by Vina Jackson
Another track came on with a faster beat and the room began to spin again and the candles flickered and the shadows on the walls grew and Aurelia began to tire and grow dizzy. Had she stopped to think about it, she would have noticed that she felt completely intoxicated, although she hadn’t tasted a drop of alcohol in the rose-petal-flavoured drink. She was hot and thirsty, but the wolf had disappeared and taken his jug with him. Aurelia tried to push her way through the crowd to at least find a glass of water, but she was stuck.
She turned the other way and found herself facing a thick wooden door. Aurelia pushed it open and a bracing gust of cool night air refreshed her skin and ruffled her hair. The curls had all but fallen out now and her locks were returning to their usual resolute straightness. The wind was strong but applied a pressure to her body that she enjoyed. Ever since the night of the funfair, and the stranger’s kiss, she had found the weight of the wind comforting, even when it blew in harshly from the sea as it was prone to do in Leigh.
Aurelia stepped from the back porch onto the grass. As her toes sank into the wet dew, she briefly considered returning to find her shoes but one swift glance back at the mass of hot, contorting bodies that she would need to pick her way through dissuaded her. That was if she could even remember where she had tossed them.
A sliver of moon cut a sharp arc across the sky. It was a new moon, and made the night feel young and full of possibilities.
She spied a smaller building in the distance and strode towards it to investigate. It seemed to be a replica of the chapel. An even smaller church than the first. Aurelia squinted into the dark beyond it to see if she could see another, half expecting a row of them to appear, like a series of nested Russian dolls, but behind the stone walls of this one was simply a tall wooden fence.
The church was surrounded by small trees and shrubs and, amongst the moving leaves, Aurelia could hear shuffling and scraping sounds. The noises of the night, she tried to tell herself. Nothing more than wind and hedgehogs. But she could not restrain a brief glance over her shoulder to check that she was still alone. Spectres danced all around her still, just as they had when she was inside and the shadows of the dancing partygoers had moved like a Chinese theatre across every wall. Outside in the dark, though, every movement seemed ominous to Aurelia and she quickened her step until she reached the smaller building and then pushed against the door.
She was surprised and relieved when it opened easily without so much as a rusty-hinged squeak. Aurelia fumbled for a light switch but found none, and as she groped uselessly in the dark for any sign of a lamp, she began to panic, until eventually she simply sat down on the cold stone floor with her back against a wall and curled her arms around her knees to calm herself and allow her eyes to adjust to the darkness.
The stone was cool against her feet. It had that feeling of peace that very old things do, as though the slabs that made up the floor had been there so long they had become a part of the world and were no longer wrestling to stay upright. They simply belonged.
Aurelia relaxed against the wall. Time slowed. She found that the longer she was still and silent, the more acute her senses became. She ran her hands gently over the stones beneath her and reveled in their roughness against the pads of her fingertips. She noticed that the air temperature was layered, and she basked in the occasional pockets of warmth that caressed her skin. It was as if the room was breathing, and warming her with each out-breath. The noises that she had noticed outside faded away. There was nothing besides this room and her body within it, the steady pulse of her heart in her chest and the air brushing her body. She was unusually warm, as if the heat from the dancers had ebbed into the earth and continued to warm her even though she had left the dance floor.
She became aware of the restriction of her clothing. The cape was fastened too tightly around her neck. She reached up a hand and unclipped the jewelled brooch, decorated with two cherries, that held it together. The seams of her blouse dug into her arms. Her lace skirt, which had seemed so light and delicate when she had slipped it on, in comparison to her usual denim jeans, now scratched the tops of her calves. Aurelia longed to feel the peaceful calm of the stones against all of her skin. She raised her fingertips to her throat and, one by one, slipped the buttons through their buttonholes. Each one felt like a tiny globe beneath her fingertips, round and smooth and warm. She unhooked the waist fastening of her skirt and lowered the zip, then raised her hips and pulled the fabric off at her feet. Gingerly, she lowered herself down again, noticing each minute crumb of grit as it rubbed against her buttocks.
Her legs were cramped. Aurelia was possessed by a desire to feel the stones against every part of her body. She turned and lowered herself onto her front and eased herself down, pressing her breasts against the firm grasp of the stone floor. She turned her cheek and spread her arms out in the shape of a crucifixion.
A small part of Aurelia’s mind wondered how it might look to people who knew her if they were to come in and find her spread out naked on the floor. That same part of her was surprised that she hadn’t thought to blush, or to hesitate as she removed her clothing and exposed herself fully to the night air. But that small voice quickly faded. Aurelia didn’t care. She was comfortable lying naked on the floor. It reminded her of the long baths that she regularly took at home and in her mind she pictured lighting her tea lights. She closed her eyes and imagined the scratch of the match against the matchbox, and the sudden puff of a flame bursting into life, and the care that she took to keep that one flame alive as she lit one candle after another.
