She realized suddenly that there would now be no way to avoid telling him what brought her out there, short of making something else up, and anyway, she had never wanted him more than she did at that moment. Perhaps it would not seem quite so trivial a thing to him after all. He might at the very least find it an amusing interruption in his otherwise difficult workday. With a ragged sigh she took one of his hands and brought it down the length of her dress, reaching beneath the hem and then traveling back up again, this time with his hand traveling along her smooth, bare leg. She watched his shocked eyes as she placed his hand between her legs. She laughed low and breathy, and blushed even harder, saying, “I told you it would seem rather silly.”
The prince was speechless. He touched her soft, silky wetness tenderly as he attempted to rein in his emotions. His senses were scattered in all directions, thrilling each to its own preference—the way she looked and smelled, the shy expression on her face, the fact that she came to him wearing nothing at all underneath her dress, but more than anything, the way she felt between her legs, so silky and smooth. Each and every one of these stimulants assailed his brain and left him reeling. Even so, he wanted to add yet another enticement into the mix. He wanted to see her.
The prince tore off his shirt and laid it down on a more level area of ground beneath a nearby tree. “Come, princess,” he said in a teasing manner, but quite determined, too. “Let me have a good look at this thing you came all this way to show me.”
The princess trembled at the thought, but allowed her husband to lead her to the tree and seat her down upon his shirt.
The prince took the skirt of her dress in his hands and raised it slowly to her waist. “Ah, yes,” he breathed. He stared speechless for a moment and then whispered, “Open your legs wider for me, princess.” She did as he told her, trembling with exquisite pleasure as she opened her legs as wide as she could for him. She had never felt so alive. “Yes,” the prince murmured again and again as he looked at her bared loveliness.
The prince leaned in closer and his senses were once again assailed by the freshly bathed smell of her. He reached below her and grasped her buttocks, and then in the next instant he buried his face between her legs, lapping at her like a starving animal. The princess could do little more than sit there, stunned and shuddering. There was a most delicious desire that had been growing inside her since her bath; now she had only to wait for the exquisite release to come. She was beginning to feel the agonizing little twinges of warning that preceded her release and, as if sensing this, the prince abruptly stopped tormenting her with his tongue. He straightened up and removed his trousers. Now it was the princess’s senses that were reeling at the sight of her husband’s hard body in the brilliant afternoon light.
Princess Wearia reached out for her husband as he came to her, leading him into her body. When at last he filled her, she cried out loudly with all of her unfulfilled desire. She loved the feel of her husband deep inside her. Why did so much time go by without them enjoying each other this way? But she was not able to dwell on this because she was obliged to concentrate all her efforts on satisfying her body. She rubbed her silky smooth skin against her husband in frenzied little jerks, and he, likewise followed the direction of his yearning body, driving himself into his wife vigorously. Both were too caught up in the intensity of their passion to notice any discomfort; his knees strained against the dirt and rocks to find leverage and her bared buttocks had only his shirt beneath them to soften the hard ground. They struggled together almost violently, panting and moaning, until the princess at last cried out, followed by her husband, who poured himself into her while she moaned giddily.
He was still confused when he looked down at her afterward. She laughed at his expression. Suddenly it seemed that life was terribly amusing. She remained basking in the afterglow while he got up and dressed. Oh, how I would love to lie here and take a nap, she thought. But then, in the next instant she said to herself, there will be plenty enough time to sleep when I die!
This thought prompted her to get up and dress also. She turned to her husband, a bit awkwardly. “I suppose I should let you get back to your work,” she said.
“Shall I walk you home?” he asked her.
“Oh, no, please,” she replied at once. “You mustn’t let me disrupt your day.” As an afterthought she added, “Any more than I have already, that is.” And she realized with a shock that she was, for once, behaving like a wife.
The prince grasped her by the shoulders and kissed her. “I will see you tonight,” he promised with meaning. She couldn’t contain a little giggle of delight when he said this.
On her way home Princess Wearia pondered what she should do next. She felt happy and strangely lighthearted. Absently, she brushed her disheveled hair out of her face. She had been meaning to do something with the unruly mess, but it was always such a bother to take the time. And there, all at once, was her next project. She would have her hair cut, and perhaps styled in the manner that her husband had liked best when they were courting. Why had she stopped doing it, anyway? She struggled to recall when she had stopped fussing with her hair and it occurred to her with a shock that it was almost immediately after her marriage. And yet she could not recall why. Upon thinking about it, in fact, she realized she had stopped a great many things after her wedding day. This knowledge came to her with a rush of shame. How horrible it must have been for the prince to court one woman only to find himself shackled for life to a different one entirely. What had come over her to make it so?
Upon considering the matter in some detail, the princess acknowledged that she had become a bit disillusioned with her life. Her childhood had been so full of delights under her father’s loving care and supervision. Once it had come upon herself to take over the task it had been abandoned. Her husband was not her father, and he was not of the mind, as some men were, to offer guardianship. He seemed content to let her be herself. But who was that? It seemed that she had done nothing whatsoever with or for herself.
