Rapture's Rendezvous

by Cassie Edwards

  “And you, Michael?” she whispered. “You've set me on fire inside.” She reached her arms out to him, begging him to come to her, wanting more, but had to remain patient as he began to undress in front of her.

  “Remove the robe, Maria,” he said, tossing his shirt aside, revealing to her a broad expanse of chest, covered by thick, golden curls. “I want to feast my eyes on the whole of you before we share the ultimate of feelings shared between a man and woman.”

  Maria smiled sheepishly as she sat up, to let the robe fall freely from around her. She straightened her back, proud of her breasts, hungering once again for his lips to devour them. “These feelings, Michael,” she said. “I've never experienced them before. Have you? With many different women already?”

  Michael's eyes widened and his fingers stopped unbuttoning his breeches. “You've never been with a man before?” he blurted, wondering about how experienced she had appeared only moments ago. And she was ready to give herself to him willingly. Most women were too bashful that first time to be able to relax and enjoy it. .. much less to encourage it.

  “Not in a sexual way,” she said, running her fingers over the softness of the bed, relishing this moment of firsts . . . her first bed . . . her first love . . . “I've only been with my brother Alberto,” she quickly added.

  Michael took a step backwards, teetering. His face had turned ashen. “Your brother?” he gasped.

  Maria bounced from the bed and went to Michael, laughing softly. She ran her fingers through the hairs of his chest, then fingered each nipple, thinking them to be so rubbery, not tight and stiff like her own now were. “Not as a husband with a wife,” she giggled. “I said I hadn't been with any man in that way. My brother and I? We're as close as being one person. You see, that's because we are twins.”

  Michael reached for her, laughing awkwardly. “I see,” he said. “And you're now ready to be taken sexually? By me?”

  “Yes, Michael,” she purred, fitting her body into his again, wrapping a leg around him, teasing him.

  He held her to him, caressing the smoothness of her back, then lower, to the curves of her buttocks. “Why me, Maria?” he asked thickly.

  She looked up into his eyes, smiling sweetly. “You're so different, Michael,” she said. “You're even beautiful. Now please kiss me, will you?”

  “Will I? God. Yes,” he. answered and consumed her fully with his lips, again lifting her, to stretch her atop the bed. He positioned himself above her, also on the bed, as his fingers quickly released his manhood from its tight confines and searched eagerly . . . hungrily . .

  for that soft place between her legs, glad to find her open, ready.

  “I'll be gentle, Maria,” he said. “You'll see how gentle a man can be.”

  Slowly he pushed his manhood to the part of her that had been readied for a man's entrance and began to probe.. . .

  Maria felt feverish with desire, touching him everywhere, wanting to remember this moment. He hadn't let her see the part of him that was now like a hot rod exploring deeply between her legs. But she hadn't had to see it. All that was important was how it was making her feel.

  She arched her back upward, sighing from the strange, pleasurable sensations inside herself, now waiting for his complete entrance inside the deepest part of herself. “Please, Michael,” she whispered. “Now. Please do it now, Michael.”

  Michael's body stiffened as he thrust inward, groaning as the warmth of her vaginal walls closed around his throbbing manhood. Only a slight trickle of blood covered his entrance and now he was free to pull from Maria all the warmth and sweetness she was giving to him. He moved his body inward and outward, closing his eyes to the building of pressures ready to explode from inside himself, then crushed her mouth beneath his as the spasms of release became so close.. . .

  “Oh,” Maria whimpered as he had made the entrance, but the pain quickly turned once again to pleasure. She wrapped her legs around him and began to work with him, panting, meeting his every thrust, enjoying to the fullest this sensation of wild, sensuous pleasure invading every fiber of her being, then felt the urgency building … a frantic passion that made her cling to him . . . nibble at his shoulders . .. dig her fingers into his buttocks .. . until together, they began to tremble … to moan and groan in unison . . . until they soon lay spent. . . wet with perspiration . . . panting.

  Michael stretched out on his back beside Maria and threw an arm over his eyes, still feeling the thumping of his heart. “God!” he blurted. “God.”

