by Megan Hart
Lilly loved to dance. In a club, at the gym in aerobics class, in her kitchen while making dinner. She never felt self-conscious about it. Music moved her. If she wanted to shake and shimmy, she did it.
It was different with an audience.
A cock of hip, a twist of her ankle made the bells jingle. The scarves fluttered as she lifted her arms. Step, step, shake, shake. The music filled her and she spun until she was dizzy. She stopped, and the world kept on, moving though she was still.
Zach didn’t move.
He’d seemed like something from another world the first time she’d seen him, but now with his prick in his fist Lilly had trouble seeing him as anything but a man. And this, she discovered with something akin to wonder as she shifted her hips and moved closer, was not a bad thing.
He’d changed, but so had she. Not enough time had passed for her to love him. And yet she did. Lilly would never have believed such a thing could happen. But watching him watch her, looking at his eyes gleam as she twirled and dipped, moving for him, it didn’t seem so unlikely.
This dance had no steps, no choreography, and so sometimes she stumbled. It didn’t matter. She didn’t have to be a ballerina to make beauty with her body. Not when she was doing it for him.
One by one, the scarves fell away until all that remained was the jingling anklet. She danced closer as the music changed. Again, she straddled him, her hands on his shoulders and her pussy a slick, hot channel clutching tight on his cock as she slid down on it. They moved together.
His hands gripped her ass as she rode him. Her hips circled, grinding her clit on his belly. Their skin, slick with sweat, slipped and stuck and skidded. She was so wet she coated his thighs and belly and cock, so wet she sank so deep on his cock it would’ve hurt if it didn’t feel so good.
Everything about this felt so good.
Lilly moaned his name when she came. She pressed her forehead to his, eyes closed, breathing hard. Her fingers had tangled in the hair at the back of his neck. Zach’s hands came up to press at her shoulder blades. They rocked together a few more times and he shuddered with his own release.
The music sounded louder when she wasn’t consumed with passion. The lyrics made her laugh. Lilly pulled away from Zach, their bodies sticking, and she kissed his mouth softly as she looked into his eyes.
“Mmm,” she murmured.
His stomach rumbled. They both looked down between them. When he looked at her, something had shifted again in his gaze. Zach opened his mouth to speak, but she stopped him with a kiss.
“Food,” she told him. “Then sleep. Tomorrow, who knows? Maybe the snow will have mysteriously melted and we’ll be able to get out of the house.”
“Food,” Zach agreed. “Then sleep. But the snow isn’t going to melt by tomorrow.”
Lilly smiled. “Then I guess we’ll just have to stay inside another day.”
Later, Lilly curled herself against him and timed her breathing to the in-and-out regularity of his. It was the surest way she’d found to fall asleep. She was drifting into dreams when he spoke, so softly she almost didn’t hear him.
“Lilly,” Zach said into her hair, his breath caressing her as easily as his fingers had. “I don’t want to leave.”
She didn’t want him to go, either, but nothing about this had ever been promised as permanent. “So stay.”
He didn’t say anything after that, and neither did she.
* * *
Seventh night, eight candles.
She watched the candles, their flames bright and steady and strong. The candles in her grandmother’s menorah weren’t fancy and hand-dipped, but they lit her kitchen as they shone through the window to the world outside as prettily as pricey candles would’ve.
“Pretty.” Zach had come up behind her to put his arms around her, his chin resting on her shoulder.
They’d barely bothered with clothes at all today. The warmth of his belly pressed Lilly’s butt, and she pushed it back against him and smiled when his cock stirred. She turned her head to look at him.
“It always is.”
“Yes.”
Together they watched the wax dripping, the candles burning. Zach linked his fingers through hers and laid them flat against her belly. Lilly was considering making something to eat-her pantry had been sadly depleted by this near week of forced seclusion. The weather forecast had called for warmer temperatures and the governor had called off the state of emergency, but tonight was Friday. No work tomorrow even if it all melted away in the night.
