by Hildy Fox
She felt the smoothness of his hands travel down over her abdomen, as every curve of her body gave him permission to go further. His lips had discovered sensitive zones around her ears and neck that she never knew existed, and she couldn't help but wonder what other undiscovered territories they might soon come across. Her desire was almost at critical point, and she tilted her head back and joined her mouth to his, reaching up to clasp the back of his muscular neck. Her breathing quickened as if trying to match the pace set by her heart, but when she felt his fingers unbuttoning her jeans her heart took an unassailable lead.
She turned to him then, pausing in her rapture to absorb the look in his eyes. They were dark and full of want. And blazing there deep inside was something more, like flames alive with joy. The same flames that were finally free to run wild inside her. It was love. Pristine, all-consuming love.
He kissed her deeply and helped her sit on the edge of the leather seat behind her. She closed her eyes and floated on a sea of erotic bliss as he gently removed her shoes then carefully did the same with her jeans and panties. She had never felt freer in her life. She let her eyes half open, observing him standing there as if in a dream, sweet vibrations running over her skin. She took his belt in her shaking hands and unbuckled it, then unclasped his pants. She ran her tingling fingertips down over his hard, undulating stomach. They caught the waistbands of both his pants and his underpants, and dragged them down over his muscled thighs and taught calves with one long, slow motion.
He stood naked before her, every inch utterly desirable. She let her eyes do what as yet she couldn't bring her hands to do, feeling every masculine curve, every defined contour, every rigid muscle with her gaze.
He knelt on the pile of clothes that spread over the floor, taking her hands in his and gently kissing her fingers one by one. Even his simplest acts charged the building tension inside her, and she squirmed in the seat as even greater waves of longing enveloped her. He turned his attention to her bandaged knee, kissing it as if to make it better. But he already had. She couldn't feel it at all. She couldn't feel anything but the love that coursed through her like a tempest. The thunder of her heart, the lightning of her desire, the flood of her joy. These were all that existed for her now.
His lips began exploring the inside of her thighs. The tension swelled inside her, linking all the parts of her body that he had so expertly brought to life into one. It wouldn't take much more to overwhelm her now. She feared the power of what would happen when the tension reached its final, inevitable conclusion, but she wanted it more than life itself. She wanted to reach that magical plateau, that place of which she had only ever dreamed, only with Marcus, with the man she loved.
A sharp gasp escaped her as his tongue fulfilled its promise. The slow, soft, gentle strokes sent delirious sensations up and down her entire body. She couldn't remain still under such a tender barrage, and dug her fingers into his hair and arched her back as the mounting tension within her squeezed uninhibited groans from her lungs. Her legs went weak as his tongue probed deeper into her burning epicentre.
The hot breath that had swelled in her chest suddenly dispersed, as his mouth, having taken her to the very edge of paradise, moved away. His moistened lips worked slowly up over her stomach, pausing every few inches to mark their territory with a luscious kiss. Her navel, her breasts, her neck. All belonged to him now. They were his to invade, to besiege, to ravish. She closed her arms around him and searched for his lips, melting into them with the ultimate consent.
Suddenly, every nerve in Lahra's body ignited with indescribable rapture. Their union was complete, penetrating shockwaves of pure pleasure radiating in every direction at once. It felt as if the physical laws that bound all things and gave them shape no longer applied. She felt the edges of her being lose their cohesion as if she'd become a part of the atmosphere itself, and he was sweeping through her like a delightful, uplifting breeze. Earthly flesh no longer played a part in their love making. There was now only this state of ethereal transcendence, writhing and swaying with a life of its own. She could no longer distinguish an end to her physical self and a beginning to his. They had united as completely as a man and woman could, in a way and with an intensity that she never dared dream were possible.
