Top of the World

Quickly I jerked my hands to my sides, drawing away from his startled posture and retreating toward the stove. I don't know what I expected then, what I hoped for, what I feared would happen. But what occurred next left me with more questions than ever.

Absolutely nothing!

This strange being from a place I'd never seen stayed absolutely still, his expression one of understanding and compassion. How did he know how vulnerable and confused I was? How could he know that the war which waged inside of me at the very nearness of him could only be won by me alone? But, somehow, I sensed that he did. Somehow, in this alien form, I sensed a kindred soul that would do me no harm...and I smiled.

____________________________________________________

Chapter 3

His name was Aiden.

As the hours slipped into days, and then stretched into a week, Aiden grew stronger. His emaciated form was filling out, growing into what I was sure had been its natural condition.

During our stay at the Sugar Shack, the villagers had kept their distance. Of necessity, even my parents had remained far from contact on their daily supply run, stopping more than 50 yards from where I waited patiently for news from beyond our confinement.

That The Kiss was widely know to have an incredibly short incubation period, and in spite of the fact that neither Aiden nor I showed any symptoms, seemed to make no difference at all. People were afraid...no terrified. For all they knew, the world beyond the Brooks Range no longer existed, a victim to something they scarcely understood. They were taking no chances.

As for Aiden, he was recovering admirably from his long tenure at sea. His color was ripe with health, and he had graduated from thin fish gruel to massive caribou steaks. It was from him that I gained my information of the world beyond and its fate.

Aiden had been a teacher in Seattle, with a modest home in the suburbs. He'd had a good life there, one filled with a loving wife and three beloved children. He'd thought it would last forever,

When The Kiss had first struck the east coast, it had been the prayer of westerners that it would go no further, but the days passed quickly and with tragic results. Within a week thousands had fallen victim to the new plague, then millions until there was no place to run, no place to hide.

Aiden's youngest daughter had been the first. She had returned home from nursery school with a rash, something that was widely recognized as a harbinger of The Kiss.

His wife, Karen, had immediately isolated her from the other children, caring for her in the attic, where outside contact was non-existent. They had called the family doctor, but he too was fearful of contamination and refused to help. Instead a worker from Disease Control arrived, marking a livid red slash across the door, underlining the cruel and hopeless word, "Quarantined".

Aiden had cared for the two remaining children downstairs while his wife struggled to nurse their failing child, but it was to no avail. Within a day his wife had curled her lastborn into the crib she had used until so very recently, tucked her favorite stuffed bear beneath the tiny blanket with her, tearfully wishing a fond farewell until they would hold each other again in a place where pestilence could no longer reach them.

Two days later they were together once more.

Aiden agonized as his remaining family began to show symptoms of the disease as well, praying that he could place himself between them and the Kiss of Death, making bargains with God and the devil alike to spare those who meant more to him than his own life...but it was hopeless.

By the end of the first week he was alone. In less time than it had taken to teach them how to walk, their footsteps had been stilled forever, and his life no longer held any meaning for him.

Long days he sat there, waiting to join those he loved, cursing fate and the world about him for leaving him behind when his life no longer mattered.

He grew thin, gray, and finally delirious with the pain of his loss. His days were spent in solitary insanity behind the red condemnation that cloistered him behind its brand.

"Quarentined".

No one came. No one neared his house. The television and radio were silent, untouched by his hand, and finally even flipping on the light switch at night was more than his heart could bear.

Ultimately, it had come to him that if God was not willing to release him from his pain, then there were others that would. If he left his house, his prison, surely some panicky denizen of the outside world, fearful of contamination, would put an end to his torment.

And so, opening the door one final time, he made his way out into the glaring sunlight to meet his fate, crying out to the world about that he was the voice of doom, and that he was coming for them.

But no one heard.

The highway was empty. The din of the nearby city, the ever- present "white noise" that had become so familiar, was silent for the first time in his life. He was alone.

He walked that first day, long miles passing beneath his feet as he ignored the many cars that sat idle and empty along the shoulders of once bustling roadways. He walked, aimlessly ranting, screaming for someone to take pity and bring about his demise, but no one did.

