Rendezvous with Hymera

by Melinda De Ross

  He followed her with his gaze, admiring her feline moves, the long, graceful legs and her great ass, which, frankly speaking, any man with a pulse would have noticed.

  With her bare feet caressed by the silky grass, Clara descended the slightly inclined lakeshore, until she felt the cool water enveloping her ankles. Carefully, she advanced a few slow steps, until the water almost reached her knees. The lake’s bottom was muddy, pleasantly tickling the soles of her feet, and the ideal water temperature alleviated the feeling of discomfort specific to hot days. She closed her eyes, satisfied, and started to invite Colin to join her for a splashing.

  Suddenly, she felt her feet sinking in the viscous mud and invisible iron hands seemed to pull her in the dark depths. She opened her mouth to scream, but for a terrifying moment, she had the impression her lungs were filling with water and she was out of breath. A deafening roar oppressed her eardrums and ice needles were piercing her skin.

  Like in a nightmare, she was collapsing into the abyss. The lake wanted to absorb her.

  ***

  Clara felt she was floating inside and around her own body, as if she was trapped between two planes of reality, but not being quite able to cross neither one’s threshold. She tried hard to cling to consciousness, when Colin’s voice pierced the waves of fog and confusion covering her mind:

  “Clara, baby, are you okay? Please, say something!”

  Cautiously, she opened her eyes and saw him bent over her, worry and desperation shadowing his features.

  With a weak, rusty voice, she asked:

  “What happened?”

  Colin watched her strangely, while he pressed, rhythmically and energetically, the tops of her middle fingers from each hand. It was a press puncture procedure, applicable in fainting fits or hypotension.

  Presently, it seemed to work, for her cheeks began coloring, losing the earlier waxen pallor.

  “You tell me, baby,” he said, trying to adopt a calm tone of voice. “I think you fainted or something.”

  She stared at him, incredulous then rose slightly, supporting herself on her elbows and looking around.

  She lay on the grass, the basket and picnic remains along with the folded blanket next to her.

  “I cleared out everything while you were dipping,” he told her. “Then I heard you scream and ran just in time to catch you, otherwise you would have fallen straight into the water,” he added, a chill crossing through his body at the thought of such a prospect. “I supposed you could have a low blood pressure due to the heat. How do you feel now?” he asked, gently massaging her neck and shoulders.

  “Better,” she answered, unconvincingly. “But I don’t understand what happened to me. I had a feeling of... falling into an abyss,” she said, turning to look at him. “Something was pulling me down... But it was like... like it wasn’t me, or like there was someone else in my own body, in my mind... A feeling of... depersonalization, for lack of a better word... Oh, just drop it,” she sighed. “Even I don’t know what happened, how could you? Since I got here the strangest things happened, I must be hallucinating from the sun and the wine,” she said, trying without success to smile, although frustration and a strange fear flickered into her eyes.

  Colin’s sharp attention didn’t miss a beat. As he took out a water bottle from the basket and helped her drink, he asked:

  “What hallucinations? Did anything like this occur before?”

  Clara schematically recounted the bizarre episode of the gazebo barbecue night. “I know it sounds stupid,” she concluded, “I’ve never believed in ghosts or any of that Paranormal TV stuff.”

  Colin had listened to her, quietly and meditatively.

  “Paranormal is a relative term. Especially for someone who has just confessed she believed in reincarnation.”

  “Wait a minute,” she interrupted. “One thing is to believe in an idea, a philosophy whose existence will not likely ever be confirmed or refuted, and something else is to believe in... I don’t even know what. That woman, if she would have existed, she couldn’t possibly be flesh and blood, floating in that lake so deep. It was probably an optical illusion. I told you I had drunk a bit too much wine and I’m not used to it.”

  “What if it wasn’t an illusion?” he insisted. “What if you saw exactly what you said you saw?”

  Meanwhile, Clara had risen, and now she stood with her feet under her on the grass, breathing deeply. She had regained her perfectly healthy appearance, but hearing Colin’s words, she looked at him, wide-eyed and confused.

