by JD Nixon
“Want to give me a hug?” he teased, smothering me with his sweaty body.
“Eww, get off!” I screeched, pushing at his body with my good hand. He gave me a damp, sweaty kiss, and threw himself back on the bed laughing softly. “You smell bad.”
“It’s a very manly smell. Most women love it.”
“Most women didn’t just have their face rubbed in your armpit.”
He took the hint and went to shower. While he did, I dozed again. And yes, I really was that lazy when given the choice. He threw himself back on the bed wearing one of the hotel’s fluffy robes, still damp, but smelling much better. We chatted for a while and eventually ordered breakfast, taking a long time to get moving; well, I was taking a long time anyway.
The day passed peacefully. We pottered, we shopped, we dined, we returned to the beach again. We both spent a heavenly hour at the hotel’s spa being pummelled and pampered, then I cheered Heller on as he played on its nine-hole golf course, after giving up trying to play with one hand myself. What we conspicuously didn’t do was talk about anything that had happened recently or about our relationship. I was ready to talk, but didn’t want to spoil the nice time we were having. So instead I dragged him to the hotel’s cinema to watch a new-release movie with me.
“I can’t believe the day has gone,” he said in bemusement as evening fell. “We didn’t achieve anything today.”
I smiled. “We had a good time. Sometimes life is just about having fun. Not everything has to be about business and making money.”
“Hmm,” he said, as if not convinced.
“And we spent lots of time together.”
“I liked that part,” he smiled, leaning down to kiss me.
That night, as he held me tightly in his arms, I had a really vivid dream.
It was the dark ages. A young woman and man lived in a small hut in a tiny village. They had been recently married and were very much in love. One day she complained because he was often away from home fighting, not leaving enough time for him to lie with her and give her a child. He laughed when she said that, stating that there was time soon enough.
But there wasn’t.
Not long after there was a Viking raid on their village and everything was burnt to the ground, the men slaughtered, the woman and children captured. She was amongst the kidnapped, being young, healthy and of childbearing age. Her kidnapper was a young tall, blond man.
The Viking took her across the sea to a village in his homeland. He brought her to a round hut made of animal fur. There he deposited her on a bed of rugs, and she lay there terrified, shrinking away from him. He spoke to her at length, gesturing around him, but of course she couldn’t understand a word of what he was saying. Then, as if he’d gained her consent, he pushed up her dress, forced her legs apart with his hands and brutally pushed himself inside her, muffling her screams of pain with his hand clamped over her mouth. He finished quickly and fell asleep at once, leaving her to retreat to a dark part of the hut, sobbing in pain and despair.
The next few weeks passed like that for her. He raped her every night, and she spent the rest of the time cradling herself in the darkest part of the hut. She refused to wash, barely ate, and spent all night and day crying, mourning for her dead husband and her lost life. Then her period started and the Viking left her alone.
Many times an elderly woman or a young woman came to bring him food and to clean his hut. She stared at them in misery, and assumed they were his mother and sister. She knew they would not help her escape from him, even though when they spoke to her their voices were kind. The woman couldn’t understand what was being said of course, but the Viking complained to his mother when she stepped into the hut one day.
“She doesn’t like me,” he sulked. “She doesn’t wish to lie with me. I have to force her to every night. I dislike her crying all the time.”
“You must be patient, my son,” advised his mother. “She has probably left a husband and maybe even children behind her and it is normal that she mourns them. This is good. It shows that she is a loyal and devoted wife. Like she will be to you as well one day.”
“I have shown her my possessions and explained my rank in the village. I told her that I would be a good provider and of my skill in hunting and fishing. I told her that I am a good warrior and will protect her. She can see that I am strong and healthy, and well-favoured. Why doesn’t she like me?”
“Be patient, my son. She can’t cry forever.”
And the elderly woman was right. By the time her period had finished, she had cried out all the tears she had in her body, and spent her time sitting quietly, watching the Viking when he was in the hut. She could see that he was industrious and skilled and did not join in the drunken carousing that seemed to happen every night outside the hut. She could hear other women screaming nightly and was grateful that he hadn’t used her any more unkindly than he had.
One morning she was sick of her smell, and indicated to him that she would like to eat, bathe and change her clothing. He was surprised and pleased, and ushered his mother and sister into the hut to see to her needs. They were kind to her and brought her food, which she ate greedily. They led her to a nearby stream to bathe, bringing a clean, plain shift for her to change into. She threw away her soiled clothes and stood in the stream, washing her hair and body.
She didn’t realise, but there were two men watching her as she bathed. The first was her Viking, who was desperate to possess her again, viewing her naked body in awe. The other was one of the regular drunken carousers who had not been fortunate enough to find his own woman during the raid, and had decided to take what he wanted from another man.
When she dried off and slipped the fresh shift over her body, the two women guided her back up the path to the village. Suddenly though, the other man jumped out from the bush and grabbed her, dragging her back towards the wood, ripping at her clothes and struggling with his pants. She screamed and screamed. Her Viking sprang from his hiding place and challenged the other man. There was an intense, but brief, struggle that her Viking won easily, being the younger and stronger of the two, leaving the beaten man unconscious on the ground.
