"Solitude"
written by:
Katherine English

"Solitude" by Katherine English

Something in the house was watching me! I could feel it, like tepid fingers that trailed across my skin, only to vanish as my eyes darted to seek the source.

I stirred in my sleep, the Presence filling my mind as it had so many times since my arrival. The familiar languor of acceptance flowed over me once more, warm and liquid, and I shamelessly parted my legs in welcome, but welcoming... what?

Slowly, almost tentatively it began the same silken caress that had assailed me scant moments before, but this time not of my own hand. Now, a sense of urgency had been added to the plan, a hunger that had been a faint undercurrent only moments before.

My hands lay at my sides, clenching the sheet beneath. What was happening?

I felt my pulse quicken, my breath coming in shallow gasps as my fingers sought the brass rails above my head. A pause, and then I sensed it. Almost weightless it was, but covering my body with seductive ease as it traveled across my skin.

Slowly the coverlet began to curl towards the foot of the bed, the victim of unseen hands, unknown will. I whimpered. It was a dream, just a dream, no more than that! Surely, I would open my eyes and find nothing but the dance of shadows in the moonlight.

But I didn't. I couldn't.

Instead, I arched my back, anticipating what was to come, feeling the slow trickle of passion building between my thighs. My skin prickled, and I felt the hem of my flimsy nightshirt drift above my hips, baring my hungry flesh as it made its way upward to strip the last vestige of modesty from my body.

I sighed, a desperate sound that escaped from a place deep within, then released the head rails as my garment slipped over my hands and floated to the floor beside the bed.

Exposed, so exposed, I felt my nipples harden, an offering perhaps, an uncontrollable response to an unfathomable stimulus.

Another pause, and then it continued. A lick, a taste, a voracious seduction consumed my straining flesh, a warm, wet assault that captured my senses and caused me to part my thighs even further until the tips of my toes brushed wantonly against the corner posts of the footboard.

Immediately I was rewarded, for in an instant the solitary space below my mound was solitary no longer. Instead, I felt the subtly erotic exploration of (fingers?) parting my moist, trembling petals, opening wide the last bastion of my femininity, invading and conquering my sex with eager intent.

I moaned, softly at first, then shamelessly as the tiny nub of my passion came under assault. A tongue, (What else could it have been?), swirled seductively within my parted slit, driving me to the edges of insanity. Strong hands held me fast as I writhed upon the crumpled sheets, taking what had been offered and demanding more. I cried out in abandonment, my body shaking as I gave myself up.

"No more. No more", I whimpered, humiliated by my weakness, my shamelessness. But I knew there would be more. I knew it...and I wanted it.

Where once had dwelt an unlived life, now lay a brilliant vibrancy that I had never before known. Let there be tonight, and the next, and a thousand nights to come.

Tomorrow was an essay in predictability, lukewarm and staid, a tentative passing of pale monotony. Only in the colorless realm behind my eyelids existed the pulsating reality that I craved. If it was a dream, only a dream, then I longed to remain in the world of shadows forever.

Let the dream never end.

Chapter One

I bought it sight unseen.

Isn't that the way things are these days? We gather our cloistered little spaces around us, fill them with technology and then call it life. At least that's how it was for me until I first met Eric online.

He seemed charming from the start, a gentle prince hidden incongruously within a web of salacious perversion. How could I help but be drawn to him? Together we made a whole, yin and yang so to speak, my thoughts in his mind, his words escaping through my lips. Was it any wonder that we decided to meet in the real world?

And so, setting up a time to gather at The Espresso Emporium, I prepared for the momentous occasion. A haircut...no a style...oh hell, why not a perm? A manicure, pedicure and a facial. A make-over, that's what I needed I thought, scanning the dowdy frump that peered back from the stark reality of the bathroom mirror. When was the last time I'd really worked on my appearance?

Forlornly, I evaluated the pale visage in the glass. When had I grown so sallow? My hair, once a sun-streaked mass of vibrant auburn curls, now lay like the nap of an old shag carpet, a product of the intense neglect that become part and parcel of my new career.

I was an author. My first book had sold 10 copies on its first day. By the end of the week, the number had crept up to a modest 29 nationwide. Only the proprietors of those small, odd bookstalls that line the backstreets of college towns had even been aware that I existed. Then had come The Review.

Suddenly I was "brilliant", "inspiring", "Virginia Danvers, our new guide into the world of the paranormal". Sales skyrocketed, and in no time my book was selling more copies than the publisher could print. Book tours took me from whistle-stop to metropolis and back again...and the royalties poured in.

And so, I'd leased a wonderful "perfect 8" in a brownstone on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, overlooking the park, and settled down to craft a sequel. The hours were long, and the work consuming. Days, then weeks went by without more than a fleeting contact with a single living soul. Pizza boxes and empty cartons of Chinese take-out filled my trash receptacle. If not for the occasional cruise on the internet, I would have been closed off entirely, alone in a city of millions.

Then I'd met Eric online.

At first he seemed as reluctant as I to become involved, to offer trust in such an insecure venue, but eventually we discovered the intimate alcoves of each other's minds and knew that our interconnection had outgrown the innocuous maze of wires and space that joined us. We had to meet.

A coffee shop, set in the bustle of Times Square seemed the perfect solution. There, among the safe and impersonal push of humanity we could probe our blossoming relationship without the obligation of commitment or the awkwardness of more intimate solitude. It was perfect!

If I had expected my erstwhile Don Juan to appear in a different shell than that which he had offered in his online profile, then I was perhaps more surprised to find that he hadn't. Instead, if anything, the handsome smile that had graced his profile was even more alluring in person. His voice, now free of internet static, was clear and evocative, something from girlish fantasies and every bit as consuming. I found myself immediately taken in. I had found my soul mate.

We began dating, and the work on my new manuscript slowed to a snail's pace. But, I was happy! Each new day carried a special dawn, an intimate promise of things to come.

