Whispers on the Wind

by Judy Griffith Gill

  He looked worried. “Are there no open spaces beyond what I see below?” The entire five-kilometer wide band under the glideway was a green-belt filled with rivers, lakes, parks, and wilderness areas, with frequent offshoots leading into the urban developed areas

  “Oh, yes. Many. Forest preserves that are allowed to remain as close to their natural state as possible.”

  “And people do not go there?”

  “Of course they do. Where we came from is a mountain preserve. The valley where we left the horse is an agricultural preserve. There are cities, and there are rural areas all over this continent and the others.”

  “Yes. My studies told me that, but seeing this... He waved a hand at the speed-blurred city-scape on both sides of the glideway, visible right up the slopes of the mountains in the east, crowding right out to the edge of the ocean in the west. “Seeing this, I had to wonder where Rankin might be collecting the herbals he uses to extract his drugs.”

  “Could be anywhere. Salal grows in great abundance all the way from Alaska to Oregon. If he’s collecting it, he could be near, or he could be a thousand klicks away. Though I think most of the commercial—legitimate commercial picking—is done before the flowers and berries form on it in the spring and summer.”

  Jon glanced, uneasily, she thought, out of the blue bubble that shielded them from the wind of their rapid passage. “I do not wish to find Rankin until I have assembled my people.”

  She laid her hand over his where it rested on his thigh. “We will find your people, Jon. Somehow, we will find them.”

  He turned his hand over and linked their fingers.

  “Yes,” he said. “We will.”

  If only she hadn’t touched him, Lenore thought, feeling the heat of him circulate through her body, setting her nerve-endings afire. A need for him grew in her, grew to unimaginable proportions, and when she finally left the glideway and guided her car the last few kilometers to the narrow slot where it automatically plugged itself into its recharger, she was trembling with hunger to know what a union with Jon would be like.

  When they emerged from the car—Jon managed without dematerializing—he reached for her again at the same moment she reached for him, unwilling, maybe even unable, to give up that physical contact and the promise it offered.

  “This is your home?” he murmured.

  “Yes.” It was difficult to speak.

  “Take me into it,” he said, and in the request, she heard much, much more.

  It seemed only natural, then, for them to continue holding each other as they mounted the moving spiral that carried them to her second-floor apartment. It seemed just as natural for her to lead him directly through the bright living room and into her dim bedroom. There they stood, facing each other, gazes locked, minds in tune, she thought, each knowing exactly why they were there, both wanting the same thing with the same intensity.

  A cool breeze blew suddenly across her back and she realized her clothing had simply...gone away. As had Jon’s. She glanced at the floor. There were no garments pooled near their feet. Her gaze flew to the chair and found it empty of everything but a tattered toy monkey. She gasped. “What...?”

  Then Jon’s warm hands were on her waist, drawing her to him. She could not prevent her own hands rising to glide up over the muscles of his forearms, his biceps, his hard shoulders. She quivered as his gaze caught hers, holding her captive. Between her hands, the gleam of his Kahinya tempted her. She longed to touch it, to go where it would lead her, back to that place of wonder and beauty and warmth, of birdsong and perfumed flowers and slowly flowing water under a turquoise sky, but...which bead had it been she had touched before that transported her there?

  “Lenore...” It was the whisper from her dream, the urgency as intense, and need in the single word as strong, as compelling. She stepped forward and felt his hard warmth against the full length of her body. “Come with me,” he whispered. “Come with me to a place you have never been before.”

  Shivering slightly with anticipation, she nodded. He took her hand, moved her right index finger and connected it to a bead of light and suddenly she was there—wherever “there” was, and so was Jon.

  Water danced in silver ripples as far as she could see. Hot sun beamed down. Beneath her feet, soft growth, not grass, not moss, but green and thick with a hint of purple undertones, cushioned her soles. Small white clouds drifted overhead, casting slowly moving pools of shade while all around seabirds called and flew, blue, green, yellow, bouncing like butterflies through the sweet air, alighting atop the ripples, disappearing beneath them only to pop up again, often with tiny, silver fish in their beaks.

  All around, small flowers painted the tips of shrubs with bright red, pale yellow, deep lavender, adding their scents to the overall perfume of the air. Ferns from as small as her finger to as large as a redwood waved and whispered in the breezes. Between where Lenore and Jon stood and the rippling bay, a curve of silver sand arced away into the distance on both sides. She turned. Behind her, more trees grew, covered with the palest of green fronds, wafting a sweet scent across the shore area. Beyond those, rising in higher and higher ridges, a rolling, hilly landscape faded from green to purple as it reached toward an impossibly blue sky.

  Not another person could be seen. This was their private world, an Eden for a naked Adam and his Eve.

  Jon’s hand moved from hers, tracked slowly, so very slowly up her arm she could scarcely see it moving, but felt it in every pore of her body. Finally, he captured her breast, held it, his thumb stroking her nipple. She wanted, how dearly she wanted, to hold him close, but she was afraid to break contact with the bead she touched lest the magical place disappear.

