reading

Contents

In the Air

On the Ground

Under the Ground

A Loss of Innocence

Embracing Adventure

Dante Meets Janet

In the Healing Room

The Woman Feels Me

Recovery

Scar Stories

The Dream

A Routine Life, of Sorts

The Summoning

Summoned

Unsettled

Breakfast

In the Play Room

The Morning After

The Mystery of Dante

A Matter of Pain

Calling to the Pain

Anger

The Picnic

Teaching the Woman her Place

Playing Rough

A Restless Night

In the Morning

Envy

Ogodo’s Reward

A Monster’s Comfort

The Second Performance

Janet Burns

In her Room

In the Healing Room

Brother’s Confession

The Apology

Taking Sides

Sick and Disillusioned

The Sentinel

Little One in her Cups

Refuge

Roommates

Keeping a Promise

Getting Too Near

Enchantment and Magic

Time to Forget and Forgive

Janet Takes Control

The Anger Recedes

Of Mothers

I am Rosalind

Sahr’s Tale

Rosalind’s Story Continues

A Very Good Morning

Taking a Stand

Spanked

Restless Night

The Cleansing

The Truth

After the Truth

The Condition

Ogodo Leaves Me

The Curse of the Two

Healing

In the Playroom 2

The Task

I Get a Happy Ending

In the Air

(Janet)

Miles above the earth, I frowned into my glass of complimentary champagne; it was a disappointment as, in my heart, I knew it would be. I sighed softly thinking that even this, my great adventure, was stale. I mean, here I was in a first-class seat on an international flight, sipping expensive, sparkling champagne — the only thing I was missing was the attractive man seated next to me, looking at me with adoring eyes. I scoffed at my romantic fantasies. Instead of feeling happy and excited, I was disappointed, uncomfortable, and frightened.

Disappointed because, well, I had just expected more from first-class, from champagne. You have been reading too many cheap romance novels, I chastised myself.

Uncomfortable because I’d stupidly worn what I thought one would when flying first-class—a silk dress, stockings, and heels—not ideal for a twelve-hour flight; my pantyhose were killing me. I looked around at the other passengers in their designer sweatpants and sneakers. I stuck out like a sore thumb; I didn’t fit in, didn’t belong—so what else was new?

Frightened because I might very well be arrested upon my arrival in Scotland, though it’s doubtful that my crime was on the international manhunt scale— at least that’s what I kept telling myself.

I took another sip of my champagne and sighed with exasperation. Why must every damned thing in my life be so lacking, so flat? Come on, universe, cut me some slack, I mentally pleaded. The life I was leaving behind flashed across my mind; who would imagine that a life so filled with hurt and adversity could be so boring? I stared into my glass and mulled over my past, trying to figure out why it felt so empty and incomplete. Why was I stuck in a low-paying, dead end job? Why was I so alone, so unlovable? I had no friends, no family, and certainly love life.

Maybe it was because, until now, I had never taken a chance, a leap of faith. Perhaps it was as simple as my looks. I mean, I knew that I was plain, but other plain women had managed to find love, adventure, or at least fulfillment. But not me, not Janet Noone (or Janet No One as I’d been called in school in that cruel, clever way children have).

Physically, I was tall—just over six feet. I’d always been taller than most other females. Don’t misunderstand me, I wasn’t tall and slender like a model—of course not. No, I was scrawny with the body of a ten-year-old boy. My breasts were small, though I confess that I thought they were my best feature. My hair was thick, totally unmanageable, and the color of wet sand. It wasn’t straight nor was it curly. Rather, it waved and kinked in an unflattering way. In the end, I’d grown it out long to weigh down those unruly kinks and waves. I always wore it pinned up. I looked at the hand holding my champagne flute and frowned at my large man hands—strong and capable, but not at all feminine, topped off with short, bitten nails.

I audibly exhaled and thought that maybe it wasn’t my looks at all. I had never been able to connect to other people in any meaningful emotional manner. I was utterly alone in this big wide world. I’d no family since the age of nine so, I’d gone from one foster home to the next, never joining in, never sticking. None of those placements had been homes. They were just places where I ate, slept, and suffered abuse for some small offense at the hands of other foster children and those paid to care for me. Remembering those places made me realize just how undesirable and unlovable I’d been for most of my life. In my entire life, no one had ever told me that I was beautiful or even pretty though, when pressed, Billy had called me handsome.