That Eric vacillated when I asked for his home telephone number, and offered only a temporary address at the Warwick Inn in Queens seemed unimportant. There were perfectly plausible reasons, I rationalized. I had Eric, and that was all that mattered.

Then came the phone calls.

At first he called each morning to see if I was at home in case he should drop by for a moment. Then the calls escalated to twice and three times per day, with my lover upset if my phone, which was frequently turned off when I was working, was left unanswered. Angry messages began to fill my machine. Paranoid fantasies, enraged accusations, and finally threats began arriving almost hourly. At long last, after a rare trip to the pharmacy for sleeping pills to ease my distress, I returned to find my apartment ransacked, my clothing slashed and my computer all but destroyed. The tape on my answering machine was missing, and I knew who had invaded my apartment. Without proof, however, the police were helpless. I was trapped.

I stayed at home after that, afraid to brave the streets with Eric stalking somewhere beyond. The phone rang incessantly now, but when I grew brave enough to answer, only the solitary click of a distant receiver was to be heard. Finally, even that became too much and I unplugged it for the last time. Only my internet connection remained to kept me sane, but when that too became fraught with constant IM's and threateningly duplicitous e-mails from Eric, the situation became more than I could bear. I should have created a new log-in, a new screen name, but instead I decided to create a new life, a distant one...one without Eric.

And so I bought it sight unseen from an online realtor in Arizona. A cabin in the Tonto National Forest, remote and rustic, devoid of the modern trappings I had come to depend upon so very much. Instead of electric bills, I would have the steady hum of a generator. A private well would provide for my input, and a septic tank for my downloads. A cell phone whose use was limited to an area atop the steep escarpment beyond was my only form of intercourse, and a small manual typewriter my only companion. It was perfection. Eric wouldn't find me there. No one could find me there.

It had been called Mogollon Ranch when it had last been occupied. But that was over 40 years ago and had served a modest trickle of elk hunters on their quest for the perfect rack. Fifty years before that it had been the site of a silver mine, a failed prospect whose only vestiges were the tailings that sat as mute reminders between the cabin and mine access beyond. It was said that there were still mineral deposits to be had there, but the miners had chosen for some unfathomable reason to vanish one spring and never return, and no one had ventured to take their place.

Fifteen hundred years before that, the site had been the home of cliff-dwellers, an ancient tribe of southwest natives whose only local legacies were the petroglyphs and smoke stained caverns that dotted the hillside nearby. They too had vanished and formed the stuff that tales are made of, another legend of the Mogollon Rim country.

The land itself had, in its infancy, been first a seabed then a caldron of volcanic upheaval. That had eventually lead to a geologic fracture of cosmic proportions that had formed a mile-high escarpment, below which my log sanctuary now stood in patient abandon. Now, surrounded by a ponderosa forest that had no earthly place in Arizona, it sat in wait for its next inhabitant.

Me. -----------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Two:

It was cool in the shadow of Mogollon Ranch. Who would have thought it could be so temperate during an Arizona summer? But there it was, a place set aside from both the reason and the insanity of the world about. It called to me, welcomed me...I was home.

The main building itself was a maze of log additions, each of a different vintage and ambience. All, however, were constructed of local timber and native stone, and all had stood the test of time.

On the first floor stood the main hall, a place for greetings and farewells. Its polished pine floors shone with the realtor's efforts on my behalf, and my sparse collection of boxes stood ready and waiting as I passed through the sturdy, peeled log entryway.

To the left lay a large, cozy dining room, and a massive country kitchen beyond. I would have to learn how to cook here, I mused. The only fast food in this place was speedy only by virtue of the legs upon which it ran. But, other people had done it, and so could I. And, if all else failed, I could always make my way down the12 miles of logging trail, then along the 30 miles of fire control road to highway 260, and on into the town of Payson, 20 miles south for help. I had nothing to worry about!

Slowly, I climbed the stairs, noting the vintage craftsmanship that had created the rails and newel posts with such lasting care and detail. At the top, the landing the balcony split to either side, leading to a master bedroom on the left and two lesser rooms that might have served family members on the right.

Quickly, I crossed to the larger of the three and threw open the double windows, welcoming in the pristine, pine-scented air as I staked my claim to the enormous hardwood expanse. The view was incredible. How had this place remained empty for so many years?

A large 4-poster sat in the center of the room, a remnant of better times, and a cobblestone fireplace waited patiently along the outer wall. Smiling, I threw myself atop the vintage featherbed and stretched until I could touch all four posts with my fingers and toes. Then, closing my eyes, I imagined myself a mountain woman of bygone times, waiting for my burley, bearded, backwoods beau to join me.

It was almost as though I could feel his touch, his fingers trailing gently along the side of my cheek. I stretched once more, my feline side rising to the fore, and savored the imaginary caress of my lover.

A sigh. Mine? No, just a wanton figment of imagination!

A delicate breeze ruffled the folds of my blouse, teasing my nipples to attention. Were those my lover's burly hands exploring my eager breasts? I laughed. I'd only been in the cabin for twenty minutes, and already I had invented a lover to satisfy my wayward imagination!

Then, I felt his warm breath pass over me, covering my flesh with delicious goose bumps, and it was all I could do not to respond. But, I had work to do, and flights of fancy wouldn't suffice. So, springing from my new bed I began opening the boxes labeled "bedroom". If nothing else, I would have a comfortable place to sleep tonight.

I spent the rest of the afternoon unpacking and setting my "study" up in the large dining room near the kitchen. Finally, as the sun began to set, I opened a can of corned beef hash and lit a fire in the old wood stove that was to be my culinary companion. Then, taking my greasy repast out to the porch, I settled onto the log swing to watch the forest retire for the night.

A gentle breeze stirred the curls behind my ear, and I thought once more of my imaginary lover. Would he kiss me now? Would his warm, wet tongue find the rising pulse that throbbed along the curve of my throat? Silently, I tipped my head back, and felt his lips, so gentle, so...

What was I doing?! "Save the fantasies for the book", I told myself. "You're going to be here for a long time to come, don't go off the deep end right off the bat!"

