by Megan Hart
She laughed. “I might. But as long as they’re all you—”
“All me.” He kissed her again. “I know what you want, don’t I?”
His hands crept over her, stroking.
“Yes.” She shuddered. Need filled her, rushing into the empty spaces inside. “Yes, you do.”
“Then let me give it to you. Don’t ask why. Don’t question a gift.”
“Is this something I need, again?” she asked, sly, as her body responded to his touch.
Her lover laughed and mouthed her shoulder. “Something we both need.”
“I need you inside me,” she said.
He looked into her eyes. “Say it again.”
“I need you inside me. All the way inside me.”
“I think I can oblige.”
He shifted his weight and sank into her with a smooth, slow motion. His pelvis nudged hers. His first thrust took an eternity as he pulled out and pushed in, settling against her.
“You fit me just right. And I don’t have to do anything to make it so, it just is.” His slightly formal tone was like a burr on silk, ragged and a bit out of place, but making interesting patterns all the same. He moved inside her, propped on his arms to hold himself upright.
Then there were no more words. The world around them blurred at the edges, unnoticed and unneeded. Her lover pulled her close, turning them so she was astride him. They paused, settling this way. His hands held her hips. Tovah looked down at him. The chest beneath her hands was smooth, with twin dark nipples. His belly, taut and covered with hair thickening around the base of his cock. The thighs beneath her ass were hard with muscle. He might not look the same all the time, but those changes were minor and cosmetic. The man beneath was the same, and it didn’t matter how he represented.
“What’s wrong?” he asked when she stopped moving.
This wasn’t love. She couldn’t fall in love with someone she didn’t really know. This was pleasure and passion, the fulfillment of needs.
“Nothing’s wrong,” she said.
Passion and pleasure. Her body wanted it. So did her mind. Tovah moved and her lover followed, each motion point and counterpoint. He groaned and the sound of his desire called out her own small gasp. Together they collapsed onto the bed, much solider now that it had become necessary. A room formed around them, small and not so lushly appointed as the ones he’d formed for them in the past.
After a second, she realized it was because she had shaped this place. No billowing curtains or aphrodisiacs or flickering candles. Bare walls, a soft place to lie and the warmth of her lover beside her. Those were the important things. To test herself, she opened the ceiling to reveal a nighttime sky littered with stars.
He turned on his side to pull her close, spooning. It took a moment for her to relax, but she did. He smelled good, not of stale sex. She smiled.
“What?” he murmured into her hair. “You’re laughing.”
“I’m not laughing. I’m just thinking.”
“About what?”
“This is nice, that’s all.”
His hand rested flat on her belly. “It is nice.”
The in-out of their breathing met and matched. Tovah drew her knees closer to her, rubbing the left one absently. It didn’t hurt, but sometimes having it here felt as awkward as missing it did in the waking world.
“Most people don’t bother with this part,” she said. “The afterward.”
“You mean sleepers?”
She rolled to look at him. “I guess so. Yes. I mean, to them this isn’t real. Well, it’s not real.”
He didn’t laugh with her, this time. “Of course it’s real.”
“I mean…at least for them, it doesn’t seem real. It doesn’t last.”
“Does something have to last to be real?” He reached to grab her hip a little too hard. “Doesn’t this feel real?”
“It feels real now,” she said. “But when I wake up I’ll only have a memory of it. It doesn’t last.”
He kissed her slowly, squeezing her hip and stealing her breath. He pulled away, searching her gaze with his. “It wouldn’t in the waking world, either. What makes it more real there, than here?”
“It just is,” she said, and sat. “I don’t know why.”
He sat too. “Then you’re not much better than a sleeper, even if you can shape.”
He made it sound like an insult, and she frowned. She gathered the folds of her robe from the Ephemeros around her and pulled it over her nakedness. “You make that sound bad.”
“Would you like to go back to it? Never knowing your potential?” He got out of bed. Tall, lean, unconcerned with his nudity, he stood before her. “Then again, if you never explore it, what use is it? You might as well never have learned you could shape at all.”
“That’s not fair!” she protested. “I practice! I learn! Just because I don’t want to be a guide—”
“I’m not talking about being a guide.” Her lover knelt before her and clasped her hands.
Startled, she tried to pull away but he held her fast. “What are you talking about then?”
“I’m talking about the way you tie yourself to this form. This one way of thinking. I bet you’re like that in the waking world, too. Afraid.” His lip curled, just a little. “Scared to take chances.”
Her throat tightened as emotion rushed through her, sharp as knives. “You don’t even know me.”
“Tell me I’m wrong.”
She shook her head, pulling at his hands now encircling her wrists. “Let me go.”
“You can be free of me. All you have to do is shape it.”
“You’re stronger than I am.”
He pushed her back without letting go of her wrists. Looming over her, he brought his mouth close to hers, but didn’t kiss. “Is that what you’d say if someone tried this in the waking world? You’d just lie back and take it? Let someone put their hands on you like this?”
He let go of a hand to grab her hip again, harder even than before.
“Stop it!” Tovah shoved him back, hard, adding the force of her will to her physical push.