The woman clung to him sobbing in relief. It had just occurred to her that her future safety and life were in the hands of this man, and that no matter how unpleasant her time with him had been, it could be much worse for her in this strange land. She was a pragmatist and realised that she would never again see her homeland, that her much-loved husband was dead, and that she had little choice but to start a new life again here with her Viking. She knew this was the destiny of many women in her time, and that it was pointless to rail against fate.
The Viking was very aroused by contact with her again, especially after having witnessed her nakedness earlier. He picked her up in his strong arms and took her back to his hut, laying her down on the fur rugs. He was about to push up her shift and force her legs apart again, when she stopped him by putting a hand on his chest. He stared at her in puzzlement and watched with increasing desire as she slipped her shift over her head, kneeling naked next to him. He moved to reach for her, but again she stopped him. She slipped off his clothes, so that he was also naked beside her.
They knelt on the rugs, facing each other. She took his hands and guided them gently over her face, down her shoulders, breasts, hips and legs. He watched her intently, breathing rapidly with increasing desire and excitement as he touched her. She then took his hands and ran them through her long hair. He was a fast learner and was soon caressing her body, stroking her soft breasts in wonder and tangling his hands in her hair. She then leaned forward and kissed him, which he also learned quickly. Finally though he couldn’t stand the foreplay any longer and pushed her down on the rug, grunting approval when she willingly opened her legs to him. He rammed himself inside her in his urgency. She winced in pain and pushed him back, taking hold of him and guiding him into her in a more gentle way.
She moved her hips with him, and stroked his
back, murmuring in his ear. When he climaxed with a loud and excited shout, pleasure shuddering through his whole body, she smiled secretly to herself. She suspected that she was his first woman, which was why he was so unskilled in the art. They fell asleep on the rugs, her cradled in his arms. She was still sleeping, enjoying her first fear-free sleep since her abduction, and didn’t wake when the Viking’s mother brought food to the hut. She smiled with delight when she saw the woman lying in the bed with her son and not huddled at the edge of the hut.
“She came to you willingly?” she queried softly.
“Yes, and it was very pleasing to me, Mother. And she helped me to be kinder to her. It made my pleasure even greater and I think she received some pleasure too.”
“It is always wise to keep your woman pleased in bed, my son. Then she will not stray from you.”
He looked down at the slumbering woman, and stroked her long hair. “She is so beautiful.”
“You have chosen well. She will bear you many sons. I will start teaching her our ways in the morning, so she can be a good wife to you.”
And the woman learned the ways of her new country, and did so with respect and a sense of humour at her own mistakes that made her popular with the other women. When her period didn’t arrive after a few months, she was quietly content. They were lying together on the rugs one night, and she took the Viking’s hand and placed it on her stomach.
“Baby,” she told him in his language. He smiled at her with such genuine pride that for the first time she felt as though she would be able to be happy in this new life. She was thrilled at the thought of having her first baby, even if it was with the Viking.
And they grew old together, raising many fine, strong sons and beautiful daughters.
I woke up and stayed in bed, puzzling over the dream. It was full of meaning for me, but I wasn’t sure I understood the message.
When Heller asked me why I was frowning, I nestled on his shoulder and told him of my dream, with as much detail as I could remember. I stopped talking and looked at him, feeling a bit shy after sharing such an intimate dream with him. He studied me for a long time, his eyes roving my face, before he spoke.
“That was a very detailed and intriguing dream, my sweet,” he said finally. “The symbolism of it isn’t lost on me. But I’m having trouble deciding if the Viking is the good guy or the bad guy in the story. I mean, the woman ends up with a happy life, but it’s not the choice she would have made voluntarily. And he forces her to leave her old life and loved ones behind to submit to him in a strange place.” Our eyes locked together. “Is this dream about you and me? Is this how you view coming to work for me?”
The air around us was suddenly loaded with emotion. It felt important that I answer this question properly – important to him.
“Not consciously, but I guess I often have to do what you want even when I don’t want to, because you’re my boss. And let’s face it, it is almost impossible for me to maintain any kind of normal relationship with a man in my current life. So, yeah, I guess I’ve had to give up my old life to join you. Do you think that’s what the dream means?”
“I think it’s definitely telling you that I am your future. How do you feel about that?”
“I honestly don’t know. It’s almost as though I’m not being given a choice.”
“Just like the woman in your dream. Perhaps you really think that I’m forcing you into a relationship with me, and it’s a relationship you would never have chosen to enter yourself?”
I couldn’t answer then and looked away, because what he was saying was coming dangerously close to my true feelings. I’d never thought it was a good idea for me to become emotionally entangled with Heller. I knew nothing about him – not his real name, not his age, not where he came from, nothing about his family, nothing about his previous life. How can you possibly love a man you don’t even know? So why did I have these feelings for him and why did I find myself fooling around with him so often? I simply couldn’t straighten it all out in my head.