Laughing at my silliness, I left the sun to set on its own, and climbed the stairs to my cozy, pine aerie. Once there, I slowly crossed to close the curtains before undressing, and then realized there was no need. No one would see me here, save perhaps a passing elk. I could run naked through the forest, and there would be no one to say me "nay".

Joyfully, I stripped the clothing from my body. Then donning a thin, cotton nightshirt, I piled into my fluffy womb of blankets, turned out the light and curled up to sleep.

It was then I knew...someone was watching me.

Breathlessly, I listened for the creak of floorboards, the muted sighs of another human being, but heard none. Instead, a warm, undeniable sense of desire began to overcome me, so strange under the circumstances, and I felt my body mellow with longing.

Surely, I was alone. Who could possibly be here, breathless in the night, so far from the beaten path! It was my imagination, nothing more.

Again I felt the stirrings of unrequited passion deep in my belly and slowly I slid my hand beneath the covers to the hem of my nightshirt. Then, gently I extended my index finger and dipped it into the growing pool between my nether lips.

I gasped! I knew that people said food tasted better when eaten in the great outdoors, but could that old adage apply to sex as well? I smiled. If that proved to be true, then I had a lot to anticipate in the months to come.

Gently, then with more abandon I began to stroke. I could feel the heat rising from my quivering epicenter and radiating throughout my body. My breath grew labored and my limbs began to quiver. Then, finally, with a whispered moan, the fruit of my labor came flooding into my hand.

A breeze sighed through the room, the muted whispering of a satisfied lover. What's an imagination for, if not to be used, I smiled, and allowed my fancy to wander through the glowing aftermath of passion. How many women had lain breathless in this bed, I wondered. How many men had filled their quivering bodies with passions prize? Was it so terrible for me to share in their aura?

I closed my eyes, lulling myself to sleep...but woke once more with a start!

Something in the house was definitely watching me! I could feel it, like tepid fingers that trailed across my skin, only to vanish as my eyes darted to seek the source.

I stirred in the darkness, an erotic aura filling my mind as it had so many times since my arrival. The familiar languor of acceptance flowed over me once more, warm and liquid, and I shamelessly parted my legs in welcome...but welcoming... what?

Slowly, almost tentatively it began, the same silken caress that had assailed me scant moments before, but this time not of my own hand. Now, a sense of urgency had been added to the plan, a hunger that had only been a faint undercurrent before.

My hands lay at my sides, clenching the sheet beneath . What was happening?

I felt my pulse quicken, my breath coming in shallow gasps as my fingers sought the brass rails above my head. A pause, and then I sensed it. Almost weightless it was, but covering my body with seductive ease as it traveled across my skin.

Slowly the coverlet began to curl towards the foot of the bed, the victim of unseen hands, unseen wills. I whimpered. It was a dream, just a dream, no more than that! Surely, I would open my eyes and find nothing but the dance of shadows in the moonlight.

But I didn't. I couldn't.

Instead, I arched my back, anticipating what was to come, feeling the slow trickle of passion building once more between my thighs. My skin prickled, and I felt the hem of my flimsy nightshirt drift above my hips, baring my hungry flesh as it made its way upward to strip the last vestige of modesty from my body.

I sighed, a desperate sound that escaped from a place deep within, then released the head rails as my garment slipped over my hands and floated to the floor beside the bed.

Exposed, so exposed, I felt my nipples harden, an offering perhaps, an uncontrollable response to an unfathomable stimulus. Another pause, and then it continued. A lick, a taste, and then a voracious seduction consumed my straining flesh, a warm, wet assault that captured my senses and caused me to part my thighs even further until the tips of my toes brushed wantonly against the corner posts of the footboard.

Immediately I was rewarded, for in an instant the solitary space below my mound was solitary no more. Instead, I felt (his?) increasingly tangible presence parting my moist, trembling petals, opening wide the last bastion of my femininity, invading and conquering my sex with eager intent.

I moaned, softly at first, then shamelessly as the tiny nub of my passion came under assault. A tongue, (what else could it have been?), swirled greedily within my parted slit, driving me to the edges of insanity. Strong hands held me fast as I writhed upon the crumpled sheets, taking what had been offered and demanding more. I cried out in abandon, my body shaking as I gave myself up.

"No more. No more", I whimpered, humiliated by my weakness, my shamelessness. But I knew there would be more. I knew it...and I wanted it.

Where once had dwelt an unlived life, now lay a glowing brilliant vibrancy that I had never before known. Let there be tonight, and the next, and a thousand nights to come.

Tomorrow was an essay in predictability, lukewarm and staid, a tentative passing of pale monotony. Only with the play of shadows behind my eyelids came the pulsating reality that I craved. If it was a dream, only a dream, then I longed to remain in the world of shadows forever.

Let the dream never end.

Finally, I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep, my pillowy lover held intimately in my sated embrace. I was going to like it here. ------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Three:

Dawn filtered through the forest, creeping tentatively through my unclothed pane, prying insistently at my shuttered eyelids.

Had last night been a dream, nothing more? Surely, I would have known without doubt, had I been visited by some lusty lover of the piney woods! It must have been a figment of my imagination, a wishful fantasy that had become all too real in the hush of the night.

But now, I had to get up and get busy! The remainder of my unpacked boxes sat mocking me, chastising me with unspoken censure. It was time to get a move on!

But oh, how I longed to lie in bed just a little bit longer, to listen to the raucous caw of the Steller's jays beyond my aging walls, the chatter of fat Kaibab squirrels, but it was not to be. I had work to do.

Finally, I stretched my arms above my head and wrested my body from its inertia. Then, wrapping the old chenille robe that had been a part of me since time immemorial, I slipped my feet into a pair of old mules, made my way downstairs toward the kitchen...and then froze

There, waiting on the old weathered countertop sat a single stem of Indian Paintbrush, its crimson presence defying the laws of reason. How had it gotten there? Had I brought it inside the night before and simply forgotten? But, it seemed so fresh, as though the dew had just fled only moments before. Could it be?

