Fire in the Belly Pt. 02

Her hands moved swiftly at first, kneading the pliant flesh between her legs in an unpredictable pattern. Rising up momentarily, Matthew saw how her pudenda swelled as she worked, how the entrance to her vagina opened in welcome, revealing the gentle, dewy pink of that part of her most intimately meant to be shared, before Jill began plunging the fingers of one hand deeply into herself.

When her first orgasm gushed hot within her, Jill closed her eyes, tilted back her head, and spoke to Matthew in Spanish, her chosen language of love.

"Mi alma!" she called in an intense whisper, while her pelvis repeatedly rose from the bed and returned. "Oh, mi alma!"

In response to this erotic display, a warm flush of lust passed through Matthew's body, and his penis hardened to an almost painful tumescence.

Slowly Jill descended from the initial peak of her pleasure. Her hands did not stop, however; their work only became slower and more gentle, demonstrating to Matthew that she was aiming for the long haul.

Now, like a dolphin swimming outward-bound to a warm, fantastical ocean, Jill continued her journey, plunging through wave after incoming wave of ecstasy as she went.

Matthew observed in delight as one orgasm became two, two became many, and at last, many became one, as Jill dived into a torrent of pleasure that seemed to have no end, causing her to utter countless soft but vibrant cries, as primal as the soul-felt mating calls of some wild creature hidden in the depths of a rainforest.

Onward Jill travelled, as the minutes ticked by, and ticked by, while Matthew watched, entranced, until his delight slowly turned to astonishment, then to concern. It must, he thought incredulously, have been at least an hour since she had begun.

At last, he could bear it no longer. He called her name, softly at first, then more and more urgently. Finally acknowledging his presence, Jill rolled her head toward him, eyes still closed, her lips forming a questing circle. It took Matthew a moment, but when he realised what she was seeking, he carefully straddled her, and brought his penis to her mouth, pressing forward, seeking entrance.

He was very happy to do so: he was feeling the strong discomfort of being erect too long without relief.

With a deep moan of desire, Jill engulfed the head of his penis, tormented him with lips and tongue, even as she continued to work on her own pleasure, and it was only when Matthew sprayed into her mouth that the long, long ride of her climactic orgasm seemed to approach an end.

Slowly her hands came to a halt, and settled to her sides. Matthew edged back a little, and Jill's head lolled to one side, so that sperm trickled from her parted lips, down her cheek, and onto the towel.

Carefully, Matthew withdrew, resuming his position by her side. For a moment, he thought she was resting, even asleep... until he realised that her eyes were not fully closed. She seemed, he thought, to be in a... a pleasure trance, her face flushed, wreathed with ecstasy. As he watched, she resumed crying out with pleasure, softly but passionately, and, rising up once more, Matthew saw that the portal of her vagina was contracting and releasing with each quiet utterance. He realised with astonishment that her orgasm was still proceeding, even without any physical stimulus to drive it.

Awestruck yet anxious, Matthew continued to observe. As if to comfort her, he began gently stroking her head, though perhaps it was he who was in need of reassurance, rather than the pleasure-drenched woman beside him.

When his position became too uncomfortable, he rose from the bed, soaked a facecloth in hot water, wrung it out, and returned to tenderly clean her face and body, then resumed his place beside her.

Perhaps another hour passed before Jill very gradually began to emerge from the deep sea of her pleasure. At long last, she lay in peace once more, breathing quietly. Matthew became aware of the stirrings of nature outside... the continuing rush of waves, the occasional gust of wind.

Finally Jill stirred, inhaled deeply, and stretched luxuriously. Her eyes flickered open, and slowly focussed on her companion.

Matthew reached over to the bedside refrigerator and withdrew from it a tiny bottle of champagne, which he opened and brought to her lips, thinking it would please her to refresh her mouth. Jill took three or four slow swallows, then regarded Matthew, dreamy-eyed.

"Hola, mi alma," she murmured.

Matthew tenderly clasped her hand.

"You scared me," he said.

Jill smiled gently.

"Told you."

Matthew shook his head incredulously.

"That was... I didn't know... a human body could do... that. How... how were you able to keep going for so long?"

Jill smiled.

"I thought of you," she said simply.

She looked at him.

"And I hadn't reached my limit, by any means. I could have kept going. I don't know how long."

She smiled slyly.

