  His fucking birthday, no less.  He really is too much. 

 

 

The call ended with some truly pathetic kissy-kissy noises.  He is such a bastard.  No wonder I love him like I do.  'Honey' indeed.  I'll get him for that and he knows it.  Gonna go to one of those Hallmark shops and pick out the sappiest romantic card I can find as per our agreement.  If it's got glitter and frills, so much the better.  And just wait till he sees what I plan to write in it.  It's going to take some fucking balls to frame it and put it up, I'll tell you that much.  Heh.

Pretty nice place, actually.  The old man did us up right.  Quiet neighborhood.  Older homes that looked to be built in the 20's and 30's.... great architecture.... lots of old established trees.  Checked the numbers as we drove along.... please, not that mustard yellow monstrosity- oh thank God!  I pulled into the drive of this nice little red brick house.  Had a white porch, a black door and black shutters.  Needed a bit of paint but looked sound enough. 

Keypad worked like a charm.  We went in through the garage.  I retrieved the key from the usual spot- duct taped to the inside of the garage door.  Terry and I worked out that system years ago.  Heather gave me a look.  I told her not to ask.  You don't even want to know how we dreamed that up.  Or why.

The house was pretty damn good, considering he had only ten days in which to move a mountain.  It wasn't perfect by any means.... but it would most definitely work.  The kitchen was a little small and some of the wallpaper was seriously outdated, but the house did have the most important thing.  Three bedrooms.  The master bedroom had its own private bath and the other two bedrooms had an adjoining bathroom between them. 

Further investigation turned up the reason I knew Terry had to have chosen this house over the others.  It had a few negative points- but one huge positive one.  The previous owners had built an absolutely beautiful dry sauna onto the back of the house.  It was small, but incredibly well built.  It had a low bench that ran all the way around the bottom of the room.  A few feet above that, a second, thinner bench ran along the walls.  The entire thing had been crafted from red cedar and was sanded to a satiny finish.  It would need a lock to keep Andy out but other than that, it was perfect.  I couldn't wait to try it out.     

Andy was a bit awed by the house when we first arrived, but in the way of kids the world over, was soon running around like a wild thing, exploring the space that must have seemed huge to him after the tiny house he'd lived in.  There was even a tree in the back yard big enough to support a tree house.  The thought caused stray memories of my own childhood forts to flit through my mind.  Terry was right.  I owed him bigtime for this. 

The sauna was pretty goddamn nice... but it was the little gift Terry'd left on the kitchen counter that really got me going.  A tired raggedy-ass bunch of what had to be the cheapest flowers he could find and a bottle of what some people might consider 'wine'.  I'd bet both of them together didn't cost him more than five bucks.  He'd stuck this fugly red bow on the top of the wine and there was a note taped to the front of it, written in his illegible chicken scratch.

 

 

Typical Terry.  You know, I think he loves razzing me almost as much as I love razzing him.  I handed the note over to Heather.  She read it and giggled.  "TT?  Is this from the famous Terry?"

"None other."  We'd done a lot of talking on the road.  She knew a good bit about him by now.  No reason to keep him a secret.  I knew with as closely as we worked, she'd meet him soon enough.   

"He sounds like a good friend."  

"The best."  

She looked at the note in her hand.  "He give you this kinda crap all the time?"  

"Oh yeah."

She smirked at me.  "I like him already."  Her smile softened.  "And he really arranged all this for you?"  She waved her hand in the general direction of the rest of the house.  I nodded.  "Wow.  He is a good friend.  We should do something nice for him."  Heh.  Damn.  Has she got some kinda radar for old soldiers, or what?

 

 

[4 Jan 2001  Washington DC]

DINO

Getting us moved in and settled was pretty easy in some ways and pretty hard in others.  The actually physical job of moving wasn't bad at all.  Heather helped and we managed most of it in one afternoon.  Our new neighbor, Jeff Davis, helped me with the stuff that was too heavy for her to carry.  It was the addition of the things from Dean's old life with Gen that were hard for me.  I recognized furniture we'd picked out together.  Art.  Little things to make our apartment a home. 

I didn't even open the boxes with our more personal belongings.  Those went straight into the attic.  To be honest, I don't know how long it will be before I'm ready to see those.  I liked having that stuff around though.  It comforted me in a way and Heather didn't seem to mind it.  She'd kept Gen's spirit alive for Andy all these years, hadn't she?  It was like our things were now this mix of all our lives.  The things that were just Heather's.  The things that had come from Dean and Gen's old apartment.  The new things I'd purchased.  Kind of like a reflection of us, I guess.  Three people who were kind of thrown together but managed to still be a pretty good match. 