There must be a logical explanation, I assured myself. Surely, I had left it there myself. What other possible rationale could there be?

And so, with a wry grin at my own foolishness, I plucked the perky blossom from its resting place and popped it into an empty vinegar cruet. Then, turning on the tap, I filled the remains with cold, clear spring water.

Quickly, I began perking a morning brew and dropped some whole wheat into the toaster. By the time the coffee was finished gurgling, I had two eggs, sunny-side up, waiting patiently for my approval.

I ate on the porch again this morning, noting the Indian Paintbrush which grew beneath the trees. That must have been the source of my morning surprise, I determined. Well, no more. Wildflowers are so much more beautiful as they were meant to be...in the wild.

I spent the rest of the afternoon unpacking, then decided to explore along the base of the cliffs that towered behind my cabin.

It was a leisurely stroll, avoiding the more strenuous aspects that a hike up the steep hillside would have entailed. The trail curved this way and that, circumventing sandstone boulders and ancient gnarled cedars tucked beneath the swaying ponderosas along its wayward course. On I wandered, until in short order I came upon the weed-choked entry to the old mine I'd heard so much about.

The sun, by now, was making its way low along the western horizon, casting its angled rays for about twenty feet into the gloom of the excavation. I paused, unsure of the safety factors involved, and then cautiously took a few steps forward.

Immediately the cool air of the enclosure enveloped me, insinuating itself beneath my clothing, claiming me in a most intimate fashion.

I gasped...was everything here this sensuous? Then, even as I wondered, I felt the featherlike caress of my vivid imagination once more. Gently it stroked my cheek, wandering knowingly down the vulnerable length of my throat until I murmured aloud into the silence. Then, as though it could read my mind, I felt the erotic brush of an unseen palm against my nipple.

So real...so real, I thought, reaching toward my breast to be sure it wasn't. But, then it moved, dipping now beneath the unopened restriction of my belt, beyond the elastic barrier of my panties.

My knees began to buckle. Surely this was more than simple imagination! Quickly, I leaned against the shoring, feeling the old, but sturdy timbers prodding insistently against my buttocks.

The solidity felt good, I found myself thinking, but not nearly as wonderful as the insistent insinuation that now took place between my thighs.

I sighed, shaking as it escalated...probing deeply now, stroking until I quivered with need. Then, to my amazement, I was overtaken by an orgasm so shattering that it left me weak and whimpering.

And still it continued!

I clawed art the timbers, then slowly dropped to the floor of the tunnel, falling upon a thick bed of errant pine needles, writhing as my throbbing torment escalated. His touch was everywhere at once, if indeed my imagination had not outdone itself yet again. This certainly was not of my doing!

Long minutes it continued, my voice rising with the passing of time, my unbridled cries echoing into the dark beyond until finally, in wet profusion, it ceased. There I lay, limp and drained, my juices pooling beneath me. Had I actually imagined all of that? Had some fantasy lover driven me to this state...or had I done it myself?

I took inventory. My hands, it seemed, had been clenched on the wooden shoring behind my head during the whole experience. My blouse and chemise, in my excitement, had become tangled about my throat, baring my breasts to the last rays of day, perfectly understandable considering my gyrations of a few moments before. But my jeans... I looked on, amazed as I realized they were no longer upon my body, but lay now at my side. No amount of writhing could have done that!

Panicked, I grabbed my clothing from the floor and rushed headlong into the blazing sunset. Roots clutched at my ankles, branches tore at my face, but onward I ran, terrified that at any moment I might be intercepted.

Finally, I rounded a curve in the hillside and spied my cabin! Desperately I sprinted up the steps and locked the door behind me, leaning my weight against the stout crossbeams to add to their support.

It was then that I noticed my condition. I was filthy! The floor of the tunnel had lain for long years gathering the silt and debris of decades past...and now it streaked my body from head to foot. Long trails of drying effluent lay claim to my mud-caked thighs, and the print of a timeless palm stood in dusty relief upon my breast. I couldn't stay here! Something was already in residence in this place, and it had a taste for female flesh!

Once more I tested the door, then being certain each of the downstairs windows was locked, I climbed the stairs to do the same in the rooms above. Finally, satisfied that all was secure, I turned on a soothing shower and prepared to quickly erase the remaining vestiges of my tumultuous experience.

At first the water, cold from its journey through the maze of plumbing, took on a chilly air. But, in a few moments it began to flow with comforting warmth until the room filled with steam and I began to relax.

Slowly, I began to remove the last of my clothing, what little there was of it, and ensconced myself beneath the gentle spray of the small, tiled enclosure. My muscles, taut until now, immediately began to relax, and I found myself luxuriating in the steamy atmosphere.

A sound...

Was someone there? Had I been followed? Were locks not a deterrent in this place?

Immediately, I felt strong hands grip my wrists, pinning them above my head against the tiles.

Screaming, I searched the mist for a view of my assailant, but the swirling steam obscured all possibilities. Helplessly I writhed, torn between the desire to escape and the gnawing hunger that betrayed me once more. Not again, I moaned inwardly...but, oh please...don't stop! Then, I felt his body, imprisoning my own against the wall, his hard maleness stabbing insistently against my belly.

"No!" I pleaded. "Stop!"

But on he continued, even more vigorously than before. Now his lips crushed down upon mine, his tongue filling my mouth until my screams were reduced to strangled murmurs...and finally wanton whimpers. What was happening? Surely I wasn't responding!

But I was...

The turmoil which coursed through my body defied reason, the intimate tension between my thighs a conflict between desire and rejection, but suddenly I found myself grinding against his massive organ, seeking desperately to enclose his heat in my own.

As though accepting my eager submission, his hand released my wrists, and cupping my buttocks he lifted me from my feet until his hardened maleness pressed insistently between my thighs. Then, without preamble, he impaled me against the wall, driving the breath from my body, and the sanity from my mind.