I smiled to myself and thought of that brief time with Billy, not that he’d loved me, but he had seen me. My heart still fluttered when I thought of him— he was the one good thing that had ever happened to me. I’d met him when I was sixteen—two years before I’d aged out of the foster care system. He’d been so beautiful, so intelligent, so damaged by life. Shit, I fell in love with him the minute I had set eyes upon him. I bitterly laughed at myself—the great love of my life and he’d never even fucked me. I was a 32-year-old virgin still romanticizing that poor, damaged boy.

I took another sip of my champagne and forced my thoughts away from my painful past to the present, to my destination—Scotland. It was here that I’d pinned my thin hopes for love and adventure. Scotland seemed like a magical place; it was so removed from Chicago. In Scotland, I’d breathe in cool, fresh air and traverse mountain forests where I’d meet a rugged Scotsman in a kilt who yearned for love and passion as desperately as I did.

I had spent almost a quarter of my ill-gotten money on this one hope—made solid by a new wardrobe, a one-way ticket to Inverness, and a reservation at a private hotel located in the foothills of the Scottish mountains. The money had given me this opportunity, the stolen money. You are nothing but a thief, I scolded myself, mentally wagging a finger in my face.

When I’d first seen the $28,327— on my bank statement, I’d known immediately that it was an error. After all, I was a part-time sales clerk in a department store, barely scraping by paycheck to paycheck—so, yeah, the $27— might have actually belonged to me. I had been in the line at my bank to report the error, when it suddenly hit me that this was my chance. This was the ticket to the adventure I’d longed for, my chance to do something. I had made a little show of looking at my watch before briskly walking out of the bank.

Janet Noone had finally rolled the dice, taken a chance. I knew that I had to act before my courage failed me so, I’d gone straight to my bed-sit, filled two bags with my meager belongings, cashed out my bank account at another branch, and then headed to the nearest travel agent.

High above the ground, I downed the rest of my champagne and lifted my chin. The champagne was wonderful and this trip would be a dream come true; it just had to be.

On the Ground

(Janet)

The plane landed and I cleared customs with no arresting policeman in sight. In the baggage area, I was met by the hotel driver; he was an elderly, gnarled, crooked man. I couldn’t understand any of his heavily accented mutterings and, as far as I could make out, he couldn’t hear a word I said. In the end, I smiled and nodded at him then, settled back into the heated seat of the car to enjoy the scenery.

Out my window, were large, empty spaces; in the distance, I saw a vast mountain range. Sheep stood in the fields we drove by. Everything here was so green. It was all so alien; this was certainly not the dirty Chicago cityscape that I was used to. It was beautiful and intimidating at the same time. I shrunk back into the car’s seat, feeling small and overwhelmed.

When we finally pulled into the hotel’s car park, I was rendered speechless; what a place! The mountains surrounded the hotel, dwarfed it. I followed the old man; he continued to mutter to himself as he carried my luggage to the reception area. It was as charming as I’d imagined it would be. I smiled and forced myself to unclench, to relax; maybe everything would work out after all. “Just the one checking in, dear?” the grandmotherly woman at the desk asked.

“Yes, it’s just me.” Her innocent remark made me feel my plainness, my loneliness once more.

“I’ve put you in a lovely single facing the mountain just as you requested. I do hope you’ll enjoy your stay here. If you’d like refreshments, the lounge is down the hall, on the left, and is serving dinner for another hour.” God, she had a delicious accent that reminded me of Robin William’s Mrs. Doubtfire. She smiled at me and I realized that I had been staring. I blushed and thanked her then, went up to my room; it was pleasantly picturesque and the view was amazing. I was genuinely delighted by it all.

I freshened up and went down to the lounge. I was in good spirits and ordered a double vodka on the rocks. The young bartender handed it to me and I took a healthy swig—one ice cube? I shrugged and sat at one of the lounge’s tables. A pretty young woman came and told me the specials. I was feeling daring and ordered something called bangers and mash. Then, I relaxed back into my cushy chair and looked around. There were four other people in the bar—two couples, ugh.

