Hysteria (4 page)

He held my hand in his and I stroked his fingertip
with my own. His eyes drew mine and his pupils darkened as I met
his.

Yes, he knew.

He cleared his throat and took a step back, breaking
our connection.

“I will see you tomorrow.”

I nodded. I was not capable of much more, either.

#

I wait on the bed for him. He had asked that I
undress and await him there and so I did. The fire burned casting a
glow over the room, and I lay under the coverlet trembling with
anticipation.

The door opened and he shut it behind him
quickly.

He still wore his dark blue velveteen wedding jacket
and I drank in his beauty. His wide dark eyes, his broad shoulders.
His hands.

He comes and stands at the end of the bed and I hold
my breath within me. He captures my gaze as he starts to take off
his coat. He unties his cravat, takes off is vest, and slips out of
his shirt. I could not have taken my eyes off of him had my life
been threatened.

Slowly he divests his clothes and I stare transfixed.
I looked him over like a horse I would purchase and I revel in not
being the one undressed and at a disadvantage.

He is brazen in his nakedness and ego and stands
there, letting me look at him all that I wish. I start at his eyes
and work my way down to the shaft that hangs heavy and long between
his legs. My hand, as if doesn’t belong to me, reaches out on its
own accord to touch it. It is hot and smooth under my fingertips,
and I glance up to watch his face. His mouth is tight, almost a
grimace, but he stands like a statue, allowing me my explorations.
I encircle him with my hand and slowly draw down to the base of him
and his breath hitches, but he still does not move. This time I
drag my fingertip down his length to his sac and weigh him in the
cup of my hand. I run my fingers back up and around the plum shaped
tip. The muscles in his thighs twitch and he arches toward me.

I flip the sheet back and sit on the edge of the bed
and stare and the length of him which bobs at my face. A bead of
moisture weeps at his tip, and I wonder if my tongue can touch this
part of him. I want to, but I fear myself too brazen and instead I
press my finger to the tear and bring it to my mouth.

Its salty bland taste spread over her tongue and I
close my eyes.

In a breath he is on top of me, covering me head to
toe. His weight sinks me into the mattress and I might have been
scared had I not been so relieved. Our skin is hot and its own
thing. I feel him everywhere and he is touching all of me and yet
not in the place in me that wants him most. I don’t know what is
right, but I lift my thighs over his hips and pull him in closer if
that can even be possible. His hand presses between us and down to
my nethers. My desire is apparent, and he remembers my body well,
stroking me ever so lightly on my pearl. I suck my lip into my
mouth and lift my hips higher. All these years of wanting something
that I could not comprehend and now I am about to be brought into
understanding.

A moan escapes my lips and he pushes his erection
into me until it cannot go further and like a gas lamp popping on I
realize how treatment was a vain attempt simulating something no
machine can duplicate.

He pistons me like the machine, but it’s not the same
at all. His skin is hot, his breathing is all I can hear until my
heart beats to his metronome. His arms, rippling with strength are
columns around me and he is filling me over and over again until
I’m spinning in pleasure beneath him. It shatters around me and
over me and as soon as I calm I want it again immediately. So I
cling to him, and am in ecstasy and hell. Ecstasy, for I have found
heaven. Hell, because I now know that all the treatment in the
world would never have cured me. It would only have served to show
the vast chasm that lay between the two.

Everything overwhelms me and my throat begins to
tighten. Tears fall into my hair. I cannot help them.

He must feel them because he pauses and the pad of
his thumb brushes my cheek.

“Are you not well pleasured?” he whispers into my
ear.

“I am.” And I wind my arms up around his neck.

“Why the tears?”

It is nothing—anymore. This is a new beginning. I
kiss his lips, and he opens his mouth and touches his tongue to
mine. I pull him down closer and thrill at how many ways he is
inside me. He pulls away and breaks our kiss, panting as he gathers
himself. I am not unaffected, either and I grind myself into
him.

He closes his eyes and arches into me and I can feel
him swell, filling me even more than before. All of his weight
shifts onto his knees and his hands grip under my things, bringing
them up wider, tighter. I clench the sheets under me and all I can
hear is our frantic breaths and the slippery sound of our joining.
One, two, three and with a final thrust that pushes me back to the
headboard he climaxes, hot seed swelling me and sending me into one
of my own. My muscles milk what is left in him and he lurches over
me, spent, wet hair sticking to his flushed relaxed face. He rests
on the soft of my stomach and I comb his hair away from his eyes
with my fingers.

“I love you.” He picks his head up and looks intently
into my eyes, making sure I hear him.

“You don’t have to.” It’s the first time any person
has said such to me, and had he not been weighing me down I would
have fled at his words.

“When you did not come back for treatment those years
ago. That is when I knew you were more than a patient.”

I shift my weight. “You had not said so.”

“I wanted…I wanted you to develop feelings for me
apart from your treatment.”

It explained much.

“And after you took me from that place?”

“Even more.” He pulled out of me and I missed his
absence immediately. He crawled up beside me and stroked my cheek
where my tears were. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever
known.”

“If I am, it is because of the hope you gave me.” The
scent of our loving was strong on him and I must admit it was
something I savored.

“Are you happy now?” His voice was growing soft with
tiredness. He pulled me into him tightly and pulled the coverlet
over us.

“More than ever.” I snuggled into the crook of his
arms, safer and more loved than I had ever been in my life.

He snored softly into my hair as the candle burned
out. I tried to imagine a life without his gentle caring presence
around me, protecting me, loving me quietly with actions of
everyday loyalty.

I reached up and touched his shoulder. His eyes
fluttered open, heavy with sleep.

“I love you, too.”

* * * * *

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