An eclectic family.  That's us.  

All in all, we'd settled in fairly easily.  And not surprisingly, the sauna was quickly becoming a part of our evening routine.  After we put Andy down, we just seemed to wind up there.  It was a good place to relax and talk- once we'd gotten over our initial awkwardness.  That first time had been something else.  It was late on the first night we'd moved in, way after midnight.  I was stiff from all the lifting.  Fuck.  Was I getting old, or what?  It never even occurred to me the sauna might be occupied at that hour.  I'd stripped and wrapped a towel around myself, intent on having a long, relaxing sit in the dry heat.   

Grabbing a water from the fridge on my way through the kitchen, I pulled up short when I became aware of a neatly folded pile of clothes just outside the sauna's door.  It was the same green t-shirt and jeans Heather had been wearing earlier.  I felt this little electric thrill shoot through me, half hoping she'd decided to take the heat as I preferred to- naked.  OK, more than half hoping, actually.  But for as much as that thought appealed to me, I knew better than to just pop in on her in case she had, knowing that would only make things between us more awkward than they already were.  So, I peeked through the small window in the sauna's door just to be sure.       

My eyes widened as I got my first good look at her.  Sweet holy fuck.  She might as well have been naked.  She was wearing a very elegant black string bikini.  It was proper enough, covering all her good bits, but still sexy as hell.  I damn near bit my tongue in two when she sat up, reached for her water and took several healthy swallows, the last of which overran her mouth in an icy trickle.  I watched intently as the water ran down her neck and into the valley between her breasts.  A moment later, her hand followed, first down her throat and then between her breasts, wiping away the excess water before she lay back down and closed her eyes once more.

Jesus.  I spun around and rested my back on the wall, eyes closed.  Well, there was one part of me what certainly wasn't feeling my age tonight.  If watching that water trickle down her body hadn't been enough to get a rise out of me, watching her hand chase after it sure as hell had been.  Watching a woman touch herself is just about the most erotic thing I can think of, and my body never fails to respond to it.  I sucked in a deep breath.  I needed to get a grip.  For fuck's sake, I had an erection even a blind man would notice.  I slowed my breathing and tried to think of anything but her.  K & R contracts, repairs I needed to make on the house, Andy catching me standing here with an obscene hard-on.  That did it.   

The heavy ache between my legs abated a little as my erection waned; not completely gone, but good enough for the moment.  I knew I shouldn't go in there, especially not after the fantasy I'd played out during my trip to The Red Door, but I'd never been particularly good at restraining myself where attractive women were concerned.  I just couldn't keep away from her.  I rearranged my towel and pushed the sauna door open, sighing as the soothing scent of cedar washed over me.

There was a soft gasp from her as I settled myself on the lower bench, taking care to push the center of my towel down so she wouldn't get a flash of my goodies.  A bit of flirting with danger was one thing, but even I knew better than that.  Shameless of me, I know.  But I enjoyed her small gasp as she sat up.  It made her breasts jiggle gently in a way that seemed to go straight to my dick. 

Her cheeks, already pink from the heat, got even darker as she wrapped her towel around herself.  I sighed inwardly.  I knew it was probably for the best, but the honest truth was I wanted to look at her body.  I also found the gesture amusing in a dark sort of way.  For a guy who's got something of a reputation for being a ladies' man, I sure don't have all that much luck with the women who actually interest me.

She got up to leave, stepping gracefully down from the top bench.  I felt bad.  I hadn't meant to chase her out.  I told her so.  Did my best to charm her into staying.  It was dangerous, I know.  Both of us next to naked in a confined space?  We were aware of each other.  Sexually.  There was a spark between us.  She knows I let my eyes linger on her.  Her eyes lingered too, but there was there was also this feeling of distance kept for a number of good reasons. 

Despite my attraction, I'm experienced enough not to let it control me, and to be honest, I still wasn't entirely sure about this feeling I had towards her.  I wanted her... but was it the Pull?  Because of the other Heather I'd once known?  Because she'd stepped up and been a mother to my son?  Until I could answer those things for myself, I would keep my distance.  The last thing we needed was an ill-fated romance.  Andy deserved better.  We did too.