When the waitress brought my food, I casually asked about the hotel’s other guests. I couldn’t help but be awed by her looks. She was so fresh looking—young, petite, and very pretty. She smiled at me, pushing her long raven hair back behind her shoulder, “Well, ma’am, it is yourself, the Smyths, that older couple at the bar—they come here every year and the Scanlons, honeymooners from America, who are in the corner booth. We were expecting two gentlemen from London, but they cancelled their reservations at the last minute.”

“That’s it, then?” Fudge—me and the couples.

“Yes, ma’am. We’ve no new guests expected for the next fortnight,” Her report given, she wandered back to the bar. I looked down at my dinner—sausage and mashed potatoes served with a glob of brown gravy and some fat mashed peas. I idly wondered what the hell a fortnight was and dug into my dinner; it tasted better than it looked.

I told myself to buck up and shot a sly look at the bartender; he’d been cute. Crud, looked like he and the waitress were pretty chummy with one another. So, there was absolutely zero chance for romance here. I jeered silently, Don’t give up yet, old girl. Maybe the crooked, little driver is available. I tried to shake off the disappointment I felt returning to me.

Damn, for this I was facing imprisonment? I emptied my glass and thought about how ridiculous my life was. Neither couple in the bar had so much as glanced my way and I felt my insignificance.... yeah, my self-pity was limitless. Well, what could I do, but tie one on? I finished my dinner, asked for a bottle of vodka, a bucket of ice (fill it please), a lime, and a glass. I carried it up to my room where I closed the door and opened the curtains. I filled my glass and toasted the mountain view.

I told myself, Look at the bright side; now you can get out of this frikkin’ outfit. The relief of getting out of those hose and heels was worth almost any price. I opened my suitcase and pulled out a comfy pair of sweats, a tee, and some wooly socks. That was much better. I settled into the room’s overstuffed chair and had myself a little happy hour. Okay, so, I got plastered. Three a.m. found me drunkenly leaning out the room’s opened window wailing, “The Universe’s joke, that’s me. Why? Am I so awful? So unlovable?” I passed out about fifteen minutes later and slept deeply.

About noonish, I woke up to a freezing room, a furry tongue, and a roaring headache. I groaned and considered just lying there. Maybe I would just stay here in this bed until my money ran out. Why the hell get up? What for? I shivered and said, “To close the damned window, that’s what for.” I got up and tottered a few steps; oh, my head was spinning. I groggily crossed over to the window and closed it, then, I poured myself a glass of water, and a shot of vodka— some hair of the dog.

Since I was upright, I decided that I might as well stay that way. I brushed my teeth (and tongue) and pinned up my unruly hair. I considered make-up, considered puking, but both felt like too much effort. I pawed through my suitcase and selected a bra. I literally cringed at the sight of it; it was a red lacy number with matching knickers that I’d purchased under the heady influence of hope. I threw it on under my tee. Then, I headed downstairs in search of food.

I realized that I looked worse than usual, but didn’t care. After all, there was no one here to impress, that was for sure. I ordered a huge lunch of sausage, eggs, beans, and black pudding which I washed down with strong, black tea (and more vodka). My fellow lodgers did notice me this morning, naturally, when I looked like hell, and I endured their curious stares, their condemnation of me, I thought. “Nothing like being a single in a room of doubles,” I muttered into my cup of tea.

I wondered what I should do. I gave myself a stern talking to, Come on Janet, think. So, what if this place is a bust? You still have about $20,000--. Go somewhere else—but where? Perhaps, London? Maybe Greece? My head was thumping and it was hard to focus with the inquisitive stares of the room on me, but I finally muddled my way to a decision. Armed with my new plan, I marched purposefully to the front desk. “I’ve had a change of plans; I’m checking out today. I would like to have my bags sent to London, general delivery. Is there a train schedule?” I planned to make my final destination decision on the train ride to London.

