Chosen Mate Ch. 04

"You gave me new life when there was little left, hope, a commodity that was well depleted, pleasure, given freely where there was none and love, that I now lay tenderly at your feet in offering." They sat together under the single point of light that was like an island surrounded by dark ebony seas of shadows, holding hands tightly in their bright sanctuary. Sandra's mind screamed in ecstatic bliss at his declaration of love.

"I'll have to change one word if I ever need to use your poem." She said, looking deeply into his eyes. "I'll use Lord instead of Lady."

"My Lady." Harry replied huskily

"My Lord." Sandra answered. Their lips met over the bar, drawn together by the pull of their fiercely beating hearts and rushing blood. Harry felt like he was standing in an unquenchable fire as the burning kisses consuming force sent flames leaping through his body, filling his soul with new energy. Sandra felt much the same. It seemed that heat shimmered from her in radiating waves like the twisting of air near a very hot furnace. She broke the kiss and gasped in cooling breaths of air. She wanted him, now, but not here.

"I'm hungry." Sandra said smiling "it's hard work running a bar and being beautiful at the same time."

"I could eat too. Mom was asking so many questions about us during supper. I did more talking than eating and finally gave up. Are you ready to get out of here? I'll pull the Caddy up to the door so you don't have to walk across the parking lot with all that money. Then, we'll go to Mildred's and have some breakfast." Sandra became pensive as she considered his course of action that opposed her carefully planned agenda. She searched his earnest eyes.

"Do you care where we eat? Mildred's will be packed with all the people that left here. It will be loud, people will want to talk to you about leather things; jealous women may try to steal you from me, and men, maddened by my beautiful body, may try to steal me away from you. I stopped at the grocery store on the way home. Would you like a meal at my apartment instead? I've got everything you could ever want." Her hands cupped her breast suggestively. His hunger grew. He felt famished and near starving for her.

"You talk a lot like my mother, you know. She is always asking a second question before I've answered the first. No, I don't care where we eat, not at Mildred's now that you told me what to expect. I'd rather eat peanut butter and crackers at your apartment with you, than anything else anywhere else."

Sandra smiled happily. She had put together some things together before coming to work. The automatic coffee maker would begin perking any moment now. A green salad and bowl of fresh made guacamole waited in the refrigerator, along with a casserole dish of enchiladas and two bottles of red wine.

"I think I can offer you something better than peanut butter, especially since you offered me your love."

"I'll be right back with the car." Harry said, hurrying out the door.

He rushed out the door and across the lot, driving quickly to the door, letting the engine run as he opened the passenger's side of the Caddy for her. She locked up and got in the car, turning on the radio before he was able to shut the door. The classic rock coming out of the quad system was a pleasant relief after three hours of country music. Aerosmith's Sweet Emotion was playing. It was great music for cruising the empty streets at midnight.

They drove slowly to the bank, traveling at little more than an idle. Sandra lay cuddled against him, her head in his lap, face looking up at him, an arm wrapped around his accelerator leg and the other resting on his chest. He drove with one hand, elbow propped on the open window. His free hand played with her breasts through the soft suede of her top. Stevie Ray Vaughn was next on the radio; Pride and Joy began with its moving blues introduction. His 'pride and joy' moved with her head to the music. He sang along.

A quick stop at the bank and then she was giving him direction to her apartment, that happened to be on the street behind the bar. She sat up and used her garage remote. A double door opened to reveal his Frog facing out. He parked in the open bay and they went upstairs to her rooms.

She opened the door and preceded him into the living room, tossing her purse on the comfortable looking couch and walking to the kitchen/dinette on the far side. He glanced around the room as she entered the kitchen. She called back.

"Make yourself at home, coffee or wine?"

"Coffee." he answered, and moved down the hall to find the bathroom. He liked it; he liked the whole appartment; a walk in shower looked out on a neat, ordered, functional room. He stood in front of the toilet, thankfully, and swore to drink less beer as he looked at the view of the wide sink in the mirror in front of him.

The bathroom was tiled, floor to ceiling in gleaming white. Ice he thought and sighed. He shook, flipped down both lids, flushed, washed, and then walked out inspecting his nails.