  Maria curled up next to him and began to trace his body with a finger. “Was I so bad?” she pouted, thinking him to be angry.

  Michael turned to face her, laughing throatily. He squeezed a breast softly and kissed the tip of her nose. “Surely you don't think I'm disappointed,” he said.

  “Then you're not?”

  “You're very skillful at lovemaking, Maria,” he murmured. “And did I hurt you?”

  “Only for a moment,” she whispered. “Then I experienced the most heavenly of sensations.”

  “And I also, my love,” he said, kissing- her again.

  She continued to trace his body with her fingers, and with wide eyes stared at the part of him that had just given her so much pleasure. “Why, it is so small and soft,” she said aloud, then blushed when she realized what she had said.

  Michael laughed, positioning himself so she could see it more easily. “Touch it again,” he said.

  Maria's fingers pulled away from him. “You want me to … touch . .. it… again?” she whispered.

  He laughed again and took her hand in his, guiding it downward. “Touch it. Even hold it,” he encouraged, feeling the heat begin to swell inside it as her fingers gently enfolded it.

  “But it is so small,” she repeated. “It felt much larger . . . when . . . inside me.” “Caress it, Maria,” he said thickly, stiffening his legs. “How?”

  “Just move your fingers on it. You will soon understand.”

  She did as he suggested, thinking this thing to feel so warm. Her eyes widened as it suddenly began to thicken and grow in her hand. “Why .. . it's . .. alive …” she-gasped.

  “Very alive,” he laughed, then turned to lift her to lie atop him, inserting his manhood inside her again. “And now, let's show you just how alive,” he groaned, thrusting wildly inside her.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and closed her eyes, feeling her breasts bouncing against his chest, stirring her to sexual bliss again, surprised that it could happen again so soon. She wanted to scream . . . yell… she felt so wonderful.. . but soon it was all over again, leaving her to lie completely exhausted and even ready for sleep.

  She moved from atop Michael and lay panting, wondering if her heart would ever beat normally again.. ..

  “Can you stay with me, Maria?” Michael asked, brushing hair back from her eyes, tracing her strawberry-colored birthmark with his forefinger, but not mentioning it, for fear of embarrassing her. He could not be sure of her feelings for this one flaw about her features. “The voyage is to be a long, boring one,” he quickly added.

  Her eyes opened wildly, suddenly remembering Alberto and how frightened he might be and how frantically he must be searching for her. She climbed from the bed and began to dress in her clothes that had succeeded at drying beside the stove. “My brother,” she said breathlessly. “I simply forgot all about him.”

  Michael rose from the bed, buttoning his breeches. “He's old enough to fend for himself, Maria.”

  “But we've never been apart. Never.”

  “This would be a good time to start,” Michael argued. He went to her and pulled her to him, exploring with his hands beneath her jacket. “It's not normal for brother and sister to be so close. You have to break that bond. And soon.”

  Maria jerked from his hold, with anger flashing in her eyes. “We shall never break our bonds,” she hissed. “Ours is an alliance of love.”

  Michael stormed away from her and grabbed his shirt
to pull it on. “Can his love warm you at night?” he shouted. “Can his hands caress and excite you as mine can?”

  Maria's fists doubled at her side.-”You are filthy-mouthed, Michael,” she screamed. “How could I have let you touch me?”

  He laughed sardonically. “Because for a while there, you realized there was more to life than being a sister.”

  Maria flung her hair around her shoulders angrily, now realizing that she had left her hat on the top deck, lying beside the bunk. Now everyone aboard this ship knew that she was a female. A fear gripped her insides, remembering Alberto's warnings. She had wanted to be seduced by Michael… but not anyone else. . . . But at this moment, that was the least of her worries.

  “I'm getting out of here,” she said, buttoning the last button of her breeches. She hurried toward the door, but stopped to eye the apple and cheese slices, worrying about Alberto and what he had probably had to eat for his evening meal. “Can . . . 1.. . ?” she whispered, begging with her eyes.

  “Hell, yes,” Michael pouted. “Take it all.”

