She blinked away tears at the thought, but as the dancing began, she had little time to dwell on poignant reminiscences. The rhythm was easy to follow in the beginning, but became faster and more complex as the evening progressed. Ayla was unquestionably the center of attention. Every man found her irresistible. They crowded around her, vying for her attention, making innuendos and even blatant invitations thinly veiled as jokes. Jondalar flirted gently with Madenia and more obviously with Filonia, but he was aware of every man circling around Ayla.
The dancing became more complicated, with intricate steps and changing of places, and Ayla danced with them all. She laughed at their jokes and bawdy remarks as people broke away to refill their cups, or couples retreated to secluded corners. Laduni jumped into the middle and did an energetic solo performance. Toward the end, his mate joined him.
Ayla was feeling thirsty, and several people went with her to get another drink. She found Daraldi walking beside her.
“I would like some, too,” Madenia said.
“I’m sorry,” Losaduna said, putting his hand over her cup. “You have not had your Rites of First Pleasures, yet, my dear. You will have to settle for tea.” Madenia frowned and started to object; then she went to get a cup of the innocuous beverage she had been drinking.
He did not intend to allow her any of the privileges of womanhood until she went through the ceremony that bestowed womanhood, and he was doing everything he could to encourage her to agree to the important ritual. At the same time, he was letting everyone know that in spite of her terrible experience, she had been purified, restored to her former state, and was to be subject to the same restrictions and treated with the same special care and attention given to any other girl on the verge of becoming a woman. He felt it was the only way she would ever fully recover from the unconscionable attack and multiple rape she had suffered.
Ayla and Daraldi were the last to drink, and as everyone else wandered away in one direction or the other, they were left alone. He turned to her.
“Ayla, you are such a beautiful woman,” he said.
When she was growing up she had always been the tall, ugly one, and as many times as Jondalar had told her she was beautiful, she always thought it was because he loved her. She didn’t think of herself as beautiful, and his comment surprised her.
“No,” she said, laughing. “I’m not beautiful!”
Her remark took him aback. It wasn’t what he had expected to hear.
“But … but, you are,” he said.
Daraldi had been trying to interest her all evening, and though her conversation was friendly and warm, and she obviously enjoyed the dancing, moving with a natural sensuality that encouraged his efforts, he hadn’t been able to strike the spark that would lead to further advances. He knew he was not an unattractive man, and this was a Mother Festival, but he couldn’t seem to make his desires known. Finally he decided on a more direct approach.
“Ayla,” he said, putting his arm around her waist. He felt her stiffen for a moment, but he persisted, leaning over to nuzzle her ear. “You
are
a beautiful woman,” he whispered.
She turned to face him, but instead of leaning toward him in a willing response, she pulled back. He put his other arm around her waist to bring her closer. She leaned back and put her hands on his shoulders and looked him full in the face.
Ayla hadn’t quite understood the real meaning of the Mother Festival. She had thought it was just a warm and friendly gathering, even though they had talked about “honoring” the Mother and she knew what that usually meant. As she had noticed couples, and sometimes three or more, retiring to the darker areas around the hide partitions, she was getting more of an idea, but it wasn’t until she looked at Daraldi and saw his desire that she finally knew what he expected.
He pulled her toward him and leaned forward to kiss her. Ayla felt a warmth for him, and she responded with some feeling. His hand found her breast, and then he tried to reach under her tunic. He was attractive, the feeling wasn’t unpleasant, she was relaxed and in the mood to be willing, but she wanted time to think. It was hard to resist, her mind was not clear; then she heard rhythmic sounds.
“Let’s go back to the dancers,” she said.
“Why? There aren’t many left dancing anyway.”
“I want to do a Mamutoi dance,” she said. He acquiesced. She had responded; he could wait a little longer.
When they reached the central area, Ayla noticed that Jondalar was still there. He was dancing with Madenia, holding both her hands and showing her a step he had learned from the Sharamudoi. Filonia, Losaduna, Solandia, and a few others were clapping their hands nearby; the flute player and the one beating the rhythms had found partners.