Earlier she’d called her mother to wish her happy holidays and reassure her that she was fine. She hadn’t mentioned Zach. That would’ve opened up too many questions she wasn’t sure how to answer. He’d listened to the conversation but said nothing. Until now.
“Your family would want to know who I am. Your friends. You have a life I’m not a part of, Lilly.”
She didn’t turn, just pressed his hands more firmly to her belly and her back against his chest, her ass against his crotch. “We can figure out something to tell them.”
“Lilly.” His voice turned her. His gaze, concerned, pinned her. “One of the things I find so appealing about you is your ability to find the brightest side of any situation. But my time here is almost finished. And there are things we have to talk about before that.”
“I don’t want to.” She shook her head, broke his grip. Stalked away. “I know this is all some sort of fantastic, crazy thing. I know it, Zach. But why shouldn’t it be? Why should something that feels this good and right be anything less than fantasy? And I want to hold on to it for as long as I can. Is that so wrong?”
“No.” He shook his head, watching her. “But we have to talk about this. My time here is almost finished, whether I want it to be or not.”
“Why did you come here?” She threw the words at him as she backed away, her arms crossed. Wishing she’d put on a robe. Wishing a lot of things.
“I told you-”
“Why me? Of all the millions of people on Earth, why me?” Lilly demanded.
He hesitated, but didn’t reach for her. “I want to tell you that you’re special. Words fail me, in every language, to tell you how I feel.”
She drew in a slow shudder of breath that dried her throat. “But I’m not, right? I’m nice and all, I get it. Oh, I have a great personality and my body’s fine, too, but there’s just something lacking, right? That’s it. Believe me, I’ve heard it before.”
“No.” She’d never seen Zach angry, but his brow furrowed now, his voice got low. Hard. “You are special. But you are not the only one. We are sent to where we’re needed. This world, your world…it needs help. And we are sent to do our best to help where we can. It’s necessary. It’s chesed.”
Chesed. Loving kindness. Lilly took a step back, looking at Zach. Zachariah.
He followed her. “At the beginning of time, everything was light, contained in the vessels.”
“They broke.” So did her voice. Lilly knew the story, the Kabbalic retelling of the origin of evil. Grandma Lillian’s story. “Scattered the light here on earth. We’re supposed to perform mitzvot, good deeds, each one helping return one of those bits of light to its origin. I thought it was just…a story.”
“It’s tikkun olam. Repairing the world.”
She knew the words but hadn’t expected in a million years, no, in ten million, to hear them coming from his mouth. She drew in another breath, fighting to keep herself steady and unable to, until Zach’s hands were there to keep her from falling.
Blinking to focus, she looked at him. Now she understood how he’d become so beloved to her, so fast. Why he’d been naked in the snow.
Why he’d fallen.
“Turn around,” she told him.
He did, obedient. He was tall, but not so tall she couldn’t stand on tiptoe to pass her palms over his shoulder blades. His skin was smooth to the touch, but looking now in the kitchen’s bright, work-strength light, Lilly leaned closer. She stu
died his skin, saw the faintest of scars he bore, instead of wings. They grew harsher as she watched, then faded to nothing.
“I never looked,” she murmured. “Not that closely.”
“You didn’t want to see tentacles or lizard skin.”
Lilly’s laugh crested on a surge of tears. He was teasing her? “I was worried about the wrong things.”
Zach looked over his shoulder at her. “It’s a manifestation, only. This body.”
She turned him to face her. “A solid body. A beautiful one.”
He nodded and put his hands on her waist, his head tilted as he looked down at her. “A temporary body, held just long enough to do what I was required.”
“For how long?”
He smiled and looked at the menorah on the windowsill. “Eight days.”
Lilly put her head on his warm chest. His heart beat under her cheek. “What a coincidence.”
“Not really. A great miracle happened there, remember?” His arms tightened around her. “It’s not my place to question the length of time we’re given on our quest.”
She stayed in silence for a moment or two. “And if you don’t succeed?”