As Aurelia remembered the excitement that always overtook her as the flame hurried down the match, closer and closer to her fingertips, she noticed a similar spark within her own body, but instead of running down, it ran up. A warmth ran into her belly and between her breasts. Her small nipples hardened, but not in response to the temperature, which if anything seemed to be getting warmer. As the spark travelled to her arms and into her fingertips and down her legs and into her toes, Aurelia smiled. And she raised her right hand from the floor and squeezed her right breast, and then took her nipple between her thumb and her forefinger and pinched. Aurelia let out a soft sigh of pleasure, and allowed her hand to continue its gradual journey downwards, running between her breasts and then over the soft skin of her belly and down to the even softer folds between her legs.
She wetted her fingers and laid them back on her sex, expertly turning the pad of her finger in tiny concentric circles. As she did so, her mind began to travel, as it always did, back to the funfair, and the stranger, and his kiss. Her mouth parted and she licked her lips. The same burning thirst that had possessed her on the dance floor returned. She wriggled and pressed her body into the stone, as if she could absorb some of the damp through her skin and into her throat. Her tongue was dry and each bump of her taste buds was cracked and parched. But her cunt was flooded, as if all of the moisture in her body had travelled there. She could not recall having ever been so wet.
Hot liquid ran over her lips and down the flesh of her thighs. She dipped her finger inside her opening and then lifted it to her lips. Yet again pomegranate, as if that distinctive taste reigned over her, pursued her.
At first it was just a hint of the familiar sweetness of the juice and the bitter woody aftertaste that filled her mouth when she crunched on the seeds. Aurelia dipped two fingers inside herself and brought them to her mouth and tasted again. She was so eager to taste more that she almost gagged, pressing her fingers into her mouth all the way to her knuckles. Still the terrible thirst overwhelmed her. She added another finger, and tasted again and again, but it was as if her mouth became even drier with each taste of her own wetness.
And then, suddenly, she felt the wonderful pressure of another mouth against her own and a flood of sweet liquid trickled between her lips. She responded without thinking, thrusting her tongue eagerly into the other’s mouth, seeking to quench her powerful thirst.
The mouth drew away and a f
inger was pressed to her lips.
‘Shhh,’ a voice whispered into her ear. ‘There’s plenty more.’ A man’s voice.
‘It’s you again,’ Aurelia replied.
The sound of his words quelled every nerve in her body. It was like the feeling of being a child again, and having her godmother enter her room and pull a blanket over her to soothe a bad dream.
‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘It’s me again.’
She raised her hand to caress the line of his face, but he caught her fingers in his own and stopped her.
‘Fold up your clothes,’ he whispered. ‘They’re getting creased.’
Not a single window or even a crack beneath the door provided so much as a sliver of light for Aurelia to see by. The darkness was absolute. But she knew that she had not moved far, and her clothes were nearby, so she stretched out her arm until she felt the brush of soft cotton and stiff lace. She folded each garment into a tidy square and set them gently to the side.
‘Good girl,’ he said softly.
Her cape was further away, she knew, but instinctively she did not want to move away from the presence of the stranger. Near him she felt soothed and calm and she feared breaking that spell so she stretched every muscle in her body until she was able to reach the corner of her cape and then she grasped and tugged the material towards her, piercing her forefinger sharply on the clasp of her cherry brooch as she did so, breaking her skin. A bead of hot blood pooled onto her fingertip.
‘Ow!’ she gasped.
‘Are you hurt?’
‘My finger,’ she said.
And then she felt the pressure of his forearm against her back, and the other beneath her knees as he scooped her into his arms and she was airborne, her head nestling against his chest. He took her bloody finger between his lips and sucked, and the warmth of his mouth took all of the pain away.
The stranger carried her through the darkness to another place. An alcove just across the room that she had not previously noticed in the darkness. Her skin touched velvet as he laid her down again. The space was narrow but filled with sumptuous fabrics and cushions and Aurelia luxuriated in the welcome feeling of softness against her skin after the roughness of the stone. She began to writhe against it, like an animal confined indoors who has been released onto the grass.
‘I interrupted you,’ he said. ‘Please continue.’
It took Aurelia a moment to realise what he meant, but once she did, she complied immediately. It felt entirely natural to her that the stranger should sit alongside her as she masturbated. She had fantasised about that very thing almost nightly since the first time that their lips had met and she had tasted the sweetness of his mouth.
Her fingers travelled downwards and resumed their place, but this time it wasn’t enough. She could hear his breathing in the dark and the warmth of his body so close to hers served only to remind her more bitterly that her hand wasn’t his.
‘Help me,’ she whispered.
He lifted his hand to her mouth and gently inserted his finger between her lips. She began to suck. He removed his finger and then trailed downward, following the path that she had traced earlier. He cupped her breasts, squeezing one nipple and then the other. The stranger twisted harder than Aurelia had, and she gasped, and then moaned, as a sharp jolt of pain bloomed in each breast and then faded into warmth.
As he stroked her belly, he grabbed a handful of her flesh in his fingers and Aurelia lifted up her buttocks and pressed herself against his open palm. She spread her legs open wider and groaned, hoping that he would hurry up and push something inside her because if she had to wait any longer she felt that the waiting might actually kill her. Death would begin with the disintegration of her mind and would be followed by her body shattering into pieces, no longer able to sustain the storm of desire he had unleashed that now raged so powerfully within her she felt as though she might break like a wave crashing upon the shore of his body.
