Spring Equinox (5 page)

The stimulation went on and on.  Whenever she returned from one peak, the multiple frictions would drive her to another.  Finally, one especially strong spasm drove Morgan out of her.  Her movements dislodged Erin as well.  Susan collapsed onto her back.  Her breath sounded like a steam engine to her own ears, and she didn't know if she would ever recover her breath.  She was held in strong arms about her shoulders.  Occasionally a shudder ran through her body, but otherwise nothing moved but her chest.

Her breathing finally quieted.  She relaxed into the supporting arms.  Someone covered her with a sheet.
"We did need a top sheet after all," said Erin.  "Are you coming?"  She couldn't move, could hardly keep awake.  But the sentence must have been addressed to another.
 

Morgan eased his arms from around her.  "Sleep tight, love," he said.

"That's right," Erin said.  "Sleep for a bit and you'll feel chipper again.  I *do* hate to eat and run, but you don't need us."  Susan waved her hand to tell them that it was all right, and then relaxed completely.  She never heard the door shut.
 

When she finally woke up, Susan stripped the bed and staggered to the shower room once again.  Cleaned inside and out, she found the
remains of the buffet.  Then she searched out Prof.  Somehow, after her experience with Morgan and Erin, she didn't need any more partners just then.

She heard Prof before she saw him.  "Both of you!  This is sharp-edged weapon of war.  You are *not* to try to take it from the other; you might get hurt.  Now, Thomas, Keda is going to get some turns.  You've had plenty of chances."  There were some indistinct murmurs after this.
 

"She did want to watch at first.  And aren't you glad that she watched you play.  Indeed, she watched so long that she is going to get fewer turns than you did.  However, nothing in my offer implied that she had to take it up just then.  And knights don't talk about their sisters that way."

By the time that she reached the doorway, the boy was back from the action.  Instead of struggling over the spear dangerously, the girl was using it in Prof-approved play.  That is to say that she was charging Prof with the spear pointing towards his legs.  He used his scabbarded sword to deflect the spear at the last minute.  Then the
girl collided with him.
 

"I'm glad," Susan said, "that she isn't doing anything dangerous with that spear."

"So am I," Prof answered.  "The two of them were wrestling with the butt end not two minutes ago.  Have you eaten?  We could go soon, if you're ready."

"I'm ready.  I just hope you have had some time with people your own age."

"None of them around," Prof answered.  "But I did get some time with women over the age of consent, if that is what you meant."
 

A few minutes later, he said: "Last charge
Keda.  Make it a good one."  He let her get much closer that time, swept the spear away, and picked her up as she charged into him.  He kissed the top of her head.

"Put me down," the girl said, laughing.  Instantly, Prof did so.  Keda stopped laughing.

"You got what you asked for," Prof pointed out.  "Give me your hand."  He took it and kissed the back, quite formally.  "My lady, fare thee well."  He reached out a hand towards the boy, who paused before offering his own.  Prof merely shook this hand, however.  "Thomas.  Fare thee well also.  Come with us, both of you.  I promised to return you to a responsible adult."

They found the entire family waiting for the kids.  "We got to play with Uther's spear," Thomas told Pat.  She didn't look completely happy at the news.

"They weren't in danger," Prof assured her.  "If he's still interested after three days, try a length of thick doweling a foot taller than he is.  The iron point is unnecessary for practice.  Paint a target on a tree, and his worst danger is falling over."

The entire family said goodbye with hugs.  When she got to Julie, Susan felt inspired.  "Kiss Mat goodbye for me," she whispered in Julie's ear.  She got a speculative look, but a nod followed that.  Her Castle lover kissed her full on the mouth, Keda threw herself into Susan's arms, and then they left the Yurt.

The air cooled as they ascended the path.  She thought of the day.  Morgan and Erin had treated her wonderfully, but it was still a game to them.  Mat, on the other hand, had been as loving as her hero had.  None of that had affected her preference one iota.  "Prof, am I going to remember this?" she asked.

"Probably not."

"Remind me to be kinder to Joe, okay?"

"Does he want you to be kinder to him?" he asked.

"He wants an exclusive relationship, and now I understand that feeling.  I wish I knew that he loved me, I wish I just knew his name."

"I can't help with the name."  Prof seemed to understand that the subject had shifted.  "But he does love you.  Your problem is that he loves many other people.  Some think he and Pat are the embodiment of eros, but actually philadelphia is their strong suit."

"Thanks," she answered, and then a pause.  "I think."

"I can't see the point," he said, "of giving Joe more of what you've given him in abundance, simply because he wants what you aren't going to give him.  Would more kindness from Keda's father really make you happier?"

