Borne Darkly

by Lee Perry

  “Sounds good.” Jordan followed her to the kitchen and they began pulling items from the fridge and cupboards and depositing them on the kitchen table. Jordan smiled in spite of the ominous start to their day, I thought it was going to be awkward when we got up this morning, but it wasn’t… She sat across the table from Catherine as they made their lunch in silence and resisted the urge to sigh, Granted, these walks to the lighthouse are getting pretty intense, but there seems to be a theme in the process going on here… She’s not becoming withdrawn at all that I can see… so that has to be a good sign.

  Catherine munched thoughtfully on a potato chip; “I’m starving…” she signed, surprised at the realization and took a healthy bite from the thick sandwich she constructed.

  Jordan’s head cocked to one side, regarding her, “Given everything going on… it was bound to finally catch up with you.” She brought the sandwich to her lips and added, “And thanks for helping Wallace. He’s good at what he does but he hates asking the nerds in New York for help…” Jordan froze, blushing furiously, “I mean… not that you’re a nerd… you’re not… a nerd…” She rolled her eyes at her blunder, “Shit… I mean, you are clearly a genius… absolutely not a nerd and…” Catherine chuckled and Jordan’s voice faded, captivated each time Catherine smiled. I never knew a smile could so transform a person’s face like that… She took a bite from her sandwich and chewed thoughtfully for a minute, “Mmph…” she muttered, swallowing, “although that is what we call the techs in that division.”

  Catherine smiled and nodded, trying not to laugh while she chewed, “I’m sure…”

  They fell into a companionable silence while they ate and Catherine mused about finding Wallace’s upload problem; her hands had paused over the keyboard, taking a moment to absorb the programs and the simple, straightforward construction. Good for ease of use but easy to hack... She shrugged, It’s not like anyone is looking to hack them out here, but it is the FBI, for heaven’s sake…

  When they finished they cleaned the table, falling into the adopted routine of Catherine washing and Jordan drying the dishes and glasses, returning them to their places in the cupboard.

  Jordan draped the damp kitchen towel over the oven handle to dry, “I have some work to do on my tablet…” she gestured to the device on the table, “I have to sort through emails and write up some reports for Stewart… it may be close to dinnertime by the time I finish.”

  “That’s fine…” Catherine signed, “I thought I’d look through the books in the living room before downloading something online.”

  She left Jordan to her work and walked to the living room. Squatting before the small bookcase, she turned her head to one side and scanned the titles of the head keeper’s library, consisting entirely of two rows of aging paperbacks. Not much to choose from… The subjects seemed to range from the esoteric to the banal; I guess can see why romance novels would be a popular choice for this place… Her eye caught on the title, “Meditations”, by Marcus Aurelius. Really? She thought as she pulled the paperback from the shelf. Printed in 1964, she perused several pages as she slowly made her way to the couch and curled in the corner,

  “The seventeenth emperor of Rome, Marcus Aurelius was born in 121 AD. Considered a philosopher-king fond of quoting Plato, he ruled for nineteen years and while on campaign between 170 and 180, wrote his “Mediations” in Greek as a source for personal guidance and self-development. Originally entitling his book, “To Myself”, it was renamed after his death…”

  Catherine’s brows arched and she shrugged inwardly, Okay… She flipped through the small book and as she scanned the pages, her mind began to wander, remembering

  Jordan’s earlier words; So, Catherine, she asked herself, what do you want? when a phrase caught her eye,

  “But perhaps corporeal things will still fasten upon thee… Perhaps the desire of the thing called fame will torment thee… See how soon everything is forgotten, and look at the chaos of infinite time on each side of the present, and the emptiness of applause, and the changeableness and want of judgment in those who pretend to give praise, and the narrowness of the space within which it is circumscribed, and be quiet at last. For the whole earth is a point, and how small a nook in it is this thy dwelling, and how few are there in it, and what kind of people are they who will praise thee.”