Her lover let go and moved back. He smiled. “Look around you.”
The room had lost its walls. The entire world revolved around them, earth, sky, sea. He pointed outward, to the line of dark mountains along the horizon.
“What is that?”
“A mountain,” Tovah said.
“No. It’s an obstacle. Would you climb a mountain in the waking world?”
“I—” She refused to say she could not. She could. Her disability did not mean she couldn’t climb a mountain. It might make it more difficult than it might otherwise have been, but it would not keep her from doing it.
Only she could do that.
“Climb that mountain without falling, and you’ll learn something about yourself,” her lover said. “Something real. Something that will last.”
The gust of his breath caressed her from behind. After a second, the pressure of his hand on her shoulder turned her to face him. She didn’t want to, but she did, and it had nothing to do with him shaping her to do it.
“I don’t even know you,” she whispered miserably.
“But you trust me,” he said in a gentler voice. “Why don’t you ask yourself why?”
Tovah shook her head. Her hair fell over her face, covering her from his gaze. Her lover, the stranger with many faces, pulled her close. He smelled the same as he always did. His hand stroked over her hair.
“You won’t even tell me your name!” The accusation burst from her throat without warning. “I don’t even have anything to call you. And you look different every fucking time I see you!”
He said nothing, for a time. Somewhere, eyes were trying to open. Her bladder had filled, her stomach emptied, her dog would be nosing her hand. The waking world tugged her with supple, ignorable fingers, but it wouldn’t be ignored for long.
“Why don’t you call me Edward?”
She lifted her face to look at
him. “Is that your name?”
“It could be. If you wanted it to be.”
She stared. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”
“It’s my name, Tovah. Call me Edward.” His hand stroked the tangled strands of her hair and came to rest on her shoulder.
“What do you really look like, Edward?”
“I look like anything you want most.”
She sighed, frustrated, fists clenching. “Goddammit!”
“You want me to fix myself to one face? One body? No matter how I represent, I’m the same person inside. It’s the man inside you want, not my eyes or mouth or cock. Well,” he amended, grabbing up her hand and putting it to his half-hard erection. “Maybe it is my cock.”
Her anger had fled. Her stomach rumbled. One more minute, perhaps, until she woke. “Edward. I want to know what you look like, that’s all.”
“Tovah,” he said. “If it pleases you better I’ll stay that way every time we meet unless you say you want something else.”
“That’s not—”
“Hurry,” he said mildly. “It’s close to time, for you.”
“But it won’t be your face!” she cried, frustrated. “It won’t really be you!”
“It’ll be the me you want the most,” he assured her. “Think of all the faces I’ve had. Pick one. Any one of them is as to the other for me.”
It wasn’t the first time she’d noticed the formal, somehow medieval tone of his language. “Edward—”
The waking world called her and she fought it, wanting one more minute. A second. A moment…
Sunlight stabbed her eyes and, wincing, she awoke. Max woofed from the doorway, demanding his breakfast. The blanket tangled around her ankle. Sweat dampened her pajamas. She’d slept the night through on the couch.
She didn’t notice the bruises until she was out of the shower. Four perfect oblongs on the back of her hip and a smaller one in front.
A hand.
Chapter Sixteen
Tovah wasn’t much for peeking out windows, but she couldn’t help herself. Martin’s appointment had been set for the afternoon, but evening was already creeping into the sky and he still hadn’t arrived. With her work to keep her occupied, Tovah managed to keep from checking the clock every five minutes, but when another hour passed with no sign of action from next door, she gave up and went to the kitchen to start Shabbat dinner.
Maybe he’d cancelled. Maybe he’d found another place to live. The house next door was probably overpriced. Hell, she knew it was. He’d probably found something he liked more, in a better neighborhood.
Her hands smashed and kneaded ground beef into a simple meatloaf that she put into the oven along with some red potatoes and a green bean casserole. It was silly to make so much just for herself, but she could eat the rest for lunches next week. She was not, she told herself, hoping for company.
Though of course she really was, and when she saw the dark car pull up next door there was no denying the way her heart fluttered suddenly. It didn’t belong to the Realtor, who drove a kicky little Miata. This car had seen a lifetime of loving neglect. Dents, bumps, dirt, a missing hubcap. Not the car one might expect a doctor would drive, but when Martin unfolded himself from the driver’s seat and closed the door with a careful shove, Tovah found it hard to imagine him in anything else.
He looked toward her house first, and she moved away from the window though he couldn’t have seen her. She laughed at herself. Looking like she was hiding would have been more embarrassing than being caught staring.
The red Miata pulled in behind Martin’s car. Beth Richards got out. It was interesting to watch the dance she did, patting down her hair and clothes and offering him her hand. They shook, and she gestured at the house next door. Martin nodded, and with another glance at Tovah’s house, he followed the Realtor inside the home for sale.
They were in there a long time. As she wiped down counters and set the table and looked around her kitchen, trying to see how it would look to a stranger’s eye, Tovah kept an eye out the window over her sink. Lights came on and went off next door as they moved through the house. She thought it was a good sign it was taking so long.