The pimply-faced adolescent checked me out (of the hotel, that is) and pointed me towards the brochure rack, telling me to leave my bags next to the door inside my room for the porter to attend to. I went to my room, showered and dressed— a wool skirt and silk blouse over the red underwear set topped off with thick wooly socks and a pair of tartan doc martens boots. I also threw a book, a pair of sweat pants and a long-sleeved tee into my purse just in case I got uncomfortable or bored on the train (that uncomfortable plane ride taught me a lesson, okay?)

Then I packed my bags and placed them by the room’s door. I went to the bar and purchased another bottle of vodka (yes, I saw the bartender’s raised eyebrows but I ignored his clear judgement of me). I asked him where the hotel’s driver was so I might get a lift to the train station. I was told that Fergus was gone on the day’s errands and would not return for three to four hours. “Oh, never mind,” I said irritably and stomped out of the hotel.

Great, now what? I thought as I looked around me.

I was cheesed off and wanted some solitude in which to think. I contemplated taking a stroll into the mountain’s foothills. They didn’t look very daunting in the early afternoon light but my little voice of reason popped up and said, Perhaps you’d better not wander off into the unknown wilderness. Is that really a smart thing for a city girl to do? I was on the verge of listening to the wisdom of that little voice, when I saw the honeymoon couple strolling my way. That decided me; I turned and briskly walked in the opposite direction, up the little path into a small wooded area.

Shit, it was cold and I wasn’t wearing stockings or even a sweater. Good thing I had a nice bottle of vodka to keep me warm. I pulled it out of my purse and drank deeply. I walked and drank for quite a while. I was literally shivering with the cold and wondered if the old driver had returned to the hotel yet. I looked at my watch and was astonished to see that it had stopped. That was odd because I had just wound it at lunch. “With my luck, I have wandered into a Scottish Bermuda Triangle,” I giggled and questioned my sobriety which made me giggle again.

I gazed at the beauty of the Scottish countryside. To my left, I saw a wild rose bush set off a bit from the path and wandered towards it. It was so unexpected and pretty; I was struck with a sudden, mad urge to have one of those roses, a memento of Scotland. The bush wasn’t quite as close as I’d thought, but eventually I reached it. Its roses were a deep, dark velvety red that took my breath away; I simply had to have one. I reached out to the bush and tripped over a rock, down I went, skinning both of my knees on the rocky ground.

“Ouch, fuck, that smarts... I must have drunk more than I thought,” I said aloud and jumped a bit at the sound of my own voice breaking the quiet. I stood up and picked a bloom from the bush. I inhaled its scent—divine. I carefully wrapped it in my hankie and placed it in my bag. I turned to go back to the path but as I did, my eye caught sight of a fracture in the ground under the bush. That is pretty freaking cool, I thought. What can I say? I’m a city girl and I had never seen anything like that before. I took the flashlight out of my purse. “Just like Nancy Drew,” I giggled.

I lay on my belly, probably not the best thing for my silk shirt, and looked into the crack, shining my light around. It was an underground cave! I felt like an explorer discovering a new world and craned my head a bit more to get a better look around. Suddenly, I felt myself sliding on the wet moss. I clutched at the ground, trying to grab something to stop my fall, but came away with a handful of moss which I stared at stupidly as I tumbled into the hole. I fell about ten feet before landing (hard) on my ass. “Christ! Son of a bitch!” I exclaimed. I tried to stand and discovered that I had managed to get my purse tangled around my boots. I freed myself from it and experimentally got to my feet; nothing was broken, but my ass sure felt bruised and sore.

Under the Ground

(Janet)

Great, just fucking great. I looked up at the crack I had fallen through and saw a narrow sliver of blue sky. It seemed impossibly high. I looked around me; there was nothing to climb up on and I quickly realized that I wasn’t going to make it back out that way. I tried to calmly consider my options—not an easy task considering I’d downed about a quarter of a bottle of vodka. Okay, so I could wait down here for help that wouldn’t come— it dawned on me that the hotel people would assume I had headed to London. It looked like I was going to have to help myself out of this mess, but how? Maybe there was another way out of this place.