  “Oh, thank you. Michael,” she murmured, scooping as much food into her pockets as was possible. Then she eyed Michael with a long, lingering look, again feeling the warm, pulsating between her thighs, knowing that no amount of anger she felt for him could ever make her hate him. She was in love with him . . . and would be . . . forever and ever.

  He moved toward her and secured the cork in the wine bottle. “Here,” he said, handing it toward her. “Take this also. It gets quite cold topside. But you already are aware of this, aren't you?”

  Tears sprang up at the corner of Maria's eyes. “Oh, Michael,” she whispered. “Thank you.” She tucked the bottle beneath an arm, picked up her violin case and stood aside as Michael unlocked and opened the door for her.

  “Good night, Maria,” he said, leaning to brush a kiss against her lips.

  “Good night, Michael,” she replied, then turned and began to flee down the long, dark passageway, being guided by only slight flickerings of whale oil lanterns positioned on each side wall.

  Moving onward, keeping her eyes forward, anxious to reach the steps that led upward to top deck, she suddenly stumbled against something sprawled at her feet. She leaned against the wall, feeling desperation rising inside herself when she looked downward to see what could be blocking her passage. Then a loud scream surfaced from the depths of her throat when she discovered it to be the body of Alberto . . . lying lifeless … in a fetal position . . . with blood gushing from his nose and mouth.

  Slumping to the deck, Maria let the wine bottle crash to the floor. She placed her violin case next to Alberto, then lifted his head to rest on her lap. “Alberto,” she moaned, rocking back and forth, with tears streaming down her face. “My sweet, sweet Alberto.”

  A sudden rush of feet brought Michael to her side. “Oh, my God,” he groaned, stooping to see how Alberto was. He checked his pulse. “He's just knocked out, Maria,” he said. “He'll be all right.”

  “Why would anyone do this to Alberto?” she cried, feeling a part of her dying inside. She could almost feel his pain. She cradled him closer to her.

  “Many evil things can happen on a ship,” Michael said. “Come. Let's take your brother to my cabin.”

  “No,” she snapped angrily, remembering the cruelty of Michael's words of only moments earlier about her love for her brother.

  “Why not?” he snapped back at her.

  “My brother and I have our own bunks. Up on top deck,” she said stubbornly.

  “Then you refuse my help?” he argued, rising, glowering.

  “I would appreciate it if you'd help Alberto to his bunk,” she said softly, with wavering eyes.

  “You sure you want me to help to even do that?” Michael boomed, placing his hands on his hips.

  “Please, Michael?” she pleaded, sobbing openly.

  “Oh, God, Maria,” Michael answered, stooping to lift Alberto's arm over his shoulders. “Don't cry, Maria. Please don't cry.”

  She wiped her eyes with the back of one hand and lifted her violin case up with the other and walked beside Michael as he semi-dragged Alberto until he had him stretched out atop his bunk.

  “There,” Michael said, panting, then staring around him at the immigrants watching, seeing fear etched on each of their faces. It made Michael feel so damn helpless. But maybe once he reached America, they could all have a chance to thank him. Yes, once his mission was accomplished. . . .

  “Alberto,” Maria said, resting on bended knees beside his bunk. “Please wake up.” She accepted a handkerchief from Michael and began gently wiping the blood from Alberto's face. Then she remembered the commotion she had heard outside Michael's door . . . shortly before she and Michael had fallen into bed, wrestling, pleasuring one another. She closed her eyes as they burned with tears, knowing that this noise had been her own brother being beaten while she. … He had probably been searching for her.. . .

  “Is there anything else I can do, Maria?” Michael asked, touching her hand.

  She jerked free of him and glared upward. “Yes,” she said darkly. “You can leave me and Alberto alone. I will not leave my brother's side for the rest of this journey. It is he who now needs me to watch over him, and I shall do this, no matter what.”

  Michael clamped his lips together tightly and swung around and stormed away, leaving Maria with an aching, throbbing heart. “But I do love you, Michael,” she whispered after him.

  Then her eyes traveled around her, searching the faces, anger swelling inside her, hoping to find out who was responsible for her brother's injuries.. . .