He stepped down the hall to the last room. Fire, he thought after turning on the light in the bedroom. Light tan walls surrounded an immense four-post bed in golden maple. A matching mirrored dresser rested across from it. Heavy twin end tables and rose-glassed lamps flanked the bed. They all rested on rose-colored carpet that gave the impression of walking on clouds of marshmallows. Oldman cackled with anticipation.

Harry's eyes turned past the walk in closet doors of mirrored glass to a door. A toilet, sink, and bath were revealed, again in white; the carpet and towels were such a dark red that they were nearly black. The tub looked big enough to swim in.

Sandra appeared at the door with a mug of coffee in her hand. Perfect timing, he thought, and accepted the mug, then repeated her obeisance from the underground spring. Sandra smiled happily and softly said.

"My Lord." He swam in the liquid pools of her eyes and answered in reverence.

"My Lady." and bowed lower. Then rising, he pulled her to him where he leaned against the sink. "I think I could swim in that bath tub." He said seriously in outrageous exaggeration, and then continued. "I want one exactly like it. I especially like the jets. I can't wait to try them."

"Bring your coffee with you; it's time to eat." She was moving away as she spoke, letting the words trail in her wake. He followed, again looking at is fingernails.

"I need a manicure." He tossed down the hall after her. She ignored his statement and silently added it to a list of activities she had planned before he escaped.

Sandra had a salad, a bowl of guacamole, and two plates waiting on a white tablecloth. They sat down and began on their salads with no words until they chased bits of lettuce around the plates. The stove timer went off. Sandra walked away with the salad bowls and returned with a casserole dish of enchiladas; she sat them on a hot pad.

--That sure isn't p-nut butter Oldman observed. Harry agreed; this was wonderful.

"Wow that looks great! I love enchiladas."

"Really? Sandra replied, "Me too." He filled her wineglass and tasted it, twice.

"That's good. Have you got any chocolate?" The rich red wine would go nicely with some.

"Yes, in the refrigerator, next to the wine."

"Mmnnn..." He announced; but for the chocolate, the tasty red enchiladas rapidly consumed, or the chips dripping guacamole there was no conformation.

Harry raised his head with a deep-satisfied sigh and belched quietly into his napkin, hiding it by wiping his beard and lips. He watched her eat. He loved a woman with healthy appetites. Her top was unstained as she delicately and carefully made her way to the bottom of her rapidly appearing plate. Harry sighed again and began to lick his plate in slow savoring strokes.

Sandra looked up, and then looked again at the unexpected sight of Harry, lapping the remains of the sweet red sauce. She stood up and took the plate from his hand, then took both to the kitchen; she rinsed and stacked them in the washer. Harry brought the bowl and dish in. She had him cover them and clear the table.

Following her down the hall to the bathroom, he joined her as she started to disrobe. As she removed and began folding her pants, he stopped her as he saw her thong.

"You tied them different." He said bending to examine her method of tying the back laces around her waist and then the top of the front laces to it. "Ingenious." Harry said in awe from his position seated on the toilet, peeling socks off to join the pants and slippers he had already removed. "You've got them tied pretty tight, there's a dimple there." He forgot the socks, bringing his face near. He pressed on the dimple. She gasped and replied with distracted explanation.

"I would make them tighter but the laces hurt then. They feel like a warm hand, holding me tightly." He imagined thin padded sleeves around the sides of the lace; perhaps a padded v at the tail bone too. He pulled the slipknots that held the thong up. The front fell down and hung behind her. He pulled her to him and stroked her belly and the hollows of her hips, rubbing away the red marks from the laces with his beard and wet tongued kisses. She smelled of woman and leather, as he made his way to lap each fold that joined her. He reveled in the touch and feel of her smooth skin. Her hands rested on his head while she enjoyed his attention. He devoured her slowly in bits and pieces, feeding at the furnace like heat that sprang again from her earlier dampened flames at the bar. The fire consumed her; she cried out the death knell of her orgasm.

