She could read his anger and confusion from the way he ravaged the snow. When it turned to stubborn resolve, she knew it was safe to leave him out there alone while she took care of the house and barn. She couldn’t depend on his help with the chores today. There would be too much relationship work to do, which would, in its own natural way, end in the inner room. She began cleaning, starting in the kitchen, moving into her bedroom, and finishing in the inner room. Perhaps she applied more power to her mop and cloths than was necessary, but it felt good, a release of pent-up sexual tension not quite satisfied by a boy who had a lot to learn.
When the Dov/Ryl finished the walks around his Allesha’s house and barn, his simmering anger still had not dissipated. So he moved over to common grounds. Le’a had warned him not to stray, but they couldn’t object to his doing some extra work. Besides, he was tired of having those women control his every minute.
Turning a corner, he saw a boy who was also alone, bending his back to a shovel, in front of a house just across the way. He watched the other fellow for a few moments. When he stood up to straighten his back, Ryl could distinguish the details of the dark face surrounded by tight black curls. It was Sim.
Ryl dropped his shovel, packed a snowball and threw it while running toward the other boy.
Sim jumped at the impact of the snow, but when he saw who had sent it flying, he grinned.
“Sim!” Ryl called out.
“Ryl,” he answered through a hearty laugh. But after a short banter of punches and snowballs, Sim became quite serious. “Hey, we aren’t supposed to be out here together. I’m pretty sure it’s against code.”
“Who the hell cares?”
“I do.”
“Sim, you always were a wimp.”
“Ryl, I know you don’t mean that. My Allesha is teaching me about—”
“Yeah, how about those lessons? Not bad, are they? How long did it take you to get into that inner room of hers?”
Sim studied his friend.
“Hey, what are you staring at? Oh, I get it, she’s still holding out on you, isn’t she?”
“Ryl, it’s good to see you, but I think I should go back to my Allesha now.” Sim picked up his shovel and started to walk away. “I’ll look forward to seeing you at the end of our Season.”
“Hey, wait. Look, Sim, these paths need shoveling. That’s why you’re out here, right?”
Sim hesitated. “Yes.”
“Me, too. So, if they need shoveling, and if it would cut our work in half, we might as well do it together, right?” Ryl wasn’t sure why, but he definitely didn’t want Sim to walk away just yet. “They couldn’t mean that we’re supposed to shirk our duties, just because we happen to see each other. Could they?”
“It doesn’t sound logical, but—”
“Good.” Ryl rushed to pick up his shovel and bent his back to the snow, before Sim could disagree. Sim, too, resumed shoveling, not noticing that Ryl was plowing a rather narrow swathe, to close the gap between them more quickly. When they were within speaking distance, Ryl asked, “So, how goes your Season?”
“Fine.”
“You’re in her inner room, aren’t you?”
“I don’t think we—”
“Well, maybe you need some pointers. First, you’ve got to pick a really good name for her.”
Sim stopped shoveling. “Look, Ryl, you can’t keep talking about our Alleshi and our Season. It’s private, sacred.”
“What the hell are you yapping about? I was just trying to help you.”
“Ryl, I don’t need your help just now, not about this. Maybe later, when we’re both Allemen. But not now. I’ve worked too hard to get here to mess up on a lark.” He turned to go, but glanced back to say, “Ryl, it really has been good to see you. I wish you well in your Season.” Then he walked away.
“Hey, wait, Sim. Look, I didn’t mean that about you always being a wimp. You were the only one at the inn that I could talk to. So you see, I’m trying to apologize. Can’t you turn around and look at me?”
Sim stopped and looked back.
“They confound a man, these Alleshi, worse than any woman I’ve ever known.”
“That’s because they’re not any woman; they’re Every Woman.”
“I didn’t expect to hear that blather from you.”
“Ryl, I’m not part of your Season. I’m not supposed to tell you anything, but I can say that the Every Woman is very real, not just something we’ve been told.”
