Lady of Way

by Rosemarie McCants

  "I'm dying…" she gasped as he placed a finger on her lips. He slid his hand down her stomach and even further down. He could feel her expectant sighs which turned into moans anew when he felt around- and slipped in his finger, to find such hot wetness that pulsated, and not for a finger, but for that throb between his legs that was already aching for relief. Aligning himself between her raised legs, Mark looked at her just as once again the moon's vacation ended. Lunar light fell on their faces just as he lowered himself and carefully positioned his dick between her eagerly waiting lips. None gasped louder than the other as he slid into her hotness, wetness, and tightness, and none moaned louder as they moved in perfect synchrony, once again defying physical laws by both occupying the same place at the same time, becoming one in mind, gasps, moans, bodies, and movements. Both were now in orgasm heaven. In one logic-defying moment, the explosion happened, and in that instant, the two joined bodies acquired minds of their own which were more instinctive than reasonable. The let out of spasms, shivers, and waves of screamed release were not restrained and neither were they controlled but were unashamedly let loose, leaving pleasantly spent bodies on the bed, out of breath, and waiting for sanity to return. The greatest moment had been made.

  Chapter 7

  “I was thirteen when I first met her. We are the same age. It was not until later when we had grown up that we let it be known that we were dating.” The house was still dark, the lovers had not left the bed, but had covered themselves and were now snuggling between the sheets, bodies intertwined, minds relaxed and free.

  “I’m yet to understand,” even in the dark he could tell that she was frowning, “Why did you two break up- okay, end your relationship?”

  He remained quiet for long and for a moment, she suspected that he might have fallen asleep, but his shallow and irregular breathing indicated that he had not. His voice broke the quietness with an intensity that made her shiver slightly, as he turned towards her.

  “Are you ready? Are you ready to hear it?”

  It was her turn to remain silent, but he knew that she was alert. She snuggled closer and answered him.

  ‘I was eight. Young, I know, but I already knew that I wanted to be a photographer when I grew up. Paul wanted to tinker with electronic things, I didn’t. I wanted to preserve moments. Ever since I was young I loved moments. When a bird flew past as I sat on the swing outside, when mum smiled briefly despite her migraines, when dad always paused at the door before walking into the house every evening, when I looked up in class and caught the teacher looking at me… those were my moments, and I preserved them in my mind.

  My mum and dad were deeply religious, as was Paul, my elder brother. He still is. I, on the other hand… I tried, but deep down I knew I was pretending- I didn’t feel or experience whatever they experienced whenever God came to them. He preferred them, talking to them, answering their prayers, giving them solutions to problems… appearing to them in moments of deep meditation… not once did I pray and hear Him. Not once did I ever see him with ‘spiritual eyes’ whatever those were. But every day at the dinner table, my parents and Paul would laugh, joke and give thanks, for God, according to them, answered their prayers and dad had found a job. He had answered their prayers and mum no longer had headaches. He had answered their prayers and Paul had overcome a temptation… I would sit, joke and laugh with them, but deep down I agonized. What did I have to do to make God come to me? How did they pray that I didn’t, since no matter how much I begged, my dad’s answer was ‘we’ll pray about it. You too, Mark, beg God on bended knee, and He will provide.’ I begged on bended knee. I drew the camera I wanted and stuck the picture between the pages of the Bible… nothing worked, no camera, and no God in my room… and my frustrations tripled… and the questioning began…

  I reasoned that perhaps God was too busy with my parents and Paul to bother with me. The more I thought about it, the more I realized it was the truth. And so, I decided to ask my parents and especially my mum to beg Him for me. To all of them, He appeared to her the most, just before those nasty migraines hit. With that decision, my mind was eased of its burden and I no longer prayed nor felt any kinship with God.

  It was a Wednesday, and it was hot. Paul was at home, tearing apart our old television set in the basement. Mum and dad were at church, and I was sitting around, just taking moments in my mind. It occurred that it would be the best thing to go to them at church, which wasn’t far away and tell mum to beg God to give me a camera. Then I would sit there and wait to see if He appeared, or answered… I set off. Paul has never known that I went.

  I arrived at the church and entered. Some strong intuition warned me, but I didn’t understand at first until I noticed the smoke at the front and the fire. It was the fire that mesmerized me, bright and hot, crackling, licking at everything. I smiled as I approached, for there in front of me was God. He had finally come. I removed my shoes and knelt. I felt as Moses must have felt as he knelt much the same as I was, talking to God. God who had come in the form of a fire.