Helplessly I dangled, feet searching the moist atmosphere for a purchase as he pummeled me, thrusting deep inside my body until I cried out my own throbbing release and mingled my wetness with that of the enclosure. Then a sigh...otherworldly, a massive lunge that threatened to rend my flesh as his heated torrent filled my being, and then it was over.

I should have been frightened. No, I should have been terrified! But, for some unknown reason, I knew that nothing had been done to me that I hadn't longed to happen. It was as though the entity, for that was the only way I could describe it with any sanity, had read my mind...discovered my deepest fantasies...and brought them to life. Was that so terrible?

Limp and drained, I turned off the shower and wrapped myself in a thick towel. Then, crossing the floor I walked down the hall to my bedroom and settled myself heavily atop the quilt.

What was I to do? Surely I couldn't remain here, concubine to some unknown presence...could I? What kind of caution covered this kind of situation? What rationale applied?

Once more I thought of the mind-shatteringly erotic interludes of the day past. Had anything...anyone ever affected me like that before? Did I really want to run from it, lose it? My very hesitation amazed me!

My ethereal lover had done nothing to endanger me. He had made no threats that should have left me concerned for my safety. In fact, he had done nothing but crystallize my most intimate fantasies. Was that cause for complaint?

Tentatively, I ran my palm along my body, amazed at the sensitivity that still remained. Could I leave that behind, could I deny myself the firestorm that now coursed through every fiber of my being? The vague whisper of reason echoed through my mind, but its voice was faint and distant. Instead, the ever-quickening hunger that even now grew between my thighs directed my consensus.

I would stay. And, as I curled my eager flesh between the sheets of the aging four-poster I could feel his presence beside me once again. There would be no sleep this night, only the flames of Eros as they coursed through my body.

I smiled... ----------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Four:

Slowly he crept beyond the fire barriers on the control road that had been erected to keep trespassers from the area, driving his rented vehicle past the endangered foothills that even now smoldered to the south under a wind-borne "crown fire" that consumed all it touched.

On he pressed, past tiny settlements and isolated cabins, evacuated now until the fire danger passed, or all was lost. Then, checking his topographic map, he turned sharply and forded shallow Tonto Creek, veering to the north along an overgrown track that snaked its way toward the escarpment beyond.

Through the forest he drove, making his way ever so surely along the abandoned logging trail until finally he saw the smoke from her chimney. Then, pulling into the dense forest, he concealed his SUV among the branches and struck out on foot.

How could she have left him after all they'd had together, he fumed. How could she have gone and not told him of her destination?

Once more he thought of the trials he'd gone through to find her, the internet searches, the phone calls and finally the detective. It had been time they could have spent together! Time they could have lain in each other's arms, touching, tasting, experiencing all there was between them.

But no, instead she'd chosen to hide in this remote place, to run from her only true love. It angered him. It infuriated him!

She would have to be taught a lesson. She would have to realize that she belonged to him, body and soul. She would have to do penance for her sins against him, then perhaps he'd let her return with him to the bright lights of New York. But, until then, they would be alone...

...with no one to hear her scream. ---------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Five:

My body ached in places left untouched for far too long a time.

Delicious!

It was morning once more, a glorious morning full of promise and passion. I would tuck my manuscript away today, and begin a new one, one that spoke of boundless intercourse, a breaching of the barriers between the "here" and the "hereafter".

"Intercourse"...what a word! The very ambiguity brought a smile to my face. Could the peaks I had scaled in my lover's arms be encapsulated in such a mild-mannered term?

Once more the long hours of the night before filtered through my mind. My lover had reduced me to a whimpering wanton more than once, then raised me to the heights of primal passion in an unending roller coaster of mindless frenzy and primitive abandon. Over and over I had crested, screaming into the pine-cloaked night where only wild beasts of the forest could hear...and my mysterious lover.

Ahh, my lover! I blushed at the memory. His form had become even more tangible last night. In the throws of passion he had allowed himself the pleasure of an increasingly corporal, yet unseen presence.

My fingers had caressed his silken hair, roamed eagerly over his muscled torso and stroked his massive manhood. His large, demanding fingers had kneaded my tender form until I had begged for more. His lips had teased my glowing flesh until I had burst against his tongue like ripened caviar.

He knew where to caress, and when...what to give, and what to take. He was both gentle, and forceful, first guiding then demanding in ways that had set me afire. I would have to be careful. A "man" such as this could quickly become an addiction!

Slowly I stretched, feeling more alive than I had in many months. The air, redolent with the scent of evergreen, filled my lungs, and the crisp silence surrounded me.

Where was my lover this morning I wondered? Had he more spectral chores to attend to? I smiled at the thought. Did ectoplasm need recharging?

Slipping into my robe and mules, I made my way a trifle stiffly down the stairs into the kitchen. Then, reaching for my coffeepot I spotted it...a single red flower, lying alongside a fresh sprig of juniper.

He'd been here. I smiled. Perhaps he was still here, watching as I filled the coffeemaker, planning our next tryst.

The very thought raised goose bumps along my arms, tightening my nipples into hard pebbles beneath my robe. What would the next time be like? And the next?

Once more I felt deliciously moist, and forced myself to cease my train of thought. I'd never accomplish anything today if I continued on this way!

And so, settling myself in front of my typewriter, I slipped the first page of my new novel between the rollers and began to tap out my manuscript.

How should I begin, I wondered...when I first arrived at the cabin...New York...with the first novel? I closed my eyes, willing my muse to speak to me, but all I heard were the whisperings of my own distant hunger, eager to couple once more with my unseen lover.

Finally, I decided to take a brief hike along the mining trail once again, a crisp trek through the ponderosas to clear my mind and inspire my creativity for the task at hand.

Quickly, I climbed the stairs and began stripping the robe from my body, dropping it heavily on the unmade bed from the night before. Then, reaching for my hairbrush atop the nightstand, I saw it.

It was small, delicate in fact, but it shown in the morning rays as though it sported a tiny beacon all its own.

My fingers reached out to remove it from its place around the bedpost, fumbling with the miniscule clasp until it lay glowing in my palm.

