Solitude

Let the dream never end.

Finally, I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep, my pillowy lover held intimately in my sated embrace. I was going to like it here.

* * * * *

Chapter Three:

Dawn filtered through the forest, creeping tentatively through my unclothed pane, prying insistently at my shuttered eyelids.

Had last night been a dream, nothing more? Surely, I would have known without doubt, had I been visited by some lusty lover of the piney woods! It must have been a figment of my imagination, a wishful fantasy that had become all too real in the hush of the night.

But now, I had to get up and get busy! The remainder of my unpacked boxes sat mocking me, chastising me with unspoken censure. It was time to get a move on!

But oh, how I longed to lie in bed just a little bit longer, to listen to the raucous caw of the Steller's jays beyond my aging walls, the chatter of fat Kaibab squirrels, but it was not to be. I had work to do.

Finally, I stretched my arms above my head and wrested my body from its inertia. Then, wrapping the old chenille robe that had been a part of me since time immemorial, I slipped my feet into a pair of old mules, made my way downstairs toward the kitchen...and then froze

There, waiting on the old weathered countertop sat a single stem of Indian Paintbrush, its crimson presence defying the laws of reason. How had it gotten there? Had I brought it inside the night before and simply forgotten? But, it seemed so fresh, as though the dew had just fled only moments before. Could it be?

There must be a logical explanation, I assured myself. Surely, I had left it there myself. What other possible rationale could there be?

And so, with a wry grin at my own foolishness, I plucked the perky blossom from its resting place and popped it into an empty vinegar cruet. Then, turning on the tap, I filled the remains with cold, clear spring water.

Quickly, I began perking a morning brew and dropped some whole wheat into the toaster. By the time the coffee was finished gurgling, I had two eggs, sunny-side up, waiting patiently for my approval.

I ate on the porch again this morning, noting the Indian Paintbrush which grew beneath the trees. That must have been the source of my morning surprise, I determined. Well, no more. Wildflowers are so much more beautiful as they were meant to be...in the wild.

I spent the rest of the afternoon unpacking, then decided to explore along the base of the cliffs that towered behind my cabin.

It was a leisurely stroll, avoiding the more strenuous aspects that a hike up the steep hillside would have entailed. The trail curved this way and that, circumventing sandstone boulders and ancient gnarled cedars tucked beneath the swaying ponderosas along its wayward course. On I wandered, until in short order I came upon the weed-choked entry to the old mine I'd heard so much about.

The sun, by now, was making its way low along the western horizon, casting its angled rays for about twenty feet into the gloom of the excavation. I paused, unsure of the safety factors involved, and then cautiously took a few steps forward.

Immediately the cool air of the enclosure enveloped me, insinuating itself beneath my clothing, claiming me in a most intimate fashion.

I gasped...was everything here this sensuous? Then, even as I wondered, I felt the featherlike caress of my vivid imagination once more. Gently it stroked my cheek, wandering knowingly down the vulnerable length of my throat until I murmured aloud into the silence. Then, as though it could read my mind, I felt the erotic brush of an unseen palm against my nipple.

So real...so real, I thought, reaching toward my breast to be sure it wasn't. But, then it moved, dipping now beneath the unopened restriction of my belt, beyond the elastic barrier of my panties.

My knees began to buckle. Surely this was more than simple imagination! Quickly, I leaned against the shoring, feeling the old, but sturdy timbers prodding insistently against my buttocks.

The solidity felt good, I found myself thinking, but not nearly as wonderful as the insistent insinuation that now took place between my thighs.

I sighed, shaking as it escalated...probing deeply now, stroking until I quivered with need. Then, to my amazement, I was overtaken by an orgasm so shattering that it left me weak and whimpering.

And still it continued!

I clawed art the timbers, then slowly dropped to the floor of the tunnel, falling upon a thick bed of errant pine needles, writhing as my throbbing torment escalated. His touch was everywhere at once, if indeed my imagination had not outdone itself yet again. This certainly was not of my doing!