Something at the very core of their union tightened. As their rhythmic dance quickened, the universe they had created began to suck all the stars and planets into one ever-tightening nucleus. Tension gathered, drawing every sensation inward with an irresistible gravity. Every feeling, every awareness, every inexpressible pleasure. Until at last nothing more could be accommodated. Everything that they were was condensed in that one central place, quivering with a tension which couldn't be held.
And so it exploded. A cosmic release, shuddering and profound, sent euphoric swells through their bodies, and Lahra writhed and thrashed as she rode their peaks. Burning shards of ecstasy from the fullness between her legs shot to every extremity of her trembling body. Her muscles twitched and her legs shook, as she continued her undulating journey through this uncharted pleasure. Ever so slightly the billowing eased, and a calm began to wash over her like no calm she had ever experienced. Her jangling nerves gave way to soulful relaxation as the tempo of their climactic moment slowed. Feeling came back into her hands and fingers, and with them she embraced the gently pulsing body above her. As his arms returned her embrace, she succumbed fully to the serenity it brought. And then her lips returned to her, awoken by a tender kiss that sealed the fulfilment within her once and for all.
No words were spoken. There were no words that could follow this. Instead, Lahra held Marcus to her bosom and felt their heartbeats slowly return to normal. Beat by beat. Breath by breath. Together.
And the only witness to any of it was the blank screen of the Miracle Cinema. Lahra smiled and closed her eyes. They held each other in the soft glow of the exit lights for quite some time.
*
Something was missing. And something new was there. Lahra opened her eyes abruptly, emerging from a deep sleep. Her bedroom was full of a comforting mid-morning light, and she knew that something was missing. A second later she realised what it was. The rain. The rain had gone, and with it the grey, voluminous clouds. Through the window she could see their replacements. Blue skies with a hint of wispy white cloud, and startling spring sunshine.
"Good morning."
And yes, something new was there. Lahra rolled over and looked into the green-gold eyes of Marcus Dean. His head was propped up on one hand, the other reached out and stroked her hair.
"Good morning," she said through tired smile. "What time is it?"
"I don't know. Ten, maybe."
"How long have you been awake?"
"An hour or so. I've just been lying here, watching you."
"How terribly exciting for you," Lahra said with a laugh.
"It was."
Lahra sighed deeply, brushed the hair from across the forehead of the man before her, here, in her bed, and wondered if the universe has somehow been created so that this very moment might exist. But then the moment was gone, and she found her mind drifting back to the drama of the night before. "I wonder how Wally is. We must go in to see him today."
"I have a feeling he'll pull through this like it never happened."
"Thanks to you."
"Besides, he'll want to be ship shape for when we re-open the Miracle Cinema next year. Good projectionists are hard to find."
She wanted to say something, anything, that would let him know how grateful she was for saving Wally's life. But her words were constricted by the love that swelled beneath her breast. Instead, her lips sent him an invitation, which he answered immediately. Lahra felt her body come fully awake, like a flower opening in the sun.
"Marcus," she said, looking into his eyes with concern. "Won't you be in all sorts of trouble with your work? Hasn't your company made a huge investment in all this?"
"Huge, no. Substantial, yes. But I'm hoping it's not
hing I can't talk my way out of. Especially now that insurance plays a part. Besides, they can fire me from now until doomsday, but I still have all I want right here." His free hand traced slow circles on her stomach. "I've been living in my father's shadow for way too long. It took you to make me see that. You were right. What I’m feeling for you right now? That what’s really important in life. These feelings are the dreams you should chase, and never stop chasing. My father dedicated his life to his work, and to this day I have no idea if he's a happy man. I won't end up like him. Not now. I may be able to live without Olympic medals. But there's no way in the world I can live without you."
That surging feeling that told her she was losing control radiated through Lahra's stomach yet again. But this time she welcomed it. She encouraged it. She could still barely believe that any of this was happening. "Perhaps the next time we meet on a bridge you'll be a little nicer to me, then?"
Marcus’s dimples lit up his face. "Now all I said was that I couldn't live without you. I didn't say anything about backing up when I'm already virtually all the way over a bridge."