"Maybe forever."

Matthew shook his head.

"You, Jill, are my... my Congo... my deepest, darkest Africa."

Jill chuckled.

"I am vast and mysterious," she agreed. "You're never going to know everything about me.'

Matthew kissed her.

"But, I'll always know that you are my perfect angel," he said.

Jill laughed softly.

"Perfect, that's me," she said.

"In a flawed kind of way," she added.

Matthew wondered how she meant this. As far as he was concerned, her so-called flaws only contributed to her perfection, made her even more irresistibly lovable.

"The only kind of perfection worth having," he said.

***

The following morning, the lovers traversed the final stage of their journey to Amy.

A drive of several hours remained to the house where Jill and her sister had grown up. It was there, Jill had told him, that they would find Amy, where she had fled after dropping her academic studies upon Matthew's departure. A single motivation now dominated her entire existence, and that was thwarted, leaving her utterly adrift. In her despair, she had instinctively returned to the place where she had been nurtured as a child.

Now nearing her former home, Jill turned off the final surfaced road onto a long, ochre track that led through a dense, secretive forest of tall, slim, silver-barked trees, their occasionally-glimpsed crowns swaying slightly at the passing of each warm breath of wind.

"When the time is right, I'll bring you out here in the dark," Jill said. "Wildlife spotting here is a spiritual experience."

"I'll look forward to it," Matthew said.

"Caution is required, though," she added. "People regularly meet their final fate in this region... namely, tooth and claw."

Near the end of the track, Jill brought the vehicle to a halt in a treebound turnout that might, Matthew judged, have accommodated three articulated buses, side by side. Ahead, after a short decline, the track ended, and a generous clearing opened, wherein stood an exceptionally broad building of three storeys, in the style of an alpine lodge, the ground-floor wall of layered slabs of grey-green slate, the upper storeys of strong wooden beams, burned to a rich golden-brown by many years of exposure to the sun. The structure was topped with a roof of thinner sheets of the same slate. Its windows were all obscured by curtains or blinds, so that they were reminiscent of closed eyes, as if the house itself were in slumber.

"This is where you grew up?"

"Uh-huh."

Matthew raised his eyebrows in admiration.

"It's like a... a mediaeval mansion... crossed with a Swiss chalet."

He looked at her.

"Is this your family's ancestral home?"

Jill shook her head.

"My dad bought it when he was about thirty. He'd inherited some money, but paid for it mostly with his own. He was exceptionally skilled at making money."

Jill's use of the past tense did not escape Matthew's notice.

"What kind of work did he do?"

"Many things... he was a highly energetic entrepreneur."

"And your mother?"

"She was a soldier first, then a civilian consultant to the military."

"That's... an unusual combination. Uh... where are they now?"

"In the bosom of Abraham," Jill said, "assuming their faith didn't mislead them."

"Ah," Matthew said. "When did they... pass away?"

"Four years ago. Light aircraft crash."

She grimaced.

"It was... premature. Who knows what else they would have done in their lifetimes."

Matthew was momentarily at a loss for words.

"It must have been hard for you," he said at last, retreating into conventionality.

"Yes... and no," Jill replied. "My parents were conformist in some parts, highly unusual in others. For example, they taught us that grief isn't mandatory."

Matthew raised his eyebrows inquiringly.

"Papa and Mama's lawyers gave us a letter he'd left for us, and another from her that was substantially the same," Jill explained. "They said, in part, that we should grieve, if we needed to... but also suggested the alternative of focussing on their lives, rather than their deaths, and rejoicing for the time we had together, instead of mourning."

She looked at him.

"And that's what we did, Amy and I both... more or less."

Jill's expression became thoughtful.

"Huh," she said. "It just occurred to me that they would've had to revise that idea, if they'd gotten to know you. With you, separation grief is more than an emotion; it's a biological condition... a physical fact.

"Anyway, since then the house has been unoccupied... until Amy came back. We have a housekeeper slash handywoman drop by every so often, to air the place out, maintain it, clean up the surrounds."

"You never considered selling it?"

"I'm not emotionally attached to it, particularly... but Amy is - very deeply - and I don't mind keeping it. She always intended to move back here, as soon as the circumstances of her life would allow it."

Matthew nodded acknowledgement, then turned his attention outside, let his eyes roam around the clearing.

"Unfortunate piece of scenery for such a beautiful location," he commented.