It was a golden heart...no, a locket, engraved with ornate scrollwork and tiny floral etchings along its surface. A gift, I wondered? Had my lover taken a jaunt to the nearest Cartier's and selected this bauble just for me? The thought made me smile. Would he make "time payments"? For surely, if anyone had time to spend, it would be him!

But no, this piece wasn't new. In fact, it had the earmarks of something from another era, something from a time when handcrafted finery such as this became an heirloom to be handed down through the ages from generation to generation. Why had it been left here...and for me?

Carefully, I inserted the tip of my fingernail along its separation, and felt a gentle pop as opened in my palm.

I gasped!

There, in my hand lay an exact replica of myself, a sepia-toned image of my very own face, preserved for all eternity in a heart of gold.

But, no...not me! Certainly it wasn't me! The woman before me was dressed in the ruffled façade of another era...another time. Her hair must have been inordinately long, for it wound in glorious abundance atop her head in a warm, flowing crown of auburn, adorned by tortoiseshell combs along either side. But, in all other respects, the face that lay hidden within was my own!

On the other half lay mounted a second photograph, one of a male. He appeared to be a large man, if one could judge by such a diminutive reproduction, possibly uncomfortable in the restrictingly formal garb he found himself in. His chin sported the rough shadow of a would-be beard, as if it knew its rightful place and refused to be denied. His jaw, a strong, determined feature in an even more stalwart face, sat rock hard and forceful beneath a full moustache and lips that could only have been designed to please.

But, it was his eyes that drew my attention most irretrievably. For even here, in this heart-shaped reproduction, they appeared to gaze adoringly at his lady love. In them I saw a devotion that would last an eternity, a love that would surpass the test of time and mortality.

Winsomely I sighed, wishing in my soul of souls that I was indeed the Lady of the Heart, and not some vague substitute. What would it be like to be loved so intensely...so purely that even time ceased to erase its vestiges?

Carefully, I began to close the warmly glowing treasure, and then stopped. From beneath the second photo peeked a tiny scrap of paper, something tucked neatly away in yet a second compartment.

Once again I set my nail to work, and was immediately rewarded with the tell-tale pop that whispered success. Yes...it was a second compartment, and in it was secreted a tiny slip of paper, snipped from a volume of poetry and tucked neatly between the golden leaves of the locket.

I recognized it! Who wouldn't recognize that time-treasured piece of prose!

There, before me lay the words of Elizabeth Barret Browning's "Sonnets of the Portuguese". It read:

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of Being and ideal Grace. I love thee to the level of every day's Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight. I love thee freely, as men strive for Right; I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise. I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints, - I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life! -- and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.

Then, beneath the words, in bold but diminutive script were inscribed the letters which read:

To Rose Mary...Yours for eternity, James

I choked back a cry, for eternity was exactly what James had meant. Here, in this place he had waited patiently for his lost love to return, to share his passion once more, to share his timeless devotion.

But I was not Rose Mary. Surely he knew that! The eons that had passed couldn't have obscured his memory of a love so profound! But then, perhaps I was the naïve one. Surely I had no insights into the hereafter, no innate wisdom that opened to me all the mysteries of the unceasing, recycling universe. I too had felt something irresistibly familiar and perfectly aligned in his arms. Perhaps he knew more than I did!

The thought both warmed and chilled me. Could I be James' lost love after all? Perhaps more than the internet had come into play in my choice of sanctuary. Perhaps destiny and the will of one who had waited far too long had been in place! Had James searched through the veils of time and found his Rose Mary once again?

Quickly I pushed the thought from my mind. I was a modern woman with her feet planted firmly in the here and now, not the hereafter! Thoughts like this were for dreamers, romantic mystics...not for the likes of one such as me. And yet, I found myself smiling at the warm glow that had filled me as the possibility had woven through my consciousness. To be James' lost love...that would be truly blissful, a love that would last a lifetime and beyond.

Silently, I closed the locket and slipped the delicately woven chain about my throat. I would have to consider this. The links that I wore represented more than a lovely piece of jewelry, they were the unbroken links of time itself, and I was their curator. Was this then a burden, or an opportunity?

Quickly I finished dressing, donning a quilted vest to ward off the early chill and made my way down the stairs to the kitchen. There, stuffing a thermos of hot coffee and an English muffin in my knapsack, I strolled out onto the porch and took stock of my new environment.

The smell of smoke was thick in the air that morning, a heady aroma that spoke of fireplaces far to the south, drifting through the trees on the stiffening breeze. I inhaled lustily. Life was good.

Then, setting out at a brisk pace, I began to make my way down the trail in the direction of the mine. I had not gone far, however, before a feeling of foreboding came over me, a pounding urge to return to the safety of my cabin, to lock my door behind me. Surely I was being melodramatic! What harm was there to be found here? What evil could survive in a place so pristine and pure of form?

Shrugging off my anxiety, I forced myself to continue onward until the base of the escarpment came into view through the trees. There, amid the scolding of the jays, I settled myself on a fallen log and attacked my breakfast with an eagerness unknown in the city.

The locket, which I now wore, seemed to radiate a life of its own in its warm nest between my breasts. Lying there, so still and intimate, it whispered to me like a lover might...words of passion and moist desire...of forbidden pastimes and erotic couplings.

James was with me. Somehow, in ways that words could never convey, I knew it. He was there, and he wanted me.

Heart pounding, I silently began to undo the buttons of my vest, the chilly air a welcomed relief to the heat that now consumed me. I continued to remove my clothing until nothing remained save the golden heart, and I found myself lying on a nest of my own flannel, eyes closed, awaiting the pleasure of my unseen lover.

I had not long to wait, for immediately I was rewarded with the intimate brush of his lips upon mine, the gentle encouragement of my nipple in his palm.

I moaned in anticipation, and spreading my thighs I arched my back against his unseen form. His hand now traveled down the length of my body, insinuating itself within my moist triangle as it tested my readiness. Then, with slow and easy motion, he began to stroke the swollen nub hidden within, drawing out my sighs, probing my eagerness.

