Calypso

I awoke to a night's sky.

There was wind, but it was warm, comforting. I tried to rise; pain, excruciating pain, in my stomach. A gunshot wound; I received it late, in a battle to liberate a capital from a dictator. I can remember it all; the look Jess gave me, as I left. She wasn't angry, or even resigned. She was hopeful, furiously, magnificently hopeful, optimistic; she had held me, as tightly as she could, the night before I left, and told me I would come back to her, I would.

I groaned, and felt a hand upon my body, pushing me down gently.

"Hush now. Your wounds are grave, and rest is what you need."

Her face came into view; my vision dimmed, as tiredness took me.

She smiled at me.

********

She was humming, in the corner. It was still night, or I had slept for the day; the room smelt like lavender. I wouldn't have known that, but my mother had always hung lavender in the kitchen, when I grew up.

She turned, and looked at me.

"You have slept for a long time. You are almost healed. Then, you can be on your way."

I sat up, and felt down; I was fine, if a little stiff. I stiffened, noticing I was naked. She watched me, from the corner of her eyes. I reddened.

She laughed, turning; she looked soft to me. She was thin, almost waifish; her ears stuck out, from under her hair. Her smile was amazing; it rose somewhat shyly, and she kept looking away from me when she saw my gaze. She tucked her hair behind an ear; I started to see it was pointed, a little. She saw, and grimaced a little.

"On my way? Where am I? I remember..."

She nodded. "You were hurt, Ryan, on a battlefield. You were brought here, to be made better; to..." She trailed off, and looked away. I did not ask her how she knew my name.

I crawled over to her, and took her hand; I couldn't help it, she looked so utterly sad in that moment. She looked at me gratefully, before going red and taking her hand from me.

She stood, in a simple, straight movement.

"I will get us food." She left, and I lay down, and inspected the room.

The roof was beams, but not thick wood; more, that which you could collect from the water's edge. The walls were reeds, collected and woven so tightly as to keep the weather out.

Laid about were small items of habitation, in a primitive sense; there were the furs on the ground, in which I lay; a small set of drawers held clothing; I dimly remembered being awake, as she changed. The way her body looked, unclothed, naked; I shook myself.

She came back inside, and looked at me. I sat, and folded my arms.

"I need some more information."

She nodded, smiling a little. "I told you. You were wounded, and-"

"Yes, but how did I come to be here? I was in southern Africa, but..."

She nodded again. "I do not know how you found my shores, but I do know the general story. They do not ever send me the bad ones. No, far from it, Ryan."

She sighed. "Do not ask me my name. If I tell you, I reveal my hand, my secrets, and you will have to make a choice. Instead, let us both simply say that I will keep you here until you are well."

I shook my head. "Not good enough."

She raised her chin, fire in her eyes. "It will have to be, as it is all I will give."

She turned, and began messing with the fire that twirled and spluttered, before building and boiling the water in the pot. She dropped some pieces of meat into the water, and continued cooking.

I looked around further, for details, but there was nothing, really; the room was primitive, without anything electrical. She had a small fire, with somewhat of a chimney in the middle, made of clay. The drawers were made of ornate wood, unpolished, carved with fantastical designs.

"Are you comfortable?" She asked me. I'm sure she was watching, even as I looked around the space.

"Yes," I said. An uncomfortable silence.

"Look, why can't I know any details? I just..."

She came over to me, and took my hand. Her lips opened, and her tongue ran lightly across her upper lip; I started a little.

"I am sorry. If you would me tell you my story, I will, but that means you will have to choose. I would you were better first, but..." She shrugged, before looking up, straight into my eyes, for the first time.

I was a deer, caught in the headlights. I had never, will never, see a beauty like hers, never again. She was a full moon on a beautiful summer night, cruising over Caribbean seas. She was a Mediterranean beauty, with the dignity of an queen. She was ethereal, supernatural, and I was nothing. Caught.

I wanted, as I had never. I wished to press myself against those lips, to bury myself in her. To look at her was to bring myself pain, for I so longed to touch her.

Some of what I felt must have shown in my eyes, for she smiled a little in reaction.

"I..." It took me a moment to collect my thoughts. I set my jaw. Jessica. Think about Jess. "Tell me."