"Which one?" Jill queried.

Matthew pointed to a metal power pylon that rose some distance behind the house. He estimated it to be perhaps one storey taller than the building itself.

"Oh, yeah," Jill commented.

She grimaced.

"So-called 'progress' has its own momentum."

Jill sat silent then, gazing at the house. Matthew wondered whether she were reminiscing over her childhood in this place. After a time, she lifted herself out of her reverie and turned to Matthew.

"Let's prepare," she said.

She made her way through to the rear of the RV. Matthew followed, and they sat down facing each other.

"Do you have my homework?" Jill asked.

Matthew took out the pages she had written.

"Time to put me under," Jill said.

Matthew scanned Jill's plan of action, found the section that contained the relevant hypnotic script, then followed the first instruction by fixing his eyes steadily upon hers.

Under his gaze, Jill's expression slowly changed to one of pleasure, with a hint of self-consciousness in the smile, before relaxing entirely. Her face was no longer relevant to communication: he was looking deeper, into her unconscious mind.

For her part, Jill felt her mind settle into receptive repose, felt the wetness of her vagina increase... each phenomenon a consequence of extended eye contact with the great love of her life.

She closed her eyes.

"Now," she whispered.

Matthew referred to the papers and began to read aloud. To each of his statements, Jill responded in a sleepy murmur.

"Jill?"

"Listening, mi amor."

"I'm going to give you some instructions."

"Ready."

A few minutes later, Matthew reached the end of the script, his final command bidding her emerge from trance on the count of three. She blinked a few times, then focussed on him.

"Did it work?" he asked.

"I'm betting yes, based on my feelings while you were talking," Jill said.

She smiled.

"But the proof of the pudding will come later."

"Your turn," she said then, and took the pages from him.

Again they sought one another's eyes. This time, however, it was Jill who assumed the role of mesmerist. Gazing at her trustingly, Matthew found it remarkably easy to let go and give her control.

When he came to, he found himself in a very happy situation: at some point, Jill had settled herself on his thighs, embraced him, and was currently engaged in kissing him softly.

"I don't recall the script mentioning kissing," Matthew said, when she pulled back.

He smiled.

"Not that I'm complaining."

Jill chuckled.

"Snapping fingers or counting to three may be traditional," she said, "but I saw no reason why I shouldn't kiss you awake... Sleeping Beauty."

"Do you recall what I said to you while you were under?" she asked.

Matthew considered, then shook his head. Jill nodded.

"I included an instruction to forget. In your case, it will be more effective that way."

Before Matthew could ask for any explanation, Jill squared her shoulders.

"Right!" she declared. "Time to scope out the lay of the land."

Jill leading the way, they exited the vehicle.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," she said.

Matthew nodded.

"I'll wait," he said.

"Can't promise I'll wait patiently, though," he added.

Jill wrapped her arms around him. Their mouths met and played for a long, happy moment, before she pulled back, so that her lips were a bare centimetre from his.

"Love you like a supernova," she breathed, leaving Matthew momentarily wordless with delight.

"I don't know how to match that," he said quietly, "but I love you too."

"Don't worry about it," Jill said, with a smile. "Your kinesics are amply eloquent."

It cost Jill a groan of reluctance to unwind herself from her lover.

Before she had gone ten steps, Matthew called her name, his tone urgent.

She turned to regard him quizzically.

Matthew pointed.

"There's someone on the tower."

Jill looked, and saw that he was right. Very near the top of the pylon, alarmingly close to the deadly power cables, a human form could be seen, possibly seated on a horizontal strut. Jill stared for a moment, then murmured, "Oh, fuck."

She turned to Matthew.

"It's Amy," she called softly.

Matthew took another look, then made a move to join her. Jill raised a hand to forestall him.

"Stay here," she ordered. "We can't risk spooking her."

"What are you going to do?" he asked.

"Humour her," she said. "Gentle her... and get her the fuck off that thing."

Matthew hesitated, then nodded reluctant agreement... but Jill was already under way, skirting the house on her way toward the tower, keeping her pace as relaxed and calm as she could.

"Please be careful," he said, under his breath. "I can't live without you, you know."

***

Behind the house, Jill halted some distance from the pylon and tilted her head back until she could see the human form perched high up the tower. Before she spoke, she steeled herself mentally against anything that might come her way during her interaction with her sister.