Long minutes it continued, my voice rising with the passing of time, my unbridled cries echoing into the dark beyond until finally, in wet profusion, it ceased. There I lay, limp and drained, my juices pooling beneath me. Had I actually imagined all of that? Had some fantasy lover driven me to this state...or had I done it myself?

I took inventory. My hands, it seemed, had been clenched on the wooden shoring behind my head during the whole experience. My blouse and chemise, in my excitement, had become tangled about my throat, baring my breasts to the last rays of day, perfectly understandable considering my gyrations of a few moments before. But my jeans... I looked on, amazed as I realized they were no longer upon my body, but lay now at my side. No amount of writhing could have done that!

Panicked, I grabbed my clothing from the floor and rushed headlong into the blazing sunset. Roots clutched at my ankles, branches tore at my face, but onward I ran, terrified that at any moment I might be intercepted.

Finally, I rounded a curve in the hillside and spied my cabin! Desperately I sprinted up the steps and locked the door behind me, leaning my weight against the stout crossbeams to add to their support.

It was then that I noticed my condition. I was filthy! The floor of the tunnel had lain for long years gathering the silt and debris of decades past...and now it streaked my body from head to foot. Long trails of drying effluent lay claim to my mud-caked thighs, and the print of a timeless palm stood in dusty relief upon my breast. I couldn't stay here! Something was already in residence in this place, and it had a taste for female flesh!

Once more I tested the door, then being certain each of the downstairs windows was locked, I climbed the stairs to do the same in the rooms above. Finally, satisfied that all was secure, I turned on a soothing shower and prepared to quickly erase the remaining vestiges of my tumultuous experience.

At first the water, cold from its journey through the maze of plumbing, took on a chilly air. But, in a few moments it began to flow with comforting warmth until the room filled with steam and I began to relax.

Slowly, I began to remove the last of my clothing, what little there was of it, and ensconced myself beneath the gentle spray of the small, tiled enclosure. My muscles, taut until now, immediately began to relax, and I found myself luxuriating in the steamy atmosphere.

A sound...

Was someone there? Had I been followed? Were locks not a deterrent in this place?

Immediately, I felt strong hands grip my wrists, pinning them above my head against the tiles.

Screaming, I searched the mist for a view of my assailant, but the swirling steam obscured all possibilities. Helplessly I writhed, torn between the desire to escape and the gnawing hunger that betrayed me once more. Not again, I moaned inwardly...but, oh please...don't stop! Then, I felt his body, imprisoning my own against the wall, his hard maleness stabbing insistently against my belly.

"No!" I pleaded. "Stop!"

But on he continued, even more vigorously than before. Now his lips crushed down upon mine, his tongue filling my mouth until my screams were reduced to strangled murmurs...and finally wanton whimpers. What was happening? Surely I wasn't responding!

But I was...

The turmoil which coursed through my body defied reason, the intimate tension between my thighs a conflict between desire and rejection, but suddenly I found myself grinding against his massive organ, seeking desperately to enclose his heat in my own.

As though accepting my eager submission, his hand released my wrists, and cupping my buttocks he lifted me from my feet until his hardened maleness pressed insistently between my thighs. Then, without preamble, he impaled me against the wall, driving the breath from my body, and the sanity from my mind.

Helplessly I dangled, feet searching the moist atmosphere for a purchase as he pummeled me, thrusting deep inside my body until I cried out my own throbbing release and mingled my wetness with that of the enclosure. Then a sigh...otherworldly, a massive lunge that threatened to rend my flesh as his heated torrent filled my being, and then it was over.

I should have been frightened. No, I should have been terrified! But, for some unknown reason, I knew that nothing had been done to me that I hadn't longed to happen. It was as though the entity, for that was the only way I could describe it with any sanity, had read my mind...discovered my deepest fantasies...and brought them to life. Was that so terrible?

Limp and drained, I turned off the shower and wrapped myself in a thick towel. Then, crossing the floor I walked down the hall to my bedroom and settled myself heavily atop the quilt.

What was I to do? Surely I couldn't remain here, concubine to some unknown presence...could I? What kind of caution covered this kind of situation? What rationale applied?