She hoped she hadn’t pushed her husband too far with her apathy. She made a silent vow that she would be more like the person they both thought he was marrying for the remainder of their time together, short though it may turn out to be. But she would not think of dying. She had spent too long living as if she were already dead.
It took less than an hour for Princess Wearia to have her hair cut and arranged. But as oftentimes happens, such an elaborately adorned head called for something equally impressive to wear. With this in mind, the princess went into her favorite dress shop. She walked up and down the rows of dresses, looking for just the right thing. A few items immediately caught her eye but she dismissed these as not special enough for the evening to come. It might, after all, very well be her last.
Suddenly the princess fell back against the wall in a swoon. A wave of dizziness swept over her and she thought to herself, this is it—I am dying! The saleswoman who had been hovering about put her arms around her.
“Are you all right, princess?” she asked her, alarmed.
Princess Wearia put her hand up to her flushed face. Her gaze wandered, at just that moment, to an item that was hanging on a wall. It was a luscious gown of thin silk the precise color of her eyes. It would be perfect for that evening, if she lived that long. “I must sit,” she murmured, her eyes never leaving the little silk dress.
The saleslady helped her to a nearby chair. “That dress,” whispered the princess, still feeling rather shaky but nevertheless managing to point to the dress that hung on the wall.
“My goodness,” remarked the startled shopkeeper, “but you are quite the dedicated shopper! Wouldn’t you rather I fetch you a glass of water?”
“No, no,” said the princess, feeling much better now that she was sitting. “What I would like is for you to bring me that dress in my size.” Normally she insisted on a size smaller than her own, hoping the too-small item would act as an incentive for her to do something about her expanding waistline
, but what would be the point of such an exercise now? She surely did not have time for these little delusions anymore. Heaven only knew if she would even be able to wear the dress tonight. She was still feeling lightheaded, and all at once she felt a fervent wish to live. She knew she could do a better job at living her life if only she were given a second chance. She anxiously looked into her palm to see if her little life line had, perhaps, reappeared. It had not, but here was the saleswoman, returning with the dress.
“Oh, yes!” exclaimed the saleswoman. “It is a perfect match for your eyes.”
The princess took the gown and held it up, delighted even more by the feel of it. “I will wear it tonight,” she decided.
Walking out of the shop with her dress, the princess was suddenly overwhelmed by the smell of fresh bread baking. Another surge of dizziness assailed her but this time she nearly collapsed from laughter. “Goodness,” she exclaimed. “I have forgotten to eat!” And it was true that she had not eaten a single thing that entire day, in spite of her many activities, which had certainly been significant for her.
But to have forgotten to eat! Most of her days passed from one snack to the next. She did not miss this obvious solution to her dieting problems. Instead of living to eat she would start eating, when necessary, to live. How had she become so dull a creature that her daily activities had mostly been comprised of eating? However disgusted she might feel by this revelation, she could not linger long with it; for there was precious little time to waste now.
She went into the bakery to get something to eat—for sustenance this time—and a wonderful idea occurred to her. She would hire someone to come in for the evening and prepare a sumptuous dinner for her and her husband—and why not? She was not herself terribly talented in the kitchen—not that she would have wished to spend what was perhaps her last day alive cooking anyway—but she had always wanted to surprise her hardworking husband with a delicious dinner by candlelight. This would, at last, be the night she would do it.
The arrangements were remarkably easy to make and affordable, and the princess returned to her home, for once very excited about the evening ahead of her. Already, dusk was peeking around the corner, ready to chase away the last rays of light at any moment.
The first thing Princess Wearia noticed when she walked in the door of her home was the flowers. The smell had dropped from the petals and now lingered in the air all around. She stopped for a moment to breath in the heady fragrance. She vowed then and there that she would never let a day pass without bringing fresh flowers indoors.
Princess Wearia did not take time to dwell too long on the flowers but rushed around preparing things for the woman who would arrive any minute to cook and serve their dinner. How exciting it was! She had always loved having her dinners served to her when she was growing up in the castle with her father. She had believed that she would continue enjoying this luxury, if not all the time, then as often as her married budget would allow. But this was, in fact, the first time she had bothered to actually plan such an event.
The princess pulled some candles from a kitchen cabinet. There were many of them, of all lengths and colors, for she collected them. The sight and smell of candles burning caused her heart to flutter with delight. Strange that she could not remember actually burning any. She stood for a moment, trying to recall the last time she had lit a candle. But alas, she realized, she had only collected them. But what had she been saving them for?
“Well, I shall burn them tonight at least,” she vowed. She placed them all about the dining room and adjacent sitting rooms in readiness, but walked away before lighting them, thinking they would last longer if she lit them when her husband arrived home. But before she had even made it halfway down the hall she stopped. “I’ve done it again,” she laughed to herself, and went back into the dining room to light the candles at once. When she and her husband entered their dining room a little later, it would be cozier and more inviting to walk into candlelight.