  “God! I’m here. This is Mark. Please do not burn me with your anger! I just want a Camera…”

  You know, I believe something in me changed the moment I looked closer at the fire and noticed… at first, in my confused mind, I thought God was embracing them in a fiery embrace. But then they were naked, and no, their clothes had not burned off, for I could see them on one of the pews. Then, they were not moving. And lastly, I noticed the large wooden beam that must have fallen on them, pinning them to the ground. Around and about them were naked electrical wires, still burning with a blue flame. Mum and dad were under that beam, burning. I’m not sure what I did next, but the next clear memory is that of mum suddenly raising her head and seeing me. I’ll never repeat the words she screamed verbatim, but in them she called out to God, begged him to spare her and when nothing happened- she looked at me with a look I’ll never forget and in a fading voice, begged me to call for help. I… I… Sorry, but I won’t say what transpired next, but… one thing I understood right then as my parents were roasted to a crisp in a church, my life, my existence, my yearnings, my everything… I owed it all to myself. No entity was going to dictate to me how I was to live from that moment. From that moment, I hated God with a passion. Do you know what I did? I spat, then peed on one of the pews, and walked out. No, don’t ask me about my mum.

  The first person to meet after leaving did not know that I had been there, and I never told Paul. Years later, he would ask me how I managed to remain so stoic, during the burial, but I never let him in on the fact that I had been there. To this day, he does not know.

  About six years later- I still went to church by the way, but whereas the others prayed, I cursed. I went to church to curse God, for six years until that Sunday when I told Paul I was looking forward to finding out how alcohol tasted, and he retorted angrily that it was called ‘sacred wine’. In a moment of blinding vehemence, I replied that it was probably God’s stinking pee- and Paul lost it. Anyway, I walked out with a busted lip, never to return. The same day along the highway, an old man stopped his Buick, opened his door, and invited me in. I didn’t hesitate, and the girl beside him in the front said that her name was Vivian Dionte, and he was her grandpa, and if I wanted, I could go with them…

  I was given a list of choices, but I chose the one that I felt suited me the most. I wanted a boarding school where I would only go home for the holidays. And a monochrome camera. Mr. Dionte agreed, Paul agreed, Aunt Dorcas and Uncle Amos agreed, and Vivian smiled as she took my hand and told me she wanted to be my best friend and I smiled back.

  She became my therapist. She drew me out, but not once did she ask me about my parents, and the little snippets I offered, she listened patiently… and as we grew, our friendship developed into a very strange kind of love. That love is deep. It feels perfect; it is beyond friendship; it is not sexual, but is it more than platonic relationships. I don’t know what it is, but… I’m not going to try and define it, b
ut get this; Vivian, understanding my emotional vulnerability, came up with an idea.

  “Let’s make it seem to everyone like we’re dating,” she said when we were twenty, “Till you meet a perfect girl who will love you for who you are and you will love her enough to be able to talk about it.” I knew she meant my past, but as I said, I never talked about it, not even with her. “I will be your love bank. When you find her, come and withdraw your love.” It worked, and now Paul believes we will end up getting married. Mr. Dionte wonders what she sees in me.

  She banked my love safely until I was ready for it.

  Beside him on the bed, Lisa drew in deep breaths, body rising and falling in regular motion, and for a moment he was afraid that she had fallen asleep,

  “No, I’m awake,” she allayed his unspoken fears. He turned to face her, and she snuggled closer as he put an arm around her, and she placed hers around him.

  “Mark,” she whispered,

  “Yes?”

  “You hate color, and you don’t like light that much.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I just do,” she replied sleepily, “I just do, and I love you back.”

  *****

  Mark peered at his cup of black tea, “I’m yet to get used to this,” as they sat in the kitchen the following day, still at Lisa’s place.

  “You refused fruit juice. I don’t drink coffee. Hence I wouldn’t be having it here. You refused chocolate…”

  “Enough. I’ll drink it.” To demonstrate, he took a gulp and swallowed. Feeling around in his mouth with his tongue, he took a few more gulps… “Is there more?”

  She stood up and refilled his cup, “I can teach you how to make tea Mark. But that’s not the greatest problem we have. You are yet to photograph a pangolin, and you refused to use the ones we have in the cave.”

  “I want a roaming one. Perhaps we’ll find the missing ones too.”

  “Hurry up then. It is already eight. Seems it will be a good day to be in the bush,” she said as she peered out the nearest window, “Though for me there’s never a day when it isn’t.”

  “Even during winter?” He asked as he peered at her through steam.

  “Winterless snow, yeah. I hate the snow.”