She nodded, unsurprised. "My name is Calypso, and I was placed here, on this isle, by the Gods. I do not know if they still exist, or if they were killed; I was absented from time, when I was imprisoned here. I remember the sounds of battle, and it has been a very long time since I was last visited by Hermes." She looked away.

"My sin was that I sided against the gods. Thus, here, they trapped me; I can play no role in time. I am only ever a way station for those like you. Men, who cannot stay. Men, who I cannot help but fall in love with."

"F-Fall in love... You've fallen in love with me.?"

She nodded, still not looking at me. "You cannot remember most of your time here. You were hurt, by wounds not familiar to me; thus, I sang to you, using what little I have to heal you. But my voice causes you to forget; you do not remember." Her voice broke.

She looked up, her gaze devouring my face. "I understand. You will leave, as all before you have. You told me, about Jess, about your unborn babe. It's fine."

I watched as the tear trailed down her cheek; it shone, diamond in the dim light. I touched her face, tracing the path the tear took; she held my hand against her, her eyes dim.

I shook my head. "It's not fair. Not fair at all."

She nodded, and let my hand go. "I know. Remember, this is, as prisons go, a nice one. And they left me with a prophesy; that if a man were to return, this place would shatter, and I could follow him back to the world. You are fit, but not yet able to leave; spend some time here, exploring my island." There was a note of pleading in her voice; explore here, with me.

I smiled at her, feeling a traitor as I did. "I'll stay, Calypso. For a while."

********

The island was not large, not at all; the beaches were all beautiful, the forests immaculate. I could walk barefoot around; I need not wear the clothes she had for me, it was warm. And it was odd when I thought about it; the air was rich, smelling equally of salt and the lavender that filled her house, even though Calypso grew no flowers on her island.

The light was always silver, that of the moon; I asked her, about it.

"It simply is. I form part of another's prison, and when that other is freed this place will be utterly destroyed." She shrugged. "That is my only real solace; that when that happens, I will be released out, into the world."

I nodded. "Who is imprisoned here?"

"I cannot tell you that unless you make your decision to stay."

She had never put it so baldly to me; that the choice was so simple, so utterly final. She looked at me then, a shy glance. She still only rarely looked me in the eye.

********

It was difficult to tell between day and night; the only celestial body was the moon, and it stayed stagnant, hung in the sky. So when I say that night, I mean the periods in which we slept.

We moved back, to the hut- for hut it was- silence hanging between us like shadows. I wanted to say something, but her expression kept me silent; she yearned, needed. Her eyes pleaded to me, in a way I had only rarely seen; she began to reach out, only to retract her arm.

Inside the cabin, I began to undress. She normally pulled closed a curtain, from her half of the tent, to afford us both privacy; this time, she watched me, her eyes hungry, greedy. Glimmering, selfish eyes; I felt hot, hotter than I could ever recall; I hardened before her.

She stood, and lifted her gown over her head; she was stained black and white by the light, her curves shadowed. I grit my teeth; Jessica, damn it!

She sat down, on the floor, and crossed her legs, idly toying with her left breast. She played with the nipple first; it needed little encouragement to harden, condensing into a hard peak. It was amazing to me, how lush she was, how wanton! She was so thin, yet her figure so full.

Her lips opened into a fevered sigh, and her thighs parted to reveal her centre, her desire. She was lightly furred, the curls unharsh on her body. She looked up at me then, directly, and as before I was assaulted with all the want I have ever felt in my life.

Her fingers trailed her shape, moving between her breasts, swaying from her desire. I watched them as though in slow motion as she pressed them ever lower, teasing me as much as herself.

She reached her thighs, and ran her nails against the skin along the inside of them; first her right leg, then just above the down. She toyed with the soft curls; I struggled.

She let out a heavy, promise filled breath, and let her fingers dip lower.

She parted her lips first, spreading them as wide as she could, baring her to my eyes. She glistened white in the moonlight; moist. She stared directly at me, deliberately, as she slipped her hands between the folds of her, the lips swollen. I could see more, everything; it was as though the dimness showed me things I could not see in the sun, pleasures I was unaware of. I hadn't been a big porn guy, when I was young, and while I liked pretty women I saw nothing in just watching; Calypso changed me, made me want to watch her. Made me want her to like me watching.