The few people he saw were in dire straits as well, shrinking from each other and hiding from contact lest they be the next victims of the doomsday curse. Bodies littered the streets, people who had no one to see them off on their final journey, people who had been doubly cursed to fall in a time when no one was left to care.

Finally he had found himself at Fisherman's Wharf, a place where he and thousands of other happy throngs had wiled away delightful hours among the stalls and restaurants, watching the "catch of the day" offloaded into icy containers for their trip to market.

Today it was empty, and the seagulls feasted noisily upon the fishy carnage that remained untended along the quay. Restaurants lay open as though awaiting a dinner crowd that would never arrive, and a mixed hodgepodge of vessels sat impatiently along the dock, eager for the touch of a human hand.

And then he saw it..."Karen's Love".

It was as though his beloved wife had reached out to him from beyond the grave, holding him in the palm of her hands and willing him to live for both of them. She had wanted life, for her and for all of them, and she wouldn't allow him to throw it away.

He remembered little of the days that followed, or the next few weeks for that matter, but he and the tiny sloop, "Karen's Love" had left Seattle in search of something else that day. Perhaps he was searching for his lost life, perhaps just for others like himself who had lost everything and had no where else to go...but on he sailed.

Days drifted into months, and ultimately years as he and Karen probed the Pacific coast, venturing inland when promising signs appeared, then moving on in dismay as the futility of his search became apparent. Oregon, California, Mexico and South America became familiar sights, lonely testaments to the fate that had befallen the world.

Finally, long years after he had ceased to record the passing of time, he decided to make his way toward Alaska, to see how the frozen north had fared.

It had been a long and arduous journey, exploring first the myriad islands and fjords that curled without end along the misty, mountainous coastline of the "Marine Highway" in southeast Alaska.

He had found small, isolated communities there, few and far between, but without exception their fear forced him to abort any landing upon their shores. They had walled themselves apart from the outside world, and they had survived. They were taking no chances.

Finally, he had decided to try the extreme north, the Arctic coast, to see what was left of the chilled inhabitants of that far off place.

It was then that the sea had brought him to me.

____________________________________________________

Chapter 4

There are people who resisted contagion, I understand. People who had somehow built up an immunity, in some inscrutable way, to the pitfalls of the modern world. That Aiden was one of them went beyond question.

Once he had regained his strength, there was no holding him back. Each day brought new explorations, new activities, until it had become our custom to walk the many miles of beach along the Shooting Station together, gathering gull eggs and hunting seasonal waterfowl for our evening meal. Berries abounded along this stretch, unharvested by the locals who now gave us and this place a wide berth. We were alone, and as time went on we became curiously unconcerned with the absence of others and began to concentrate on each other.

It began with stolen glances, fleeting glimpses and unguarded moments that left us both red-faced and awkward, me in my innocence, and Aiden for the long-suppressed urges that he felt compelled to keep in check.

Finally, one day after the sun had begun to set once more to the north, we lay upon the sand watching as the first, pale northern lights curled their way through the heavens...and he kissed me.

At first I jumped! Had he been reading my mind? Had he realized the naive longing I had been too innocent to disguise?

Speechlessly I watched, startled and unsure of my feelings or of how to proceed with a man such as this. But, Aiden just smiled, and curling his finger beneath my chin he gently lifted my troubled gaze to his.

"Don't be frightened," he whispered. "I won't hurt you. You're all I have...you're everything." And in that instant I knew it was true. We had become "one" in every way but the last and final bond. It was time.

And so we rose, and as the delicately colored lights swirled above, we made our way, hand in hand, back to the Sugar Shack.

Aiden paused as we neared the doorway, and scooping me into his arms, he carried me across the threshold into our makeshift home. Once inside, he lay me gently upon his bed, then stepped away to take inventory of my resolve.