Ayla and Daraldi joined in clapping their hands together. She caught Jondalar’s eye and changed from slapping both hands together to slapping her thighs, in the Mamutoi style. Madenia stopped to look, then backed away as Jondalar joined Ayla in a complicated thigh-slapping rhythm. Soon they were moving together, then backing away and around each other, looking at each other over their shoulders. When
they came face-to-face, they reached for each other’s hands. From the moment she caught his eye, Ayla saw no one but Jondalar. The generalized warmth and friendliness she had felt for Daraldi was lost in her overpowering response to the desire, the need, and the love in the blue, blue eyes looking at her at that moment.
The intensity between them was apparent to everyone. Losaduna watched them closely for a while, then nodded imperceptibly. It was clear that the Mother was making Her wishes known. Daraldi shrugged his shoulders, then smiled at Filonia. Madenia’s eyes opened wide. She knew she was seeing something rare and beautiful.
When Ayla and Jondalar stopped dancing, they were in each other’s arms oblivious to everyone around them. Solandia started clapping and soon all of those who were left joined in the applause. The sound finally reached them. They backed away from each other, feeling a bit self-conscious.
“I think there is still a drink or two left,” Solandia said. “Shall we finish it off?”
“That’s a good idea!” Jondalar said, his arm around Ayla. He wasn’t about to let her go now.
Daraldi picked up the large wooden bowl to pour out the last of the special drink, then looked at Filonia. I’m really very lucky, he thought. She is a beautiful woman, and she has brought two children to my hearth. Just because it was Mother Festival didn’t mean he had to honor Her with someone other than his mate.
Jondalar finished his drink in one swallow, put his cup down, then suddenly picked Ayla up and carried her to their bed. She felt strangely giddy, full of joy, almost as though she had escaped some unpleasant fate, but her joy was nothing to Jondalar’s. He had watched her all night, seen the way all the men wanted her, tried to give her every opportunity as Losaduna had advised, and was sure she would end up choosing someone else.
He could have gone with someone else many times himself, but he wouldn’t leave until he was sure she was gone. Instead, he stayed with Madenia, knowing she was not available to any man yet. He enjoyed paying attention to her, seeing her relax around him, appreciating the beginnings of the woman she was going to be. Although he wouldn’t have blamed Filonia if she had gone with someone else, and she had many opportunities, he was glad she’d stayed near him. He would have hated being left alone if Ayla had chosen someone else. They talked about many things. Thonolan and their travels together, her children, especially Thonolia, and Daraldi and how much she cared for him, but Jondalar couldn’t bring himself to speak very much about Ayla.
Then, in the end, when she came to him, he could hardly believe it. He laid her down carefully on their sleeping platform, looked at her and saw the love in her eyes, and felt an aching soreness in his throat as he held back tears. He had done everything Losaduna had said, given her every chance, even tried to encourage her, but she had come to him. He wondered if that was a sign from the Mother telling him that if Ayla became pregnant, it would be a child of his spirit?
He changed the position of the movable privacy screens, and when she started to get up and remove her clothes, he gently pushed her back down. “Tonight is mine,” he said. “I want to do it all.”
She lay back down and nodded with a little smile, feeling a thrill of anticipation. He went outside the screens, brought back a lighted stick, lit a small lamp, and set it in a niche. It didn’t shed much light, just enough to barely see. He started to remove her clothes, then stopped.
“Do you think we could find our way to the hot springs with this?” he asked, indicating the lamp.
“They say it drains a man, makes his manhood soften,” Ayla said.
“Believe me, that won’t happen tonight,” he said, with a grin.
“Then I think it might be fun,” she said.
They put on their parkas, picked up the lamp, and quietly headed outside. Losaduna wondered if they were going to relieve themselves, then thought again, and he smiled. The hot springs had never slowed him down for very long. It just gave him a little extra measure of control sometimes. But Losaduna was not the only one watching them go.
