Volume I: The Power of Desire
Chapter One
Campfires dotted the hills and vales, twinkling in the deepening dusk of summer twilight. By each of the well-tended fires was a tent, hundreds of them in all, each crafted of leather and canvas, arranged in long, neat rows alongside the lush foliage of the desert oasis? Surrounded by harsh desert, the oasis was an island of green and blue, ferns and trees and water. The campfires of the gathered army sparkled like jewels on a necklace draped around the neck of the oasis.
Separated from the tents of the other men and officers, closer to the deep blue lake at the center of the oasis, a single tent stood alone. Made of tanned camel hide and sitting beside a roaring bonfire, the tent was far larger than the others, almost grand in its design.
Inside the tent, Delilah waited.
Chapter Two
She waited patiently for the return of her warrior-lover, watching the sun set over the desert through the front flap of the tent. Eyes closed now, she listened to the burbling spring beside the tent – the water warm and inviting, waiting for her, waiting for them both.
When Samson returned from the field of battle, she would bathe him there, soothe his brow, and tend his wounds.
Delilah smiled at the thought. She was content, eager, even happy – certain that nothing could happen to her lover. He was God's warrior on Earth, his cause was righteous, and none could slay him.
He would return to her, as he always did.
And the night would be magical.
She wore nothing at all, as she reclined against the thick furs on the floor of the tent. There was no need for clothing – the fire warmed her darkened skin, and the summer breeze was mild and sweet. As the flames flickered, shadows danced across her tanned flesh, and tiny beads of sweat trickled between her firm, full breasts.
As she thought of Samson, she felt her nipples harden. Without conscious thought, she reached down and ran her fingernails along her long, supple thighs, then gently caressed the soft skin of her flat belly. Her own touch was like electric fire, sending waves of pleasure through her.
She could only imagine what his touch would do.
In the distance, she heard the heavy beat of thundering hooves, approaching from the west.
Her lover had returned.
Chapter Three
When she heard the sound of a single horse nearing her tent, Delilah stood and waited. Outside, she could hear his voice, muttering softly to his steed as he tied the horse to a nearby tree; next came the sound of his pack falling to the ground by the far, his armor and shield laid beside his pack.
She heard his footsteps and bit her lip in anticipation.
The tent flapped was pulled upwards, and Samson stepped into the tent.
Even after their years together, the sight of him still took her breath away. He was a magnificent giant of a man, rough and sinewy, his muscled, sculpted flesh streaked with sweat and dust and blood.
His face wore a thoughtful, troubled expression, but when his eyes found Delilah his cares vanished, and a warm smile crept across his face.
"Hello, my love," he said. "I return to you again, as I promised I would."
She stepped forward and took his hand. "How went the battle, Samson?"
He grimaced. "The Philistines fought bravely and well, but once again we won the day and emerged victorious. They are routed, and are retreating as we speak. But many sons of Israel died glorious deaths on this day. The price of victory was high."
She leaned up and kissed his cheek, then whispered softly, "Let me ease your pain, take you mind off the horrors of war ..."
Suddenly, the valiant warrior and leader of an army seemed to vanish, replaced by young man filled with virility and desire. He looked down at Delilah, letting his gaze linger over her long, slim legs, her slender waist and high, heavy breasts.
"That, my love, sounds like a wonderful idea!" he declared, reaching for her lustily.
Giggling, Delilah slapped his hands away. "Not yet, you brute! Let me bathe you first, wipe the grime of battle from you body!"
He nodded and grinned sheepishly, still admiring her nubile body.
With a matching grin on her delicate face, Delilah took his hand and led him out of the tent and towards the warm waters of the waiting spring.
Chapter Four
A small bucket sat beside the bubbling waters, filled with sponges and vials of oil. Delilah led Samson to the water, nudging him forward.
"Come on, my brave warrior. Into the water so I can tend to your cuts and bruises," she said patiently.
Samson quickly disrobed, shedding his leather tunic and silk cloak; the mud spattered clothing falling to a heap on the grassy slope beside the spring. Naked, he stepped gingerly into the water where his lover waited.
"Doesn't that feel nice?" Delilah cooed.
The water was almost hot on his flesh, soothing him, bringing relief to his tired and battered feet.
"That is nice!" he agreed.
Delilah looked at him carefully, inspecting his body. "Oh, look at you! All bruised and wounded ... those Philistines did fight well today, didn't they?"
"They did," Samson said, nodding. "But I slew many of them."
Delilah ignored his boasting and began tenderly cleaning his wounds, wiping the dust and dried blood from his forehead, then tenderly washing a long laceration from his forehead.
"Have I tended to all of your wounds?" Delilah asked.
Samson grunted in response.
Delilah smiled warmly. "I'll take that as a yes ... now let's bathe you! Come on, now, under the water ..."
Treating him roughly, like a mother with a reluctant child, she put her hands on his massive shoulders and shoved him under the gently bubbling surface of the water. Samson came up sputtering.
"Did you have to dunk me under like that?" he demanded.
"Oh, the big strong warrior is being bullied now?" Delilah asked, looking up at him with a twinkle in her crystal blue eyes.