  “Where are you going with this?” she asked, puzzled.

  “Back to the cottage for now. But we have something to think about,” he added, taking the basket and blanket in one hand and helping Clara to stand, surrounding her waist with the other arm.

  “Are you alright, can you walk?” he asked worriedly.

  “Yes,” she said, burrowing closer to his side. “I think I might have had a fainting fit or something like that,” she said, while they were slowly heading to the other side of the lake, where the cottages were. “But, what did you do, carry me from the water to the blanket?”

  “No,” he said on a dry, sarcastic tone. “I’ve transported you by telekinesis.”

  The humor of his answer had the expected effect and Clara started laughing, that crystalline sound, sweet and sexy at the same time – music to his ears.

  “It wouldn’t surprise me,” she finally said. “With all the strange things happening…”

  Suddenly, she stopped, listening carefully.

  “What was that sound?” she asked intrigued. “There was a kind of rhythmic sucking noise.”

  Colin burst out laughing.

  “It’s from my shoes,” he explained. “I got into the water so I could catch you in time.”

  She chuckled and embraced him even tighter, thus cutting their way to the cottage, leaving vague traces of mud.

  Tony sniffed them from a mile distant and, barking ecstatically, he was scratching the back door with his paws, threatening in his canine dialect to demolish it if he was not let inside immediately. Clara didn’t even have time to fully open the door, when she was assaulted by the desperate and damp affection of sixty pounds of furry, tongue-hanging animal.

  “Hey, down, down,” she ordered, while Tony was literally embracing her, standing on his back paws and sweeping industriously with the tuft disguised as a tail. The fluffy appendage functioned like a worthy windshield wiper.

  Colin received the same loving treatment, not being at all bothered by the quadruped’s obvious lack of discipline.

  “Looks like my dog has fallen madly in like with you,” she remarked, taking off her shoes.

  “I love animals,” he answered emphatically. “I have at home an obese and grumpy cat. His name’s Morris.”

  “You should bring him too when you come by. All right, sit still,” she addressed to Tony in a firm and authoritative tone, which caused him to curl on the couch, with his muzzle on his paws.

  “You,” she turned to Colin. “Give me your shoes. I’ll put them outside on a chair to dry. Make yourself comfortable.”

  After giving her the shoes, he sat on the couch with pillows so puffy you could sink between them. Clara joined him, after filling Tony’s bowls with food and fresh water outside.

  Colin nestled her head to his chest, stroking her hair, which fell softly on her back, like liquid gold and caramel.

  “Do you feel better now?” he asked with a trace of worry in his voice.

  “Yeah, to be honest, it seems like the earlier episode didn’t even happen. I feel great, especially because of you being here with me,” she said placing her hand on his chest, capturing each of his heartbeats.

  “Maybe I should stay with you tonight, to make sure you’re okay,” he suggested, with amusement in his voice, but seriousness in his gaze.

  “You’re kidding, right? It didn’t even cross my mind to let you leave!”

  A bit surprised and overly incited by
Clara’s invitation, bold and direct, but not in the least vulgar, Colin smiled and bent to kiss her. At first, he teased her lips like the diaphanous touch of a butterfly’s wings, and then the kiss, the embrace and the attraction circle between them intensified so much that, when he pulled back for a moment to breathe her hair’s perfume, it was like an electric circuit had been abruptly interrupted.

  Holding her tightly and sweetly kissing the silky soft skin of her throat, anticipating in his imagination the magical night they were about to spend together, Colin stopped abruptly, groaning,

  “Oh, shit!”

  Clara, wrapped in the intensity of sensations that imperatively demanded a fulfillment, with her eyes closed and her fingers spread through his hair, murmured trance like:

  “What is it?”

  “Morris. I gotta go feed him,” he grunted exasperated.

  Clara detached herself slowly, watching him with a trace of regret, but her eyes lightened quickly along with the tone of her voice.

  “Go and bring him over!” she exclaimed. “Tony would love to have a play partner!”

