The Safety of Nowhere (7 page)

“Give me your hand a second.” He put his spoon down, turning toward her. She held her hand out with no hesitation. While Malcolm spoke, he brushed her middle fingertip slowly back and forth. “If we had anal intercourse,” he told her in his softest voice, “the inner layer of your body, the deeply buried core of you, would feel burning hot, like heated clay aching to be molded. The outer layer of your body would begin to move like water. And when you came, you’d feel it here.” He slid her fingertip into his mouth and bit. “For days.”

He’d gotten her attention. There was blood in her cheeks again. He even saw a rise of steam, but it was just the whistling kettle. She rose to turn the heat off and sat down again.

In that small interval, he’d lost her. Lost it all. She wasn’t thinking about sex of any kind. Troubles had their hold again.

“What is it?” Malcolm said.

“Gordon.” Dinah tore a corner from her bread and nibbled at it nervously. “He saw you here.”

“Do you think he guessed I’m an alien?” If so, it hadn’t seemed to trouble him.

She gave this due consideration and then shrugged it off as unimportant. “I doubt it. But he knows you’re a man. I’m pretty sure he knows we were naked when he got here. And he probably knows what that implies. All the way up the hill I tried to think of something safe to tell him. What if I had whispered to him that your existence should be our little secret? I thought about it. Then I worried it would make it seem an even bigger deal. So I said nothing. Maybe he’ll forget or shrug it off. I just hope to God he doesn’t tell someone. I’m done for if this story gets around.”

“Because you’re hiding me?”

Dinah blinked. Her face went blank, and then she shook her head. “Well, that’s not good either. But to be perfectly honest, your being from another planet isn’t really the big issue here. If and when Earth First gets wind of it, you’ll be long gone. But this is where I live. If someone hears I had a man in here…”

“What.” Malcolm’s jaw was tightening, and his blood was running hot again. “What happens if somebody finds out you were with a man?”

She got up, all but throwing things into the sink. “There aren’t a lot of women here. The smart ones all got out of town after the secession. What this region
isn’t
short of is horny bastards. With Cy, I was completely safe. He grew up here. Everybody knew him. Everybody liked him. He was that kind of guy. Even as his widow, I’ve had some protection. But, I promise you, if word gets around that I’ve been fucking someone…” Her face went still. Clearly, what she saw beyond the blankness in her eyes did not look good. “You fuck one guy, you have to fuck them all. That’s what men call thinking around here.” She was busying herself again, opening the cupboard, putting some things in, and taking some things out.

Malcolm watched, this time through the gauze of anger. Inside his thoughts he entertained a vision of a man approaching her. A man intent on “forced seduction.” He saw his own hand closing around that man’s throat—squeezing, clawing, turning until something snapped and the offender fell. He’d see to it no one ever got a chance to harm her.

“What are you going to do?” Outwardly he made himself stay conversational. Inwardly he viewed his bloody battlefield with relish.

“You mean what do I do if Gordon tells?”

He nodded.

“There aren’t a dozen choices,” she said staring down into the tea leaves. “I could deny there was a man here and make Gordon out to be a liar, which would be a shitty thing to do and probably ineffective. I could make up some horseshit story about you being a drifter I hired to cut wood.” Dinah brought the teapot with her to the table and sat down. “Forget that last one,” she said with disgust. “That’s not going to work. No one would ever believe that for a second. And even if they did, there’d just be a line of bastards tearing up the hill to ask if I needed any ‘work done.’ Ugh.” Dinah hung her head a moment. Malcolm bristled at the sight of her despair.

“What I should do is find someone else like Cy,” she said rallying somewhat. “Marriage would be a preemptive strike. But A, there isn’t another man like Cy, and B…” She sighed, looking exhausted by what was clearly a long-standing argument within herself. “I just don’t want to be married again. Once was enough.”

“You could leave.”

The look she gave him said he’d just betrayed her. Horribly and thoughtlessly. He didn’t want to see that look again.

“Why not just kill myself,” said Dinah with a flair of temper.

“So,” said Malcolm, after a short pause, “if I understand correctly, I’ve ruined your life.”

“Not you.” She fidgeted to find a good position in her chair and put one elbow on the table. “I don’t think we can pin all this on you. It started long before you got here. And you were also dragged here while unconscious. It’s hard to get more innocent than that.”