“Yeah. Well, goodbye, Sim. It was good to see you.”
“Goodbye, Ryl. I hope you’re happier when I see you next.”
Happier? What did he mean by that? Of course I’m happy. I’ve punctured one of the sacred Every Women.
Ryl watched Sim walk toward a barn with a corral. Sim climbed over the fence to join his Allesha as she tended several ponies. The two of them embraced like true lovers, clasping with their full bodies. Somehow, it was also the way true friends greet, in delight and well-being. How he could see all that in one motion, he wasn’t sure. But he did know that it was something he’d never experienced.
He swung his shovel onto his shoulder and proceeded back to his Allesha’s house, where he could only hope to be welcomed as Sim was. But then, Ryl had never heard of anyone who didn’t like Sim.
That’s it. Sim’s Allesha actually likes her Winter Boy. Does mine?
Chapter 29
Just before dinnertime, Tayar and Dov met in the kitchen, entering from opposite sides at nearly the same moment. She walked in from the mudroom; he came through the greeting room. Unsure of what to say, how to behave, the boy was torn between a pose of anger and his need to smooth the way back to the inner room.
Tayar greeted him formally, but warmly, with her hands on his shoulders, her lips to his cheeks, lingering longer than customary on each side, to breathe welcome to his ears. “Good evening, Dov.”
She seemed different somehow — different from the morning, and definitely from last night. No less desirable, but less festive, more like a woman in her own kitchen than a girl at a hunt celebration. She was quiet and soft, wearing a calf-length, amber-colored dress that flowed and clung, hinting at the shape below the gossamer. Her hair fell free, curls reaching to her breast. Was this the same woman who chased eladar with the long gait of a wild animal, or the woman who teased and played with the impish skill of the best lover he’d ever had? The same woman who flared into burning anger at a single misspoken phrase? Every time he began to believe he knew what to expect on greeting her, she changed.
They prepared their meal together — he cautious, tentative — she quiet and thoughtful. Even her voice was lower, calmer, parceling out words without rhythm or tone. Tayar asked him no questions, only flat-toned requests to chop this or pour that. The boy obeyed, not knowing what else to do.
When they sat at their meal, she reached out both hands to touch his and said, “Let us be gentle tonight and speak only kind words.” Then she sealed the request with a smile.
There was nothing for him to do but nod and be silent. However, conversation with his Allesha at meals had become so natural that he yearned to find gentle, kind words — whatever that meant — to fill the empty air between them.
Eventually, Tayar eased an opening through the silence. “I enjoyed working in the snow today. I hope you did, too,” she said. “I looked out the window and saw all you accomplished. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“How far did you go? Certainly further than I could see from my bedroom. Though I did glimpse another boy working in the same area.”
Damn, she saw us. Gentle and kind… does that mean honest, too? But if she already knows, then honesty is the only possibility for fixing it.
“Yeah, well, I ran into Sim, a fellow I met on the caravan coming here. We didn’t go looking for each other. It’s just that we were shoveling the same paths. Sim was really worried that we shouldn’t be working together. But I told him we needed to get the
job done. Damn, am I in trouble again? If I am, then it’s stupid. I didn’t do anything wrong… really.”
“Well, Dov, it isn’t considered proper for two boys to meet and talk during their Season… at least not until the Service Days. And you did stray into paths where you don’t belong. However, as you described it, the circumstances do seem unusual and not likely to be repeated. Am I correct in believing that it won’t be repeated?”
“If that’s what you want, sure. But what are Service Days?”
“Near the end of our winter together, you will spend time with other Blessed Boys and Allemen, learning more about our Peace and what must be done to keep it. It’s a transition period that will lead directly to your apprenticeship and the forming of your Triad. But it won’t be only talk. You’ll help with whatever needs to be done to prepare The Valley for spring.”
“Work, you mean.”
“Yes, but fun, too.”
“You seem to think that all work is fun.”
“It can be, especially if you’re working side by side with someone you like.”