  Although he wasn’t at all inclined to separate from the fragrant softness of her skin, he slightly withdrew to look at her. In similar circumstances, he would have resembled a lion interrupted from a succulent feast, but presently, enchanted with the green temptation of her eyes, he realized that the moment’s spell hadn’t been broken and he didn’t think it would be, not even after a thousand nights spent together.

  The woman standing in front of him was everything he had ever dreamed of, possessing a mysterious and magnetic aura. Under the appearance of fragility was hidden an extremely complex person. Strong, determined, seductive, intelligent, but also sensitive and sometimes vulnerable, all forming a package of irresistible beauty and charm.

  Years ago, he had thought he could fall in love with her, given the chance. Now he discovered that, in fact, he had never forgotten her and, with every moment, the physical desire and ambiguous attraction were taking shape and root in his soul, where Clara had permanently imprinted herself.

  “You make me be a better man,” he whispered, stroking her cheek. “You are so understanding. Any other woman in your place would have had a sulk crisis, and you tell me to bring my cat with me!”

  “I’m not exactly any other woman,” she answered with a feline smile. “Or haven’t you noticed?”

  “I’ve noticed that the very first time I saw you in the school hall.”

  “Is that why you used to stare at me like you were looking at a ghost?” she teased.

  “Among other things, yes.”

  They smiled at each other, lost in the reverie of those days of infatuation and adolescent innocence.

  Clara sprang up.

  “I’ll go see if your shoes have dried a bit. The sooner you leave, the sooner you’ll return,” she rationalized then let out a string of curses spiced with a creativity way beyond any limits of licentiousness.

  Colin only raised his eyebrows when he saw her standing in front of the door, with half a door handle in her hand, whilst the other half fell with a thud on the opposite side of the door. The luck was that in Clara’s hand was the half of the handle that operated the mechanism from inside, allowing her to open the door. She recovered the other piece and put both on the coffee table, muttering:

  “Until you get back, I’ll take care of this.”

  His already arched eyebrows went up another notch.

  “You can also fix door handles?” he asked with a touch of wonder and amusement.

  “Basically, I can do just about anything needed in a house, from painting to building furniture. My father taught me to work with screwdrivers, wrenches, flex, drilling, welding, and so on,” she said, pride transpiring through her voice. “You’ve no idea what stuff I can improvise,” she added, smiling and winking at him. “I’ll be right back. Let me get your shoes.”

  The shoes were, indeed, dry. One of them was between Tony’s huge paws, and he was lovingly chewing it. The other one, or, better yet, what was left of it, was lying discarded, probably no longer being of interest to the quadruped offender.

  Clara stuck her hands in her own hair and yanked mercilessly.

  “You bad, bad dog! You hairy destructive beast!” she yelled exasperated, standing in the doorway.

  Tony slowly raised his head, with the shoe in his mouth and, sensing trouble, he stopped shaking his tail and began a tactical withdrawal, giving up the capture covered with teeth marks, canine saliva and hair.

  With blood in her eye, his mistress advanced on the battlefield, to recover the remains of leather - which probably had cost a fortune - followed by Colin’s roars of laughter.

  “Don’t get so pissed off, honey,” he said grinning. “I’ve got another few pairs at home.”

  This simple remark, banal in its appearance, later marked in Clara’s mind the moment in which she undoubtedly fell in love with him. With the man who can treat with humor and affection a situation in which a pair of obscenely expensive shoes were destroyed by the tireless jaws of her dog. Of course, the fact that he had the body of a god, the face of a naughty angel and he kissed like a triple X movie star also weighed heavily in his favor.

  A little shaken by the magnitude of this revelation, she turned and faced him, with the chewed shoes in her hand.

  “I’m really sorry about this. I totally forgot what a pain in the ass that fucking dog can sometimes be. Every time he chewed on something he wasn’t supposed to, I threatened to castrate him.”

  She indicated his shoes.

  ”These are number a hundred or so of all the things he ruined. I’ve been trying for years to educate him, but he always relapses. I’ll pay for them.”