He saw from her expression she was shifting into mission mode, her eyes already fixed on what she planned to do with the rest of her day. Decisions made apparently, she stood abruptly, transitioned from one set of clothes into another, grabbed her tea, and went outside.

Although she hadn’t asked him to this time, Malcolm followed her. He sat and worked to take it in—the reasons for her strong attachment to this place. It was quite beautiful. That he acknowledged.

Her sprawling flowerbeds were separated by flat stones, each bed of different shapes and sizes. Lush, vibrant shades of green surrounded bright pockets of color. A rich mélange of calming scents rose around him, the aftermath of rain on leaves, sunshine on earth. Sporadic bursts of late-winter light made the wash of petals shimmer in the breeze.

His slow perusal pulled him outward, past Cy’s lemon tree, the two orange trees on either side, all the way to where green junipers stood sentry at the edges of the land.

It was a good place. Earth and sky made very happy here.

In it, Dinah moved with purpose. Driven. Never tiring. Occasionally she stopped to drink tea that had long since gone stone cold. Then her thoughts visibly cleared and she set off on some new task.

“You could leave,”
he’d said. Maybe she couldn’t.

Malcolm tore his gaze from her and cast his mind into the world beyond the trees. He saw the little town she’d spoken of, the rough men who inhabited it. Would they really try to claim her?

They should come. He’d love to kill them.

The hours passed, and he’d been too absorbed to notice. She shut the water off and went past him into the house. He knew what she’d do next: the quick undressing and the robe again. It happened as predicted, after which a thoughtful look came over her. She pulled another bottle from the shelf and motioned for him to join her at the table. “Kentucky Bourbon,” she said, showing him the bottle. “It’s good. Try some.” She got two glasses, pouring one for both of them. Again they sat.

Malcolm took a drink. He liked the bite and heat of spirits. When he finished it she poured out more. He waited, knowing she had something on her mind.

“This is what I always wanted,” she began. “Just this: a small house and garden. When Cy first brought me here, I fell in love. The garden wasn’t anything like it is now—just citrus trees and grass. The rest was me. I sat outside and stared for hours, building up an image in my mind. I even planned it all out on a chart. Color, texture, flow. And then I went to work.

“It took a lot of time, but when I saw the shoots come up, I cried. I swear, I’m not a crier, but I couldn’t help myself. The blooms formed, and I can’t describe the joy. Maybe it sounds like insanity, but it feels like love. My love. Maybe it’s the only thing I’ve ever loved.

“Making up those charts, on the other hand,” she said, downing more bourbon, “that turned out to be a joke. This garden’s never looked a thing like my initial vision. Everything I do is mere suggestion. Nature makes the big decisions for me.“ She appeared to think this over for a moment, after which she leaned back in her chair and smiled with a blush of pleasure. “That’s what I like the most about gardening—the give and take. Out there it’s like a five-year conversation I’ve been having with the world. If I leave, the conversation will go on without me. And that’s the worst thing I can think of.” Instantly the pleasure faded. Malcolm thought he saw the shine of tears. They welled up for a second, and then she blinked and they were gone. No more than that. But he could see the wild look again, the look that said
I need something to do.
He placed a firm hand on her arm to interrupt the process.

“How can I help you?”

She rolled her eyes. “There’s nothing anyone can do. And do what, anyway? Safety is a myth. I could sacrifice the land I love, chase after security, and still meet with some tragedy, some terrible demise.” She shook her head and brought her foot down on the floor. “This is where I want to die. This place is worth any risk.”

“I could marry you.”

Dinah leaned back so far and so quickly that he had to tighten up his hold to steady her. She laughed, as though it were some kind of joke. “I don’t hate that idea,” she said, licking her lips. “But you’re not exactly the required local boy. You would bring a different set of dangers.”

“How would they know?” Stubbornly he fought the obvious.

“You know how,” she said with good-natured reproach. “Perfection. Symmetry. Flawlessness. Hell, around here, they could tell just from your manners.”

“Do you still love your husband?”

Her facial muscles seemed to flicker from the unexpected shift in subject, but she answered easily enough.

