Lost And Found 41

I have been here before

This is my place

This is our place

Was our place

I come here to be alone

To think, to remember

Although I am alone here

I don't feel alone

The memories dance in my mind and my heart so profoundly they have presence; have heartbeats of their own.

They are real

They are with me

I feel their warmth

Like the last hour of an August day shining on my closed eyelids, hues of red, orange and yellow playing patterns for my closed eyes to see. The patterns twist and tumble, explode and implode as I watch their kaleidoscope dance.

Sometimes, you must close your eyes to see clearly.

I don't cry anymore. I am past that part, I guess. Over the years I have cried for you until there were no more tears. My love for you cried out until there was nothing left but emptiness; hollow, sullen, dry. My dour days flopped one atop the other, like an unused desktop Rolodex. Each blank card falling clumsily atop the one beneath it, before it; colorless and insignificant they go 'round and 'round with no end and no beginning, endlessly.

I look up from my journal at the setting sun. I know I shouldn't look at it, even through the protection of my dark sunglasses, but I can't help it. The bright orange sphere adrift a sea of candy color brings a sad smile to my lips and a slow heavy sigh to my lungs. Everything is as it was, then. The dry grasses under my bare feet, tickling as the warm breeze moves them. Like me, they sense the water's edge as it teases and taunts them, the air smelling of the damp earth, the life they so desire, and yet they can only sway, day after day waiting for the distant rains to quench their thirst, knowing everything they need is so close; so close and yet eternally out of reach.

The lake water is orange and pink and red and purple, reflecting the last hour of heaven's daylight. Birds pepper the sky above me, leaving their daily lakeside encampment for the sanctity of the valley's tall trees. They call to the lonely girl below them as they fly over. Life goes on for the world; even for the birds.

I met him in a corner market on a Sunday afternoon after church had given me nothing to ease my troubled soul. The Pastor's kind words couldn't heal me; nothing new. The idea of you in heaven is supposed to bring me comfort but it doesn't. I am selfish I know, but I can't help it. I need you. We were supposed to grow old together. I need you. We used to lie for hours in the grass that is tickling my toes and dream of our life together, forever. I need you. I need you. God doesn't need you, I do.

He was working behind the counter. His hazel eyes were warm and kind. Not dark and piercing like yours, but nice. His lips were full and smiling. Not your perfect, Cupid's bow lips, but nice. His hair, the color of warm clover honey. Not dark and shining like yours, but nice. He was nice; is nice. But he's not you.

Although I keep him at a distance, he is asking me to marry him. I know that I should, but you are still with me, so I cannot. He knows this but still he asks. Still he waits.

It has been five years since I waited for you that night. Five years since you never came to our secret place. Five years since the night that was to be our night, our first night together. Five years since the accident that took you from me...

They found your car in the water below Eagle's Pass. Do you know that? Were you there to see them pull your car out of the water? Did you watch me as I watched the divers search for your body for hours and then days? Were you there at your mock funeral, as we all stood and cried over an empty casket, saying goodbye to an empty grave? I felt you there...as I feel you here, now.

I still love you with everything I am, and I fear that I always will.

A drop of water falls to the page with a splat, startling me. I watch as the ruffled water edge is drawn into the porous paper in dazed fascination. A glance skyward confirms there are no rain clouds above, my squinted eyes see only wisps of pink cotton candy as the setting sun sets them ablaze. The birds have all disappeared, no doubt snug and warm in their nests by now. No, unbeknownst to me, a tear had wriggled free from an eye long dry. I'm surprised by the realization. It may be because this day marks five long years since Dominic's accident. Maybe because of the argument I had with Jon just before I came here. He doesn't understand why I hang on, why I still come to this place. I don't understand it either, so the arguments always end the same... unresolved.

In my usual way, I tear the page from my journal and fold it, taking care not to rip the fine paper as I run my finger along the wet teardrop. I shimmy out of my clothing, the cooling autumn night caressing my bare skin, then dive off the small embankment into the warm candy colored water. This is my usual routine. To swim out into the middle of this portion of the lake and watch as its dark fingers seize the fine paper, the darkness overtaking the light parchment, pulling my words down...to him.

Tears sting my cheeks, hot and pouring at the realization of my actions. They are so morose. Why can't I let him go?

Because I am lost without him; pathetic, it's true. Because I am hopelessly in love with someone who's been gone for five years. Five long years which feel like an eternity at times, and quick as a blink at others. I can't believe it's been that long. Grief punches me hard in the gut, making me exhale with a cough. Lake water fills my mouth with each pathetic attempt at breath. I'm flailing. Normally at ease in the water, suddenly I feel as though I am unable to tread it. My tears are blinding me and the water, which felt summer warm moments ago, is so frigid it grips my lungs with giant hands, squeezing away any chance of expansion. Wildly I thrash, taking in huge gulps of the earthy tasting water with each faltering gasp for air, with each trembling sob.

~ D ~

Air caresses my wet skin in a swirling mixture of summer warmth and autumn chill. I am lying on the bank, staring upward as the brightest stars begin to shine, the Cheshire Cat moon grinning down upon me, and I am calm; even as the tears continue to stream into my hair and ears in hot rivulets.

"

Shhhhhh....