Harry looked up. Her head laid back and trembling in the ebbing of her release. He removed her thong completely and threw it at the hamper. Sandra cried out and moved to place it, and her top, in a delicates bag in the hamper. He stood behind her, as she secured her leather treasures, and pressed himself against her, hands lightly pulling her to him. She turned and dropped to her knees before him and removed the socks from his feet by feel. His hands rested on her moving head as she pulled them off. She rose and kissed him, holding on to him like a secure point in a raging tempest. She pulled from his arms and entered the shower. He followed.

They moved in the hot water that streamed down copiously. She laughed at his erection that seemed to follow her as they stirred over, around, and against each other. She turned it and him away from her, and pressed her body against his, forcing him to hold his hands against the wall for support. Suckling his neck, exposed by his wet hair, she reached around, fumbling for the bottle of body wash in the deep shelf of the water-beaded tile in front of him. She applied a liberal squeeze of it in her hand to wash, stroke, and rub until he was well cleaned. She finished him and turned to wash with a white washcloth then shampoo her hair.

Harry collapsed to the floor enjoying the deluge of hot water and watched her; his feet rested on one wall and head just touched the other. She rinsed and sat on the floor beside him pulling his head into her lap and shampooed his hair and beard. He sputtered and wiggled his head through her ministrations. She stood above him. He reached up for her but she placed a foot on his chest, holding him down.

"Not yet," She said, and sat again with a fine pumice stone and scrubbed the skin on his fingers then shaped the nails with the file on the opposite side. She looked at his feet, in quiet consideration, then moved to them and repeated the treatment given his hands, as she leaned back against the tile. She coaxed him from his pampered spot and washed the soap from their bodies before the heat of the water could dissipate. He helped, smooth fingers gliding silkily over her flesh as he explored her lush curves and abundant treasures.

Turning off the water, she reached to the bar outside the shower and pulled two towels in. Harry spent more time drying her gently with the soft towel given him than he did himself. She left him while he was wrapping the towel around his waist. Walking across the brown, fiber woven, rugs on the floor, he went to the kitchen and refilled her glass left there and one for himself. Making his way to the bedroom, he found her brushing her hair in the dresser mirror. He sat her glass on a coaster on the end table nearest her and moved around the bed, kissing the round of her shoulder as he passed and placed his glass on a coaster waiting on the second table. He folded the towel drawn from his waist and laid it on the carpet beside the bed, then dived on the plush comforter, snuggling down in its soft folds.

She found him near sleep when she finished her hair and turned to the bed. He was spread over it, deeply embedded in the fluffy cover. She sat on the bed drinking from her wineglass and drawing her fingers gently over his lifes ravaged body. He stirred as she took a long drink of her wine. He moaned and pulled her tight against him. His eyes fluttered open to focus on her.

She lowered her head, kissing him easily, slowly, with ever-increasing passion then moved her head down his body. Her kisses followed his descending scar. A puff of exhaled air escaped his lips a short moment later. He moaned as her heated mouth ignited his own fires. She mounted him and began to move, he reached out and grasped her waist, stopping her motion, and pulled her tight against him.

"Stop, stop." He called out desperately.

"What ever for?" she asked, beginning to easily circle their connection.

"I need to know something. Be still!" He called. She contemplated pulling him rapidly, using her dominant position, over his limit of restraint; the idea pleased her. She held herself in check; curiosity filled her, as did he. "How much control do you have over your muscles?" She pondered his meaning; Suddenly, His intent became clear to her.

"You mean these muscles?" Sandra tensed up, gripping him firmly. His head fell back on the pillow with a sharply in taken breath.

"Yeah, those muscles." He said after exhaling deeply and filling his lungs again. "Do you have any idea what you can do with them? Show me." He fell back in incoherent ecstasy. Stopping, she waited, unmoving, until his hands again moved over her inner thighs and returned his attention to her. She then showed him variations.

"That's...ah...good. Now, can you" He struggled to find a word to describe his intent.

"You mean this?" She asked, reading the focus of his thoughts. Harry fell back again, lost in the sensation.

"Can you do that any higher?" he asked when he was able to speak again. She fumbled up and down the length of him. It was enough for him to begin falling over the edge. It was enough for her; she drove him over the cliffs of oblivion with her striving body and silken internal whips and spurs, then followed. Harry was reduced to gasping immobility. The rider slowly drew back the reigns, bringing the steed to a slow walk.