Suddenly he paused, and withdrawing I felt his finger pressed to my lips, wet with my own response, invading my mouth in an intimate simulation of the act I so desired.

Hungrily I suckled, taking his finger deep into my slippery cavern, tasting the tangy lust it bore until I groaned in frustration.

Again, a pause, and then his finger was replaced by something more substantial, growing in length and breadth as it made its way past my lips. It had to be...

Raising my upper body ever so slightly, I felt his fingers twine in my hair, holding me fast as I moaned against his turgid "flesh". Then he began to move, slowly at first, then more rapidly, forcefully as I warmed to my task. My hands stroked his flanks, grasping claw-like, urging him deeper and deeper until he filled me to bursting. Fitfully, my hand slipped between my legs, seeking my own release, but it was not to be.

Quickly my lover abandoned his quest and pinioned my hands above my head, as if to say..."not yet...there's more..." Then flipping me upon my belly over the fallen log, he proceeded to part my crease and insinuate himself within.

I gasped! What did he have in mind?

Immediately I had my answer, for in one long thrust he buried his prodigious length within my weeping slit up to the hilt, plundering my limited channel until I cried in exquisite pain. Mightily he pounded, thrusting unrelentingly until the pain/pleasure principle consumed me and I cried for more...pleaded for more...begged for more!

Then, withdrawing his mammoth offering from my body, he trailed his fingers through my overflowing wetness and began to prepare my narrower passage.

At first I squirmed beneath him, struggling in uncertainty as he slid first one slippery digit, then another into my resistant aperture. Then, as I began to relax, his ministrations took on a more urgent tempo, thrusting forcefully until I felt myself begin to flow along the insides of my thighs in anticipation.

Finally, he withdrew once more, my protestations ready upon my lips. I had no time to utter them, however, before he parted my buttocks, and pressing his manhood against my tightly muscled opening, he gave a mighty thrust and impaled me full force upon his hardened flesh.

I screamed!

My lover paused once again, and steadying my hips within his encompassing grasp, he waited until I began to arch against him before he continued. Then, slowly and with determined strokes he claimed his prize.

Immediately the pain, if that is what you would call it, became overshadowed by the act itself, the totality of his conquest overwhelming. Deeply he thrust, burrowing into the very center of my belly, then withdrawing only to thrust once more. Harder and more vigorously he bore down upon me, until I thought I could joyously split in half, covering the landscape with my creamy effluent. Then, without breaking stride, he slipped his hand beneath my belly, down deep within my quivering slit, and began to stroke the hardened nub within.

I exploded!

Gushing heavily into the undergrowth, I cried out again and again, rutting upon his fingers, my exhortations echoing off the walls of the escarpment, drowning out the scolding of the jays as I violated the silence.

Finally, shaking with spent emotion, I felt the warmth flow of him fill my body, bringing with it the comfort I had so craved. Then, sated, I dropped among the pine needles, my lover's arms holding back the spasms that yet wracked my quivering flesh.

Surely no woman had ever experienced such an outpouring of unadulterated sensation! I throbbed, I ached, I glowed in the aftermath.

I knew then that I couldn't leave, not then, not ever. I belonged here in the wilderness with James, and he with me. It was meant to be. ---------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Six:

Slowly he watched as the dawn rose in the east, spraying his misbegotten nest with rays of sunshine as it filtered through the trees.

It had been cold last night, as cold as his heart. The mangled gathering of pine needles he had used for his resting place was roughly kicked aside. He'd have a better bed tonight, he assured himself, and his wayward slut to keep him occupied.

He had heard her cries last night, heard her screams of passion. Did she have someone here with her? Had she brought some filthy cock-wielder to this place to cuckold him? He would set that to rights as well. Never again would his "‘Ginny" be touched by another. He would see to that.

He had watched until almost dawn, ignoring the furtive rustlings that filled the underbrush around him as an onslaught of wilderness animals fled from the approaching fire. Finally, the ominous glow from the blaze to the south had been drowned by the rays of an even larger conflagration as the sun rose in the east.

It was then she had opened her door, and vanished, knapsack slung over her shoulder, into the forest beyond.

Had she locked the door? He hadn't noticed. The sight of her, alone, striding into the trees had distracted him. But her lover had been absent, of that he was certain. Now was his chance to even that score! He would slip quietly into the house, dispatch this interloper, and be waiting when she returned.

Today was his...and tomorrow. Tonight her screams would be for his ears alone.

Slowly he stroked himself, smiling, and entered the clearing....

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Chapter Seven:

How long we lay there in each other's arms I have no recollection, but when I rose to return to the cabin I found myself hesitant, as though a seed of foreboding had been planted in my mind.

"No", I laughed. "I can't stay here all day! I have worked to do!" I chided my unseen paramour. Then, slipping into my clothing once more, I made my way through the trees and back onto the trail in the direction of the cabin.

The smell of smoke was stronger by then, and it was with a distinct sense of discomfort that I began to study the horizon. The wind, which blew at that point from the south, had begun to carry with it a faint dusting of fine, white ash, and black smoke filled the sky beyond the trees.

A fire! There must have been a wildfire brewing I whispered to myself. How close was it? In what direction was it heading? Why had no one notified me?

And then I knew. No one knew I was back here! This place had been devoid of human habitation for over 40 years. Who would think that it might suddenly he occupied?

Quickly I hurried through the trees, intent now on reaching the cabin and turning on the radio that formed my only source of information from the outside world. Dry as the forest had been, and untouched by the hand of man as ecologists strived to save the area as a preserve for the Mexican Spotted Owls that nested in the region, I knew that this vulnerable ponderosa tract would be quickly engulfed. The overabundance of fuel, the dry summer conditions and the rising wind were a lethal combination. I had to know what was happening...and quickly!

In no time I found myself tearing at the doorknob, flinging open the door as I rushed madly toward the kitchen and my tiny radio. Then, tuning it to the local channel for the first time since my arrival, I waited breathlessly until I heard the insistent beep of the emergency warning system come to life.