  His other hand in the center of her back supported her as he lowered her to the resilient growth. A herbal scent, a mingling of thyme, mint, and something she didn’t recognize arose around them, and then his mouth was on hers, seeking, demanding, and his hands stroked over her. This time, she knew, he would not disappear. This time, she knew, her body would not be left humming and aching with unfulfilled needs.

  Her nails raked down his back and she realized she had lost her connection with his Kahinya but it seemed, now, not to matter. The substance beneath her remained the same, the small, puffy clouds still floated high in the aquamarine sky and the brilliantly colored birds continued to call out in their musical voices.

  She gazed into Jon’s green eyes, seeing herself reflected there, and parted her legs to cradle his body. “I need you,” she said.

  “As I need you.”

  “Then come into me,” she pleaded.

  “Not yet,” he whispered. “There is so much more for us to experience together.”

  The places he took her were like nothing she had ever dreamed. With the touch of a single finger, he could make her gasp. With the nip of gentle teeth, he caused her to cry out and writhe in an agony of pleasure. With the soothing brush of his lips, he eased the intensity down to something she could tolerate, though moisture beaded her body and his, whisked away by soft breezes except where their skin, pressed so tightly together, made that impossible.

  She arched against him, seeking. She wrapped her legs around him, urging him to take her. She laughed when one of the red birds landed on his shoulder and said to her, “Look into his mind, Lenore. He is open to you,” but dared not do so though she knew it was Jon who had caused the bird to speak. She waved it away and gazed deeply into Jon’s eyes.

  “Do you want to be in my mind?” she asked.

  “I do. But I will not. I want you to see into me now, Lenore. Come with me. I will not violate your privacy. But from you, I have none. I want none. I want your touch everywhere.”

  “You have it,” she whispered, stroking her hands down his back, curling her fingertips into the resilience of his muscular buttocks. She rolled them both over, straddled his thighs, and cradled him in her hands, one cupping and lifting from underneath, the other sliding up his hard shaft, her thumb stroking back an
d forth, damp from the bead of semen on its tip. He closed his eyes and groaned.

  She bent and touched him with her lips, the tip of her tongue, then gently, carefully, her teeth. He bent like a bow, lifting his hips and she took him into her mouth. He moaned and thrust hard, once, then pulled back from her.

  “Do you not want to know how wonderful that feels to me?”

  “I do know,” she said, lying full-length upon him, her lips against his neck. “You body, your breathing, your voice tells me you like what I do.”

  “My mind says it better. You make colors in my mind, colors and scents and sensations I have never before experienced. I want to share them with you, Lenore. Please, let me.”

  She lifted up and looked into his eyes, her own body vibrating with need for release as she moved against him, unable to do otherwise. His plea resounded against something deep inside her, something that longed to give him what he asked, but she shuddered and could not overcome her fears. Instead of opening her mind, or letting him open his to her, she opened her body and took him inside.

  He groaned in pleasure, then slowly, lovingly, he began to move inside her. As tension grew in her, as her breathing became labored and her vision blurred, he somehow held her at that point until she was slick with sweat, crying out faintly, begging for release.

  And then he gave it to her. Gave it to them both. It burst over them like the avalanche and this time she did not try to fight the swirling, tossing sensation, but tumbled willingly with it, with him. Her climax closed off every semblance of thought.

  What must have been eons later, Lenore became aware of Jon leaning over her, tracing that long curl of her hair over her breasts again, teasing her with it. She opened her eyes slowly, met his smiling gaze and said, “What did you do to me?”

  “I loved you, Lenore.”

  Made love, he meant. She knew that. But even knowing it, her heart leapt with joy at the thought of his loving her, despite the impossibility of it.

  “And I will love you again,” he said, just before a whistling sound drew his attention and he smiled as he turned them both. “But now, would you like to meet some friends of mine?”

  “I certainly would not!”

  She was stark naked in a strange place, had just shared unbelievable sex with an alien and now he wanted to introduce her to friends? She bit her lip, totally unwilling to share him—to share this place—with anyone else. Though she heard another whistle, she saw no one anywhere along the shore, or in any kind of boat in the water.

  “What friends?”

  “The mazayin.” Jon stood and pulled her up by the hand.

  “Mazayin?” She repeated the word as he had said it, with the accent on the center syllable. She felt she was becoming much more adept at using the odd bits of his language, though she despaired of ever achieving the musical quality of his tongue.

  He swung a gesture at the sea before them. Now, in addition to the birds that danced on its waves, she saw the dark fins of some kind of swimming creature just cutting the surface of the water, approaching at great speed. Still holding her hand, Jon walked from the resilient ground cover over the hot, shifting sand and stood at the creaming edge of the surf.

  The animals cavorted near the surf-line. Larger than dolphins, smaller than orcas, the deep blue shade of their sides lightened to silver as they rolled, revealing inky-black double fins on their backs.

  “The mazayin enjoy company. Come and meet them. We will swim with them.” He smiled into her eyes. “For a time,” he added, and her insides quivered at the promise she heard in his voice. Half of her was intrigued by the thought of swimming with the animals he called mazayin, but the other half of her wanted only to lie with him again in that soft vegetation, to be alone, to once more realize the totality of satisfaction she had found in physical union with Jon.