  I wonder if this is Alex’s world now… she mused, and began scanning the pages more carefully,

  “Men seek retreats for themselves, houses in the country, sea-shores, and mountains; and thou too art wont to desire such things very much. But this is altogether a mark of the most common sort of men, for it is in thy power whenever thou shalt choose to retire into thyself. For nowhere either with more quiet or more freedom from trouble does a man retire than into his own soul, particularly when he has within him such thoughts that by looking into them he is immediately in perfect tranquility; and I affirm that tranquility is nothing else than the good ordering of the mind. Constantly then give to thyself this retreat, and renew thyself; and let thy principles be brief and fundamental, which, as soon as thou shalt recur to them, will be sufficient to cleanse the soul completely, and to send thee back free from all discontent with the things to which thou returnest. For with what art thou discontented? With the badness of men?”

  Catherine inhaled slowly through her nose and turned the pages again until another entry caught her eye,

  “You have power over your mind - not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength.”

  “What we cannot bear removes us from life; what remains can be borne.”

  The words blurred on the page and she blinked at the tears forming in her eyes. Scanning the pages, she stopped again,

  “Accept the things to which fate binds you, and love the people with whom fate brings you together, but do so with all your heart.”

  “Hey…”

  She made a mental note of the page she was on before closing the book and Jordan joined her on the couch,

  “Find a good book?”

  She handed it to her, “Interesting, these ancient leaders of men and rulers of the world.”

  Jordan’s brows arched when she read the title and author even though she was unsurprised at Catherine’s choice of literature. “Okay… let me know how good a read it is…” She handed it back to her, “It’s getting late, how about dinner?”

  Jordan had thawed pork chops for dinner and she grinned unrepentantly when Catherine appeared impressed when she told her she had baked the chops and was going to make rice to go with them and a salad, “Although the rice is just one of these box things…” She wagged her brows, “Trust me to make it?”

  “Of course I do…” Catherine graced her with a shy smile as she set the table. After dinner and after cleaning the kitchen both retired to the living room. Catherine turned on the TV then handed the remote to Jordan, “Whatever you want to watch is fine with me.”

  “Alright…” Jordan took the remote, “everything okay?”

  Catherine nodded, “You know Alex isn’t capable of creating the programs Rossi probably wants from her…” She turned and grabbed the knitted afghan left draped over the arm of the couch and draped it over them both, making Jordan’s brows rise under her bangs. She leaned to toss the end of the blanket over Jordan’s lap and when she looked up at her, she realized how close they were and she leaned closer, placing her lips on Jordan’s.

  The kiss was exploratory and Catherine smiled when she felt Jordan kissing her back. When their lips parted her signs were emphatic, “Jordan, please… it’s alright to tell me if you don’t want this, but don’t you dare hide behind FBI protocols, I don’t care about that.”

  Jordan’s eyes crinkled in amusement and she replied by kissing her again. Gentle and exploratory at first, the tender caresses became increasingly heated as their hands began roaming over the other with increasing need, and when Catherine’s hands ventured under Jordan’s shirt she pulled away,

  “I want
this so much, Catherine… but maybe we should slow down a little.”

  “I’ve stood on the threshold long enough to know what I want, Jordan... do you?” She stood up to leave and when Jordan stood, holding out her hand she took it and together, they headed up the stairs.

  Jordan felt hot and lightheaded as she followed, So, a distant voice scolded, are you going to let this happen? She licked her lips determinedly, Yes, actually, I am. Love is never simple… Her head cocked to one side as she regarded the petite form leading her up the stairs, Or maybe it is… just this simple… Maybe it’s about love and healing… and there’s nothing wrong and everything right about that….

  When Catherine got to her bedroom door she turned to her, “I’ll be over in a minute.”

  Jordan smiled and pulled her in for a quick kiss before she disappeared behind her bedroom door. Still smiling, Jordan entered her bedroom across the hall and closing the door, quickly undressed; pulling on the large t-shirt she wore to bed. She regarded her holstered weapon, phone and radio on the nightstand, and her smile widened when she heard the soft knock on her door.