"And siphoning petrol? If I really need it, I mean…"
"I might be able to make the occasional allowance. Wouldn’t want those lips to be exposed to any harsh chemicals. They look incredibly sensitive." He looked down at her with an obvious longing, and Lahra thought that she might burst such was the happiness that filled her. "Perhaps we ought to see exactly what they can tolerate," he said.
She reached up and stroked the side of his head. "I have a feeling you'll talk things out with your bosses just fine. I happen to know for a fact that your mouth can work wonders." She slipped her grasp behind his neck and pulled his lips down to meet hers.
*
Five months later, Lahra stood beneath a canopy of stars, the balmy summer night bathing her in its warmth. The sound of distant revellers drifted down the hill to this peaceful place, and she smiled, sharing their enjoyment of the night. She tilted her head back and stared at the universe.
From behind her, a pair of hands slid around her waist, sending tingling sensations across her skin through the black velvet of her evening gown. Warm, soft lips found the sensitive spot where her neck joined her shoulder, and kissed her lovingly before moving slowly up to nibble on her ear.
"I thought I'd find you down here," Marcus’s voice said softly. "Our guests have been asking for you."
"I'm sure they can wait a little longer. Especially now that you're here with me." She nestled back against him and let his lips play across her neckline.
"There's a man from the Riverbank Gazzette who wants to take our picture, too." He bit her playfully on the neck. "But if he doesn't do it soon, chances are your hair and clothes are going to be all messed up."
Lahra felt his arms close tightly around her middle. "You mess my hair buster and you're going for a swim in the river!" She turned to him, allowing herself to be encircled by his arms. "Besides, you look so cute in your bow tie, I think we should preserve the moment for all time."
They kissed gently, and he rested his forehead on hers. "So did you enjoy the film tonight?"
Lahra smiled like a little girl. He knew very well that she enjoyed every minute of the film. She, and the capacity crowd that had come to see Dr Zhivago for the grand, eightieth birthday re-opening of the fully refurbished Miracle Cinema. "No, didn't enjoy it at all," she said. "How could I when I had to last three whole hours sitting next to a man I desperately wanted to make love to?"
"Well if you were so desperate, perhaps we shouldn't have invited everybody back here afterwards."
"Too late now," she teased. "I guess we'll have to let all of them have their fun before we can have ours." She imagined the party-goers up at the house. Wally was there in his brand new tuxedo, the first one he'd ever bought. So too were Malcolm McGuire, Dave Conigrave, Sally Stefano and Bronwyn Boyle. Even Kurt Carol had accepted his invitation and brought his latest girlfriend, Raelene, along. His mother liked Raelene. She was up there partying too.
"I know I've said it before," Lahra said, "but the Miracle looks just wonderful. You're very good at what you do. Thank you for all of your hard work."
"Thank you for your inspiration."
Music floated on the night air. Somebody in the house had found Lara's Theme and thought it was a good idea to play it. Lahra and Marcus looked at each other and laughed.
"I say, would you care to dance?" Marcus asked in his best—but rather terrible—Cary Grant voice.
"I'd be delighted."
They held each other close and swayed gently to the music. The little wooden footbridge that spanned the river between their homes made an ideal dance floor.
"Mr and Mrs Dean!" a voice called suddenly. "There you are. I've been looking for the two of you everywhere."
Lahra looked up dreamily from her dance to see a short, happy looking man wielding a very big camera approaching them.
"I really have to take your picture before I leave," the man said, "or else it won't make tomorrow's paper."
"Go right ahead," Marcus said. "We won't even notice you're there."
They looked into each other's eyes, and Lahra honestly couldn't remember a time in her life when she'd been happier.
"Who said life isn't like the movies?" Marcus said as he drew closer to her lips.
"It isn't," she replied. "It's better."
So lost was she in the magic of the moment, Lahra didn't even notice the flash of the camera.