If I had harbored reservations before, I had none then. It was only my cloistered inexperience that gave me pause... but nature seemed to be tutoring from afar. Already I felt a curious dewiness begin to form between my thighs, something that had been happening more and more often as my time with Aiden had grown.

Aiden gazed longingly, tenderly at my still form, pressing his lips to mine, his tongue stroking my own until I longed for an even more intimate touch. Finally, he slid his hand beneath my atiki and began to explore the shivering flesh beneath.

I gasped! No one had ever touched me in that way...not a boy, and certainly not a man! My virgin breast surged into his palm, back arched and nipples hardened as I welcomed this newly discovered intimacy. He was amazing! He knew what I wanted even before I did, before I could, and every place he caressed kindled a new longing and deeper need within me.

Finally, I rose from the mattress and lifted my atiki over my head, baring my breasts to his heated inspection, cupping them behind my hands as though to disguise my shamelessness.

Aiden waited until he saw in my eyes that I needed help to proceed, then gently prying my hands from my chest he lowered them to my sides and drew me closer, pressing his moist lips around my left nipple and suckling until I felt I would explode with uncontained urgency.

He laughed at my desperation, a low chuckle. "You're eager!" he smiled. "Much too fast for me! I like it slow, very slow. You'll just have to contain yourself!"

Desperately I reached out to him in an effort to hurry his mood, but he would have none of it. Instead, he captured my hands behind my back with one of his own and slowly began to taste the buffet I had laid before him. Left and then right, sucking one nipple and then the other between his lips, flicking his tongue along their rigid contours until I whimpered for him to continue on.

Finally, after driving me to the brink, he released my wrists and unhooked the catch of my waistband, releasing a flood between my thighs unlike anything I had ever known. With agonizing slowness, he hooked his thumbs beneath the fabric and slid the last of my clothing over my hips until my downy nest glistened before him, drenched with the evidence of my ardor.

I blushed. What must he think of me? Surely he must think me a harlot, or worse!

Once more he drew me to him, this time allowing my fingers to rake impatiently through his hair. And then he did the most curious thing! Looking deeply into my feverish eyes, he began to probe the moistened slit before him until his finger was coated with my wetness and glinted in the dim lamplight. Then, pressing it to my lips, he said, "Taste".

Taste? Why?...I wanted to ask, but something told me I would find out soon enough. This was not what I'd expected, not what I'd prepared myself for, but opening my lips I allowed him access until his slippery digit lay on my tongue and the flavor of sex filled my mouth.

"Do you like it?" he asked, waiting for my reply. I began to shake my head, then stopped. I HAD enjoyed it! It had a wild flavor, uniquely mine, but coming from some place within me that had never been touched before.

Aiden smiled. "Good!" he whispered, "So do I..."

With that he laid me back on the edge of the bed, discarding my pants and spreading my thighs before him. Then, shedding his shirt, be brought the lamp closer and positioned himself on the floor between my knees.

I squirmed in embarrassment, but he held me fast. "Be patient, Sweet. Be patient..." Then, taking the fingers of his left hand, he parted my dripping labia and inspected the moist, pink interiors of my sex.

Tenderly he tested the barrier I had kept intact for all of my days, pressing until I gushed once more and felt my viscous flow drizzle between the crack of my buttocks.

"Stop!" I begged, driven beyond reason. "Please...No...don't stop!"

He grinned his controlled smile once more, then lowered his head to the opening he had exposed and began to lave it with his tongue.

I was in agony! Where was the turgid member I had taken into my palm on our first day? Why was he...

And then he stroked his finger over a spot so sensitive, so receptive that I screamed out, flowing in torrents into his mouth as my body bucked to free itself from his grasp.

Shaking, I wrapped my thighs around his neck, trying to draw him inside, part and parcel, to satisfy the pounding need that coursed through my body.

He stood then, his pants ballooning before him, and removed the last of his clothing.

Shocked, I froze in my gyrations! I had never seen anything like it! The member I had remembered was smaller, so much smaller, and not nearly as rigid as what now stood saluting proudly before him. Instinctively, I began to close my thighs to ward off his invasion, but his hands began to work their magic once again. Then, pressing his massive red knob against my unbroken portal, he began to stroke his fingers over the site of my former demise once more, but with much more persistent determination.