 

 

[5 Jan 2001  Washington DC]

TERRY

Dino.  He's a hard man to figure out.  And he's been even more evasive than usual lately.  Not that he's ever really forthcoming.  But then again, neither am I.  I've touched base with him a couple of times since he's gotten back to DC.  Couple of business meetings downtown.  Couple of phone calls.  We might be in business together, but we actually don't cross paths all that often.  I don't need to hold his hand and he certainly doesn't need to hold mine. 

I can't quite put my finger on it, but something about him is different.  Off.  I dunno.  He seems both more wound up, and conversely, more settled than he usually is.  He is the best friend I've ever had, but we're hardly best girlfriends who gossip and tell each other everything.  Bastard hasn't even told me why the sudden change from an apartment downtown to a house in the suburbs.  I also knew better than to just show up there uninvited.  He's strangely protective of his private space.  Has been as long as I've known him.

It's been nearly a decade since he hauled me out of that Iraqi shithole.  The way I figure it, if he hasn't told me why yet, he isn't going to.  Doesn't really matter one way or the other.  It's just one of his quirks.  God knows, I have my share as well.  Reckon it's just part of what makes Dino, Dino.  Well... that, his propensity for getting us both into trouble.... and of course, his misguided appreciation for substandard scotch.

Got a message from him on my mobile this afternoon.  Said he had the bottle and the love note he owed me.  Invited me for drinks and dinner and told me not to bring my white glove; that he'd been too busy with work to play 'Cinder-fucking-ella'.  I brought one anyway, just to wind him up.  Hey, what are friends for?

I handed him the glove at the door.  He told me to fuck off and handed me a beer.  He seemed a bit.... I dunno the right word.  Not nervous, exactly.  Jittery, maybe?  He had that look he gets when he's about to hit me with something he knows is going to be a hard sell.  Somewhere between cocky and concerned.  Before I could even open my mouth, this blur of redheaded little boy came running through the room.  He stopped short when he saw me, made a beeline for Dino's leg, grabbed hold and looked from me to him, wanting reassurance.   

He said, "Daddy?"

I said, "Fuck me swinging!"  

Dino said, "Andy, this is your foul mouthed Uncle Terry."  He smirked.  "But we forgive him... he can't help being born in Australia."

I just stood there a moment, completely gobsmacked.  The boy was Dino's son, obviously.  Even if the hair didn't give it away, you could see Dino in his face.  I nearly dropped my beer and then decided it would be better served poured down my throat than smashed on the tile in the entryway.  I took a long, much needed swallow.  Just what the hell was going on here?   

Andy gave me a dubious look.  "You sayd a bad word."

I pulled a face and crouched down to his level.  Hey, I might have been an absent father for most of my son's life, but I had managed to pick up a few things over the years.  "Sorry about that, mate.  That's what happens when you don't listen to your Mum... you wind up with all sorts of bad habits."  He did not look convinced.  I wondered about his 'Mum'.   

"You talk funny."  

He's a tough nut to crack, this one.  I gave Dino a look.  He laughed but made no effort to help me out, the bastard.  He was just watching me meet his boy.  "Where I'm from, everyone talks like this."  I extended my hand.  "Uncle Terry, mate.... nice to meet you."

He stuck his little hand out and shook mine but didn't speak until Dino nudged him gently.  "Andrew Thomas O'Leary."  He said it a little defiantly, which made me smile but it rocked me back a bit as well.  Andrew is my middle name.  Thomas is Dino's.  Just who the hell was this kid?  And more to the point, where had he come from?

I stood up and took another swallow off my beer.  I had about a hundred more questions and from the look on Dino's face, he knew damn well what he was in for when he invited me over tonight.  We needed to talk, but I knew we'd get to it in time.  I grinned at him.  "Well, I guess this explains who the first spare bedroom is for.... So, mate?  Number three?  Don't tell me- there's more of them?  A whole squad of redheaded kids?"

Dino chuckled.  "Nope.  Just the one.  I work fast, man, but not that fast."  He smiled softly then as he looked down at his little son.  A kind of smile I don't ever recall seeing on his face before.  His eyes flicked back to me.  "They are a matched set though... can't have one without the other...."

"Huh?"  What the hell had he gotten himself into here?

Before I could ask, he'd called out and a few moments later, a very pretty, very young woman joined us.  She couldn't have been much over twenty.  I tried to catch his eye.  No luck.  He was looking at her.  Her attention was on Andy, who'd run over to her and grabbed onto her leg, much like he'd done with Dino.  Looks like he wasn't to used to strangers, poor little bloke. 