It was huge. It was out of control...and it was spreading due north! Already over 200,000 acres had been consumed by the hungry giant, ravaging homes and forestland alike in its quest to climb the escarpment and feast on the arid forests above. My home would be but a brief appetizer on its way to greater destruction. I had to leave, and immediately!

Then, from above I heard it, a helicopter flying low over the canopy, skirting the treetops as it made its way southward.

Quickly I rushed outside, waving my arms, screaming to no avail that I was there, that my cabin was no longer unoccupied. But all I saw was the last flicker of its tail rotor as it vanished beyond the treetops, its Bambi Bucket filled with water for the fire beyond.

Panicked now, I hurried back inside and began to gather up my former manuscript, the only copy in existence, before I made my final run toward safety. Then, searching on the kitchen peg for my car keys I heard him.

"Looking for these?" he growled. "You won't be needing them. You're not going anywhere."

I whirled about, terror filling my mind. Eric! What was he doing here? How had he found me? And why, oh why was he keeping us both here in harm's way. Didn't he realize...

And then I knew. Eric had slipped beyond reason. Surely his madness had not been the byproduct of our brief tryst. It had obviously lain in wait for some time, perhaps a lifetime. I had just been the spark that had set him off...and now I would reap the whirlwind.

Quickly I darted for the door, hoping beyond hope that he would be startled enough to give me some lead time, but it didn't happen. Instead, Eric enclosed my waist in a crushing embrace that all but broke my ribs and began to drag me up the stairs toward the bedrooms above.

I screamed in earnest now, not in passion, but in terror as he flung me atop the four-poster and began to tear at my clothing. In minutes my garments lay in shreds on the hardwood floor, with Eric straddling my body as he tied my wrists to the bedposts with torn strips of my shirt.

Desperate, I tried to reason with him, to plead the urgency of the situation, but his eyes only glazed at the thought of what was to come. Then pivoting on my midsection, be stretched my ankles toward the corners of the bed and lashed them in place as well. Finally I was spread-eagled before him, and he rose to inspect his handiwork.

By now the air had begun to fill with wind-borne smoke from the encroaching fire. Over and over helicopters and slurry bombers roared way overhead, rushing southward in their frantic attempts to contain the blaze, never suspecting I was tethered down below at the mercy of a madman.

Eric was in charge. He wanted no question about that. "Scream, you Bitch!" he growled. "Scream. I want to hear you! By the time we're through you'll be hoarse from screaming. I promise you that!"

Then, rising above me he began to remove his clothing until all that remained were his briefs. These he dispatched in short order, flinging them into my face in distain. "Here's an appetizer, Bitch!" he laughed. "Main course coming up!"

With that he reached beneath the bed and brought up a pine branch, peeled to whip-like proportions and flexed it with glee. Then the inconceivable happened.

The switch flew from his hand, and jerking his head wildly about, Eric leaped from the bed, attempting to fend off my unseen rescuer.

Terrified, he whirled, lunging manically in his frenzied attempts to comprehend the unexpected reversal of fortune. But it was not to be.

In a flash, Eric was thrown to the floor, his head rapping soundly against the boards as he wailed his frustration. Then, my bonds were untied, and I leaped from the bed, grabbing my clothing as I rushed through the smoke-filled hallway toward the door below.

The flames by now were visible beyond the clearing, filling the air with soot and consuming the available oxygen in a greedy whirlwind. Trees crashed in the distance, felled by the force of the fiery assault.

The keys! The keys! The last time I'd seen them, they'd been in Eric's fist, and I couldn't go back there! And so, clothing in hand I began running as fast as my trembling legs would carry me down the narrow timber road, hoping beyond hope that the trail beyond was still accessible.

The flames grew ever closer...closer...until finally they formed a virtual wall before me and removed my last chance for survival. Frantically I searched for a break, but found none.

And then a miracle happened. From overhead came a sound, the roar of a helicopter, and a voice emanating from a loud speaker.

"Stay where you are," it boomed. "I can't land here, but the slurry bomber can clear a path. Hang tight!"

And so I did. The seconds seemed like hours until finally I heard the roar of a plane overhead, swooping low over the treetops in my direction. In an instant I was engulfed in a thick, red soup that all but bore me to the ground.

Desperately, I clawed at my eyes, and then I saw it. Before me lay a wet, red pathway to freedom...and I took it.

Slipping in my haste, I covered the slurry-coated ground as though my life depended upon it...for it did. Finally, after a few hundred yards, I came to a clearing, and there sat my rescuer, rotors spinning, gesturing me aboard for a final trip to safety. -----------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter eight:

It's been two weeks since my return to New York. I no longer have to fear the ring of my phone, or the flicker of my monitor, for Eric is gone. Gone as well is the cabin I had come to love so well in so short a time. But the most devastating loss is that of my beloved James. For him there can be no replacement.

The days have melted one into another, each a faceless blur, for time has now lost all meaning in my life. Gone are the foolish fantasies of a naive girl, the needs of a mature woman. Instead there remains only the void of his absence, and the promise of an endless stream of vacant tomorrows. I will recover eventually, but I will never be the same. My grief has seen to that.

And so I bury myself in a new book, the idea I had so enthusiastically embraced abandoned in the flames of a lost love. I have only the vague solace that if James did indeed find me through the veil of time, then perhaps I too will find him someday. I can only hope.

I pause in my writing to brew a pot of coffee in my small kitchen, strewn once more with discarded pizza boxes and Chinese take-out cartons. What does it matter anymore? This is the face of my future, this is all there is.

Then I stop.

Can it be?

Frantically my eyes scan the gloom of my surroundings, falling astonishingly on the thin ray of sunlight that has pierced the shadowed vales of this bustling city.

There, laying on the countertop lays a flower...an Indian Paintbrush. My heart leaps in my breast! Is it possible?

And then I know. Eternity has come full circle once more. Time and space have no meaning, not for us.

I lower my eyelids....and welcome my lover home.