In the dim light, I saw my purse and its spilt contents. I gathered up my flashlight and thanked the universe that the bottle of vodka had landed on my sweats and so had survived my fall into darkness. I inspected my rose and accused it of causing this mess. Then, I took a deep drink from my bottle, picked up the various items that my purse had coughed up—a book, clothes, a broken compact, my wallet, a hairbrush, and hairclips—, and started walking.

I think that my mind was playing tricks on me because as I walked, I kept hearing a woman’s soft laughter.

After what I guessed to be about an hour, I was verbally berating myself, “Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!” as I stumbled around in the darkness of the cave. I had thought to preserve the weakening battery of my flashlight, had convinced myself that my eyes would adjust to the darkness of the cave, so now, I was stumbling into stony walls and painfully tripping over rocks. I imagined my knees were a bloody mess by now. Shit, I should have stayed put.

How could I have been so foolish? I was lost and wandering in a cave and no one knew or cared that I was missing. “I’m goddamned Alice but without a rabbit to lead me,” I muttered. I was hopelessly lost, panicked, exhausted, and more than a wee bit drunk.

I did the only sensible thing I could think to do; I sat down on the cave floor and began to weep tears of frustration and self-pity. I’m not sure how long I’d been sitting there when I heard something large moving rapidly towards me. Crap, were there bears in Scotland? In a soft, shaky voice, I called out, “Hello?”

The movement stopped and I heard someone gasp. I turned my flashlight in the direction of the sound and saw a man coming towards me. “Hush, Dante mustn’t hear you,” he said. He grabbed my arm and pulled me into a small recess of the cave. I struggled against him until he whispered, “Please, you must be still.” For some reason, I did as he commanded. I turned my flashlight on the man in order to get a better look at him. I saw that he was first, gorgeous— pale, tall, with a slim muscular build, and long dark, curly hair—and second, completely naked. He hissed, “Put away that light or Dante will find us,” and for some reason, once again, I obeyed him. I wondered if I was being swayed by his incredibly good looks.

In that dark hole, my mind was going ninety miles an hour. Who was Dante and why were we hiding from him? Who was this man and where in the heck were his clothes? Maybe I was hallucinating. Maybe I’d landed on my head, not my ass, and this was all a crazy dream. I heard that laughter again and told it to shut up.

A Loss of Innocence

(Janet)

The space was small and our bodies were very near, almost touching. I felt the man’s warm breath and soon his growing erection. He awkwardly tried to shift sideways. After a few moments, he spoke, “I think he has gone.” I nodded though it was too dark for him to see me doing so. I was very conscious of his nearness and trembled. I wasn’t at all used to being this close to a man, especially a beautifully naked man. He noticed my tremor and tried to soothe me, “You mustn’t fear me; I’ll not hurt you.”

I straightened and tried to be brave, “I’m not afraid of you.” I fought the inexplicable urge I felt to touch him. I moved backwards, out of that recess, away from him, and tripped over a rock behind me; yeah, grace is yet another attribute I lack. He reached out and caught me; I found myself in his arms.

Maybe it was the darkness (more likely the vodka), but I boldly reached for him. I pulled him to me and felt the charm of his soft lips as I passionately kissed him. He faltered for a moment and then he responded, crushing me tightly against his naked body. He moaned as his hands clumsily pressed and explored my needy body. My clothes seemed to fall from me (did I remove them or did he?) until I was as naked as he. He unpinned my hair and it fell about me. I was overcome with sensations: his mouth was on mine kissing, his tongue probing, his hands on my breasts, pressing and kneading. I gasped and pulled away from him. “Wait. I …I have never been with a man before,” I panted, embarrassed and heated.

He pulled me back into himself. “I, too, am an innocent,” he murmured into my neck. Given his good looks, I didn’t believe that for a minute, but when his mouth found my breast and he began to gently suck, I ceased to care. His hands seemed to be everywhere, rubbing and fondling me. My desires overwhelmed me; I found myself wildly groping his hard body, wondering if I was doing this thing correctly, but I pushed my doubts from me and listened to my body.