Once more I thought of the mind-shatteringly erotic interludes of the day past. Had anything...anyone ever affected me like that before? Did I really want to run from it, lose it? My very hesitation amazed me!

My ethereal lover had done nothing to endanger me. He had made no threats that should have left me concerned for my safety. In fact, he had done nothing but crystallize my most intimate fantasies. Was that cause for complaint?

Tentatively, I ran my palm along my body, amazed at the sensitivity that still remained. Could I leave that behind, could I deny myself the firestorm that now coursed through every fiber of my being? The vague whisper of reason echoed through my mind, but its voice was faint and distant. Instead, the ever-quickening hunger that even now grew between my thighs directed my consensus.

I would stay. And, as I curled my eager flesh between the sheets of the aging four-poster I could feel his presence beside me once again. There would be no sleep this night, only the flames of Eros as they coursed through my body.

I smiled...

* * * * *

Chapter Four:

Slowly he crept beyond the fire barriers on the control road that had been erected to keep trespassers from the area, driving his rented vehicle past the endangered foothills that even now smoldered to the south under a wind-borne "crown fire" that consumed all it touched.

On he pressed, past tiny settlements and isolated cabins, evacuated now until the fire danger passed, or all was lost. Then, checking his topographic map, he turned sharply and forded shallow Tonto Creek, veering to the north along an overgrown track that snaked its way toward the escarpment beyond.

Through the forest he drove, making his way ever so surely along the abandoned logging trail until finally he saw the smoke from her chimney. Then, pulling into the dense forest, he concealed his SUV among the branches and struck out on foot.

How could she have left him after all they'd had together, he fumed. How could she have gone and not told him of her destination?

Once more he thought of the trials he'd gone through to find her, the internet searches, the phone calls and finally the detective. It had been time they could have spent together! Time they could have lain in each other's arms, touching, tasting, experiencing all there was between them.

But no, instead she'd chosen to hide in this remote place, to run from her only true love. It angered him. It infuriated him!

She would have to be taught a lesson. She would have to realize that she belonged to him, body and soul. She would have to do penance for her sins against him, then perhaps he'd let her return with him to the bright lights of New York. But, until then, they would be alone...

...with no one to hear her scream.

* * * * *

Chapter Five:

My body ached in places left untouched for far too long a time.

Delicious!

It was morning once more, a glorious morning full of promise and passion. I would tuck my manuscript away today, and begin a new one, one that spoke of boundless intercourse, a breaching of the barriers between the "here" and the "hereafter".

"Intercourse"...what a word! The very ambiguity brought a smile to my face. Could the peaks I had scaled in my lover's arms be encapsulated in such a mild-mannered term?

Once more the long hours of the night before filtered through my mind. My lover had reduced me to a whimpering wanton more than once, then raised me to the heights of primal passion in an unending roller coaster of mindless frenzy and primitive abandon. Over and over I had crested, screaming into the pine-cloaked night where only wild beasts of the forest could hear...and my mysterious lover.

Ahh, my lover! I blushed at the memory. His form had become even more tangible last night. In the throws of passion he had allowed himself the pleasure of an increasingly corporal, yet unseen presence.

My fingers had caressed his silken hair, roamed eagerly over his muscled torso and stroked his massive manhood. His large, demanding fingers had kneaded my tender form until I had begged for more. His lips had teased my glowing flesh until I had burst against his tongue like ripened caviar.

He knew where to caress, and when...what to give, and what to take. He was both gentle, and forceful, first guiding then demanding in ways that had set me afire. I would have to be careful. A "man" such as this could quickly become an addiction!

Slowly I stretched, feeling more alive than I had in many months. The air, redolent with the scent of evergreen, filled my lungs, and the crisp silence surrounded me.

Where was my lover this morning I wondered? Had he more spectral chores to attend to? I smiled at the thought. Did ectoplasm need recharging?

Slipping into my robe and mules, I made my way a trifle stiffly down the stairs into the kitchen. Then, reaching for my coffeepot I spotted it...a single red flower, lying alongside a fresh sprig of juniper.

He'd been here. I smiled. Perhaps he was still here, watching as I filled the coffeemaker, planning our next tryst.