"Hey, Amy," she called softly.

For a long moment, the woman on the tower gave no sign that she had heard. Then, without looking down, she spoke.

"Nobody here by that name," she said, in a disinterested tone.

"Ah... what do I call you then?" Jill queried.

The woman gazed around at the treetops for a time, then answered.

"You can call me 'D'."

Silence.

"Last time I saw you," Jill said, "you had a different name."

At this, 'D' peered down at her briefly.

"Oh, it's you," she said in a colourless voice, then returned her gaze to the treetops. "Hey, Mamacita."

Despite D's apparent lack of interest, her choice of epithet encouraged Jill, with its connotation of sexual attraction. She might be able to use that.

"Good to see you too, Princess," Jill said, with a touch of irony. "How's your life and times?"

"Peachy keen, Jelly Bean," D said dully.

For a while, the only sound was that of the breeze whispering secretively through the trees. Jill waited. As far as possible, she wanted 'D' to be the initiator, wanted her to feel in control of their interaction.

"Do you know what the 'D' stands for?" the woman on the tower said at last, and Jill was cautiously pleased to learn that she retained at least some inclination to respond to a human presence.

"Enlightenment me."

"Hint: rebellious youth beyond the pale."

"Ah," Jill said. "Delinquent."

"Ha," D said, and nodded. "No one ever called you a dumbass, right, Mamacita?"

She shrugged.

"Though it could just as easily stand for 'Disaster'... 'Dimwit'... 'Deadshit'... take your pick."

Jill didn't respond to this, but waited patiently for D to speak again, seeking an opportunity to turn their interaction to her own advantage.

"You know what I do all night?" D said finally.

"Tell me."

"Dream about him."

D passed a hand over her eyes.

"I used to have all kinds of dreams," she said. "He drove them all away. Now I only dream about one thing... one man. Wonderful dreams... but no touching. Only a gorgeous, lying ghost, who tortures me with his insubstantiality... but such a beautiful one, I never want to wake up. Sometimes I sleep fourteen hours."

At these words, an idea arose in Jill's mind... a way of easing the path toward the reunion of her sister with Matthew.

D glanced down at Jill.

"Even though he torments me so, I'd stay in that dream forever, if I could... at least I'd be able to see him that way... but the useless body won't sleep twenty-four hours a day. I know... I tried."

She heaved a breath. When she spoke again, her voice shook with misery.

"And when I wake up," she said, "I cry and cry, until my heart feels full of broken glass."

She cast a brief glance down at Jill.

"So what do you think, Mamacita? Am I crazy? I even thought I saw him when I was awake, once."

"No, Princess," Jill answered gently. "You're just in pain."

D nodded in agreement.

"Pain is the word, alright. Because he left me, you see. Took away the bones of my life... then, everything collapsed."

She hunched in on herself and began to weep.

"Poor baby," Jill said, in genuine empathy.

"I couldn't make him want to stay, Mamacita," D said tearfully. "I couldn't make him love me. I tried... I tried."

"I know, Princess."

At last D's tears ceased.

Her face unnaturally calm after her paroxysm of grief, D turned her eyes toward the high-tension cable above her head. She reached out toward it with both hands, causing Jill's whole body to tense in fear.

"Know what this is?" D said softly.

Jill swallowed hard, then searched for words she hoped would discourage D's horrific intent.

"Yeah," she said, striving to keep her voice even, "I'm pretty clear on that: agonising pain, followed by permanent disfigurement."

D shook her head.

"Wrong," she said, arms still upraised. "What we have here is peace and tranquillity. All I have to do is reach a little further, take hold, and... no more heart trouble. No more tormenting dreams. No more giant hook embedded in my guts."

Jill couldn't tell exactly how close D's hands were to the high-tension cable, but one thing was for sure, they were too damned close for comfort.

For a moment, she lost her calm.

"You slice bread with a fucking chainsaw, girl?" she said. "It could be slightly fatal."

D shrugged indifferently.

"Sure, I'd be dead... but that's just a side effect."

Her outstretched hands continued to play near the cable, as if it were a warming flame.

Jill took a deep breath.

"You wanna come down?" she called, trying to make her voice calm and casual. "I'm getting a crick in the neck."

"I'm not forcing you to hang around," D said.

Jill thought quickly, decided on a different tack.