A girl approaches from the far side of the bridge, further away than her voice had sounded. She comes towards him slowly, gliding across the tarmac, watching him with half a smile in her eyes. Small and slim with flowing dark hair, she is barefoot and wears nothing but a light gown of a shimmering white that flows around her body and thighs like molten silver. She is surrounded by warm brightness, like a pool of sunlight, that moves with her.
He has a vague feeling of knowing her, she seems so familiar, and yet also he is certain that he has never seen her before in his life; and for some reason he cannot fathom he is also certain that she was expecting him, waiting for him here at the bridge.
She stands close in front of him and he is enveloped in her capsule of light; he feels the sun-warmth on his skin, he sees the colours that are too bright, the light that shimmers, undulating and dream-like.
'I wasn't going to,' he says quietly.
She smiles up at him and puts her face to his neck, as if smelling something. She sighs, closing her eyes in ecstasy. Then, without warning, she reaches up to him, slides her arms around his neck and pulls him forward, locking her lips onto his. At first he hesitates, holding back, but a fuzzy warmth trickles through him: he closes his eyes and flows into her. Inside him icy concretions of angst and misery slowly begin to melt, softening and falling away. He holds her waist, pulling her slim body against his, and then time stops.
After an era, or possibly two, she pulls back.
'Come,' she says, and taking his hand, leads him across the bridge, back towards the woods. He walks beside her, swimming in her travelling pool of summer.
In the woods it is warm and dry. The trees they pass are in full leaf, clothed in the emerald green of spring, and dappled sunlight filters through the foliage. Is this how it's supposed to be? he thinks vaguely as she leads him to a patch of soft grass. They are surrounded by the tall, green trees, shimmering in the sunlight and the gentle breeze. She kisses him again and pulls at the tie of her gown which falls open and then off her shoulders. Her body fills his soul, he is aware of nothing else: the dappled light on her golden skin, her small breasts, her belly and her soft round thighs.
She lies down on the grass, pulling him down with her. He is dimly aware that he is no longer wearing his jacket or his sweater. Locking her mouth on his, she places his hand over her breast and begins to pull at his belt. She swirls around him like mist, the feeling and sight of her body blending with the velvet heat in his brain. Her hands slide over his skin and into his soul, her limbs encircle him and he is sucked down into her, sinking, floating and flowing away.
The One Who Is Two (Book 1 of White Rabbit) Page 5