By the time her meatloaf was done, the lights next door had gone out. She looked out the window again. The red Miata was gone.
Her doorbell rang. Martin. Max leaped to life, woofing and galumphing down the hall to skid to a stop in front of the door. Tovah muscled him out of the way, into the living room, where she slid closed the pocket door to keep him from overpowering her visitor.
“Hi—” Max woofed from behind the door. Martin turned, startled as anyone would be by the enormous bark. “—I’m hoping it’s not too late to take you up on your offer for coffee. Wow. What do you have behind that door, a wildebeest?”
“Something like that. And absolutely not. C’mon in.” Tovah held the door open for him to step inside.
Max thudded against the pocket door, shaking it, then gave up and trotted around the dining room to the kitchen doorway, where he stood and woofed some more.
“Max, stay.”
And for once, a miracle, Max obeyed. He barked again and backed up, shaking his head. Tovah looked at Martin in apology. “Sorry. He’s very friendly.”
“He’s big.”
“You’re not a dog person, I take it?”
Martin hesitated, but then nodded. “I was bitten as a child.”
Tovah grimaced. “Ouch. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” He shrugged and gave her a small smile. “I’m a big boy now.”
She made a show of tilting her head to look up at him. Way up. He took up a lot of space in her narrow hallway. “No question about that!”
They laughed. She led him to the kitchen. “I actually was just getting ready to have dinner. I hope you’ll stay.”
He stared a moment, then nodded. When he smiled, it was like watching sunshine on water, small bright ripples spreading outward. He had a great smile. She was caught in it for a second before she pulled herself away and busied herself with taking the food to the table.
“Did you do all this for me?” he asked as she pulled her set of Shabbat candlesticks from the cupboard and placed the small white candles inside them.
“I wish I could impress you and say I did,” Tovah said.
“You could say it anyway,” Martin told her. “Flatter me.”
She looked at him over her shoulder, pausing before lighting the match. “It’s better than just coffee, isn’t it?”
He smiled. “I think so.”
She hesitated again. “I’m going to light candles. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Candles? Of course not.”
After she said it she wondered if he thought she meant she was going to light them for some romantic purpose. She lit the candles and said the short blessing, then sat at the table and poured wine for both of them.
Martin watched her, curious. “This is nice. You do this every week?”
“Yes.” She murmured the blessing over the wine and then the challah, tearing off a piece and dipping it into some salt, then giving it to him.
He took it and chewed. Tovah waited for the questions, but either he already knew about Shabbat or he didn’t want to ask. Either way, his steady acceptance of the rituals Kevin had always scoffed was a relief. Like talking about her leg, Tovah didn’t mind answering questions about her faith. She simply didn’t want it to be all she was.
The conversation was easier between them than it had ever been. He had a good sense of humor and wasn’t overbearing with it. He was smart and didn’t seem intimidated by her being smart too. After an hour talking with him on subjects as varied as literature and thrift shopping, Tovah had stopped worrying about her hair and lipstick. It was easy talking to him. Easy and nice.
“Did you like the house?” she asked finally, when the coffee’d been served and the cookies she’d made for dessert began disappearing.
Martin nodded, mouth covered in crumbs.
“Yes. Looks like we’re going to be neighbors.”
“Really? Wow.” She stirred sugar into her cup of herbal tea.
“Yes. Thanks for guiding me to it. It’s just what I was looking for.” Martin brushed his mouth clean and sipped coffee.
Tovah looked up at his word choice. Guiding. She looked automatically at the clock, then away and back again, checking to make sure the numbers hadn’t scrambled. Martin followed her gaze.
“It’s late, huh? I’m keeping you up.”
“No, no. It’s not that.” Tovah shook her head. She didn’t want him to go. This was nice, sharing conversation and cookies over her worn kitchen table. “But of course, if you have to go—”
“No, I’m okay.”
They both laughed. Martin ducked his head in a way she found totally endearing. Why was he so shy?
“Unless you want me to go,” he added, and she bubbled with laughter.
“Martin,” Tovah said.
He looked at her. “Yes, Tovah?”
“I think it’s great you’re going to be my neighbor.”
That slow, bright smile rippled across his mouth again. “Me, too.”
This was nice, she thought.
“This was nice,” he said suddenly, echoing her thoughts. “Thanks.”
“We’ll have to do it again.” She stood when he did.
They stared at each other over the table until he broke and inched toward the doorway. “Now it really is late. I’ve got to go.”
He paused in the hallway to look at the row of photographs she hadn’t yet bothered to take down. He turned to look at her, face open with curiosity. “This is you?”
He pointed at a snapshot of her and Kevin on their wedding day. It showed her laughing, head tipped back, as Kevin bent to kiss her hand. The photo had captured one perfect moment, one she couldn’t even remember except for how it had been frozen in time by film. She’d put away all the formal pictures a long time ago, shoved the album in a box in the attic, but that picture had been too hard to take down.
“Yes. That was my husband, Kevin. We’re getting divorced.”
“I’m sorry.” Martin looked embarrassed to have asked.
“Don’t be.” She smiled to ease the awkwardness.