  “Don’t insult me, please,” he replied, taking the shoes from her. “If you wanna repay me, leave the poor creature to keep his balls,” he added, laughing. “I’ll walk wearing these to my car, but I’ll drive in my socks.”

  So saying, he put on the fringed shoes, kissed her and hobbled to the door.

  “I’ll come back as fast as I can. Miss me.”

  He walked out, winking, while she was stupidly staring at him.

  ***

  Colin drove to his apartment, watching the road and thinking about Clara. Once arrived, he unlocked the door, finding Morris perched on the bar, licking an empty plate, with his whiskers and paws smeared with incriminatory traces of chocolate.

  “If you’ve eaten again all my cookies, I’ll put a red ribbon around your neck and tie a bell by that fluffy tuft you call a tail,” Colin threatened with his index.

  Morris gazed at him contemptuously, descended majestically and, collapsing on the floor; he raised a paw in the air and began to wash it.

  Colin sighed deeply.

  “You’ll embarrass the hell out of me,” he said to the giant golden fur mass, which was watching him with yellowish-green eyes and with the ever-frowning expression specific to Persian cats.

  After he took a quick shower, he changed into a t-shirt, sport pants and sneakers. He liked sport outfits, not just because he was an athletic guy, but also because he felt comfortable. Suits with starched shirts and ties were not his style, though, if necessary, he could wear them with elegance and prestige.

  He grabbed Morris under one arm, receiving a growl as a sign of protest, and he locked the apartment.

  Then, getting into the car, he deposited his furry burden on the passenger seat, where the cat immediately began to sharpen his claws.

  “Don’t!” said Colin firmly, giving him a light smack on each paw. “You’ve destroyed three chair covers so far! This one I like, so stick your claws into the sheath and sit quietly.”

  Morris turned his back on him, angrily moving his tail even after he curled on the seat, getting ready for the way.

  A dense darkness had fallen outside when Colin reached the cottages. At the top floor of Rose’s cottage, a single shy light could be seen, but he gladly noticed that his darling Clara had left a
ll the lights on for him.

  Again taking the cat under one arm like a sack of potatoes – a position that drastically undermined the cat’s aristocratic dignity – he walked to the third cottage. Entering without knocking, he found a lethargic Tony, lying on the couch with his paws in the air and tongue seeping on one side.

  Still, the furry quadruped got into alert mode as soon as the door had opened, cautiously coming to inspect the newcomers. Colin put down the cat, who was frowning at Tony, not at all frightened by a dog that was a few times his size. When Tony tried a good-humored sniff as a sign of greeting, Morris, with lightning speed, applied a claw over his nose, therefore sending the dog whimpering behind the couch.

  After showing him, beyond any doubt, who the boss was, the cat jumped, with amazing agility for one of his caliber, on the couch, nose twitching, probably getting ready to mark the new territory.

  “I can see you’re getting along just fine... I’ll leave you to get acquainted,” said Colin, smiling indulgently.

  At that moment, Clara’s voice came from upstairs:

  “I’m here! Come on up!”

  He found her seated at the desk, with the laptop in front of her, working the keyboard faster than his eyes could follow, while Leonard Cohen’s rough sexy voice caressed their hearing with the sublime rhythm of the song Dance Me to the End of Love.

  Clara wore a black silk robe that reached the middle of her thighs and a pair of glasses on the top of her nose. She was irresistible, adorable and attractive in the diffused light coming from the laptop’s monitor and a single candle, sitting in an elegant, antique-looking candlestick, which flickered lazily, spreading a vague aroma of vanilla.

  Without a word, she took off her glasses and rose, half closing the laptop’s cover. Now, from the small portable speakers placed strategically on the desk’s corners, Glenn Medeiros’ Nothing’s Gonna Change My Love for You built and completed the romantic atmosphere.

  Clara stood in front of him, the candle’s flame sparkling in her gaze.

  It was a night which, unconsciously, they had both been expecting for a lifetime, a night of love and desire, the beginning of a world in which their dreams were about to finally become sweet, tangible reality.