And I did; my god, I did. She was nothing like Jess, nothing; Jess was tanned, and her hair was blonde; I always used to tease her, for dying it the way she did. She was the best looking girl I had ever dated; she punched me whenever I said that round her. She was the only girl I had ever dated.

I shook myself; Jess. Remember her; her smell, the way she looked when she smiled. But it was hard; her smell was gone from my head, driven by the musk of sex here, now. I couldn't look away from her, Calypso, from her pussy, but I had to. I glanced up at her face, and regretted it; she was so, so beautiful. Her eyes captured me, as they had whenever she smiled, pools so deep and utterly unquantifiable, so dark I could feel my consciousness sinking. She sighed; I felt myself start from the sound.

She let out the harshest of breaths, a ragged, burning sound. I watched, as she prepared herself; she ran her forefinger and her middle either side of her lips, caressing herself through them; her other hand she used between them. She was so wet now, glistening; a rose covered in dew just before dawn steals its moisture. And she smelt so good.

She slowed herself down, withdrawing one hand, then the other. Her eyes slanted; she mewed a little, before giving a little shudder. She moved forwards, onto her knees; she was slow, the shadows falling across her form almost too conveniently, hiding her from my eyes. I could see her breasts, as she crawled towards me; they swayed, twin globes of unequivocal desire. Her nipples were clearly visible, hard as they were, twin blackness on a white canvas.

She was before me, all at once slower and faster than I could imagine; I could not move, frozen in the moment. She rose up, between my legs, her hair tickling the inside of my thighs, before I saw her face, close; her breasts pressed against me, burning hot. I felt her touch after her fingers left me, imprints in swirling flames under my skin. I was so hard, indescribably hard; she looked into my eyes, as she rose to her feet, and straddled me.

He body touched mine; I groaned, as she rested, her ass against the top of my thighs. She had done it deliberately; I was between her legs, but not inside her. She was so warm, so soft, so wet; her pussy slid along my cock, coating me.

She took my hands, and placed them one her; one hand on her waist, the other on her shoulder. She looked at all of me, her gaze trailing over my body; her fingers traced the curve of my muscles, softly.

Then, she began to move.

It was slow, deliberate; she wanted the contact as much as I did, more. Her hands moved to the back of my neck, and she writhed her hips against me, bringing my head down, to linger between her breasts. She groaned; it travelled through her body, vibrating against my cock, along her slickness. She bit my ear; she scrapped the back of my neck with her nails.

"Help me, Ryan. Stay... with...Oh!"

My hands moved of their own accord; she lost all control, all semblance of seduction; her neck arched back, and I saw the surprise in her eyes, the shock. She brought her hands around to my face, and leant into my eyes.

"No-one..." She gasped at me, her eyes tearing, glistening; her voice whispered, containing so much emotion my head span. "No-one ever lasted this long. All the others who visited me, left long ago. I have never..." She looked down, and away. I placed my finger, under her chin, and brought her mouth back. She looked at me hopefully, yet despairingly.

"Stop, just stop!" She said, pushing my hands away; she didn't move to get off me, as she should. He movement caused the two of us to shift, rubbing against each other in ways that me me stiffen.

She looked at me, and began to cry. "This isn't fair. It's not. I... I love you, and you love her."

Her. She said the word with such inflection; not hate, nor truly envy, but wistfulness. And despair. She leant into me; I held her as she cried.

I realised something, as I held her. I could not, in all conscience, lie with her. She wanted it, desperately; I wanted it badly. But to lie with her would be to make a promise I couldn't keep, and to break a word I cherished above all else.

She stopped crying, rested against me; I was still hard, and she still felt so good against me. I brought her jaw to my hands. I stared into her eyes.

I kissed her.

It was everything I had hoped it would be, and more. Fireworks, sadness, hope, forever; a complete eternity unto itself. She bent against me; the kiss itself was not sexual, it was deeper.

She broke the contact; I looked at her, and smiled; he eyes were tremulous.

"You know, that was my first kiss?"

I shook my head, as she stood. She rustled around for my clothing; I helped her. She nodded to me, as I put on my uniform; even smiled, a little sadly.