I felt his hard cock pressing against my thigh. His lips were on mine; I moaned into his mouth and whispered, “Oh God! Oh, please, don’t stop”. His kisses became more passionate and urgent. I heard myself making an odd squeaking noise; I was breathless and very heated. We were both panting and his hand slid between my legs, opening me up. I clung to him. I felt my face burning with a confusion of passion, shame, and uncertainty. Was this really happening? Was I really about to lose my virginity in this dark cave, to a nameless stranger?

I was glad for the cover of the darkness, glad that he was unable to see my plain face, my middle-aged body. His erection pressed at my drenched entrance and I spread my legs further apart, pushing my hips forward. I was desperate to feel him inside of me. I dismissed any thoughts I had as to whether this was right or wrong. My hand reached down and I boldly grasped his hard member. He trembled and groaned. He was larger than I thought he would be and I hesitated. I was scared that he would hurt me, but I guided him to my ingress and he pushed, stretching me. I felt him slip into me and my eyes widened. I suddenly felt small against his bulk and power. He moaned again and the sound excited me; I experienced the sensation of a man inside of me for the first time. I felt strained, full. He softly moved deeper and deeper into me. He seemed unsure of himself and was obviously trying to go slow and be gentle.

I cried out as he broke through my maidenhead; he eased back, giving me momentary relief. When he pushed in again, I welcomed him. He felt enormous, huge. This wasn’t what I had expected, but I didn’t want it to stop. God, his passion was intoxicating. I fed on the sensation of his desire for me. He was deep inside of my sex, moving in and out of me. I felt how wet and slick I had become. It hurt and burned, but it felt good, too. I felt myself tightening and my hips crazily rocked. My clit rubbed against him; his hardness filled me. Fuck...I was climaxing as I never had before. “Oh, God, oooohhhh. More! Don’t stop. Please,” I begged, digging my nails into him.

All of the times I’d read erotica and thought it was over the top, that no one actually behaved that way, and now I understood. I was really alive to my body for the first time. He pushed into me harder, faster, almost brutally, as he ejaculated with a cry. Then he fell on me, crushing my body with his. We clung to each other in the darkness. I was softly crying, though not sure why. The man held me tightly and I pushed against him, enjoying the pressure of his sweat covered body on mine. “He’s taken my virginity. I could die right now and be happy,” I thought, though a part of me was waiting for the disappointment that I knew was coming. I was probably just a sexual tryst for him, but I didn’t care.

We slowly pulled apart. When he left my body, I felt a void, felt the absence of him. I was self-conscious and unsure as to what was supposed to happen next. He stood and helped me to my feet—I still wore my boots and that seemed funny to me. He had felt my tears and gently wiped them from my cheek. “Did I hurt you?” he asked, concern heavy in his voice.

“Just a little; I’m okay. Are you okay? I’m Janet...” Shit, I winced at how lame my reply sounded. I was suddenly ashamed; I was a thirty-two-year-old virgin who had just given it up to a guy whose name I don’t even know, oh sweet Jesus. “What’s your name?” I asked in an effort to cover my embarrassment.

“I’m Oscar, but they call me Brother.”

Brother? Was he a monk or something? I shook my head. This was getting worse and worse. “Why don’t you use your name? I can’t go around calling you Brother.”

I suddenly felt an urgent need to look at him up close; was he really as attractive as I believed? I felt around for the flashlight and flicked it on. In its faint light, I saw him smiling. Fuck, he was stunning and my heart fluttered. His hand brushed my cheek, “If you would, I’d like for you to call me by the name you uttered when I possessed you--Ogodo”.

“Ogodo?”

“Yes, you called me Ogodo”.

What? I tried to think; why would I call him Ogodo? Then I realized: ‘Oh, God, oh’…. I almost laughed.

He kissed my fingers. “Janet? I’m no longer an innocent, nor are you. I’m yours and you now belong to me.” I looked up at his face. Belonged to him? Was he messing with me? Maybe he thought I was a rich American or something. Though, looking into his earnest eyes—they were a most remarkable green— I knew that, strange as it seemed, he was being sincere. I was shocked; I couldn’t believe that someone like him wanted me— Yes, I do realize that my self-esteem is non-existent. He took my hand in his. “Though you belong to me, though I find you wondrous, circumstances force me to urge you to leave this place. It is dangerous for you here; I cannot hide you nor protect you from Dante.”

