I awoke to the delicious smell of home cooked bread and looking at my watch found it was almost seven o'clock. I shook Beth awake and we put on our robes and followed our noses downstairs and into the kitchen where Martha was bent over the stove and the glorious golden-brown loaf of bread stood cooling on the table. Martha turned and greeted us with a smile.
"Here you are at last," she said, "you can help me by laying the table if you like, John will be down in a minute."
Beth and I looked at each other in astonishment. This was a different woman. Gone was the rather hostile Martha of yore, to be replaced by this smiling, cheerful apparition who seemed to treat us as members of the family, rather than unwanted interlopers. She even looked different, her hair was down and, freed from its customary pins, hung to her shoulders, rich and glossy. Rather than the dowdy working clothes she had worn since we had arrived, she was now clad in a well-fitting robe of deepest emerald green, through which the curves of her body were clearly outlined as she moved. With a smile on her lips and a sparkle in her eyes I realised for the first time what a beauty she was. We busied ourselves laying the table, and not the kitchen table either for the table in the sitting room had been opened out and adorned with a pure-while Irish linen cloth. By the time John entered the room the table was laid, crystal wine glasses sparking in the firelight and the shine of the silverware making the table look as inviting as any I could remember. I was absolutely famished, the trauma of the previous days, the prolonged passion of the afternoon and the delicious aromas wafting through from the kitchen combined to make me feel almost faint with hunger, so I was glad that we did not linger over our aperitif but took our places at the table while Martha brought in the steaming bowls of soup that were to be our first course.
I'm afraid I made a bit of a pig of myself. In my defence the soup was delicious, the bread, still warm from the oven, was amazing, and as I have already pointed out, I was starving. So, I can't remember anything that was said for at least the first ten minutes of the meal. I finally lifted my head from my bowl to the incredulous stares of Martha and Beth.
"Er, did you enjoy that?" Martha asked as I mopped up the last remnants of soup with a chunk of bread.
"It was absolutely yummy," I said, "I don't suppose there's any more is there?"
"I'm afraid not," Martha laughed, "but there's a lamb hotpot to follow and then cheese, probably between them we'll be able to fill you up."
"I don't know what's come over Hazel," Beth apologised, "she's normally much better behaved when we're in polite company."
John laughed. "I'm sure she is," he said, "but we can forgive her this once can't we Martha? She's had quite an eventful afternoon... We all have.
"I can see that." Martha said and for a moment I thought that Grumpy Martha was going to re-instate herself. But to my surprise, she continued, "I'm afraid I owe you an apology, I had you down as two of the selfish kind that come here seeking healing without a thought of the consequences for the healer..."
"Martha," John protested, but she interrupted him.
"No John, it needs saying. Hazel, Beth, you are not the first to have found John here, although we have taken care to shut ourselves off from the world. And when they come, John cannot find it in himself to turn them away, no matter the personal cost. Even using the orgasmic ritual as he did with you this afternoon the drain on him is immense. I said to you this morning that it can take weeks for him to recover his strength. During those times he has been so low as to be close to death. So when you came, terrible state though you were in...Well, put it this way, I was less welcoming than I should have been."
"Don't mention it, your bread and soup more than make up for any previous lack of warmth on your part," I thought the situation needed lightening up. "But I don't understand, John seems full of energy, despite curing Beth in spectacular fashion." I looked at him sitting at table with us, bright eyed, the very picture of vitality. "Aren't you supposed to be exhausted?"
John smiled. "Ah," he said, "that is rather down to you and Beth. You two are rather special people as it turns out. Once Beth was healed, your uppermost thought and desire was to return pleasure to your giver -- me. That, freely offered, with love, by both of you and accepted with gratitude by me was enough to more than replenish the spiritual reserves that healing can often deplete." His eyes twinkled, "and as I discovered, you are both adept in the sensual arts. Martha now wishes she had stayed for the ritual, rather than going walking, don't you Martha?"
Martha looked contrite. "Yes, in retrospect it would have been good," she said, and then, enigmatically," but perhaps there will be another time."
Now I was surprised, it had not occurred to me that Martha could have been a participant in the healing. My imagination stirred, I looked at her more carefully, wondering what her role would have been. I looked at her hands. They were well cared for, but they were the hands of a woman who knew hard work. I visualised her strong fingers exploring my body with a touch that was sure and firm. My eyes strayed to where the fabric of her robe flowed over the curve of her breasts and to where the shape of her nipples was so tantalisingly outlined beneath the fine fabric. Not erect now, but large and luscious in my imagination. Did Martha sense my thoughts? I think so because she casually leaned forward so that her robe fell open, just enough to reveal a glimpse of the soft, pale skin of her breasts and the deep shadow of her cleavage. I caught her eye, and she held my gaze as though issuing an invitation. Then the moment passed, but I somehow knew that this was a harbinger of things to come.
The rest of the meal lived up to the promise of the starter and we passed it in general conversation, neither Beth nor I feeling it right to ask the question whose answer we most needed to hear. It wasn't until the meal was over, the table cleared, and we had settled into comfortable chairs around the fire that John spoke.
"Thank you for being patient during dinner," he said, "perhaps it seems cruel to you to be kept waiting, but when you hear what we have to say I hope you will understand." Beth and I looked at each other, if John refused to help I did not know what we would do.
John continued, "Martha and I have discussed your situation at great length and it has not been an easy decision for us, but we have decided that the seriousness of Eve's situation makes it impossible for us to refuse your request for help."
The look of relief on Beth's face was almost comical, and I'm sure it mirrored mine because I felt as though a great weight had been lifted from my shoulders.
"I don't know how to thank you..." Beth began, but John cut her short with a wave of his hand.
"You had best reserve your thanks until you hear the rest of what I have to say," John's face was grave and Martha too looked far from happy. "Have you given any thought as to how it is that Eve became...let's call it 'half-pregnant' for want of a better term?"