  "What are you doing?" He asked when she settled next to him on the dusty ground. He observed her briefly- at least she had prepared herself accordingly for it. Brown hiking pants that hugged her fittingly but not too tightly and a long-sleeved dark green unisex shirt. She had folded her sleeves to the elbows. A few feet from where they crouched was the burrow. This was a new spot Mark had not paid attention to before, though he had passed by it a few times in the past. The burrow seemed to have been recently occupied, evidenced by the droppings around, and the torn termite mounds nearby.

  "Waiting. With you."

  "It is an extremely shy animal, so…"

  "Don't worry, the kissing won't be loud," she smiled.

  "What?"

  "Nothing." Mark looked at her a moment longer, then resumed his position to peer out his field glasses, "Let's not joke…" Next to him, Lisa lay her head on the ground and closed her eyes. She's teasing me, he thought as he glanced at her peaceful face, full lips, slightly parted invitingly, and smooth chin, stuck out at him. But the tiny bug resting on the tip of her nose was not part of his admiration. What am I doing, he remonstrated himself, watching for pangolins or the temptation beside me? With a small sigh, he resumed is scanning...

  "I see someone." He shifted next to her. Her eyes flew open, and her dark pupils quickly contracted in the hazy light.

  "Perhaps it is a ranger."

  "No. Two of them, in fact. A man and a woman."

  "Could they have seen us- ?"

  "Hard to tell. They're checking for something on the ground. Oh no," he lowered the glasses, then put them back to his eyes as Lisa beside him looked at him, slight alarm marring her features.

  "What, Mark, what?" She shook him slightly. He turned to her, and his own alarm unsettled her further,

  "They are armed." Beside him, he heard her gasp, then let out her breath in disappointed fury,

  "They allowed it Mark… they allowed the hunters. When I find that Sherry…"

  "Stop fidgeting too much, Lisa!" He warned suddenly, "They have field glasses too!" He ducked suddenly and indicated that she do the same, "They are pointing this way!" He hissed.

  "Oh shit." She hissed back.

  "This is bad!" He was trembling, she noticed, and placed a hand on his shoulder, as they remained as still as they possibly could on the ground- he heard the heavy footsteps vibrating through his ear. Suddenly, Lisa grabbed him, planted her mouth on his and moaned- and the surprise on his face could have made him lose it and scream, but she placed a finger on his quivering lips,

  "No, stay calm and play along," she whispered close to him and squeezed his hand. They faced each other, heads pressed to the ground. As he gazed at her, Mark could have sworn that he detected a challenge in her black eyes. A challenge inviting whoever it was out there, armed or not. And so, he played along, planting a very unromantic kiss on her lips as the footsteps got closer and closer…

  As Mark watched, eyes wondering and heart hammering, Lisa undid her shirt buttons then placing a hand between her breasts, turned her bra slightly such that it was askew. Mark watched hypnotized, though he wasn't sure if it was lust mingled with fear, or if it was fear mingled with desire… his mind had slowed too for he did not understand it when Lisa grabbed his hand and pushed it between her breasts, "Grab it!" She hissed and driven more by instinct than reasoning, he obeyed, curving his hand to cup the warm, soft roundness- just as Lisa quickly got up on her knees without warning. Believing that he had to do as bid, he did not withdraw his hand even when she attempted to slap it away, "Honey!" She rebuked with unnecessary loudness, "Couldn't you wait till we had more privacy?" Mark stared at her, a very dumb look on his face. "Play along..!" She hissed at him. "I'm already hard!" He hissed back. With an exasperated sigh well-concealed by a guilty-looking smile, she stood up fully just as his hand slid out, to hit the ground with a dull thud. Mark groaned. And the newcomers approached.

  "Hello! Not many people around these parts," the man shouted. His voice seemed to float in the lazy, humid haziness.

  Mark, heart hammering and hands clammy, scrambled up and staggered slightly.

  "Sure. We're…"

  "Sneaking out," Lisa chimed in, and Mark glanced at her. She grabbed and squeezed his hand to pass the communication, as well as to let him know she was less than pleased with his performance.

  "Uh, yeah, squeezing… each other…" he stammered and trailed off.

  "Squeezing each other…" The other man laughed. He turned to the woman standing next to him, "Does it seem so to you?"

  "Be considerate Jared," she pointed at Mark, "He must have been getting it hard," she trained her finger pointedly on Lisa, and especially at her lopsided bra, "Till he lost his mind. Poor man."

  "Hey," the man turned to Mark, "Why do you have binoculars?"

  "Looks like nature fanatics to me," the woman kicked the ground in front of her, "Beat it, you two…"

  "Gote…" her companion started, but she raised her hand, quieting him, "Leave." She hissed at Mark and Lisa.