  Still, Lenore let him lead her farther into the water. Together, they waded waist-deep. The sea, or lake, or whatever it was, wrapped around her body, warm, silken, and as sweet-smelling as the air, but with different overtones—vanilla, cinnamon, and a hint of lemon. It was totally unlike any water she had ever experienced. Even its texture seemed special, softer somehow, more limpid. A mazayin glided close by, stroking her thigh, and, startled, she crowded nearer Jon, but the creature was no threat. It smiled at her and...

  It sang!

  Its song was not one with any words she could understand, but she was aware of the rhythm, the rhyme of its music. Something compelled her to reach out and touch it. Its hide was soft, like the finest kid gloves she had ever owned. She stroked it and then, to her amazement, it dove and came up under her, lifting her fully from the water. She clutched the fin before her, felt the one behind her flatten and curve to support the small of her back. The beast submerged until she was breast-deep and then, suddenly, she, still astride its back, was flying across the surface of the water, Jon astride another mazayin right beside her, leaping from wave-top to wave-top.

  She was one with it, their minds, their bodies, their emotions linked and harmonized. She sang its song, danced its dance, knew its joy and took a deep breath without knowing why she must, and held it. Down, down, down they dove through crystalline depths where fantastic creatures swam among long, waving fronds of rainbow-tinted luxuriance.

  A galaxy of stars burst before her, around her, within her, as the mazayin exhaled a vast bubble of air for her to breathe, and then they continued on, each turn of its body opening new vistas to her. Light reflected in diffused patterns as she looked up at the silvery surface, refracted as she looked down, and out, and inward, absorbing a kind of beauty she had never seen before.

  Suddenly, they went sweeping upwards again, leaping free, back into the sparkling air. As she drew in another breath, she realized she had never once felt stifled, not for an instant feared for her life. With the mazayin, she had explored a world even more alien than the Maxfield Parrish vista in Jon’s Kahinya.

  Again! she begged and once more she and her mount, Jon and his, flew across the surface of the sea. At times she was immersed up to her neck. Other times, she saw water-drops glistening as they poured down her legs and off her toes, splashing to the surface many feet below as her mazayin leapt free of the sea. She felt no fear, only an incomparable sense of freedom, of oneness with the mazayin—and with Jon, as if the unity of the beasts opened a link between the two of them, psyche to psyche, soul to soul. She glanced over at Jon and saw her own delight mirrored in his face.

  Her hair whipped back. Spray flew. She laughed from unadulterated joy. Birds called and a great chorus of mazayin song filled not only the air, but her heart. She threw back her head and sang their wordless song from the sheer delight of being alive.

  At her silent pleading, they once again descended beneath the surface, circling a reef of coral with colors so intense she held her breath though the mazayin had just given her another bubble to breathe from. Never had she felt such a staggering sense of familiarity, almost of homecoming. This was her place, one she knew she would want to return to again and again, no matter what it took. And she knew, too, that she would want to return with Jon, that without him, the magic would not exist.

  Even if he could not love her as she wanted to be loved, could not be her life-long mate, she would stay with him for the duration of his time on Earth and if he left her with a child, she would love it, cherish it, learn with it and someday, tell it the truth of how it had come to be.

  On a tiny islet, hardly more than a shallow part of the sea, the mazayin left them for a time, going off to feed on the sea growth far, far below. Their song faded to a faint, lilting murmur.

  With their feet buried in soft sand, the sweet-scented water supporting them, Jon lifted Lenore until her legs were around his waist. She made no protest, only looked into his eyes as he gazed into hers. Bending his head, he kissed her breasts, her neck, her stomach. He laid her out in the water so she floated before him, linked only by her legs around him, and traced hot patterns over her ski
n with damp fingers. He dipped them inside her, bringing her close to the verge of ecstasy, then grasped her thighs and pulled her to him, entering her with exquisite slowness that left her writhing and gasping, straining to get closer.

  He tugged her legs farther apart, opening her wider as he gave her everything she wanted. When he was finally deep within her, he stayed very still, holding their slick bodies together, letting only the slow, undulating motion of the waves move them against one another. It was a peerless consummation, him so large, yet so still within her, filling her completely, only the gentle movement of the waves as they rocked and floated her, creating an extraordinary sensation. When her climax began in small, quivering flashes of heat that built and swelled and finally overcame her in a rush, he joined her in the release, letting her body float free again but for that scalding point of union, throwing back his head and shouting his relief to the sky above.

  “Jon...” She could scarcely stand, but he supported her, leading her to an even shallower spot where soft, slick seaweed cushioned them as they sat, letting the ripples wash over them as aftershocks did the same.

  “I have never...” she said, leaning her head on his shoulder.

  “Never what?” His murmur was close to her ear. His hair dripped onto her cheek. She licked away the drops, loving the taste of the water, the taste of him.

  “Never known anything like that.”

  “Nor have I.”

  She lifted her head and looked at him, shaking her head. “You must have. I suspect you Aazoni are much more...accomplished in such matters.”

  He stroked her hair back from her face, and she felt the streams of water from it trickling down her back. “I have some...controls,” he admitted. “But somehow, with you, I seemed not to be able to maintain them for long.”