by Susanne Beck
Taking in a deep breath, I held up the gown, pressing the soft, shimmering fabric against my face and inhaling the clean, fresh aroma while feeling the smoothness glide against my cheeks. I groaned in sensual pleasure before pulling it away and slipping it over my head to let it fall, in soft waves, down my body. It was a perfect fit, but I didn’t stop to ponder how Ice could have known that.
Settling the straps over my shoulders, I chanced a look in the mirror, awed to stillness by the image looking back at me. Gone was the scared little girl that had come into the Bog three short years ago. In her place stood the woman I’d become with the experience. The color of the gown deepened the green of my eyes, making them somehow wiser and more knowing. The maturity came across in my short, tousled hair and the new lines of experience painting my face. The gown’s straps sat smoothly on my newly muscled shoulders which bore the weight of my world without complaint.
Yet still, I felt somehow a fairy tale princess all done up in silk and satin. As I pulled the robe on over me, letting the cool fabric slide sensually over my bare arms, I smiled, feeling pampered and cared for and very much loved.
Taking a deep breath, I smoothed the fabric over my body, then opened the door and stepped out into the main room of the small trailer.
Ice was sitting behind the table, her long fingers drawing what I was sure were abstract designs on the Formica. When she saw me, her eyes widened to my secret delight and she gracefully came to her feet, her own clothes shifting with her movement in a most pleasing way. A smile softened the angles of her face and lit her blue eyes from within. She was, at that moment as in many others past and future, the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.
She echoed my sentiments, holding an arm out toward me. "You’re so beautiful, Angel," she almost-whispered. "Like your namesake, come to earth."
I stepped toward her, grasping her hand, which she lifted to her lips, brushing a soft kiss against my knuckles. Then she escorted me to the other side of the table, where she pulled out the chair and aided me into it with flawless grace and impeccable manners. I had never been treated with such care before and I must confess that I reveled in the attentions.
Walking over to the other side of the table, she bent down slightly and retrieved a tall bottle and a couple of glasses. "Champagne," she said, turning the label toward my sight. "Not the best vintage in the world, but beggars can’t be choosers, and all that." Popping the cork, she filled both glasses with the bubbling, amber liquid, then handed one to me across the table. "Cheers," she said, raising her class to softly clink against mine.
I took a sip of the liquor, feeling it tingle as it washed down my throat. Not being a champagne connoisseur, I couldn’t tell if it was supposed to taste that way or not, but it was good as far as I was concerned. I grinned over the rim of my glass as Ice set her own down and proceeded to open up the white cartons. Intoxicating aromas wafted up on the steam that escaped its confinement, making my mouth water and my stomach chime in its opinion.
Two chipped, but clean, stoneware plates received their bounty and Ice passed one over to me, together with a set of chopsticks and a cellophane-wrapped package of plastic utensils. I smiled and set the plastic-ware aside, having developed the skill of eating with chopsticks when I was still quite young.
Not much was said over dinner. The food was delicious and I appreciated it as only a prisoner or a college student can. My taste buds tingled their thanks as my mind busily recorded every nuance of the flavors hitting my palate for future remembrance.
When my stomach finally rebelled against having even another morsel packed inside, I pushed my plate away and leaned contentedly back in my chair, patting my belly and grinning at nothing. Surely royal feasts hadn’t been as well appreciated as was this simple dinner.
Ice, who had finished long before me, picked up the plates and stacked them in the tiny sink that shared space on the wall with the table. When she turned back to me, she had something else in her hands that was neither food nor drink.
Stepping around the table, she presented it to me with a smile that was almost shy. I took it, open mouthed with awe. In my hands was a tiny bonsai tree carefully and wonderfully shaped into an angel. Tied around the miniature trunk was a tiny yellow ribbon of the type used when loved ones are far from home.
Tears, those ever-present distorters of my vision, sprung once again to my eyes as I looked on the gift she’d created for me. "My God, Ice," I blubbered through a throat choked with tears, "this is so beautiful! Thank you so much!"