It took only seconds, if that long, before I was again quaking before him, begging for the act that would part me from my childhood.

It was at that point he lunged, forcing his massive tool deep inside of my trembling body, rending my delicate tissues with the power of his thrust until I cried out in pain and lust.

He paused then, allowing me to accommodate his tremendous organ, although now the cost of his restraint was evident upon his face.

Impaled, I panted before him, both eager and fearful of that which would follow. But, sensing my readiness he pressed forward once more, this time with less force, slower and deeper as I began to move beneath him.

In and out he moved, picking up tempo now, my eyes glazed and fixated upon the appearance and disappearance of his swollen penis as it vanished inside of my body. Then, fingering within my slit once more, he sent me into uncontrolled spasms, my body shaking and bucking as he began to batter himself within me.

Gibberish spilled from my lips, the volume rising with each thrust of his hips. The room filled with the sounds of our mating and the smell of wet, heated sex. What he was doing, what I was feeling, eclipsed all else and I dug my nails into the bedding as control left me for good.

Then, with one hard, furious lunge, I felt him shoot his seed deep inside of my body, filling me with the hot, primal juice that had created humanity and had brought us to this point. I whimpered, I begged, then again felt myself joining loudly in the frantic coupling of our bodies.

Aiden stayed inside of me as he lay his body alongside mine, turning me so that out bodies touched full length, kissing without the use of lips, caressing without the use hands. Finally he rolled onto his back and drew me atop his sweaty form, parting my thighs, straddling his hips as he allowed his member to restore itself within me.

Gently he stroked my body, rolling my nipples between thumb and forefinger, exploring my willing flesh until my pink-tinged wetness seeped heavily against his furry thatch and I felt him stiffen once more in my belly.

"Stay there," he murmured thickly. "I want to watch you."

And so he did. Deeply he thrust, his sex plowing new ground in this altered position. At first his hands explored the soft curves of my body as I moved fluidly against him, cupping my buttocks and insinuating his fingers between my moist petals until the straining muscles of my sex closed upon him, milking his organ like a million tiny fingers.

He groaned, audibly signaling an end to his pacifism. Then, grasping my hips he arched his back and drove his massive member hard into my epicenter.

Impaled to the hilt I cried out, my hands bracing against his chest as he tensed for yet another mighty thrust. Again, and yet again he pummeled my tender core until I felt surely he would split me in half. Then, plunging his hand between us, he touched that amazing spot once more, and I was lost.

Screaming, I rode him as one would a mighty stallion, rutting mindlessly as I consumed all that he had to offer and begging for more. Finally, as wave after wave of body-rending spasms coursed through my being, he filled me once again.

Like a fountain of molten lava he came, spewing his life-giving seed into me in hot fits and spurts until we both lay exhausted and too drained to move. It was then he drew me close, the pounding of his heart a solid rhythm in his crest, his breathless gasps mimicking my own.

As he closed his arms about me, brushing his lips against my sweaty brow, he whispered "You're mine now, Abigail. All mine." And then he closed his eyes and fell into a deep and peaceful sleep.

As for me, I lay in his arms for many minutes, watching him as he drifted away, marveling at the bond that had formed between us and listening to the sounds of the life that was now so much a part of my own.

"You're mine." He'd said, claiming all that I was, all that I would ever be. But he was mine as well.

Did he know it?

______________________________________________________

Chapter 5

Already it was morning, for at this time of year night was but a fleeting occurrence. I should have taken myself off to begin preparing for the day to come, to set our breakfast on the stove to cook, but I couldn't. I could not bring myself to part from the warmth of Aiden's embrace, from the heady scent of his maleness. We would have to live on love, I smiled, for this morning nothing else interested me.

How much of our lovemaking had been real, I wondered, and how much had been the fulfillment of fantasy? Had my perception been heightened by the moment, or had I been accurate in my remembrance of the evening past?