“Of course,” she said. “Some men are tall or smart or hairy; Cy was loveable.” She frowned into her glass. “But I don’t want to talk about me anymore. I want to talk about you and the Body House. Or are you sworn to secrecy about all the orgies and etcetera you got up to back there?”

TELL ME ABOUT your destroyed life and blown-up friends. That was a fairly good example of Dinah’s skill for social interaction. That would teach the man to stop her on her way to keeping busy. Busy wasn’t only busy; doing things was how she kept herself from being dumb.

“I don’t have any secrets,” he said easily. “I’ll gladly tell you all about the Body House if you’re interested.”

Dinah perked up. “I’m completely interested. Tell me all the filthy things you’ve done. There have to be some stories when you’ve had sex with a thousand women.”

“Thousands,” Malcolm said.

“That’s crazy.” Dinah shook her head.

“The number doesn’t matter. You’ve lived thousands of days; each one that comes is fresh and new and wanted, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Good point.

“So I know you don’t do it for money, but what is it then. Religion? Is it only sex, or do you really think you heal people?” Healing hadn’t been her personal experience and still if she were honest, she’d admit she’d felt something inside her change. There was a constant physical buzz low in her belly, as though the volume on her sexuality had been turned up all the way. She hummed and crackled with electric feedback at the memory of how he’d touched her. And then there were the strings. Not just one. They seemed to pop up everywhere. When she tried to move away from him, they pulled.

“I wouldn’t say it’s only sex. But I wouldn’t use the word ‘only’ with ‘sex’ under any circumstances. As for healing, that’s not how I view it either. I offer understanding and acceptance. An enactment of those things.”

“How?”

“The key is observation. And the vow we all make never to withhold what can be given.”

The shadows in the house were lengthening. Dinah contemplated turning on a light and thought better of it. She’d just learned Bods all vowed not to withhold what could be given, and she wanted to create a picture. Maybe more than one. Such images were easier to conjure in the twilight.

“Like what? What do you give? Besides the obvious, I mean.”

“Obvious?” It was one of his smiling challenges, the kind that made her want to wrestle naked with him. “Everything is understandable, but nothing’s obvious. Some women come to us for kindness. Some for excitement. They want domination, consolation, or just a partner in crime.”

“What would I want, do you think? Imagine I were at the Body House.”

He studied her, the smallest smile on his face. “For you I think the latter would prevail.”

“A partner in crime?”

He nodded.

“That sounds pretty good.” She smiled. “How about it, partner? Wanna break a couple laws?”

“Oh yes.” And just like that he made her hot again. He could turn the sexy up to high in seconds just by showing her that part of him that was so confidently evil. He grabbed the box and held it out to her. “Draw a card.”

“I would, but I don’t cheat, and it’s your turn.”

With narrowed eyes to show the dig had not been lost on him, he pulled one out.

“What is it?” Something in his smile told her it must be a pretty nasty one.

He cleared his throat and read. “Out of chips during a poker game, your partner has wagered sexual favors and lost. For the next twenty minutes you can use her as your sex slave.”

“Again?” Dinah complained. “I was a sex slave yesterday.”

“That’s not true,” Malcolm corrected. “You were my alien sex
student
. A slave is very different. Stand up,” he said.

Dinah hesitated. She could tell herself she didn’t really know him. She could tell herself she wasn’t really interested in this kind of game. The truth was, she was spellbound by both him and the roles they played. And if she started acting this slave thing out, he would know how into it she was. Shouldn’t that be kept a secret? Awkwardly, she pulled herself upright.

Malcolm leaned back in his chair, a meditative look deepening the blue of his hypnotic eyes. “Take off your clothes.”

Dinah stripped. It didn’t take her long.

“Sit down.” He motioned her toward the bench at the foot of the bed. Naked, Dinah sat.

“Spread your legs.”

Her heart sped up. Her breathing grew more shallow. Dinah lifted one foot, then the other until her knees were spread a few inches apart.

“Spread your legs,” he said again. She did it, spreading wide for him and felt the now familiar pulse between her thighs that said she liked these dirty games of his more than she could ever have imagined. “Spread yourself open. Let me see more of you.” Even this she did although it made her look away and blush. If anyone could see her, she would die. Anyone besides him.