It took them ten more minutes to reach the slit in the rock, but she still hadn't answered that question -- not even to herself.
 

The End

Here is a sample from another story you may enjoy:

"Keith, what are these things on the closet shelf?" Danielle was discovering that cleaning was a central concern for her boyfriend -- only the center of rooms ever got cleaned.

"I think they're ties."  The woman asked the damndest questions.  She was looking at them, after all.  If the ties or whatever interfered with her plans for the shelf, he'd take
them.

"They aren't in wearable shape.  Oops.  Did you get gravy on this one? or chocolate?"

"Spaghetti sauce," Keith said.  "And it was rather the other way around."  A very embarrassing moment.

"You don't really wear them this narrow do you?" she asked about the second.

"Did at fifteen."

She shook the dust off the last one, and was instantly sorry.  
"Don't tell me that you wore this at fifteen; why did your mother let you?"

Now *that* memory was a winner.  "Well, it's like this.  George and I were working back office together, right out of college.  (I've told you about George haven't I?)"

She shuddered to communicate how much he had told her about George.

"Anyway..." he continued.  He could never get across to her what a really fun guy George had been; you really had to have been there.  "Anyway, the guys there had been wearing more and more revolting shades of green on St. Patrick's day."

"I hate to tell break this to you, Keith, but this tie is not green."  Revolting, yes.

"And I'm not Catholic, and neither is George.  So he got these sewn up and we both wore them on St. Paddy's.  We were a great success.  But George was fired a few months later for a practical joke which the boss took the wrong way.  So I wore a black tie the next year."

"He got two ties *made* special so you could look horrible?"  Was she still certain that she wanted to move in with this man?

"Well, sure.  Not even you could look good in that necktie."

"Okay," she said, though her mind was already rising to the challenge.  "Do you have a vacuum cleaner, or do you just rent one when the occasion arises?"

She cleaned the spaces assigned to her before risking any of her clothes to them, and it was late when she had finally finished the move.

"Why don't you send out for something?" she said.  "I need a long shower."

He probably needed a shower much more than she did.  After all, he'd carried the suitcases and boxes up three flights of stairs, she'd only wiped out and put away.  On the other hand, picturing her in the shower was worth the wait.

She took her time in the shower.  She turned off only the hot water, however, when she stepped out.  Dried, hair fluffed, carefully made up, diaphragm inserted, she experimented with the ties she had found.

He ordered from the Chinese take-out, but the shower was still running when the food got there.  So was the movie in his mind, though he had to run his image through the entire washing procedure three times to match the time she took.  He knocked on the door to tell her that dinner was ready.  She came out in a disappointingly opaque robe which covered her completely.  But, as she reached and relaxed during the meal, it spread wider and wider.

Keith, who had seen her naked breasts scores of times, took more and more peeks as the dinner wore on.  For the first time in their relationship, she got more sweet and sour shrimp than he. "I'll clean up," she offered.  Their glasses, their mugs, and four serving spoons needed washing; two boxes needed refrigeration.  Everything else was for the garbage.  "Why don't you take your shower now?"

Of course she'd clean up.  She wasn't a guest, she lived here now.  But he did need a shower.  He took a fast one, fearing that the hot water hadn't recovered from her use.
 

She'd planned on arousing him, but was finding that her preparations, combined with the anticipation of his reaction, were getting her wetter and wetter.
 Her first night in this apartment, well her first night as a resident here, promised to be a hot one.  Good.  She wanted to start the new level of relationship off with a bang.

He was in bed when she came in.

He watched her take off the robe until it was draped from one arm and covering her from the lowest ribs down.  The effect was a strip show, even sexier because she seemed unconscious of the effect.  Her breast was almost hidden by her arm in the beginning, showing only the perky nipple poking out from the pale pink areola.  It slowly emerged as she turned, revealing the soft curve of its underside. Finally, its mate came into sight, turning a luscious pear into a perfect pair.  Already a little hard in anticipation of her presence in his bed, he firmed more. When she was three quarters front-on, she looked at his face.

"Like what you see?" she asked.

"And how!" He felt like whistling.

"Still like what you see?"  Still giving him a three-quarter view, she slowly dropped the robe.  Then she turned to face him.
 

He did whistle.
 She had turned the tie into a breechcloth. Dangling from a dark band around her waist, a patch of orange covered the space where her legs met.  Concealing the area, it enhanced the mystery; swinging free, it implied access.  He turned on his side so that his erection wouldn't tent the sheet.
 

"Then take it back," she said in her coldest tone.

Take what back?
 The tie?