  Catherine stood in bare feet and a nightshirt, “Well,” Jordan grinned, “I guess it comes as no surprise that we both wear nightshirts to bed when we also use the exact same shampoo and toothpaste.”

  Catherine walked past her, pulling her nightshirt over her head as she entered, tossing it on the foot of Jordan’s bed then crawled under the covers. Jordan felt her breath catch in her throat at the beauty of the lithe, nude figure and shut the door, locking it for the first time.

  Jordan copied her, pulling off her t-shirt over her head and pushing off her panties, climbed into the bed next to her. Their eyes crinkled at the corners as dark blue fell into deep velvet brown and when their skin touched, a soft cry escaped both women’s lips. Cautious of the smaller form beneath her, Jordan slid an arm under and around and pressed her lips against Catherine’s once again. Low moans were lost in the other as the touch of skin on skin grew hot and they shuddered in ecstatic anticipation when Catherine’s hands slid from Jordan’s face and down the leonine neck to her chest before cupping taut, distended breasts.

  Jordan groaned aloud at the feel of the small elegant hands and fingers and she kissed Catherine deeply, gasping when she felt her body slide to one side and her legs, on their own accord, straddled a slim thigh. Catherine’s fingers gripped hardened nipples, pulling her closer and Jordan pulled her mouth away, “Wait...” she rasped hoarsely; sliding a hand down Catherine’s heaving torso, she cupped the neatly trimmed mound and squeezed, watching Catherine’s body quake as she arched stiffly into her, grunting softly. Jordan’s eyes squeezed closed and panting breathlessly in ecstatic rapturous need, began undulating on the trembling thigh, acutely aware she was quaking just as uncontrollably when she slid a finger between engorged folds and inside a flood of wet heat.

  Forcing her eyes open, Catherine emitted a soft whimpering sound, spreading her unencumbered leg wide in offering, and Jordan’s answering laugh transformed into a sob as she undulated on the smooth skin, coating it with her own flood of desire as she pumped first one then two digits within.

  Widely dilated pupils bore into one another as their bodies entwined in wanton surrender, writhing and undulating together until they came in a singular climax, their combined vision blowing white in a transformative, simultaneous crescendo of joining. Their bodies convulsed and shook rigidly for long minutes until finally Jordan began to laugh in unrestrained joy. Catherine’s silent laughter joined her but when Jordan looked again into her eyes, a sob broke from her and she began to weep. Rolling onto her side, she pulled Catherine close with her still encircling arm and as their bodies continued to rock together in release they clung to one another, laughing and crying; joined in healing and in bliss, forever changed.

  Darien, CT

  Don’t strain… just let all that fuckin’ fiber shit you drank last night do the work.

  Anthony Rossi held his face in his hands as he sat on the toilet, determined not to further aggravate his hemorrhoids. He and Ed had taken a long time business associate out on one of Anthony’s boats he kept moored at Long Neck for “a talk,” Who the fuck did he think he was? Anthony rubbed his temples, He didn’t respect me… I deserve a taste of everything that fat lazy fuck took… did he really think he could talk his way outta’ bein’ whacked? Stupid dumb fuck… right to the bitter end. Sighing heavily, he gathered a wad of toilet paper to wipe with and stood, pulling his pants and underwear up over his backside. Lifting his generous gut with the back of his wrists, he made the usual token effort to suck it in while he struggled to button and zip his fly.

  He glanced at his image in the mirror as he made an equally token effort of washing his hands, drying them off on a strikingly white hand towel. When he turned to open the door he hesitated, his hand on the doorknob: he had given the nod to Ed who obligingly shot the greedy ex-associate in the head and then helped him attach the chained weights to the body. They had trouble rolling the heavy load up and over the rail, In all these years I ain’t never seen Ed lose his fuckin’ temper like that before… In truth, for the first time in his life, Rossi felt frightened when Ed began swearing and screaming while he viciously kicked the body and Anthony had watched, speechless, when Ed took out a knife and cutting and ripping open the dead man’s pants, cut off his genitals and threw them in the sea for fish bait. Silent, he helped him lift and roll the body over the side and watched, thunderstruck when Ed Coastanoa began to cry. All these years… Rossi closed his eyes, suddenly exhausted. Cautiously, he had clasped the thick shoulder, giving it a squeeze and a pat, “I been pushin’ you too hard, my friend…” Ed had loudly blown his nose and apologized and Anthony gripped his childhood friend by both shoulders, “Nah, it’s true, all your life you been a good earner, a good worker and now we’re close, Ed… we’re close to makin’ it big. Big enough to retire, you hear me?”