The way she looked at him just then, he realized she was talking about him, about liking him. Somehow it changed everything, though he didn’t fully understand how.
The opportunity was too good to let slip away. “I like you, too, Tayar,” he said, deepening his voice and focusing all the sexual energy he could into his eyes, then letting them flow over her body.
She appeared not to notice. “Thank you, Dov. That’s nice to know. Now, let’s talk about other things, to sweeten our meal.” She took a bite of chicken. “Tell me of winter in your village.”
“Judging by today, our winters are milder. Sure, we have snow that has to be cleared, to make it easier for women, children and the old to move around. But in the forest, we let our footprints make the paths.”
“What do your people do with their winter days and evenings?”
“Folks spend more time around the home hearths visiting and talking, telling stories and practicing skills. Ma and the women do lots of weaving and sewing and stuff. They expect us — the kids — to give longer hours to reading books and doing lessons. The men do more governing business, so Pa is usually pretty busy during the long evenings. When he’s there, that is. In the deepest winter, if he’s made it home, he’s stuck with us and can’t go off on his Alleman missions. But it’s a safer time, too, because no one comes from outside. Even the Mwertik Zalogs seem to burrow.” He pictured the crowds of people that always pressed around him during the cold months. “Somehow, I get into more trouble in the winter.”
“Oh?”
“I don’t know why it happens. Anytime things go wrong, they come looking for me… especially Pa.” He shrugged. “I can feel them watching me, cornering me, and before I realize it, I’ve screwed up again.” He stared at his plate, pushing the remnants of food with his fork. Almost under his breath, he added, “Like this afternoon.”
Tayar realized it was probably as close to an apology as he was capable of giving right now. She accepted it without acknowledging it, knowing she wouldn’t accomplish anything by bringing things to a head tonight.
When she got up and started clearing the table, he stood and pulled her into his arms. They remained locked together for the length of a deep kiss, during which she carefully held plates in the air behind his head. She briefly considered letting one drop to the floor, to give the boy an even greater sense of potency, but decided against it. They were pretty dishes she’d be sorry to see smashed.
When he released her, she breathed a “thank you, sweet Dov,” into his lips, but didn’t move from the spot where he had anchored her. Instead, she hung there, motionless, apparently transfixed by his kiss. But if he didn’t take the plates from her soon, she’d have to break the effectiveness of the moment to put them down.
Lifting the dishes out of her hands, he said in a soft, gentle tone, “Come, Tayar, let’s finish in here. The sooner the dishes are done, the sooner we can return to the inner room.”
“Yes, Dov,” she answered demurely.
They cleaned the kitchen together, with quiet sighs and the “accidental” pressing of thighs. When the last dish had been dried and the food put away, he placed his hands on her shoulders, turned her to face him and kissed her, and then lifted her into his arms. He carried her from the kitchen, through the greeting room and his bedroom, into the inner room.
It wasn’t a smooth or uneventful jaunt. More than once, her arm or head or foot banged into a door jam or brushed a wall, though she suppressed any reaction. A boy this untutored would not react well to laughter, she realized. So she kept her natural sense of humor in check.
In the inner room, he lowered her onto one of the platforms — thankfully, one well covered with cushions. He fell on top of her, pressing his lips to hers, his tongue into her mouth, his hands working to spread the material of her dress, so that he could cup her left breast.
Imagining herself as a girl with her first love helped transport her into an intoxicated state of desire. The throaty ache in her voice wasn’t entirely contrived when she whispered to the boy, “Please help me take off our clothes.” She refrained from adding that she didn’t want him tearing her dress.
With awkward fumbling, they removed each other’s clothes. He climbed on top of her again, touched her nether lips with his fingertips to feel their moistness, gently pried her knees apart, then entered her with a probing, anxious impatience unlike anything she could remember since her adolescent sexual experiments. She expected him to erupt immediately and prepared herself to protect him from embarrassment. However, even now, he worked to hold back his own orgasm, knowing that hers must come first. So she entered a deeper meditation, focusing on him pressing into her, accidentally rubbing her pearl, parting her nether lips with each thrust. Even though he didn’t have much skill, she could appreciate the sexual power in this boy, power to be enjoyed as well as trained. The beginning of her initial orgasm ignited his. When it was over, he rolled off her and pulled her head into the pit of his arm, cradling her body with his.