I took the moment to observe her.  She looked.... healthy was the first word that came to mind.  Her body was slender and athletic.  Her hair was thick and shiny.  Her eyes were bright.  She had a lovely smile and a softness about her that seemed a world away from the type of woman I usually found in Dino's company.  He fancied attractive women, what man doesn't?  But typically, they had a harder edge.  Sexy but jaded.  Occasionally bordering on brittle.  Women who knew the score.  This girl was none of those things and despite my better judgment, I already found myself liking her.  Like some kid sister I wanted to wrap up and protect from the world.  I know I'm a soft touch at times, but this was ridiculous. 

I looked from her to the boy to Dino.  I was doing the maths in my head and wasn't too happy with the answers.  Sure, Dino liked getting a bit.  We all do.... but not from little girls.  Jesus.  The man I knew never would have touched a girl that innocent. 

She looked up and met my gaze.  I managed a smile and a soft, "Hello, love."  Quite a cut above 'fuck me swinging', although I certainly felt like saying it.    

The color drained from her face as she got a good look at me.  "Lachlan?"  Oh fuck...

My eyes flew to Dino.  He looked as shocked as I felt, but recovered quickly and shook his head minutely.  So, she didn't know then.  Fuck me.  This was getting stickier by the moment.  And then I observed something that absolutely blew my mind.  She stepped back from me and instinctively moved closer to Dino.  His hand touched the small of her back.  It told me several things.  Whoever this girl was; she trusted him implicitly.  It was also a very proprietary gesture.  His body language with her was intimate, but not openly sexual.  It was, however, quite clearly a gesture that said, this woman is mine.

So, that's the way the wind is blowing, eh?  Obviously, she and the boy were the source of his recent evasiveness.  Looks like he'd gotten himself into something here that he didn't want me getting him out of.  Most interesting.  I couldn't wait to hear the story behind this.  I knew it had to be a good one.  It always is whenever Dino's involved.  As for her soft question?  'Lachlan?'  Seemed like there had to be a pretty good story there as well.  Jesus.  Not quite the evening I'd expected.  What can you do but roll with it, hey?   

A hundred assessments and questions passed by in the blink of an eye.  I simply smiled and extended my hand.  "No, love.... sorry.... Terry-  Terry Thorne..."

 

 

HEATHER

Those eyes.  That voice.  Oh God.  The touch of his palm against mine opened a floodgate of memories I'd kept locked away for a very long time.  I'd almost didn't recognize the feeling.  How long had it been since I'd felt young and free?  Eight years stripped from me in a matter of moments.

I was seventeen again.  Traveling through Oz on holiday before college.  I'd graduated a semester early from high school, an event that had coincided with the discovery of yet another of my father's affairs.  He tried to buy my forgiveness with a ticket abroad.  I accepted the ticket, but not his apology, and used it to get out from under his thumb for good.  The ticket was for two weeks.  I stayed four months.

Summer in Oz.  It was gorgeous.  I was terrified at first; a girl alone in a strange country.... but you do some crazy shit at seventeen you wouldn't do if you possessed more wisdom and experience.  Of course, you don't get wisdom and experience without doing that crazy shit to begin with, so that's a bit of a catch twenty-two, isn't it?  For as scary as it was though, it was better than being at home, subjected to my father's manipulation.  And temper. 

For the first time in my life, I was free.  I bounced around from Melbourne to Sydney to Brisbane and back again.  Worked waiting tables or washing dishes when I needed money.  My mom sent me some out of worry, my dad out of guilt.  It was quite literally the experience of a lifetime for a quiet bookworm who'd always lived her life by the rules.  I'd never broken curfew.  Never smoked a cigarette.  Never gotten drunk with my friends.  Never gone all the way with a guy. 

Most of that stuff still didn't interest me.  My father's behavior had sort of soured me on men, and truthfully, when I first arrived in Oz, I was still nursing a bit of a crush on Dean O'Leary, one of my brother's friends.  I'd known him forever but it wasn't until recently that there had been any sort of male/female awareness of the sparking variety.  It hadn't ever been hot and heavy between us and I knew it never would be.  He'd given me a little token to keep for him and walked out of my life four months ago.  I didn't pine for him because we'd never been anything but friends to each other, but I'd often entertained 'what ifs' when I alone in my bed at night.

My adventure in Australia soon ended that, however.  In the way of young people the world over, the excitement and wonder of new experiences soon pushed out everything else.  February 5th, the day I was supposed to return home came and went.  I still remember the heart stopping feeling of fear I had as the hour of my departure approached- and the overwhelming sense of freedom I felt after it had passed.