“Have I failed you, Lilly?” He used a finger to tip up her chin so she could look at him. “You’ll have to tell me. I’ve been here too long, now, simply to know.”
She wanted to lie, tell him yes, so that maybe he’d stay. That seemed like a pretty bad idea, not to mention a selfish one. So instead, she closed her eyes and let herself…feel.
She hadn’t done that for a long time. Simply given herself permission to open her heart and mind to her emotions and let them fill her. She’d spent too much time pretending she didn’t ache inside, and it was difficult, now, to recognize that instead of pain, she felt peace.
She opened her eyes. “No. You didn’t fail.”
Zach brushed her hair off her face and cupped it with his hands. He kissed her, soft and slow. “I’m glad.”
Lilly kissed him, too. “But sex? Really, Zach? I’m pretty sure that’s not what they taught me in religious school.”
“There’s nothing as sacred as the joining of two bodies in celebration of love,” Zach said, totally serious yet with eyes twinkling in mischief. “Let’s just say not everyone requires the same attention I gave you.”
“Huh.” She tweaked his nipples until he laughed, squirming. “So I’m not your first?”
Zach captured her hands with his, holding her still. “Actually, you are. Not all of us are chosen to serve here.”
“But I was chosen? For you?”
Zach hesitated again. His kiss was harder this time, though sweet all the same. He pressed her against him, naked flesh hot on hers. When he pulled away, his dark eyes blazed with passion, setting spark to her own.
“No, you weren’t chosen for me. I chose you.”
“I think that is the sexiest, most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me,” Lilly told him, and as she’d done that first time, jumped into his arms.
They didn’t make it to the bedroom this time. With one hand holding her firmly, Zach swept the kitchen table clean with the other. Then he laid her down on top of it and kissed her mouth until she gasped.
Zach kissed her throat and collarbone. The slopes of her breasts, taking time to suckle at each nipple until they tightened, tingling from his mouth. Down her belly, painting with his tongue. Over each hip. Her thighs, knees, ankles. Standing, he lifted her foot and kissed each toe while Lilly giggled and gasped.
“Not here,” he told her finally, when she moaned. “Someplace softer.”
He lifted her again, cradled in his arms, and took her to the bedroom. The bed welcomed them with the fresh, clean sheets she’d put on earlier. Zach stretched out beside her to kiss her mouth.
She clung to the taste of him, the scent, the feeling of his fingertips tracing patterns on her skin. Lilly wanted never to forget a second of this, but in trying so hard to capture and keep the moment, she was afraid she’d lose it.
“Relax,” Zach whispered as she tensed. He slid a hand up her thigh and found her heat, dipped a finger inside and out to smooth over her clit. “Let me do this for you.”
He’d done so much already, and Lilly didn’t want this to end just yet. “Wait,” she told him as she got to her knees. “Let me do this for you, instead.”
They’d done so much, but she hadn’t used her mouth on his cock. She wanted to now. She would taste every inch of him, experience every pleasure before he left. She wasn’t going to regret not taking every chance she had with him.
He said her name with what sounded like surprise as she took him deep into her mouth and drew back, sucking gently. Her hands cupped his balls and she stroked with her thumb. She wanted Zach to feel as much pleasure as he’d given her. His thigh muscles tensed as she sucked him slowly, then a little faster. His fingers tangled in her hair, not pulling or guiding. Encouraging.
Pleasure built inside her even though she wasn’t even touching herself. It came from knowing that what she was giving was making him feel good, judging from the sound of his low moans and sighs. Lilly moved, her hair caressing him where her hands and mouth didn’t, until at last Zach gripped her shoulder.
“Wait,” he pleaded, and before he could say more, she was already moving up and over his body to settle him inside her.
He rolled them both so he was on top, her legs locked around his back. They’d made love slowly, fucked fiercely, come hard within moments of each other. This was all those times and more, made precious with knowing it was the last. He looked into her eyes and Lilly gave him everything she was, had ever been, would be.
