No Men to Love Ch. 02

"Under the covers?" she suggested.

The sheets were already cozy with our body heat as we snuggled together. She ran a warm hand down my back and over my hip, curving a path over my thigh and into my dark, damp hair. The path ended with a fluttering of fingertips down my cleft. I gasped, then relaxed into her caresses. She kissed me, her mouth nearly slack, her body gently rocking with mine, at once lover and mother. I abandoned myself to the decadence with a smile.

"You like it," she murmured, then kissed my neck.

"I love it."

"Good," she whispered, starting a trail of easy kisses down my willing body, her fingers still flickering over my clitoris. She pushed me onto my back as I went to kiss her. "No, let me. I want to take care of all your needs right now." She kissed my ribcage under my breast. "Sweet Rosalind."

My insides tingling, I lay back in our nest of sheets and quilts and closed my eyes so I could focus on the sensations Allison created. After a lifetime of so little affection and so much loss, I felt hungry for every touch, every kiss, yet fearful that it was all a sham. Even now, with her fingers and lips urging me to pleasure, I could hardly believe what was happening, afraid that it would all be snatched away.

A slippery finger wriggling into me brought me back to the bed. I groaned softly, overwhelmed, tensing myself against the tidal wave I could feel building inside me. I felt her lips close around my clitoris, the flick of her tongue, then a light suction pushed me over the edge. I surrendered, moaning, clamping my legs about her head, pushing my crotch against her face as spasm after spasm rocked me.

After the contractions stopped, I spent a long time in a peaceful place, drifting in a pleasurable haze as Allison held me, stroking my hair. I felt absolutely no ambition to move, to speak, to do anything other than breathe and be. Time didn't seem to exist here, and Allison, bless her, simply held me. I listened to her heart thump in time with mine, felt her body expand and contract with each breath, breathed in her scent, and knew utter contentment.

Allison: same day

As I watched Rosalind sleep, I felt a sense of tenderness I had never known, not even with Eddie. Mind you, I adored my Eddie and always would. Had he survived the war, I would have gladly married him. He and I would have built a happy life together, with children and dogs and the sort of loving chaos my brothers and I had grown up with. My chest tightened and tears stung my eyes as I considered the future the war had destroyed.

Careful not to disturb Rosalind, I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, as M. Dupont had taught us to do in times of stress. Time to take stock. I had always tried not to dwell on what I had lost; what was the use? Eddie himself would have told me to get on with things -- in fact, he had even written me as much after he left for training -- so it was hardly a betrayal to do so. I glanced at Rosalind's sleeping form and felt as though my heart might break, I loved her so.

True, I had never considered that my companion in life might be a woman. One simply didn't. From my earliest years, friends and family had joked about the man who would be "my fate." And before Rosalind, I had never felt anything but friendship for other girls. I fancied myself to have an analytical mind, though, and accepted that my feelings for her existed and were valid. To summarize, I now had someone to love and who loved me. And it felt wonderful!

But was I limiting us both by pursuing these feelings? She possessed a good heart, a fine mind, and a delicate beauty any man would want in a partner. Certainly, the war had drained England of far too many men our age, but that did not automatically mean that neither of us would ever find another man to love. When we walked together near the institute, Rosalind stared at mothers and children with such longing that I knew where her true heart lay. I could give her my soul, but I could never give her that future.

Lying there, I wondered how my brother Archie might have advised me. Closing my eyes, I summoned him, seeing the Bradford fair hair and blue eyes, his nose slanted from a childhood tussle with Dickie, one thick blond eyebrow quirking up in amusement at his little sister asking for life advice from him! Making my way through my memories, I could see him at the piano -- he played beautifully, and could have risen to concert standard had he chosen to do so. I smiled as the strains of Bach's Prelude in C Major ran through my head -- he had learnt that piece as a child and had always loved its shifting arpeggios. Suddenly, the music faded and his utter certainty that he was meant to be a doctor, and the single-mindedness with which he pursued that vision, came back to me. Yes, Archie too had had more than one path open to him; he had made his choice and never looked back.

I looked down at Rosalind. I smiled, and chose my path.