I traveled.  Played.  Worked.  Watched the world go by.  Summer turned to fall.  I knew I needed to come home soon but I decided to stay for Anzac Day, Australia's day for remembering those who have served and those who have fallen in service to their country.  I've always had a soft spot for soldiers and to my young mind, it seemed the perfect finale for this trip of mine.  How foolish youth is.  And how rosy things look before you've been introduced to the rudeness of life.

A plane ticket and money arrived from my brother on April 24th, the day before Anzac Day.  My mother was sick.  Cancer, they thought.  Nobody knew for certain yet but preliminary tests didn't look good.  The note with the ticket said:

 

 

My rosy world came crashing down.  The rest of the day passed in a fog.  I hate that helpless feeling.  Hurry up and wait.  Anzac Day was even more emotionally charged for me than ever with home weighing so heavily on my heart.  I was up for the dawn service.  Couldn't sleep anyway.  The words seemed so poignant for me.

 

 

That night I dreamed of home and of young men in old uniforms resting under white crosses and fields of red poppies.  I woke up thinking one more day- one more night until I can go home. 

That evening, I sat in a no-name pub in Sydney, nursing a beer and worrying the little dog carving Dean had given me in my fingers.  Twenty- seven hours 'till I could go home.  I rubbed the bit of bloodstained wood in my fingers and wondered if the man who had owned it had ever gotten to go home.  I felt homesick.  Detached.  Like the rest of the world was out of focus.  Muted. 

A man walked into the pub and for some unexplainable reason, the effect he had on me was electric.  Like someone had suddenly flipped a switch and not only was the world in crisp focus once more, but I felt this throbbing hum of life where there had only been this overwhelming feeling of numbness.  It was unsettling.  His head jerked up just as mine did and our eyes met across the smoky pub.  His were green.  And sad....  A little glassy with drink as well, but then again, so were mine.

Still, the buzz he gave me was a hundred times more powerful than the beer.  Two hours later, Lachlan and I were walking under the poplar trees that flanked the Lake of Reflections, part of the ANZAC War Memorial in Hyde Park.  It was surreal.  The night was clear and cool.  The ground was littered with red poppy petals.  Little eddies of wind carried them across our feet and blew them by us in the breeze like autumn leaves.

We were drunk but not boisterous.  We had strange conversations that made no sense.  We talked about the war.  He spoke of it like he'd been there.  We spoke of home.  I think he missed his maybe even more than I missed mine.  We touched the bronze sculptures at the center of the memorial.

"The Sacrifice," he said.  

Was he only speaking of the sculpture?  It depicted a young soldier who'd made the ultimate sacrifice.  His naked body lay upon a shield supported by three women, Mother, Wife and Sister.  One of them carried a child, the future generation for which the sacrifice had been made.  

It illustrated the sacrifice engendered by war, the blood of its sons and the beautiful quality of womanhood, those who bore with quiet dignity the loss of sons, husbands and lovers.  I wept.  He kissed me and I could taste tears on his lips too. 

The next time we kissed was in his hotel room.  He tasted of bourbon and man.  His fingers ghosted across the small of my back.  Twenty-two hours, I thought.  This morning I'd had too much time... now I felt like I didn't have nearly enough.  I was scared.  And aroused.  And consumed by emotion for the first time in my life.  Was this love?  My head spun.  He drank more.  I didn't.  I wanted to remember this night. 

I wrote of it afterwards, on the flight home, so I would never forget no matter how many years passed.

Hunger rose between us, both wild and gentle- like a spring rainstorm.  Desire underscored with a desperation that wasn't entirely sexual in nature.  I trembled in his arms, watching with wide eyes as he undressed me.  With each piece of clothing that fluttered away, I grew more certain.  Not more brave... just more sure that I wanted this.  Even if it didn't make sense. 

The room was small and dark.  The bedspread was scratchy.  An old uniform jacket rested over the back of a chair.  There were poppy petals on the window ledge.  It was like seeing little bits of pictures revealed on a puzzle piece- you can't quite imagine how they all fit together and yet you know, somehow, they do.  It was so strange.  I felt small and unsure, held only to the surreal moment by the warm palm pressed right to mine.  A lifeline.  I wasn't certain whether he was my guide through the storm or the storm itself.  I no longer cared.