“Matilda, is that what you think?” he asked again, an urgent tone in his voice. He grabbed my chin in his hand and forced me to look him in the eyes.
“I don’t know, Heller. I just don’t know.”
“Because don’t forget the other part of your dream, where she shows him how to be a better person. That resonates a lot with me as well.”
It was the right thing to say in the circumstances. I knew that since we’d met, I had made some impact on him and stirred up emotions in him that he probably would have preferred not to have.
I cupped his face in my hands and kissed him tenderly on the lips. Never one to miss an opportunity, he grasped the back of my head, pulling me down on top of him as he reclined back on the bed. We shared some hot kisses and he caressed me, running his hands over my body, arousing me instantly. I tried to calculate how long it had been since I’d had any sex, but his hands and lips made it impossible to think.
He slipped off my top, kissing my breasts, and had his hands down my boxers, grasping and kneading my butt, when a vision of Violet’s malevolent face as she broke my hand popped into my head. I jolted backwards, breaking away from him, breathing heavily.
“That woman again?” he asked, disappointed.
I laughed shakily. “I think you’re going to have to sleep with hundreds of women before I’m going to be able to forget about her.”
He smiled sadly. “It’s not every day that a man is told to sleep with hundreds of women so he can have the one he really wants.”
“Aren’t you up to the challenge?” I joked, trying to lighten the mood, slipping my top back on.
He moved over to sit on my legs, pinning me to the bed. “I do have one challenge that is frustrating me. I want to give my sweet Matilda a heavenly experience to make up for my neglect, but she won’t let me sleep with her. So I have to think of something else.”
My breath caught in my throat. “What do you think she’d like?”
“Oh, I know she’ll like this.” And he yanked down my boxers, throwing them to the floor over his shoulder.
“Heller!”
He pushed my legs apart and leaned far down, his tongue gliding up and down. Holy shit, that was good! He stopped and looked up, his eyes innocent. “Did you want me to stop?”
“Um . . .”
He used his tongue on me again. “How about now?”
“Well . . .”
Once more. “Now?”
“No,” I said in a little voice. “Keep going. Please.”
So he kept going. And going. And going. And the man sure knew what to do with his tongue and where to do it.
My orgasm was so strong that I jerked uncontrollably, my knee flying up and cracking him in the jaw, sending him tumbling off the end of the bed. He fell to the floor with a loud thud and a groan.
I sat up and crawled to the end of the bed. “Oh sorry, Heller! Are you all right?”
He sat up on the floor rubbing his jaw. “I suppose that’s a compliment?”
I giggled guiltily. “It was fantastic! And . . . sorry again.”
“Sex with you is going to be quite an experience, Matilda. I can tell that already. I only hope I survive it.”
Chapter 32
Later that day, we strolled through the hotel’s boutique shopping arcade, after a coffee at the beachfront cafe. With a glint in his eye, Heller told me sit on one of the leather lounges scattered throughout the arcade and to wait for him while he disappeared into one of the shops. He was gone for about fifteen minutes, returning with a small gift-wrapped box in his hands. He sat next to me and handed me the box.
“A little something for you,” he said, kissing me on the cheek.
Excitedly, I opened the wrapping paper and the small square jewellery box it was concealing. Inside was a beautiful gold charm bracelet, the type with a vast array of beads available to customise your own bracelet. Very pretty and very expensive.
He had chosen some letter
ing for mine, and when I read it, I laughed so loudly that people turned to look at me. The lettered gold charms spelt out “I LOVE VIKINGS”, each word separated by gold bead studded with an ice blue gemstone. Heller explained he had specifically requested that the gemstone match his eye colour to remind me of him. I held the bracelet up to his eyes to compare, and it wasn’t a bad match at all.
“Thank you so much, Heller. It’s very sweet of you. I love these bracelets,” I said sincerely. “I promise I’ll never take it off.”
“At least not until you hate me again anyway,” he teased, slipping it on my wrist and fastening the clasp for me. We sauntered off back to our room, his arm around my shoulders, me holding up my bracelet to admire it. We were just about to press the button for the lift, when I heard someone call my name. I turned around in surprise.
It was Will.
I froze. Heller’s arm tightened around my shoulders and his body stiffened with hostility. I hadn’t seen Will since he dumped me, and I was shocked at the nausea that swept over me and the physical pain that seared through my heart at the sight of him again.
“Tilly!” he exclaimed, and he seemed extraordinarily happy to see me. I could hardly breathe with the pain choking my heart.
“Hello Will,” I managed to say, in what I hoped was a normal voice. He made a small move as though he was going to kiss me in greeting, but looked up at Heller, and didn’t follow through.
“Heller,” Will acknowledged sullenly. Heller gave him an almost imperceptible nod, the smallest possible gesture one human could give to acknowledge another without completely ignoring them. I thought I detected some very faint scarring on Will’s nose.
“God, it’s good to see you,” he said, his eyes raking over me. I was amazed at the warmth, sincerity and longing in his voice. “What are you doing here? Are you staying here?”