"Do you like it?"
"God, I love it! It’s wonderful!" I carefully turned the ceramic planter holding the tree, looking at the exquisite artistry from all angles. It was absolutely perfect. "You have such a wonderful talent, Ice."
I was sure I caught an embarrassed blush that time and I grinned, partly to put her at ease and, I’ll confess, partly in happiness at having finally caught the normally unflappable Ice with her proverbial pants down. "You do, you know," I said, finally. "It’s a gift. One you should treasure as much as I do." Carefully setting the tree down, I captured the hands that had created such beauty and urged her down, capturing her full lips with a kiss of thanks that quickly turned to something deeper and more primal.
After several moments, she pulled away and cupped my cheek, smiling down at me, her eyes sparkling and warmed from within. "I love you, Angel."
"I love you too, Ice. So very much." I reached under the chair where I’d stowed my own gift and handed it to her. "This is something for you, obviously." I felt my own shy smile spread my lips.
Taking the package, she carefully pried open the folds and slipped the book from its paper confinement. Her smile lit up her whole face as she looked at the object in her hands, opening it almost reverently. Her look became one of shock when she saw the author’s signature on the front leaf. Her wide eyes met mine and I knew that I’d done alright.
"He’s never signed his work," she breathed softly, disbelieving.
I shrugged modestly, though my pleased grin told the real story. "I got lucky."
"I’ll say. This is fantastic!"
"I’m glad you like it." I scratched at the back of my neck. "Um . . .I’m not sure if you read Russian."
"Oh, I do." Flipping quickly through the pages and smiling like a child on Christmas morning, she carefully closed the book and set it down on the table, then reached down and clasped my hands, bearing me to my feet and into the circle of her arms.
She engulfed me in a hug, lowering her head so that her lips just brushed against my ear. A shivering tingle shot all the way down to my toes as she murmured a phrase I knew had to be in Russian. Though the language was guttural to my ears, her low, purring voice galvanized me.
"What . . .what did you just say?"
"’I want to make love to you, my sweet Angel. May I?’" she translated, capturing my earlobe between her lips and teasing her tongue along my flesh in slow, sensual strokes.
My knees turned to pudding.
She chuckled low in my ear as her strong arms easily bore my weight. "Is that a yes?" she teased.
"Ohhhh, you betcha."
Somehow, I managed to regain the strength in my legs and stood up tall. Ice smiled down at me, her teeth flashing in the dim lighting. I felt a slight tug, and when I looked down, I found that Ice had untied the belt to my robe. Her hands were warm as they slid within the parted fabric to rest gently on my hips.
Her head slowly lowered until her lips met mine in an explosion of warmth and desire. Her hands roamed over my hips and downward, grabbing the mounds of my backside and pulling me into her body, melding us as we kissed.
Her fragrance was intoxicating as my starved senses pulled it in on uneven, panting breaths.
I pulled away just enough to untie her robe, then slid my hands inside the folds of the garment, needing to feel her body beneath my palms and fingers. My bold exploration revealed a waist-length camisole and French-cut briefs, both in the finest of silks. I n
early died of wanting her, my need was so intense.
We finally broke off the kiss by mutual consent and I looked up into eyes darkened and half-lidded with arousal. The tip of her tongue peeked out to taste her lips and I found myself tightening at the sight.
Her large, gentle hands with their tapering fingers reached up and slipped the thin straps from my shoulders, laying intimate caresses to my bared flesh as she stared deeply into my eyes.
My own hands joined the ballet, grasping the hem of her camisole and lifting upwards. I broke our gazes as my hungry eyes feasted on each inch of flesh revealed to me as the incredibly soft fabric slid away.
Her hands came away from me as she lifted her arms above her head, aiding me in my task. Her breasts became exposed to my ravenous gaze and I licked my lips at the sight of them. When I could go no higher, given the vast difference in our heights, she took over and pulled the top off, shaking her hair free in a totally unconscious gesture that threatened to take my legs out from under me once again.