I knew what was waiting for me at home.  I felt it-- like God had whispered a stone into my heart when I heard the news.  I think I always knew she would never get any better.  My childhood was over.  Whatever innocence I had left was about to be swallowed by the rudeness of life... and so I gave it away instead of letting it be crushed like a broken flower under life's boot heel.  I would leave it here, in Oz, with the last of my dreams. 

With Lachlan.

He was so big.  So male.  So different in every way from my slender pale body.  Angular where I was curved, hairy where I was smooth, hard where I was soft.  I had no sense of right and wrong, of what I should or shouldn't do.  I only wanted to cling to him and let the storm rage.  It was so sweet and soft at first, like gentle rain.  He pushed me down on the bed and traced the planes of my face, brushed my eyelids with his fingertips, stroked my throat, my clavicle, my breasts.  His mouth followed his hands.  I shivered. 

I was unprepared for the sight of his dark head bent, suckling from my breast.  Unprepared to understand what the feeling was that it engendered in me.  Overwhelmed by the feel of a man's warm mouth pulling at my nipple.  The strong rhythmic suck that made my womb flutter.  The fire that licked along my nerves as he lashed it with his tongue.  The way my hips rose off the bed when he caught it between his teeth and pulled.  The sound of these little grunts he made as he nursed.  I pressed my legs together against the ache forming between them.  They felt wet and slippery. 

My breath caught at the sight of his big dark hand spread wide over my flat belly.  The alcohol had made me bold.  I wanted to touch him, to taste him.  I licked his neck and saw something wild flare in his eyes.  His touch grew less soft.  Thunderheads rising, I thought.  Soon, that wild arc of electricity would begin to crackle across our sky.  The rhythm of the sweet rain was becoming harder.  More driving.  Droplets collecting.  Running.  Sweat.  The wetness between my legs.  The slick moisture at his tip.     

I wanted to see his beautiful cock but couldn't seem to give up how it felt to rub against it, twisting and writhing under him while we kissed.  We sunk deeper into the soft bed.  He shifted back to my side and moved his hand between my legs, rubbing and stroking.  He urged them apart and I never once considered denying him.  Time slowed.  I remember catching his eyes.  They seemed so light in the darkness.  I felt the warmth of his breath on my face and saw his mouth open in a soundless pant as he pushed a finger inside and watched for my reaction.

I can remember everything about that moment.  How my hands tightened on his shoulders.  How he urged me to hold his eyes while he pushed deeper still.  The low sound of masculine pleasure he made deep in his throat when my body contracted around him.  How my eyes finally did flutter shut and how my back arched when he pushed another finger inside.  How it felt to breathe with his weight on my chest.  How hot his cock felt pressed against my hip.  How he never really stopped rocking his hips even while he was touching me. 

I remember how his fingers glistened wetly in the moonlight.  How his eyes closed and his body shuddered as he brought them to his face and breathed in.  How put them over my lips and kissed me through them so we could share in the taste.  It seemed the most natural thing in the world to me.  He was leading me, showing me how to love- how he liked to love... and it was intoxicating.

Something primally female flared to life inside me as he slid over me and took my mouth again, catching me behind the knee and pulling my leg up over his hip.  Male covering female.  My hips tilted instinctively, welcoming him.  My head was spinning.  I couldn't get enough of him.  I felt him lift enough of his weight off me to get a hand between us.  His mouth was rough and wet on my neck.  I could feel the scrape of his teeth and the rasp of his tongue on my skin even as he slowly slid the tip of his cock up and down through my folds.  Two such opposite feelings- one hard, one soft.... I whimpered and then moaned when he encouraged me to let him hear how good it felt.

The light stroking made me ache to be filled and I moved restlessly under him, telling him with my hands and my body and my cries how very much I wanted him.  He rose over me and braced himself; his breath hitching as he buried his face in my neck, fit his tip into me and pushed.  I felt blunt pressure and then a burning stretch.  I stiffened under him and cried out at the unfamiliar intrusion, catching his lean hips between my thighs as my hands tightened on his shoulders.

He made a low animal sound in his throat. "Please......."  It was a both a curse and a plea, damning himself for what he'd just taken from me, but aware he was much too far gone to stop- and yet I also had the sense that he wasn't at all sorry.  That he'd do it again in a heartbeat.   

He felt huge inside me.  Thick and heavy.  I could feel him throbbing where my delicate flesh was stretched tight around him.  I thought, I'm not a virgin anymore.  I felt fragile and yet strangely powerful.  It was like the feeling that had washed through me when I felt him suckle... only a hundred times more intense.  Primal and earthy.  The knowledge that we were both beyond stopping was heady and exciting.  The knowledge that I could affect so powerful a man was humbling.   