Sandra wondered, what was it about sex that drove all species to procreate? Was it more than just the insurance that life would continue? She only knew that Harry's long carried sorrow became less with each time they shared the gift. Staring into his eyes she saw contentment, acceptance, and adoration. She gave herself to him once more and then rose to attend other duties for her people. His snores followed her to the bathroom.

Harry woke up. He heard Oldman yawn and then snore as the ripple in consciousness disturbed him. Guess I won't be hearing from him for a while, he thought. He went to the bathroom, washing his face and combing his fingers through his hair and beard cursing himself for forgetting a toiletry bag in his haste to return to her. He stepped back from the mirror with one last look and set off to find his pants and coffee.

There was coffee at the place where he had eaten last night; the first sip was pure nectar, perfectly mixed. Sandra walked up with a glass of tomato juice.

"Good morning, its time you woke up." The tomato juice was fast drained.

"Morning" Harry answered simply, wiping juice from his moustache. He watched as she walked away and returned with a plate of eggs, enchiladas, and flower tortillas. A large portion of guacamole garnished it.

She talked, sitting at the table across from him while he ate voraciously.

"I called your mom; she's baking. I have to work tonight but I can meet you later, if you want, or just come home to you, if it's all right to show up so late. I have a spare toothbrush for you after you shower; I will brush your hair too. It's going to be another beautiful day, no rain again." Her single sided conversation continued as he ate.

Well stuffed with the excellent fare, he returned his attentions to her as she rambled, informatively and meanderingly. She glowed with the light streaming in the large window that looked over the street and the open glass doors to the balcony over the postage stamp sized yard that belonged to the apartment below. In fact, she seemed to shine especially bright today.

Thinking back over the past year, when he felt compelled to walk among people once again, he smiled. The decision to end his self-imposed exile, but only at night where he could escape the appraising glances of men, led him to her. When he first saw her at the bar, he knew that his search was over.

He always knew where she was; the light was a little brighter; the air seemed a little clearer; her form was more focused than her surroundings. Therefore, weekly he returned, drawn by the light of her, the sweet air that seemed to surround her, and her sharply defined features as she moved through her tasks. Slowly, and almost imperceptibily, these qualities increased. Which brought him here, sitting across from her radiant smile and gleaming sapphire eyes. There was something magical about her that could not be defined easily. He drifted away into the dream-like paths in his mind.

Sandra's monologue slowly halted as she realized that Harry was not hearing her voice. He was gone again to wherever he went at times. She knew that he was putting the pieces together and would soon discover her secrets, which, in turn, would reveal the meanings his own secrets that she knew he hid. Secrets that she was sworn not to disclose, if or until, he discovered hers. She would be happy to live with him, share his life, and be loved by him without their divulgence. She hoped their love would survive the telling. She stood and took his hand and led him away to the shower.

He washed automatically, still wandering in his mind. She tended him, while repeatedly dropping things and bending to retrieve them; until eventually, he responded and pulled her to him, spilling his seed quickly. She drew him from the shower and brushed his hair while he brushed his teeth. He stared intently into the mirror, brushing away while locked on his own eyes. She took the toothbrush away and got him to the door of the garage, where his beloved Frog squatted on the floor. He was back that fast.

--Take a little nap? Asked Oldman. ...I had to drive while you were gone. Don't get me wrong, I like using this body. Dream all you want, Harry.

--I'm going to kick your ass. Are you worried at all, aren't you disturbed with...? Harry paused, how did he describe the fast occuring events and emotions that surrounded him.

--Look who's calling who disturbed. Oldman retorted. ...Now, shut up and talk to her.

"Wow, truck looks good. Thanks for cleaning it for me. Tell me, did you blow the dust off, or wash?

" It was in bad condition, so I had to use both methods." She answered back, not to be undone. They traded keys; each agreeing that it was a temporary ransom. She had decided to increase his sales, and workload. He unhesitatingly increased hers. Saturday morning 5:00 a.m., she was on duty.