I had to have her. That very minute. I could no more stop the raging in my blood than I could stop a flood with my bare hands.
Placing my hands on her hips, I guided her backwards until the edge of the bed bumped against her calves. I kept pushing, lowering her to the bed, and then onto her back. Releasing her, I took a step back, admiring the artistry before me. The white of the sheets and the white of her briefs stood out in a sort of stark purity against the deep tan of her skin and the raven black of her hair which fanned out across the pillow in turbulent waves. The dichotomy was intoxicating.
Taking a deep breath to restore a modicum of equilibrium, I slid my own gown off slowly, teasing her as she had always teased me. Her gaze was rapt upon me. I could see her nostrils flare in the semi-darkness. I grinned wildly.
Finally I stood naked before her, swearing that I could feel trails of fire where her scorching gaze lit upon my flesh. I started to tremble as I felt a dampness between my legs which had nothing to do with the sweat that suddenly broke out across my body.
Stepping up to the bed, I crawled aboard, straddling Ice briefly before coming to rest between her body and the cool wall behind me.
I managed to pull myself up to sit cross-legged on the narrow bed, my knees just brushing against the warm, soft flesh of Ice’s side. I looked into her eyes again, catching the slightest hint of a vulnerability that hadn’t been there before. It filled my heart to overflowing.
I tracked down her body one more time before meeting her eyes and locking in, smiling softly. "I love you, Morgan," I whispered, reaching out a finger and brushing it across her lips. She pursed them slightly, kissing my finger, before relaxing them into a smile that matched my own.
My finger traced across her lips once more, then outlined her sharp cheekbones before smoothing against her expressive brows and up to her high forehead, brushing the fringe of hair back from her brow. My touch was gentle and undemanding and filled with as much love and devotion as I could possibly give.
I traced around the delicate shell of one ear, my smile deepening as I saw a shiver make its way down her long body in the periphery of my vision.
I had fallen into the clear ocean of her eyes and could not break away if my life depended on it. I saw so many emotions running through those eyes. It was as if I were seeing into the soul her body held in its keeping.
My fingers continued their meandering journey as I mapped out her body by touch alone, my eyes only for her eyes, our breath coming together. I slid down the strong, elegant column of her neck, tracing over corded tendons and skimming over a pulsepoint which bounded out a welcome.
Her shoulders were next, and then the warm, moist valley between her breasts. Her eyes darkened more as I brushed against the sensitive underside of first one, then the other, feeding me her emotions through the intensity of her stare.
I circled nipples which were hard and straining for my touch, brushing over them ever so lightly and watching her lips part as a single, almost silent, sigh escaped from between them.
I traced lower, over the soft down that covered her belly, rising and falling over the bands of muscle girding her torso.
My hand reached the lace band of her briefs and her chest expanded with the sudden breath she took. I dipped a finger teasingly beneath the fabric, running it along the seam from one hip to the other and then back again.
Removing my finger, I continued my journey downward, skimming over the silken material until my hand moved to cup over her. Her thighs spread involuntarily, and when my fingers slid over the smooth, hot, wet curve of her body, her hips jerked as she moaned, sharing her pleasure through her heated gaze.
I could feel her readiness through the silk of her briefs and I hummed in anticipation of what I was about to do.
My finger dipped in again, though this time it was beneath the band of her right leg. A sound almost like a whimper came from her lips as I came closer to the place we both needed me to be.
God, she was so wet and open that I almost passed out from the hunger of needing to possess this gift beyond price.
I painted my fingers in her desire, never once breaking the lock of our gazes, the look of her pleasure tearing through me like a wildfire. Her eyes glowed with an inner light, sucking me in deeper against my conscious will. With every stroke of my finger, I felt as if the touch were upon me as well and my body responded, helplessly pulled into the tide of her want.
I entered her quickly, helpless to do anything else, and she hissed out a breath as her hips responded to my thrust, bucking up against my hand, impaling herself further while capturing me and holding me close.
