Edited by Melado
Helen tossed and turned for hours, trying to sleep. Her mind had other ideas.
Her feelings for Duncan jumbled, bumped and danced through her head. She nearly hated him when she remembered his giving her that detective's report on Gerry. Then she would remember how wonderful he had been on that high hill in the moonlight. Every time she did, goosebumps chased one another across her belly accompanying a throbbing in the center and her belly going liquid.
Later the memory of that morning in the restaurant with the two farmers sitting behind her, talking about the "scream of the Mountain Lion." Even now lying in bed her face burned recalling the words of the old farmer. She flounced over onto her side, "Mountain lion indeed!" Then she giggled!
Then as she lay remembering she again felt the terror and helplessness, feeling that big, tough cowboy's arms around her, overpowering her. She was helpless in a roomful of men; men just sitting, watching the monster paw her. That was replaced by another kind of fear roiling through her as Duncan rose to challenge her tormentor. Duncan looking a foot shorter, easily 30 years older placing his impossibly small self on the line for her. She saw again his defiant body, a boy defying, denying a giant. She had known the next time she saw him would be in the hospital! She had known that devil would destroy him, kill her knight! Then impossibly this Lilliputian David somehow slew the monster Goliath, rescuing her.
After defeating the dragon her knight had been concerned he may have done serious damage to the thug was attacking her! Her pride in him filled her to overflowing!
She giggled remembering Duncan's cry, "Hi, ho silver!" as he drove out of the parking lot.
The memories flew through her head and the room grew hot; she tossed off the blankets. Then when she was able to force the memories temporarily out of her mind the room felt chilly and she would pull the covers back up. The cycle repeated several times before she realized the memories of Duncan were what made her hot.
With that understanding she recalled being in his arms, kissing him, giving herself to him in the hotel... Only to have him push her away so gently, the longing she saw in his eyes enough to make her cry. The man had wanted her so deeply but even so understood what his acceptance of her offering would do to her feeling of self.
The strength of his character stunned her. She had felt his body reverberate with his need, knew he was aware she was offering herself to him totally. Had already sensed this was totally against her code yet she still felt a need to give herself to him. Somehow he found the strength to resist.
All for her as he understood the self-loathing she would have felt the next morning.
She thought about how he dropped everything to drive here when she called, just because she needed someone to talk to.
And she would forever remember the feel of his arms around her.
She lay in her bed, twisting, burning for him. All this time she felt his presence just down the hall, sleeping on her sofa. All she need do was walk down the hall to be with him. She hadn't even closed the bedroom door tonight. She always closed her door, every night, never failing. She often locked it once her children grew out of the toddler stage.
After hours fighting herself, Helen found herself rising from bed to walk toward the hall. As she walked she felt her gown was soaked through and stripped if off over her head. She dropped it on the floor, but ignored the robe lying on the chair by the door.
In the hall she found herself walking, bathed in the soft light of the moon bathing the living room with its silver. That room was still, the sight of the opened hide-a-bed somehow seemed erotic. Like a man's sex, unrolled and grown out of its nest?
The opened drapes allowed the moon's light to fill the room with soft luster but cast mysterious shadows, mysteries holding joys unknown.
Duncan lay quietly on the hide-a-bed in a shaft of moonlight. Standing looking down at him she felt warmth for him sliding through her again. He looked so strong, so masculine, so good there on her couch. What her ambivalence must be doing to him!
She felt how inadequate she was! The man she had loved, who she had given herself to unconditionally, had found her less than adequate. All the signs pointed to his abandoning her. Helen had always been confident in her sexuality. She had always been sure, confident in her beauty, strong in being a woman. Now she felt empty, wondering if she was adequate.
Her husband had discovered after years together that she was not woman enough for him. She felt herself shrivel inside, wondering how she could expect any man to find her attractive.
But the masculine beauty of Duncan drove those thoughts from her mind. The hard plane of his chest, dusted with sparse fur in patterns. Her eyes drifted down the strength of his body, following the pattern of hair down to the joining of his legs. There her eyes stopped, mesmerized with the strength and size of his manhood thrusting along his belly.