My heartbeat was very loud in my ears.  I touched his nape lightly, twining my fingers into his damp curls.  It felt strange to give such a tentative touch with his body buried so deeply inside mine, but somehow.... right.  He lifted his head and our eyes met.  His hands pushed my legs back and apart, deliberately opening me to him.  He sunk a little deeper and held my eyes as he began to move, never letting either of us shrink from the moment. 

Lightning flashed.  He gloried in possessing me.  I gloried in the taking.  It was indescribably physical.  He urged me to watch my body accept his.  Whispered to me how beautiful it was.  Urged me to touch where we were joined.  To feel how we moved together.  He told me how it felt to him, so tight and warm and wet and smiled at me when I told him how it felt to have him inside me.  The blush that stained my cheeks grew darker as he braced his hands on either side of my head and began to move harder, taking a wholly masculine enjoyment in the little wince I couldn't help but make when he pushed sharply upwards and forward at the end of each thrust.  Making my body take every last bit of his.  He knew I wanted it.  The tiny hands knotted at the small of his back told him so. 

Deeper.  Harder.  Faster.  More-  Anything!  I didn't care.  I couldn't get close enough to him.  His hips juddered and I felt him press his wet, open mouth to my throat.  He made a ragged primal sound and stilled my hips with one powerful hand, pinning me to the bed as he pushed in deep and held himself there.  A deep grunt from him and then I felt him shudder as a thick, pulsing warmth bloomed inside me. 

Even as I observed in wonderment my first male orgasm, I fought against the restraining hand, too close to my own release to be passive now.  He lifted his head and our eyes met.  To this day, what followed still remains one of the most erotic moments of my life.  He was not at all sorry or embarrassed that he had come and I had not.  In fact, his eyes glowed with a masculine satisfaction.  Sweaty and panting, our faces inches apart, he licked his thumb and slid it between our slick bodies, still holding my eyes as he stroked me where I was dying to be touched.

I realized then, what he'd done was deliberate.  He held himself still inside me and brought me to orgasm with his fingers so he could watch what he did to me.  So he could feel it without distraction.  The deliberateness of it was incredibly erotic.  A celebration of the physical.  Eyes wide open and wholly aware of every little gasp and flutter and tremor.  What a beautiful gift.  Instead of being swept away by mindless passion, he gave me a moment I would remember all my days.  I whimpered my coming onto his lips as my body contracted rhythmically around his.  He held me close and let it come, breathing with me as I gripped his shoulders and shuddered to completion in his arms. 

Soothing me after for long moments, breathing each other's breath, feeling his heart hammering against mine.  Tears burned in my eyes as he slowly withdrew and threw himself back to lie next to me on the bed.  My heart felt full.  My body felt empty.  My hips ached.  He left his hand between my legs, cupping me with a gentle pressure that eased both the hurt and the emotional ache of having to let him go. 

He never said he was sorry.  Never asked me why or berated himself because of my age or innocence.  Instead, our strange night only got more surreal.  He got up and leaned against the window ledge, nude and unashamed before me as he opened the window and lit up.  I watched him smoke, illuminated in this silvery light.  It made his eyes glow.  I could see his cock hanging plump and heavy against his thigh, still glistening with our spent passion.  It seemed a beautiful sight to me, and somehow more intimate to me than what we'd just shared.  More vulnerable. 

I could smell the night air, the smoke from his cigarette, the musky scent of our lovemaking.  Rising slowly in deference to my aching body, I joined him there by the window and knelt at his feet, resting my head against his hip.  He sighed softly and I closed my eyes as I felt his fingers thread through my hair.  We stayed there a long time.  I could hear him exhale.  Hear him swallow and smell the sharp-sweet scent of bourbon as he drank. 

I think part of me knew he was more drunk than he let on, but it also gave me a sense of freedom.  Why hold anything back with him?  I felt strangely uninhibited with him to begin with and I even if he did managed to remember a single thing about this night, I would never see him again.  His face grew more flushed and his eyes grew brighter as the fiery drink burned through him.  The cool night air had me shivering but he was beyond feeling the cold.  We wound up back in bed.  He smoked, occasionally sipping off the bottle.  I drank from the bathroom tap and returned, stroking him absently while we lay there.