She gave him all of herself and took what Zach gave her. He moved inside every part of her. Ecstasy surged and she fought not to control or delay or prolong it, but to allow herself to let it take her fully away.
They didn’t need words; if he murmured in a language she couldn’t pronounce, Lilly had no trouble understanding his meaning. She spoke with her eyes and mouth, hands, her slick, hot pussy clutching at his cock. Everything had been distilled into this pleasure, this desire, the sum of their parts making up a whole.
She didn’t tell him she loved him.
She was sure he already knew.
* * *
Her body craved sleep, but Lilly forced herself to awake when the sun came up. She turned to look at the man-not a man, but something greater, only wearing the suit of a man-snoring lightly beside her. She brushed his hair back from his forehead.
Zach awoke.
“And now you go…back?” She gave a self-conscious glance upward and saw nothing but the ceiling.
Zach didn’t look up. He didn’t look away from her. “I have until sundown.”
“And if you don’t go back, you die.”
“Yes.”
Lilly bit back a sob and clung to him, tightly. “And what will happen to me?”
“You will go on with your life,” Zach whispered into her hair. “That is what’s meant to happen for you.”
She couldn’t argue with him, or rail against how unfair all this was-whatever had led her to accept this entire situation from the start now forced her to accept it, too. No matter what she wanted with her heart, her mind told her this was what was necessary, and right. What was meant to be.
“So this is our last day?” She looked up at him, her vision unblurred, her voice steady. “Let’s make the most of it.”
He lifted her as he’d done that first time. She felt safe in his arms. Protected. Cherished.
Loved.
Now that she knew how it felt, she would seek it again and recognize it when it came. She’d be ready for love when it found her the next time, and not settle for something less. This was the gift Zach had given her, his act of chesed, and though Lilly had no idea how her smallness could affect the entire world, she believed him when he said his task was to help with tikkun olam.
They made love slowly this time. Savoring. It lasted for what seemed like forever
, and though she wept at the end of it, Lilly was anything but sad.
“I’m hungry,” Zach said into the quiet.
She rolled on her side to face him. “Then let’s eat.”
They did. Anything they wanted, digging deep into Lilly’s freezer to pull out chocolate and ice cream, fried mozzarella sticks, pizza. They drank cold glasses of beer and she danced for him again. He danced for her, too, with grace and humor, his steps fumbling sometimes but never faltering.
The day passed, no way to stop it. Night fell early in the winter and Lilly shook the last few candles from the box. She placed them all in the menorah.
Eighth night, nine candles.
She lit them with the prayer, tasting all the words this time as though they were something new. She supposed they were. She felt new, anyway. New and strange.
She faced him. They’d both dressed by unspoken agreement, Zach in the sweatpants from the first night and she in the cotton robe. She thought there should be fanfare. A ceremony, maybe. She waited for Zach to vanish in a burst of blinding light.
Night fell. The candles flickered. He took her hand and drew her to him for another kiss.
“Is it time?” she asked against his mouth, and he nodded.
“I love you,” Lilly said. She took his face in her hands and made sure he saw everything she felt in her gaze. “Even though it was only eight days. I was blessed to have you. Thank you, Zach.”
“Lilly…” He looked pained, his hands coming up to take hers from his face.
She cried out when he collapsed and she knelt beside him. Zach crouched on hands and knees, forehead placed to the floor. His skin, for the first time, had gone chilly. Under her palm, his shoulders tensed, relaxed. He let out a small noise that sounded like her name.
And then, he was gone.
* * *
Surely he wouldn’t mind if she wept.
Tomorrow, Lilly would get on with her life. Tomorrow, she would venture out into the world, the snow melted, back to work. Back to friends, family. Back to the possibilities she knew were waiting.
But for now, surely Zach wouldn’t mind if she cried.
The candles hadn’t even burned low enough to sputter when the first boom of thunder cracked the air and shook the house. The lightning came a second later, but Lilly was already on her feet. She threw open the sliding glass door, mindless of the snow burning her feet as she ran into the backyard.