Embracing Adventure

(Janet)

I was immediately anxious, “What? Why?” Was he trying to get rid of me? Of course, he was. I felt the familiar wave of rejection wash over me. I angrily brushed away the tears I felt sliding down my cheeks.

Perhaps I was misjudging him; he looked as miserable as I felt, “Janet, I cannot leave this place and you cannot stay because of my brother, Dante. I fear he will be angry at my coupling without his consent. He is cruel and vicious—he is an animal. All that I possess must be shared equally with him—even you. I would not be able to protect you from his outrages. All I could hope to do is keep him from killing you, no more. That is not a that life I would subject you to; you are too dear to me.” He shrugged, “Surely, you can see that it is better that we get you away to safety. You must leave this enchanted and cursed place.”

I was crushed. I thought about what I had to go back to. He had called this place enchanted and cursed. I smiled, liking the sound of that. My entire existence had been so empty, so lonely, and so dull. Life had no meaning for me, but here in this magical place, was all I had ever yearned for—a man who actually desired me, an adventure! That was worth any price I had to pay. I straightened, “Ogodo, I will not leave you. I refuse to do so. Didn’t you mean it when you said I belong to you, that I am dear to you?”

He frowned at my words, “I did, you are, but I cannot bear to watch Dante abuse you. You don’t understand; he will force himself upon you, inflict great pain...that is his nature.”

I laughed, suddenly confident, “Is that all? Pain and I are old friends. I cannot, I will not, return to a world of solitude. I am staying here with you.” I was desperate to stay. I kissed his lips and rubbed myself against his lean body. “Let me stay, please. You and I belong together. You need me just as much as I need you.”

I felt his indecision. “I do need you, very badly,” he whispered against my neck. He was breathing heavily as he pulled me in tighter to himself. I was elated when I felt his erection swell once more. I fed on his need for me. I took his manhood in my hand and began slowly stroking it.

“Take me again. I want to feel you inside of me,” I demanded throatily. He laid me down on the cave floor. I shamelessly spread myself wide for him. I was sore, but it didn’t matter. My need for him was beyond my ability to control; I craved his desire for me. His lips crushed mine; his hands kneaded my small breasts. My hand remained on his cock; he was rock hard.

This time was easier for both of us. I was still wet from our first encounter. He pushed into me and we both moaned at the sensation. My legs wrapped around him, locking him to me. He let me establish our rhythm as I bucked and ground against him. My sex squeezed him and he panted, “I’m not going to last very long. You feel too good.”

I grabbed his hips, digging my short nails into him as I did. I stared into his eyes, “Oh, fuck, you are everything. Yes. Yes.”

His eyes were watching my small breasts jiggling as I moved beneath him and the sight of them caused him to climax, “Oh, I cannot stop.” He pushed into me faster as he came. I thrust against him a few more times before quieting. He lay upon me, sweating and spent.

Beneath him, I was kissing and licking him wherever I could reach. “I never knew I could feel like this,” I confessed. I mentally chastised myself for my sophomoric gushing.

He rolled off of me and we lay side by side on the cave floor. He sighed, “If you insist upon staying, I must go and tell them of you.” He turned and clasped me to him, “Stay here while I go to tell them of you.” He kissed me once more and left me.

While he was gone, I gathered up my discarded clothing and put it back on. My hair pins were hopelessly lost and my hair hung about me, tangled and wild. I sat in the darkness, drinking, and replaying the recent events in my head. “It’s like something out of a trashy romance novel,” I laughed, happily. As I sat there waiting for his return, it all sank in. I wasn’t a virgin anymore. I was sore as hell, but joyful—assuming that he was actually going to come back, I thought wryly.

My thoughts shifted to his warnings. Surely, his brother couldn’t be that bad and as for being shared, well, it was comical. I was completely undesirable to either sex. Not one person had ever given me a second glance, not really. My mind briefly wandered back to college, to Ben. I shook my head as if to dislodge the thought of him.

I heard voices approaching and quickly stood up, smoothing my hair and skirt.