The Tempest is Thy Namesake Pt. 03

I bit into my breakfast taco and drifted into private thoughts about yesterday, last night and the storm and the powerful sex hurricane as Cane described himself in bed. I thought about what I had done. I thought about Stormy and me and the weather. Was it all about the weather? Or was there more to me and Cane?

"Our storm has passed, nothing left of it but the gray, chewable humidity out there." Cane offered his observation as he looked at his plate as he finished his meal. He took a sip of coffee and raised his head to catch my eye, "I'm glad you wandered by the Blue Norther. I think you probably found what you were hoping to find - probably more than you yet realize."

Once Cane spoke, I snapped out of my dreamy recollection of yesterday's memories as I was sorting them in my mind. "That was a curious statement Mister Cane. What are you saying, is there something more which I don't yet realize?" I asked with a note of curiosity in my voice, hoping I'd get Cane to reveal the answer to my lingering feeling that there was more between us than a fierce, storm-driven tryst entangling our two, wild, weather-related inflamed libidos.

From across the table Cane gave me an enigmatic smirk, "I will be opening my gallery at eleven. I hate to say it, but let's get you fully dressed. Let me take you back downstairs to the gallery; I'm going to lay my cards out on the table. I think you will discover an interesting connection. I expect it will explain some things about me."

Cane walked around the dinette and held my chair and offered his hand. I rose from my chair and was met by a tight embrace from Cane. "Leave the dishes. The starving artist residing here will earn his keep by washing them later."

With a light smack on my bottom, I was directed me to my street clothes folded at the end of the bed. I dressed and then hunted down my high heels from across the cloud chamber. I followed Cane down the spiral iron staircase, though I wished he would have carried me back down like he did on our way up last night.

Cane showed me around his gallery of skyscapes in the daylight. He offered a few vague answers to my questions as to their inspiration and meaning, but did not divulge too much, saying, "My paintings speak to every individual in a different way. If my voice interrupts the way the work speaks to the viewer, it will cancel out all inspiration of the viewer. And then all vision and power innate to that creation would be lost. I keep my silence and let others hear the voice of the creation. It's a mystery; that's the way it must be."

I cocked my head letting my tangled hair drape over my left shoulder. In a coy but prodding voice I asked, "Speaking of mystery; you promised me a revelation in your gallery. I'd love to make those connections to the 'as of yet unrealized' deeper mystery of some commonality you'd hinted at."

"So be it." Cane smiled and beckoned me out from under the skyscapes and over to a business desk sitting in front of the stairs. I walked with small steps, intrigued to be given a hint of some deeper connection between us. I caught Cane looking at the timepiece on the desk, "Damn. It's ten thirty-five. I've got to clean up and open in twenty-five minutes.

Sorry. You were a beautiful, wild weather distraction. But I'm afraid I've got a business to run. I'm really sorry to have run short on time." Cane took a breath, thinking and then grimaced, "I'll call to get you a ride back to the Blue Norther so you can retrieve your handbag."

I was hurt by the abrupt limit placed on my time with Cane. I wasn't sure how I'd expected my time with my storm lover to end after hunkering down for plenty of wild and stormy sex under the inland remnants of a hurricane; but this was not it. I gulped down what felt like a callous dismissal, "What about your promised revelation of our common connection Mister Cane?" I asked, almost demanding him to put some mystery back into our unwinding, post love-making connection.

Cane dropped his head after hearing my tone. "Look. I'm sorry to have been so abrupt just now. I'm going to tell you something; it may sound strange, but I have a hunch you might understand what I'm saying. It is a quirk in my weather-related destiny." He looked back into my eyes and his face smirked, he lifted a business card from a crib on the desktop as if he were going to hand it to me. Instead, he held it. Pausing before he spoke, he then opened up with an explanation. I had little skyrockets go off in my stomach as if I was about to be given a beautifully wrapped gift on a special occasion.

Cane began, "Yesterday in the Blue Norther, I recognized that there was something different about the out-of-place young woman stumbling into my drinking establishment. I listened to the winds howl and the first large rain drops beat against the glass as I watched you. I sensed somewhere deep inside of me that you came to my place because of the weather. The weather was going to get nasty, and I was sure that you were looking for an opportunity to get nasty yourself. What I saw in you then, is what I have long seen in myself; the approach of a terrible storm riles up some primal desire. We have that in common. It's all about the weather. Would you agree?"

I beamed and nodded my head and felt shy.

"For me this heightened sexual state of arousal has a deeper connection." Cane paused and looked at me with an intent gaze. His hard stare made me feel naked once again. He asked, "What's in a name? Have you ever wondered if there is something powerful in a name? Have you ever wondered if one's name could determine their destiny?"

I kept myself from making an awkward squawk as he listed those very questions that were hidden in the deepest parts of my soul. My legs became rubbery. I leaned over the desk to brace myself. Cane handed me the card in his hand. I took it and held it a moment before I regained my composure. I turned it over and read: Harry Cane V. It had a two-winged pinwheel in the center, the same logo as he used on his paintings and tattooed over his heart.

Cane watched me to see if I would make the connection.

I made the connection. I broke into a huge, toothy smile. I now understood in a very intimate way. "So, you are Harry Cane; a pun on the weather, you're the hurricane. I thought Cane was your first name. But it's really your surname." I shook inwardly at the idea that we had so much in common as I let out an amazed sort of giggle. The spontaneous revelation gave me a lighter-than-air feeling. "Oh! I'm kicking myself for not figuring out this winged circular symbol you use to sign your paintings and have tattooed on your chest; it's the meteorological symbol for a hurricane. You're Harry Cane the hurricane.