Together we worked into a rhythm, staring so deeply into one another’s eyes that it was as if we were but one soul sharing two bodies, both of which were aflame with need.
"Yes," I breathed as I watched her climb the peak of our mutual creation.
Her eyes grew heavy lidded.
"Don’t close your eyes. Don’t shut me out. Share with me. Please." I used my voice in tandem with our shared movements, bringing her up and setting her free to soar.
She fed me her climax through open eyes which drilled into me and took me with her on her flight to the heavens. My whole world became the blue sky above and the sea below with nothing else from horizon to horizon. It was a soul-shattering experience; her vulnerability and total openness to me in that bright second the most precious gift I’d ever been given.
As our breathing began to steady, I noticed that the vast blue ocean had prismed with tears. My heart jumped up in my throat and I tucked down close to her, gathering her in my arms and sprinkling her face with tiny kisses. "Oh no, don’t cry. Oh, god, please don’t cry, Ice."
She didn’t make a sound. Sobs didn’t shudder through her body. Her tears were silent ones. But she responded to my fervent embrace, holding me almost convulsively as the tears scalded the skin of my neck.
After a long, silent moment, the world whirled around me and I felt myself pressed flat on my back, pinned in place by six feet of aroused and passionate prisoner. Her mouth met mine without gentleness and I tasted the salty tang of tears on her lips as her tongue deftly wove its way around mine.
There was an urgency to her movements as I felt her reach down and jerk the briefs from her hips. When she settled back down against me, straddling my leg, I groaned aloud at the heated moisture liberally coating my thigh.
Ice grunted in reply, her hand sliding quickly down my body, her weight shifting slightly so that my thighs parted wider beneath her. Her fingers worked their way between our sweat-glued bodies as she continued to kiss me with a feral, primal intensity that might have been frightening if it hadn’t been so arousing.
She pulled her lips from mine at the same time she entered me, burying her face in my hair and groaning as she thrust deeply into me, using the weight and motion of her entire body to add power to her movements.
I gasped as I was suddenly filled, squeezing my eyes tight against the invasio
n, moaning deep in my throat with the pressure and feel of her long fingers stroking and thrusting against me.
Sweat liberally coated our bodies, making us slide against one another in an effortless, erotic dance. Ice kept tempo with her soft grunts in my ear. My moaning entreaties added a melody line. My heartbeat was loud in my ear. Her murmuring, first soft, now guttural, even louder.
Her strokes became long and hard as she bucked against me, rucking the sheet up under my shoulderblades and knocking the pillow to the floor of the tiny trailer.
I urged her on, wanting, needing more. Always more. I was so close. I could see the precipice painted on the inside of my eyelids.
She responded instantly, surging into me, her whole body in motion. Her soft grunts gave way to sharp pants and I knew she was nearing the edge. At what seemed the very last second, she slid another finger into me, stretching me wide, filling me completely.
I knew the second she went over. Her body shuddered down its sweating length and her hand convulsed, claw-like, within me as her sharp teeth sunk into the muscle of my shoulder. I cried out.
Her fingers pressed hard against the very spot I needed them to be and I took off like a rocket, my own wracking shudders all the more sweet for being subdued beneath the weight of her heavy, muscled body.
With a last, low, protracted growl, she slumped full on me, her breath gasping out against the sweat-soaked skin of my neck.
Pleasant spasms continued to spark through me as the motion of her breathing caused her now limp fingers to move deep within me, touching off tingles of sensation that rose to the crown of my head and fell to the tips of my toes.
I sighed out my bliss and she responded by nuzzling closer, kissing the mark she’d made on my shoulder before burrowing into the fall of my hair and cleaning the sweat from my neck with long, languid strokes of her tongue.
"Oh, sweet . . .Jesus," I whimpered as her fingers withdrew from me to move up and caress the slickness, stroking me gently, but with a surety that was intoxicating to my befuddled senses. I turned my head, needing desperately to connect with her.
