Mistress Agnes Ch. 08

But John did not leave anything to chance, the next day, Helen Valentine came to tea, and two others came on other days that week.

John and Beatrice drank tea with Dick and every one of the women, and as Dick got used to having visitors, he started to be able to talk more.

'I did not say anything stupid, I guess, for Nelly also said, 'Thank you for the pastries and tea, Dick, until next time.'

But I look forward to Maria visiting again, she is the prettiest and the nicest, and I dare to talk to her now.'

Ever since Agnes had taken up her writing again, Dennis had looked for something to do himself. He practised reading, if he were living with a writer he'd have to be able to read well, and he picked up his exercises, building muscle and stamina in the fresh air, acquiring a tan and an athletic figure.

But he was used to constant occupation in the army, sitting indoors and still just wasn't in his nature, he needed to be active.

Gentleman's sports didn't interest him, he rode with Agnes to be with her, and he liked riding his new hunter a lot, she was a magnificent horse and just spirited enough for him. He learned to track animals, tracking people he had been taught in the army, and of course he was an expert marksman, he could teach Agnes a few tricks to improve her aim, not the other way around.

But Dennis refused to hunt, he would not shoot living creatures, not even for food.

'I don't mind your hunting, Agnes, but I just can't shoot anything anymore. Aim, pull the trigger and see something die. I've killed too many people, I've seen too much carnage, I'll help you carry your kills, and I'll maintain and repair your rifles, I'll enjoy eating whatever you shoot, but I'm not going to kill again, not ever.'

For while Dennis was almost deliriously happy by day, he still had terrible nightmares, and rarely managed to sleep a night from start to finish.

He usually became restless in his sleep first, mumbling and thrashing, he would sweat and start wheezing, and if Agnes caught him in this stage and stroked him gently, he'd quiet down. He always recognized her touch and never offered her violence like the first time she stroked him in his sleep, no matter how horrible his dreams were.

If she slept too deeply to notice his nightmare, he'd sometimes quiet again, but sometimes he'd wake up, totally distraught with what he had seen or felt, wheezing violently, afraid of his own shadow.

He used to just lie awake the rest of the night, trying to cope with the memories and the fear on his own, but pretty soon after they started sharing a bed, Agnes woke one night to find him staring blankly into the dark, clutching the blanket, sweaty but cold, wheezing as badly as he had at his worst.

Her gentle touch had broken his catatonic state, and he'd broken down and cried his eyes out, telling her about the flash-backs he had, of the people he'd killed, and the times he had barely escaped with his life. Agnes had listened to him for hours, holding him tightly and stroking him all the time, shocked to the core by the picture he painted of what battle had been like, of what his life had been.

When he was too tired to talk anymore, she said, 'I'll listen to you whenever you need it, my love. But now you need to sleep, I seem to remember you had a way to divert my attentions from unwanted thoughts that kept haunting me, and we'll use it now.'

And she used her intimate knowledge of him to tantalize him to a sexual frenzy, after which she offered herself to him, tempting him to just fuck her to forget his troubles for a few moments. It worked, he rutted with her like a madman, and his release combined with his exhaustion sent him to sleep almost instantly.

She stayed awake for another half hour, stroking him until his wheezing stopped and his breathing slowed.

Then she went back to sleep herself, and the next morning she urged him to wake her whenever he had one of those episodes, he needed to talk about it if he was to ever sleep fearlessly, the very thought of her beloved lying in bed right next to her, too afraid to go back to sleep, was just excruciating.

Put that way, he understood why she wanted to suffer broken nights for him, and after a few weeks of consistent talking his fear to go to bed lessened and his nightmares only returned when he was tense or anxious.