"I hope you find every happiness there, with her." She looked down, as I stepped onto the boat that had appeared at the dock."

I turned, and looked back at her then; I was far, too far to truly hear, but I did all the same; her whisper, far too low for any but those next to her.

"But please, find your way back to me. Beloved."

********

The captain was if nothing else, surprised to see me; the war was over, long over. I was entitled to a significant amount of backpay; my life was there, available.

My commanding officer looked at me oddly, as he gave me leave. He knew the reason I gave for not returning sooner was bull, but he had not reason enough to think so. I asked him what he had heard of Jess; he said she gave birth to a boy she called Ryan.

Our house was the same, exactly; it matched up to the white picket cliché perfectly. The sun was entirely too high, and there was no clouds, nothing. I should have been happy, yet why was my heart pounding? I wanted to see her, to remember what she looked like; to meet our son.

I knocked on the door, and she opened the wire screen automatically. She looked up at me; she froze.

Her voice was like hot coffee; her eyes were the same blue, her hair the same poorly dyed blonde. She whispered my name, luminously staring, unable to look me fully, or all at once.

I pulled her to me; she felt the same, smelt so good, baking and baby food. I had been gone too long; Ryan was six months old.

Her hands slowly wrapped around me; she sobbed into my shirt, uncontrollably.

"Ryan, Ryan!" She whispered, over and over, clinging to me harder than her strength dictated she could. She let me go; she took my hand, and showed me into the kitchen.

He was, still, so small. Hair lightly covered his crown, not small tufts but the softest of fur. His skin was pale; like her, he had northern complexion. And when she picked him up, and gave him to me, he was so small, so soft. He melted into me; I felt something hot burning outwards. It wasn't joy, or happiness, but it was strong enough to tear me asunder.

It took until later for her to ask me where I was, where I went. I told her the same thing I told the captain.

She looked at me oddly, and sniffed the air.

"Hmmm..." She said. "It's the wrong season for lavender."

********

Ryan was four, by the time I worked out what was wrong between me and Jess.

It wasn't there, anymore. I don't know where it went, or if it went just from me, but it was gone.

She began, almost a year and a half after I returned, to complain about my job, so I took another, closer; I became a mall cop, and worked security in a bar, as I got myself made a cop. There was a guy who came to visit my house sometimes; Jess said he was a friend, and when I asked she told me he was there when she thought I was gone. I nodded, and tried to content myself with that.

He was not like me, Darren; not tall, not short. He was older; he wore glasses, horn rimmed. I wish I felt even a little angry with him, but he not only backed right off, when he saw I was back but went out of his way to be good to me. He adored her; I could see it, inside him. But he was a good man, and he couldn't bring himself to come between us.

I remember asking Jess, in the middle of an argument, if she had slept with him; she responded by asking me if I had fucked around while I was gone. It was fair enough, but I knew her well; she had a tell. She would never have made a poker player; she always lied by answering a question with another question.

It came to a head with another argument. I had felt things, seen things, since I returned from Ogygia; I could see the maenads, dancing in the woods with the fauns who played their pipes to a tune on the wind. The leaves of autumn danced for them; I could hear the sounds of voices, singing, in the ripples in a lake, or the falling of rain. I was distracted every moment of every day; Jess hated it, about me. To say I was indifferent about nature before would not be untrue, but this change was strange to her.

She told me bitterly, that fight, that she didn't wish I were someone else, or someone different; she just wished I was the man I was before I left. Then she turned away from me, and cried herself to sleep.

She took the next day off work. She came to me, and she looked at me, directly.

"Ryan, this isn't working."

I nodded; the leaves outside caught my attention, as the creatures only I could see danced among them.

"I don't want to live here anymore."

I looked at her fully; she reddened, under my eyes. One of the luxuries of never getting married was never having to get divorced.

"Why?"

"I... We aren't the people we were, before, Ryan. I... don't love you. Not anymore."

I rose, and got a bottle of the cheap bourbon; I took down two glasses, and wordlessly poured us both one. She took the glass, and downed the thing in a single gulp.

We looked at each other, and burst out laughing; the most genuine laughter we had shared for the longest time. She put her glass out again; I filled it up.