"What about the 'V'?" I asked, thinking I knew the answer, but I wanted to hear it was not the initial of a lost lover.

"Harold Cane the Fifth. I like to think of myself as Harry Cane - Category Five. I come from a long line of blustery personalities. Most of 'em Methodist ministers. But I paint the heavens rather than point to the heavens from the pulpit.

"I see. No wonder you paint skyscapes, it's all about the weather for you, isn't it?" I had bubbles running through my arteries after making the connection.

It was Cane's turn to beam. "Yes. It's all about the weather - and the name. I believe my name is my destiny."

The man on the other side of the desk looked relaxed, then his countenance turned serious and then chagrined. "Forgive me. I must apologize for my inhospitable oversight; but we were never introduced. I realized my crude error only now after all we have been through, please forgive me. May I ask of my beautiful and wild storm lover; what is your name?"

I blushed. I held my lips tight together as the corners of my mouth stretched almost to my eye sockets. "Mister Cane, do you have a pad of paper?"

Without a word Cane opened the top drawer and pulled out a sketch pad. He shoved it across the desk with a sideways look. I took a pen from the can on the desk and wrote a note: 'Due to Last Night's Hurricane Activities, The Gallery will Open Later Today at Noon'. I shoved the pad back across the desk, "Sign that Mister Category Five."

He scrawled a signature then added his logo. With a raised eyebrow he asked, "What hurricane activities is this note referring to?"

"You know damn well and good what those activities were. Please accept my deepest thanks and appreciation for understanding my needs under last night's stormy circumstances. But, now you have more important business to attend to this morning than opening your gallery." I ripped the note from the pad and marched across the length of the gallery and taped it to the door.

"I thought you were going to write your name on the paper after you asked for it. I guess I was wrong about that. So, what is my mysterious storm lover's name? Please don't disappoint me."

"You'll have to get used to disappointment - at least for a little while longer. You will not be calling for a ride for me. You will be taking me back on your motorcycle to the Blue Norther to get my handbag." I liked the way my voice sounded as I took control of the man who had me so undone yesterday.

"I have a truck. We could take it so you don't have to hitch your skirt up and bare your ass to ride across town."

"We'll take the bike." I smiled in a serious way as I leaned across the desk to make my point. "It was fun. I have something that I have to give you. You will enjoy the connection after seeing what we hold in common."

Cane lifted me off the seat and I rolled my skirt back down like a respectable girl once again. We walked in the back door and Cane asked Dmitri where my handbag was. Dmitri walked into the office, opening a desk drawer and handing me my bag. I offered my thanks to Dmitri. He nodded.

I opened my bag and pulled out a folded leather packet and pulled out a business card and handed it to Cane. He took a quick look, stood still studying it for a moment and then doubled over in a load roar. "Damn girl! What's in a name? Miss Wendy Rains, it's not all about the weather is it? Your name is your destiny. I believe we have a shared fate. Wendy Rains was destined to meet The Harry Cane. It was quite some storm, a powerful sex hurricane full of windy rains, was it not? Damn girl! This is too good." Cane laughed loud and long as he shook his head in amazement.

Cane grabbed me in a strong embrace. My buoyed bosom pressed into his shirt where he had his Category Five hurricane tattoo. I caught Dmitri watching us out of the corner of his eye from behind the bar.

Cane broke the embrace and stepped back. Speaking in a raised voice to Dmitri, "Gallery opens at noon today. I got to get back."

Dmitri raised his voice from the bar, "Miss, do you have your transportation nearby?"

I answered over Cane's shoulder, "Yeah Dmitri, my car is parked a couple of blocks from here."

Cane turned to Dmitri, "Will you see that Miss Wendy Rains gets a lift to her car?"

"Sure thing Cane. Might I say that Harry Cane hits it off with Wendy Rains? Kind of an interesting twist in y'all's names. What's in a name? Interesting question, huh boss?"

Cane dropped his hand to catch mine and give it a squeeze. Speaking to Dmitri, "Any time the weather blows in a young lady like this into the Blue Norther, let me know and I'll be right there." I got another squeeze on my hand.

Dmitri met my gaze, "Is that alright with you Miss Wendy?" He asked, knowing the answer full well.

I replied, "Yes Dmitri, there is a certain thrill that I find when I'm being tossed around by a hurricane." I squeezed Cane's hand.

Cane addressed his bartender, "When she comes in, set her up with a rum and Coke."

I punched Cane in the shoulder, "No! Rum and Coke is the default drink for a girl who doesn't know what she's looking for or what she wants." I flashed my eyes at the bartender, "Dmitri, hear me; I'm a grown ass woman who knows what she wants. The tempest is my namesake. Wendy Rains drinks hurricanes. Can you mix a hurricane, a strong Cat-5 hurricane Dmitri?"

Dmitri chuckled. "Of course. Can't tend bar at the Blue Norther without knowing how to mix a hurricane. It is a requirement for this position. You've got that right Miss Wendy."

Cane smiled broadly, "Yes indeed Wendy Rains, you are the tempest. I should know. It takes one to know one." Cane gave me a peck on the cheek and walked out to his bike behind in the alley.

Dmitri escorted me to my car. The sky was gray, but it looked like the sun was trying to break through the clouds. Too bad, I'm happiest when it rains.