Never: an erotic retelling of Peter Pan (58 page)

From the front, the detail of the bodies was entirely obscured by the rubies.  It would appear to be merely a beautifully crafted necklace.  But to the wearer... 

Still holding one clasp in each hand, she moved the 'bodies' experimentally and watched the clockwork in-out, in-out of the tiny penis.  "Oh my," she whispered, and felt herself go hot all over.  She had to look away, yet didn't know where.  "I can't believe you had this rattling around loose in your pocket," she said, talking to cover her sudden, inexplicable embarrassment.  She had never imagined Pietre might give her so obvious a signal.  "It must be - "

"Priceless," he said and she forced herself to look up into his eyes.  They held a feverish glow that made her wonder hopefully if this was the day.

"It belonged to my mother," he said, his eyes straying to her lips.  "No other has worn it since her death."

Dee didn't know what to say.  No other?  Not even Belle?  "I'm honoured."

"Let me fit it for you," he said and she returned the necklace to him.  But despite being prepared for his initiative, she hiccupping a little gasp as their fingers brushed.

He'd deliberately touched her, and her body was so sensitively attuned to his that it registered as a jolt up her arm.  Her wide eyes sought his but he was looking down at the necklace in his trembling hands.

"If you would turn and lift your hair." 

He'd uttered the words politely but Dee had heard the strain, the huskiness.

"Of course," she said, her own voice shaky.  Swivelling her chair, she faced away from him and obediently lifted her curls.  The hairs on her arms prickled expectantly as she awaited his touch.

"The trinket," he said and she felt a brush against the back of Long Shadow's bead necklace.  "I will remove it with your permission." 

Dee had forgotten all about it, and in the moment it took for an image of her bronzed lover to fill her mind and be pushed aside, she hesitated.  A telling pause.

But she recovered quickly.  "Yes, please.  I grow tired of it," she said, trying to keep her voice light.  "I wore it only to remind me of you while I was with your brother."

"Not of the Indian?" Pietre asked as he loosened the leather straps that held it in place.  Dee wished she could see his face. 

"Not really," she replied truthfully, for she had been trying to forget Long Shadow.  "The main reason I kept it was to prove my own sanity."

"You doubted your sanity?"

"I might have," she admitted.  "If I were to wake up in a gutter in Cairns without this around my neck I might have wonder if it had all be an alcoholic dream."

"How extraordinary," he said, his voice caressing her nerve endings as the choker slipped away from her throat, slowly, tantalisingly.  "You doubt the evidence of your own senses?"  

Dee's heart was pounding.  She was completely naked before him now. 

With the last vestigial covering gone she felt as though her very soul had been stripped bare.  She had no banter, no defences.  Only truth.

"I had doubted that it was real," she whispered.  "With the others."

"With the Indian?"

"Yes."  It had been too good to be true.

"But not with me.  Not now."

"No.  This is..." her voice trailed off as the cool silver settled gently against her upper chest.  His fingers brushed the skin at the nape of her neck and she shivered, her mouth dry. 

"This is fate, Wendee," he said as he swivelled her back to face him.  His eyes, when she looked up into them, were deadly serious.  "Doubt everything else if you must, but remember, what occurs between you and I is real."

She lay her palm over the central ruby, feeling the pulse of life in it.  Her life.  His life.  It was real.  It was fate.  An incredible feeling of 'rightness' came over her and she said, "I knew from the moment I first met you.  That first glance.  I thought I was drunk, deluded.  But I knew it then.  I know it now."

"As do I."  He closed his eyes briefly, gratefully, she thought.  Then he opened them and looked down at her.  "We will not be as other lovers, Wendee."

"I know."

He hesitated only a second, then said, "Take my hand." 

She reached out to take what he offered, her eyes locked onto his.  And as his fingers closed around hers, she felt the very air that surrounded her pressing in, all over her body.  The sensation was oppressive, yet wildly exciting, as though all the energy in the world was trying to force its way inside her.

Then just as quickly, the pressure was gone and her skin felt light, vibrant and tingling, distracting her from the heavy throb inside.

"I will join with you as no other has," he said and it was all she could do to nod.  Their eyes were communicating in a language Dee hadn't even known existed.  "But first we must talk," he said and his hand slipped out of hers, as though sustaining the connection required too much effort.  Without the touch she felt half empty.  Then he looked away and the energy drain was complete.  She was a shell. 

"There is much you must hear," he said.  "Much to accept, before we can go further."          

"Can I touch you?" she asked, wanting to ease the pain of his disclosures with her body - wanting the intoxication of their body connection back.

He shook his head, but not in denial.  "I don't know," he said.  Then again, "I honestly don't know."

"May I try?"

Pietre looked back at her, took a deep breath and nodded, pushing his thick, dark hair back in what Dee realised was the first nervous gesture she'd ever seen him perform.

"I will..." he looked around.  "I will lie on the bed."  He nodded at her, a couple of times, then stepped over to the bed and sat on its side. 

Dee rose from the chair and followed him there in a daze.  She had no idea what would happen.

"Would you like to remove your clothes?" she asked, "or at least your coat?"

He hesitated.  "No.  Not yet."  Then lay stiffly back on her cream satin duvet, like a man about to be executed.

Dee stood over him, feeling the tension come off him in waves.  "I don't understand why - "

"Of course you don't," he said and closed his eyes.  "That is why I must tell you."  He was silent for a moment, composing his thoughts.  "I will start at the beginning.  I was damaged as a child - "

"Your body?" Dee cut over him in horror.

His eyes came open and he observed the anguish on her face for a full minute before he said, "My body is whole and functional.  It was my mind that was disabled."

Dee felt herself relax.  She sat on the edge of the bed, still not touching him, but near.  "I'm sorry.  Go on," she said.

He nodded.  "But first, perhaps I should explain that I expect no pity from you, Wendee.  You must be implacable in the face of what you hear or you will not be able to help me."

"I want to help you," she said and her hand reached toward him, his chest, her fingers hovering over it for a second, but the look his eyes held her.  Such fearful anticipation.  She couldn't do it.  The hand returned to her side and after a moment he closed his eyes again.

"I will show no pity," she promised, despite the fact that she might feel it.

"In that case, I will begin," he said.  "It is not a long story, but..." here he sighed, a curious sound like air escaping from a long closed bottle.  "...it is painful," he went on, "and for that reason I will endeavour to relate it quickly.  A child grew up in a Castle, the son of a King and Queen."  He paused, then asked, "Do you like fairy tales, Wendee?  I know you like fantasy?"

"I love fairy tales," she replied, smiling to encourage him even though his eyes were still closed.

"Even if the wicked witch is very frightening."

"Yes, even then."

"Good."  He nodded.  "This witch was especially frightening because she was hidden inside a beautiful Queen.  The Queen had two sons.  Did I mention that?" Without waiting for a reply, went on, "Well there were, and the younger one was particularly fond of his mother, and she of him.

"They would often play together alone and the boy grew to love these special hours together, even though there were times when his mother would talk to herself in a quiet angry voice, a hard voice that said horrible things about the Queen.  He did not know then that this was the witch.