The very thought raised goose bumps along my arms, tightening my nipples into hard pebbles beneath my robe. What would the next time be like? And the next?

Once more I felt deliciously moist, and forced myself to cease my train of thought. I'd never accomplish anything today if I continued on this way!

And so, settling myself in front of my typewriter, I slipped the first page of my new novel between the rollers and began to tap out my manuscript.

How should I begin, I wondered...when I first arrived at the cabin...New York...with the first novel? I closed my eyes, willing my muse to speak to me, but all I heard were the whisperings of my own distant hunger, eager to couple once more with my unseen lover.

Finally, I decided to take a brief hike along the mining trail once again, a crisp trek through the ponderosas to clear my mind and inspire my creativity for the task at hand.

Quickly, I climbed the stairs and began stripping the robe from my body, dropping it heavily on the unmade bed from the night before. Then, reaching for my hairbrush atop the nightstand, I saw it.

It was small, delicate in fact, but it shown in the morning rays as though it sported a tiny beacon all its own.

My fingers reached out to remove it from its place around the bedpost, fumbling with the miniscule clasp until it lay glowing in my palm.

It was a golden heart...no, a locket, engraved with ornate scrollwork and tiny floral etchings along its surface. A gift, I wondered? Had my lover taken a jaunt to the nearest Cartier's and selected this bauble just for me? The thought made me smile. Would he make "time payments"? For surely, if anyone had time to spend, it would be him!

But no, this piece wasn't new. In fact, it had the earmarks of something from another era, something from a time when handcrafted finery such as this became an heirloom to be handed down through the ages from generation to generation. Why had it been left here...and for me?

Carefully, I inserted the tip of my fingernail along its separation, and felt a gentle pop as opened in my palm.

I gasped!

There, in my hand lay an exact replica of myself, a sepia-toned image of my very own face, preserved for all eternity in a heart of gold.

But, no...not me! Certainly it wasn't me! The woman before me was dressed in the ruffled façade of another era...another time. Her hair must have been inordinately long, for it wound in glorious abundance atop her head in a warm, flowing crown of auburn, adorned by tortoiseshell combs along either side. But, in all other respects, the face that lay hidden within was my own!

On the other half lay mounted a second photograph, one of a male. He appeared to be a large man, if one could judge by such a diminutive reproduction, possibly uncomfortable in the restrictingly formal garb he found himself in. His chin sported the rough shadow of a would-be beard, as if it knew its rightful place and refused to be denied. His jaw, a strong, determined feature in an even more stalwart face, sat rock hard and forceful beneath a full moustache and lips that could only have been designed to please.

But, it was his eyes that drew my attention most irretrievably. For even here, in this heart-shaped reproduction, they appeared to gaze adoringly at his lady love. In them I saw a devotion that would last an eternity, a love that would surpass the test of time and mortality.

Winsomely I sighed, wishing in my soul of souls that I was indeed the Lady of the Heart, and not some vague substitute. What would it be like to be loved so intensely...so purely that even time ceased to erase its vestiges?

Carefully, I began to close the warmly glowing treasure, and then stopped. From beneath the second photo peeked a tiny scrap of paper, something tucked neatly away in yet a second compartment.

Once again I set my nail to work, and was immediately rewarded with the tell-tale pop that whispered success. Yes...it was a second compartment, and in it was secreted a tiny slip of paper, snipped from a volume of poetry and tucked neatly between the golden leaves of the locket.

I recognized it! Who wouldn't recognize that time-treasured piece of prose!

There, before me lay the words of Elizabeth Barret Browning's "Sonnets of the Portuguese". It read:

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of Being and ideal Grace. I love thee to the level of every day's Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight. I love thee freely, as men strive for Right; I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise. I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints, - I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life! -- and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.

Then, beneath the words, in bold but diminutive script were inscribed the letters which read:

To Rose Mary...Yours for eternity, James

I choked back a cry, for eternity was exactly what James had meant. Here, in this place he had waited patiently for his lost love to return, to share his passion once more, to share his timeless devotion.