Children were never excluded from Mother Festivals. They learned the skills and activities they were expected to know as adults by watching adults. When they played games, they often mimicked their elders, and before they were actually capable of any serious sexual acts, boys bounced on girls in imitation of their fathers, and girls pretended to give birth to dolls in imitation of their mothers. Soon after they were capable, they passed into adulthood with rituals that not only brought them adult status but adult responsibilities, although they didn’t necessarily choose a mate for several years. Babies were born in their own time, when the Mother chose to bless a woman, but surprisingly were seldom born to very young women. All babies were welcomed, supported, and cared for by the extended family and close friends that made up a Cave.
Madenia had observed Mother Festivals as long as she could remember, but this time it took on new meaning. She had watched several of the couples—it did not seem to hurt anyone, not the way she had been hurt, even when some of the women chose several men—but she was particularly interested in Ayla and Jondalar. As soon as they left the cave, she put on her parka and followed them.
They found their way to the double-walled tent and went into the second enclosure, welcoming the steamy warmth. They stood just inside, looked around, then put the lamp down on the raised earth altar. They took off their outer parkas and sat down on the felted wool pads that covered the ground.
Jondalar began by taking off Ayla’s boots; then he removed his own. He kissed her long and lovingly, while he undid the fastenings on her tunic and undergarment, and pulled them up over her head, then bent down to kiss each nipple. He untied her fur-lined leggings and breech-cloutlike underwear and pulled them off, stopping to caress her mound covered with soft hair—they hadn’t bothered to put on their outer leggings with the fur facing out. Then he undressed himself and took her in his arms, delighting in the feel of her skin next to his, and wanted her that instant.
He led her into the steaming pool, they immersed once, then went to the washing area. Jondalar scooped out a handful of soft soap from the bowl and began rubbing it over Ayla’s back and her twin mounds, avoiding her enticingly warm, moist places for the moment. It was smooth and slippery, and he loved the way it felt on her skin. Ayla closed her eyes, felt his hands caress her in the way he knew best to please her, and gave herself over to his wonderfully smooth touch, feeling every tingling sensation.
He took another handful and smoothed it on her legs, lifting each foot and feeling her slight spasm at the tickling of the bottom of her feet. Then he turned her around and faced her front, but took time to kiss her, gently and slowly exploring her lips and her tongue, feeling her response. His own response had swelled, and his manhood seemed to move of its own volition, striving to reach her.
With another small handful of soap, he started under her arms, caressing with the delightful slippery foam down to her full firm breasts, feeling her nipples harden under his palms. Shivers, like lightning, raced through her body when he touched her amazingly sensitive nipples, and found the place deep inside her that wanted him. When he moved down to her stomach and her thighs, she moaned with anticipation. With hands still soapy, he caressed her folds and found her place of Pleasures, rubbing just lightly. Then he picked up the rinsing bowl, filled it with water from the hot pool, and began pouring it over her. He poured several more bowlfuls over her before he led her back into the hot water.
They sat on the stone seats and held each other close, pressing warm skin against warm skin, and dunking under until only their heads were above the water. Then, taking her hand, Jondalar led Ayla out of the
water once more. He laid her down on the soft mats, and just looked at her for a while, glowing and wet, and waiting for him.
To her surprise, he spread her thighs first and ran his tongue the full length of her folds. He tasted no salt, and her special taste was gone; it was a new experience, to taste her without tasting her, but as he reveled in the novelty of it, he heard her begin to moan and cry out. It had seemed so sudden, but she realized she was so ready. She felt her excitement build, and reach a peak, then spasms of delight washed over her again and again, and suddenly he tasted her.
She reached for him, and as he mounted and penetrated, she guided him inside. She pressed up as he plunged down, and they sighed with deep satisfaction. As he pulled out, she ached to have him back. He felt her full warm caress enclose his member completely, and he nearly reached his pulsing burst. When he pulled back again, he knew he was ready, as a high-pitched moan escaped his lips. She pulled up to him and he was ready as the bursting momentum escaped and filled her deep well and mixed with her own warm wetness and he cried out the fullness of her joy.