A night with no barriers and no walls.  We spoke about a hundred things, laying there on the tangled sheets.  Serious things.  War and love and loss.  Scotty.  Zeke.  Lil.  My mother.  Dean.  Silly things, too.  He spun strange stories that made no sense about men pulled out of time.  Thought without censor. 

He didn't censor what he wanted of me, either.

I didn't think I could give it to him.  Too sore, I told him with a blush and a demure hand between my legs.  He only shook his head and said he could show me.  I let him.  Again he opened me to his gaze, but this time he settled between my legs and kissed me there.  Easing the ache.  Creating a new one.  Helping me grow softer and wetter and holding me wide open to receive his most intimate kiss.  Holding me down so he could taste me as deep as possible, so I couldn't get away from his mouth and the pleasure it could give.  Making me come so he could feel it, taste it.  Making me want to take him inside me again.

We made love again.  It was different than the first time.  Both lighter and more wild.  He showed me different positions.  Taught me how to ride him.  Showed me how it felt to be ridden.  Let me stroke him.  Taste him.  Covered me with his heavy, sweaty body.  We twisted and writhed until we panted, until my hair stuck to my moist skin.  Until our cheeks were flushed and our bodies shook with strain.  Until I needed pillows under my hips to hold me up and he showed me what it was like to be touched everywhere.  To feel the exquisite press of his fingers while he took me from behind.  To feel the strong shelter of his arms while he bit my shoulder with his white even teeth and locked us together as we came, crying and moaning.  Letting me feel his strength... and his weakness. 

He slept in my arms after, his head pillowed on my stomach.  I cried for all the things that could never be.  I was too young.  Too green to be what he needed.  Too many responsibilities around my neck.  Too many stones around his.  Too many stars in the sky.  Too few hours left. 

I loved him again with my mouth just before dawn.  He never really woke-  just smiled in his dreams and tightened his fist in my hair as he shuddered into my lips with a soft throaty groan.  The alcohol, the wild night of passionate excess and whatever demons he was fighting had taken their toll.  It would be many hours before he woke.   

My body ached.  My heart ached.  It hurt to pee.  I felt bruised and raw and loved.  I left with his taste in my mouth and his body imprinted on me for all time.  I gave him my innocence.  He gave me his strength.  I needed it.  I tucked the pewter flask from my backpack into his things and gave in to the impulse to steal a button off the old uniform jacket hanging over the chair.  Something tangible to hold in my hand when I thought of this night in the days and weeks ahead.  A little piece of him I could keep for always.   

I left a note.  Three little words.  No, not 'I love you'.  Love fades over time.  Memory doesn't.  I scrawled my heart onto a slip of paper and tucked it into his fist.  Three little words.

 

 

It's been eight years and I haven't.  I still have the button and the memories of that night.  I've never been as open with a man, as free, before or since.  And I've often wondered what would have happened if we'd met later- if he'd known a woman that night, not a girl still green on the vine.

Terry's voice and the feel of his palm against mine jarred me back to the present.  "No, love.... sorry.... Terry-  Terry Thorne..."  There was no tingle when we touched.  No spark of recognition.  His face might have been the same, but he was not my Lachlan. 

I blushed and stammered out my name, embarrassed to be so thrown by him.  I vowed then, if I ever did meet Lachlan again someday that it wouldn't be like this- with me acting like I was still that naive little girl. 

As for Terry, I felt an awareness of him like I had with Lachlan and Dino, but it was different, softer.  Comforting where they were electric.  He'd barely said ten words to me and I felt like I'd known him all my life.  Like he was some old pair of jeans I'd dug up, already broken in and comfortable.  Familiar.  Like family.  It was disconcerting.  I moved closer to Dino and breathed a little easier with his hand on my back. 

I did not miss the look that passed between them.

I could feel a blush rise and I just shrugged and grinned, not as embarrassed to have called out Lachlan's name as I was to have just flashed on memories of that night before the man I was interested in now.  Lachlan was a cherished part of my past.  Dino was- well, part of my future, I suppose.  I just didn't know what part yet, exactly. 

Terry smiled and tried to put me at ease.  "No worries, hey?  Sounds like it might be an interesting story, though..."  He looked pointedly at Dino with little lift of his eyebrow that seemed to say.  'Seems to be an epidemic of those going around tonight, mate.'

I laughed.  "Well, they do say everyone has a double out there somewhere."  And then it hit me.  Dino actually did have a double.  I'd know.  I'd met both of them.  I gave Terry another look and thought of Lachlan.  Surely something that extraordinary couldn't happen twice, could it?

 

To Part Seven

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