By the following afternoon at four o'clock, Tamara and Simon, newly wed, are flying at altitude over the Atlantic Ocean in a can full of dreamers, whipping neatly through the great void resting above the sea.
A holiday in the Caribbean is a lifetimes goal for Tamara and instead of wedding presents that's what they asked for, to have a dream holiday together, something to remember and cherish for always.
And here they were, or, here Simon was. Tamara was in the land of nod, head propped by a small cushion she'd brought with her and got into place as she'd gazed at the passing clouds, her new husband beside her as he held her hand before she drifted inevitably into sleep.
And she almost sleeps all the way to America, despite a brief conscious interlude halfway across the pond there is little got from Tamara the whole journey. Comatose by sheer exhaustion and the rollercoaster of emotions that was the wedding, and all that came with it. Simon lets her be to sleep and dream the time away, to flop her head on to his shoulder when the plane window turns her away, her arm about his waist, he's a happy guy, he loves her, and it isn't until the crew announces the planes impending descent that Tamara emerges from her cocooned immersion in that other place.
She comes up like a cork free'd from a sinking boat, stretching her arms up with her hands forming fists, breaking the tension between that inner realm and her waking world. Her mouth snaps shut after a big, cat like yawn, her eyes blink and from her lips, comes a languid smile.
"Sweet dreams?"
"Mmm." She breathes deep and her eyes widen suddenly as she tries to put her surroundings back into context.
"Are we nearly landing?" She reaches to his hand, bring it up to kiss him.
"Around thirty minutes I guess."
"You tired?"
"Yea it's been a long flight."
"I'm sorry, I fell asleep, I must of.... I was out like a light." She says with a sweet smile and he brushes her cheek with the backs of his fingers. She kisses them, one after another.
His face betrays a look beneath his smile.
"Sshu...." She wacks him, turning about her briefly, then smiling coyly. "Don't you dare!" She tells him.
"Wouldn't dream..." He offers. Imagining for a brief second, the flight attendant announcing over the tannoy to a shocked, amused and titillated plane load of passengers, an explicit outline of the newlyweds wedding night escapades before escaping into an embrace as they snog.
"Y' can take that grin off y' face Simon Horsley. She says to him, her widening eyes, humourously conveying a be-devilment and outrage both at once.
"D'ya love me Simon?" She says,playing the part of the needy wife as she tries to deflect attention.
"Duh!" He says back, and she grabs his shirt and pulls him in close again.
She gazes at him, her eyes flitting as she surveys this package, the new deal in front of her. She comes in closer. "Wanna fuck me tonight?" She whispers, their faces almost touching.
They kiss, freeing their tongues to one another, trying to be as discreet as they can.
"I'll take it that's a yes?"
He chuckles softly. "It's definitely, a yes, will always, be a yes."
Outside the Miami heat is a stark contrast to the artificial cool of the pressured interior of the aircraft. They flit excitedly to the nearest taxi and then head off to the motel.
Once inside they relax in their new surroundings, the motel wasn't all that but she was on cloud nine to actually be here, well not in the Carribbean yet but, here in America and on her way, with him, with Simon. And god! All that had happened to them lately!
Tamara's renewed relationship with her guy was well, giving her a new feeling of openness and confidence, a self assuredness that erased the old feelings of entering into a trap so willingly. That, had been shattered. She loved Simon with all her heart, but that dark underbelly of female lust that had always been there, had always frightened her because of the wreckage it would create if she ever allowed the tigeress to prowl loose. But now, there was none of that pressure, and the feeling of security that gold band about her finger gave her was magic. She was free, and she was secure. And she was also loved in that expression of herself. The repressive cloud of denial and restraint she'd so taken as a given was no longer there, suddenly the sun was out and if she wanted to, she could play.
"Hurry up in that shower Simon!" She calls to him, feeling the frustration of a lusty traveller, penned up and unable to move. At last she hears the water go off and Simon at last gets out of the shower.
He pads in, towel about his waist, chest wet and dripping. She reaches out to him from the bed, her hands pulling his, him climbing onto her as she lays back on the bed then pulls him in for her kiss, thrusting herself into his mouth, pulling herself into him by his head and he sucks at the wet muscle as she claims him for her own.
"Would you want to fuck someone?" It's as if the question only just arose in her mind, like a ball dropping from a pinball machine, rolling out onto a hard floor, it must be grabbed.
She lies still, focused now.
"No." He answers her quite calmly.