She breathed quickly, in rhythm with the sharp, almost painful convulsions of unappeased sex that washed down her legs and up over her stomach. Willfully, she slowed her breathing, reaching for the strength she knew was buried deep in her lungs. Soon, the aching waves faded, replaced by a heightened resolve to teach this boy how to read a woman and a body’s desires.
It will be just a few more days, she reminded herself. Only a few more days of passive acceptance, until this boy is ready to learn. Then the real fun will begin.
Chapter 30
Several days passed almost entirely in the inner room. If their mealtimes were erratic, the boy and his Allesha certainly didn’t starve, eating when their stomachs’ demands were more insistent than those of his young libido. Dishes were washed when no clean dishes were left. Little else required immediate cleaning, since they spent most of their time wearing little or no clothing, not disrupting their bedrooms, visiting their bathrooms on need, but not long enough to create more than a barely noticeable mess.
Soon the lessons would begin in earnest. But for these few days, Dov needed to establish himself within the domain of the inner room, to weld a bond with his Allesha that wouldn’t break at the first pressure.
Tayar waited patiently. Not that she didn’t have pleasure — small ones in learning his ways and patterns; more momentous ones in realizing that she did, indeed, have the skill to be the Allesha she’d been trained to be. Occasionally, the sex was enjoyable, just as the tickle of a feather on the bottom of your foot can be pleasurable. But far from fully satisfying.
In the early afternoon of the sixth day since they had first entered the inner room, Dov and Tayar emerged into a deep blue day. Surprisingly, even the boy acknowledged that the shimmering brightness outside was more enticing — for the moment — than the inner room. Besides, it was time to anoint themselves with creams, to soothe away the rawness that almost constant sex had
rubbed.
Tayar saw that the candle in the gatepost lantern was lit. After dressing quickly and grabbing a woolen shawl from its vestibule hook, she went out to retrieve the note that Le’a/Dara had anchored under the lantern. Yes, she nodded to herself as she read, their mentor was correct. It was time to move on to the next stage. She called out to the boy, who was still dressing in his room, “Dov, Le’a is here, in the barn. I’m going out to help her. Come join us when you’re ready.”
Tayar/Rishana ran to the barn, as much for the pleasure of the open air after days of being enclosed in the darkness of the inner room, as for her excitement at seeing Dara and the prospect of having an adult conversation. She called, “Le’a!” before she reached the barn, and was rewarded by the sight of the older woman in the doorway, waving in greeting. Rishana threw herself into an embrace with Dara that would have unearthed any other woman less rooted in strength and weight.
“Rishana, you knock the breath from my lungs!”
“Sorry, Dara. I’m just so glad to see you.”
“Yes, dear, I know. Shall we go inside where the boy won’t see or overhear us talking about it?”
They sat together in the hay pile, near the back of the barn, asking after each other’s health and well-being, waiting for Rishana to catch her breath and her thoughts.
“Dara, it’s all such a jumble. The boy, the inner room, the childishness that erupts into surprising insights. I feel so frustrated, so in need of release. I want to just run at full gait until I’m so tired that I can’t think or feel.”
“You know the problem, of course. He didn’t leave you alone at all these past few days, did he?”
“But how can I get away from him during this stage?”
“You can’t, or I should say, you couldn’t. Now we move on. You’ll be relieved to know that was the worst part of working with a problem boy. Oh, you’ll have days of confrontation and days of fire, but nothing is more difficult than holding yourself totally passive, to prepare him for what’s to come.” Dara reached over to massage the younger woman’s neck and shoulders. “Yes, the tension is severe, but the worst is over.”
The Winter Boy Page 16