The cooking woman duly arrived and, after settling her in the kitchen, the princess finally went to her chamber to dress for dinner. This, too, caused her to wonder—when was the last time she dressed for dinner? It had certainly been too long. Life was to be savored, she scolded herself. A romantic dinner for two should be treated as a party! This was how she wanted to live her life, although perhaps it was too late.
She primped and preened and did everything she could think of to improve her appearance, and her efforts had the desired effect. She even wore her most expensive jewelry, finding it tangled in a drawer untouched for many months. She put on her gown last, fully dressed now except for her undergarments. She reached down and touched herself between her legs as she contemplated this. The feeling of the smooth skin on her fingertips caused her to giggle. She would leave the undergarments off, she decided—perhaps forever!
At length she heard her husband come through the front door and she rushed down to meet him, breathless and excited. He stopped short when he saw her, staring at her open-mouthed.
She laughed, embracing him and placing a kiss on his lips like she should have—like she wished she had—every day since they were married. “I wanted to surprise you,” she said.
“You did,” he said, grinning.
“Dinner will be served shortly,” she told him.
“I will make myself presentable,” he assented. He, too, had become somewhat negligent in his manners of late, but then, the princess had not seemed to notice. He whistled as he prepared to meet his wife for dinner. It reminded him of their courtship days and he, too, felt a new excitement.
The princess took out two sparkling glasses and poured a little wine into each of them. She would normally have consumed more than both the glasses full by this time of day, she realized, for she had lost the ability to enjoy her evening drink, as well as everything else, it seemed. Instead of leisurely enjoying the wine, she misused it to drown her senses and quiet her aspirations. It was one more part of her life that she had greedily sucked the pleasure out of. She brought the glasses into the sitting room and took a small sip from her glass. Ah, the first sip of a glass of wine! There were perhaps four or five really agreeable mouthfuls, then, after that, one would simply have to wait until it was entirely out of their system before they could experience that pleasure again. But alas, she had always just kept sipping and then gulping, faster and faster, trying desperately to make it feel like the first sip once again. Princess Wearia tipped back her head and relished the delightfully mild, and utterly exquisite, feeling that came over her with that first taste of wine.
The prince walked into the room just then, stopping momentarily to admire his beautiful and contented wife, who was sitting demurely in the candlelit room sipping wine.
“Come join me,” she persuaded him. He sat very close to her and picked up his wine. The princess noticed his clean, masculine smell and took a deep breath to capture more of it. She was agog for a moment, her senses overwhelmed by the intoxicating combinations of the heady wine and the smell of her husband. What had she been doing all those other nights? She could not remember what she had been doing—or feeling, for that matter. But she was certain she would never forget what she was feeling at that moment. Delight, exhilaration, excitement, anticipation—and so much more, too. She was feeling things she could not even name, and once again she felt, stronger than ever, that she wanted to live.
Suddenly Princess Wearia wanted to know more about this handsome, wonderful-smelling prince who sat beside her. When they were courting she asked only superficial questions, and since their marriage she hadn’t asked any questions at all. Now she found there were all kinds of things that she wanted to know. She began by asking him how long he expected to be working on the bridge. This led to many more questions, and she was dismayed when the cooking woman interrupted them to say that dinner was ready to be served.
Walking into the dining room, the princess immediately commended herself for lighting the candles ahead of time. They had
burned perhaps a half an inch, but the effect that half inch gave the room as they entered it was dramatic. She truly felt like the princess of her own castle as her husband pulled out her chair for her to sit down to dinner.
In fact, all of Princess Wearia’s preparations that day paid off, so that the dinner was a fabulous event that would stay in both of their memories forever. Surveying her husband from across the table, she realized that if she did die, there would be many women who would be happy to follow in her footsteps. She allowed this realization to lead her thoughts even further in the same direction—and she found herself imagining her husband with another woman. Would he forget her quickly? Would he be glad to be rid of her? She nearly cried out at the thought. Oh, why had she taken him for granted? She must make it up to him. There simply must be time! She would try her best to give him memories to last a lifetime.
“My, but you have a serious expression on your face,” the prince observed.
“I’m sorry,” she told him. “My mind was wandering. Did you say something?”
“Well, I was about to ask you about something, actually,” he replied with a partially teasing aspect. “You see, I had a dream this afternoon, perhaps it was heatstroke…” He raised an eyebrow and grinned charmingly.
Princess Wearia laughed. “Tell me about it,” she encouraged him playfully. “What happened?”
“As I said, I’m not entirely certain anything happened at all,” he went on. “I think I shall need proof in order to believe it was real.”
“Proof?” she repeated. “Hmm, how could you prove or disprove a dream, I wonder?”
“Well, there was one very unique element to the dream which could certainly be put to the test.” He was enjoying this little tête-à-tête immensely, and he could see by the rising color of her cheeks that his wife was, too. He moved closer to her, settling on one knee in front of her and placing his hand on her leg, just below the knee, and said, “But I’m afraid I’ll need your help to test it.”
NancyMadore Page 24