  Chapter Three

  The ocean had changed its mood. It now lay quiet. . . a canvas of blue stretched out as far as the eye could see. The only ripples in the water were from the ship's movements, and it didn't even appear to be making any headway.

  Maria peered across the endless body of water, thinking to never see land again and all the comforts it had to offer. Oh, if only she hadn't taken for granted such things as fresh drinking water … the softness of grass beneath one's feet… the song of the birds in the brush. She licked her lips thirstily, feeling the dried cracks of flesh peeling from them. No. Never again would she even be able to run with her brother through fields of tall grass, or be able to share a bed, where late in the night they could exchange their secret thoughts.

  Maria leaned down over Alberto, trying to shade him with her body. Now the rains would be welcome, for the sun was even worse punishment as it continued to beat down onto Maria's head, making her scalp tingle in a strange way. It had been this way for days. Nothing but sun and sea. The colors of blues and yellows meeting were now a constant blur to Maria. And she had to wonder if it was the same for Alberto, as his eyes looked into the distance in a bulgy, silent stare.

  “Alberto?” Maria whispered, dipping a cloth into a pail of water, then touching it softly to Alberto's lips. “Please suck on this cloth. Please, Alberto. You need the moisture in your body, or you might even dehy-drate and die a slow, lingering death.” She squeezed the cloth, watching the droplets settle onto his closed lips, only to run, as drool might do, down his chin and onto his sweat-soaked shirt.

  Alberto blinked his eyes and moved his head slightly, but still lay mute, as he had now since Sam's fierce blow upon the head. Maria gently turned his head and checked the head wound. It had finally quit seeping a colorless liquid. Guilt flooded her senses, as she remembered not having found the wound for two full days after his accident. Even the ship's doctor hadn't seen it. Doctor Rawson had fleetingly checked Alberto over, saying he would be all right in time, to not fret. But when Maria had continued to worry as each day had passed, seeing no change whatsoever in Alberto she had insisted that Doctor Rawson take a closer look at Alberto. That was when the head wound had been discovered.

  “It don't look good, missic,” Doctor Rawson had drawled in a cockney sort of dialect. “It appears to me that your brother might or might not make it now
that I see his head. Sure willpower will be the only thing to pull him through now. We will just have to wait and see.”

  “You will be all right, Alberto,” Maria said, smoothing his shirt with her hand, so wanting him to awaken and pull her into his arms, to reassure her that indeed he would arrive on America's soil with her. Even to think of seeing his body heaved from the ship, into the ocean that had become a grave for many since having left Italy, made Maria's stomach turn into massive quivers.

  Looking down into her pail of water, fear gripped her heart even more. What had been rationed her and all on board just wasn't enough to keep her and Alberto's tongues wet, let alone to use it for anything else. Her eyes searched all around her, seeing all the others who were suffering from different maladies. The ugly moods of the weather continued to take their toll. Coughs and sneezes wracked all, it seemed. The children were the ones who had managed to stay the healthiest. But the elderly? So many . . . oh, so many hadn't made it.

  Maria clutched at her chest, coughing herself. Her eyes continued to travel through the throngs of people lining the rails of the ship, now looking for the familiar stance of Michael. He had let her be … since that night she had attacked him verbally for his having spoken so wickedly of her and Alberto's relationship.

  Now? She wished that her stubborn side hadn't been dominant that night. Now? She wished she had said yes to Michael's invitation for her and the wounded Alberto to share his cabin. Ah, to be in the comfort of his cabin . . . attired in comfortable clothes . . . being given all she desired to eat and drink. Yes, even Alberto would most surely agree that that would have been best for them. Maria now feared that Alberto might possibly have a sunstroke, instead of the usually fatal disease called pneumonia. She hadn't decided yet which was the worst. These past several days she had seen so much of both.

  Feeling suddenly exhausted, and oh, so sad, Maria stretched her legs out beside the bunk, pulling her breeches legs up beyond her ankles, and placed her head on Alberto's chest, sighing. She again hadn't seen Michael, but she knew that he was smart to stay below deck, where he was able to forget the stench of top deck and all those who were suffering so.