Aurelia groaned when he merely brushed his fingertips over her mound and did not travel any lower. She clawed at the surface beneath her and grasped handfuls of the fabrics that she lay on and gripped and pulled in an effort to release the tension that continued to fill her. Then she took hold of his head in her hands, and drew him against her, pulling his mouth to her own. She touched his face, tugged at the stiff collar of his shirt so that she could reach his shoulders, wrestled his buttons through their buttonholes with shaking fingers so that she could run her hands over the muscles of his back. He briefly pulled away and she heard the rustling of cotton and denim as he quickly disrobed and tossed his clothing aside.
‘Oh, Aurelia,’ he said. His voice cracked with sadness. He held himself above her, far enough so that their skin did not touch unless Aurelia raised herself to meet him, but close enough so that she could feel every hair on his body. She felt like asking ‘How do you know my name?’ but even that thought quickly faded as she abandoned herself to the moment.
‘More,’ she replied. It was now an effort for her to articulate any words at all. She simply wrapped her hands firmly around his neck and raised her head and parted her lips and again he pressed his mouth to hers and released the sweet liquid that quenched her burning thirst.
But it was not enough. Aurelia felt instinctively that nothing would ever be enough, could ever fill her enough besides the body of this man inside her. Her need for him was violent, and she knew it was irrational. She wanted to tear at his skin and feel him tearing at hers until they could crawl into each other and never be parted.
Instead she positioned herself below him, shuffling down and exploring his body with her hands until she gripped the firmness of his buttocks and then the hardness of his cock. It was the first time that Aurelia had ever felt one and she was momentarily surprised by the softness and silkiness of its skin. He moaned as she ran her hand over his shaft, investigating each crevice and furrow and then gently squeezing his balls, enjoying the warmth and weight as they rested in the palm of her hand.
The stranger bowed his head and kissed her and at the same moment she arched her back and pulled him towards her by the hips until he slid inside her and their bodies joined. They rocked together in perpetual motion, but it was still not enough for Aurelia. She hissed with the pain of his first entry, but with the sting came the wonderful and overwhelming sensation that he was inside her at last and filling not just her body but also her heart and her mind. And her soul.
How was it possible that two people who barely knew each other at all – had never even once made eye contact – could be so physically at home with each other? Mentally she knew that the whole thing was downright crazy. But her body sensed instinctively that she and the stranger were two pieces of one jigsaw puzzle and they fitted together as if they had never been apart, as if each of them could only be whole when connected to the other.
And then her mind went blank, as the stranger placed one hand on either side of her hips and unceremoniously flipped her over. He covered her body with his own. He was so much larger than she was. His thighs were thick and his shoulders broad and when he pressed his torso against her back and pulled back her hair and nestled his jaw against her shoulder, she felt cocooned in his presence, as if the earth had stopped moving on its axis and nothing existed besides this moment that contained them and their two bodies moving in unison.
Her cheek was wet. She flicked out her tongue and tasted salt.
‘Why are you crying?’ she asked him.
‘Because I want to see you. But it has to be this way,’ he replied.
‘Then feel me,’ Aurelia said to him, as she struggled to slip her hand beneath the combined weight of their bodies to guide him inside her again.
The stranger drew back onto his knees and raised Aurelia up with him so that she was resting on all fours. He threw his weight behind his first thrust as if he were trying to drill all the way through her.
Aurelia cried out in shock and then with joy as the violence of his motion satisfied her craving to
be owned by him, filled by him, joined with him, part of him. She pushed herself up with her hands so that she could press back and feel him even deeper inside her, but in one swift motion he caught her wrists and pinned her arms behind her back. With his other hand he caught her before she fell and so Aurelia found herself balanced in his hands and on his cock. She allowed her body to surrender, knowing that she was entirely at the mercy of his movements, but also utterly safe with him. He would not allow her to fall, and neither would he thrust too hard. She could not imagine any movement that could possibly be unpleasant or too much for her. Even if he somehow managed to split her in two, it would not be deep or hard enough.
He took a length of her hair and twisted it around his wrist, pressing her forward into the cushions with one hand as he raised her head with the other so that her body stretched like an archer’s bow. His other hand slipped down to her neck and he encircled her throat. Aurelia pressed herself against him, allowing him to clasp her, basking in this expression of her vulnerability and her total surrender to him. Take me she wanted to cry out. Own me, use me, I am yours, she thought, but fearing that speaking would break the spell of their bodies in speechless and instinctive communion she kept silent, just allowing herself a murmur, a low groan of pleasure escaping between her lips.
When he lifted his hand from her throat she felt as though he had removed his hand from her heart. It was more than a caress when he touched her there like that. It was a gesture of giving and of taking, of safety and of violence, of belonging and of ownership, of surrender and of dominance.
Then his touch snaked lower, and Aurelia’s momentary grief was overtaken by new and immensely pleasurable sensations. He had wrapped his arm around her and pulled her back against him so that she could lean on his chest as he squeezed her breasts and then stroked her stomach and then his hand slid further south.