  When they got back, he tossed Ed the keys to a two-year-old Escalade and a thick wad of neatly folded one hundred dollar bills. He knew Ed Coastanoa could travel as though he was invisible, and he fervently hoped a couple of weeks in Las Vegas casinos and strip clubs would restore the closest friend he ever had.

  Gruffly clearing his throat, he left the bathroom and walked down the hall to the library, his home office. When he opened the door and stepped inside his eyebrows arched high.

  Unable to sleep, Alex rose before dawn and spent hours styling her hair, dressing and applying her makeup before taking her laptop and the projector she had ordered online for her PowerPoint presentation to the library. She had arranged for this meeting with Rossi, she knew she had to show him something sooner rather than later, she needed to buy time and all she had at the moment was her sales acumen, “Anthony?” She greeted him with her most winning sales smile and crossed the room, her hand held out in front of her as though she was greeting a potential customer for Symteck.

  “Alex…” Rossi was stunned by the woman’s beauty and he found himself suddenly feeling quite paternally proud of the tall woman shaking his hand, It just proves how old I’m getting’… he bemoaned privately, if I was younger I’d have a tirare in my pants… He shook her hand warmly, “what’s all this?”

  “I won’t take much of your time, but I’d like to give you a presentation for some of what I have planned…” She motioned to a comfortable overstuffed chair she placed conspicuously next to the projector she had positioned in front of a section of white wall.

  Rossi took his seat and Alex spoke while she turned off the lights, “We’ve only superficially discussed what these programs should do…” She stood midway between the projector and the wall and clicked up the first slide in her presentation, “I can, and have already installed programs so you can monitor your clients email accounts for bank deposit notifications and the like...” She clicked another slide into place and Rossi stared at the flow chart projected on the wall. “I can hack into these accounts for bank PINS and client
passwords so you can directly access funds when you believe you are owed money…” She flashed him a winning smile, “However, more complicated and sophisticated programs like shaving online accounts for a few dollars here and there require vast amounts of time and testing, if you want me to only work on this particular kind of program, I can, but I will have to proceed slowly to see how that goes. My biggest concern is staying undetected and untraceable online.”

  “And you can do that?”

  “I can...” she assured him, “the trick is not getting caught, isn’t it?” Quiet confidence gets them every time… She clicked another slide onto the wall, “The database will grow exponentially so I’ll have to expand all of that onto servers but…” She replaced the image of a single server with an image of a whole room full of both networked and independent servers, “I’m envisioning a warehouse… one big enough for expansion,” she flashed him the smile, “We’ll be needing the space.” No more being coy, Alexandra… go for it… “Initially, I’d like to try a program that invades and copies credit card numbers from porn sites...” Rossi’s brows arched high,

  “And what would I do with those?” He snickered, “Let you shop till you drop?”

  Alex could feel perspiration begin to form in her armpits, “You could,” she smiled beguilingly, “or you could sell them online to the highest bidder.”

  Rossi suppressed the giggle he felt bubbling to the surface, he had collected many warehouses over the years, most were legitimate businesses he had taken over that acted as fronts for his other business activities and his grin was feral, “I have lots of warehouses.”

  Alex felt a single brow rise on her forehead and she grinned, You still have it, Alexandra… “That’s great,” she turned back to the image on the wall, gesturing, “I’ll be grouping the processors together in what’s called a computer-cluster, and as the computationally intensive tasks grow, the building will house centralized, multi-core processors capable of evading any detection online…” she turned to him, “at all.”