" A voice whispers softly. I inhale sharply and close my eyes. This is the music I come here for. To hear his voice as it whispers to me. My heart doubles its pace as butterflies make my core tremble with their frenzied flight. He sounds closer to me tonight than ever before.

"I love you." I whisper to the growing darkness, my eyes squeezed tightly to prevent the disappearance of the illusion I weave.

"I love you too, Sam" the whisper professes softly, "...my dear Sam."

He always called me Sam. I usually hate it when people shorten my name, but never when he did...does. The way he drew out the S; his low throaty voice. Any name would sound sexy as hell on his perfect lips, no matter how short.

I can imagine his breath, hot and moist on my neck, the weight of his body pressing against mine as he lies next to me on the shore. My eyes shut tighter, squeezing so tightly that two black spheres have come forth in my vision, surrounded by flashing white sparks of protest, but still I squeeze them. Squeezing out the reality I no longer want to exist in. Starving for him, I want so badly for him to be real.

The illusion sets my body ablaze, a heart pounding rhythm of aching need for his touch. My nipples are so hard and erect they are almost painful and that familiar tightening in my lower belly that greedily demands attention. My hands slide over my drying skin, skipping and skidding across the varying patches of damp and newly dry flesh, raising goose bumps as they go. My left hand rubs my aching breasts urgently as my right slips between my legs. I imagine its Dominic's hands that touch me, caressing my body, and that his fingers are the ones sliding and seeking that sensitive nub that hides in delicate pink flesh. I groan at that first shuddering contact, but my imagined lover's hand, cool as the lake-water, slides down my arm like a sigh and rests over the hand between my legs. His fingers weave into mine, grazing my sensitive flesh and I groan again, low in my throat.

"As much as I love to watch you touch yourself," Dominic's voice drifts to me in a husky whisper, "I am not here to watch, tonight."

A moan; was it me? Tighter still I squeeze my eyelids, as cool, soft lips touch mine. How had my mind kept the memory of his perfect lips so lucid? They roam over mine, gentle but urgent. My wanton ears hear his voice whisper my name, my wanton lips feel his words against them; his sweet breath fills me, feeding my desire. A cool tongue teases and presses my lower lip- such an illusion. I think I've finally lost it. I don't care if I have.

"You're shivering."

My head shakes frantically. "Please don't stop... I don't care. Don't make the dream die."

Forlorn laughter puffs against my lips. "Sam, I am not a dream, but like a dream, I am unable to keep your body warm."

The gritty sound of wet rocks and sand rubbing together stirs my bones before my illusion carries me swiftly, soundlessly and effortlessly. I cling to him as tall dry grasses painted pale blue by moonlight claw at my feet. My mind is adrift and dream-like until a door flies open and the cacophony of lakeside insects is dampened by the crackle of dry wood burning. Dim orange light dances, making shadows move on the walls and ceiling. I squeeze my eyes shut again, so afraid my spun blanket illusion will unravel.

With ease he lays me on something soft and fury in front of what I assume is a large hearth, dry warmth drifting over my skin, the popping, crackling sounds of wood burning echoing near.

My eyelids are clamped shut, but I feel him looking down on my body as he stands over me.

"You are so beautiful, Sam. How I've missed you..." His voice sounds choked and strained.

I lay still, my arms at my sides, hands clenched into fists. "I would give anything this world has to offer to be able to open my eyes and look upon your face." I whisper.

"Then open your eyes and see me."

If I was half sane, I would be concerned about my overly real illusion, that I can actually feel him near, feel the warmth of the fire, the soft fur under my naked body. Instead I cling to this dream, this illusion, this crazed hallucination. But how far does my hallucination go? Am I ready to test it by opening my eyes? I am sure that if I do it will all wash away and I will still be lying on the shore of the lake, probably unconscious from near drowning and hypothermia. Or, maybe I did drown tonight, and this is... Heaven.

"Am I dead? Is this Heaven?"

"Open your eyes Sam."

Orange light peeks through my eyelashes. Trapped tears spill down my temples and into my hair. I blink away the ones that remain to cloud my vision and see two bare feet next to me, skin pale and thin, marked with blue veins. I stare at them. They are familiar to me. Reminiscent of teenage days of swimming and hours entangled with my own. Those hot and urgent teenage petting sessions that build and build as restraint is slowly worn away, until one day it goes too far, the passion overriding thoughts of propriety or consequence; or heartbreak.

Only this day, our day of reckless abandon, never came.

My eyes travel upward slowly. Wet, black slacks covering long powerful legs, a shining silver belt buckle, a wet, black dress shirt clings to the sculpted abs beneath... my eyes stop at the exposed collarbones of my illusion. I know this throat well, having traced my fingertips and tongue along every inch of it countless times before. A well sculpted chin and jaw, and, just before a sob lunges from my throat, and my hands fly to cover my face, a set of lips, those perfect, Cupid's bow lips.

Without sound or movement, cold, wet material and kisses skim my flesh, starting at my navel and moving upward. Hands gently pull my own away from my eyes. Once again, a cool tongue presses into my trembling lower lip, coaxing me to part them. His mouth roams mine, his tongue dancing with my own, so urgent as to take my breath away. My eyes fly open, purely by instinct and completely of their own will to find two, black, piercing eyes cutting into them. Inky black hair hangs down and covers his pale forehead and eyelids. My heart jumps in my chest, and he knows, instantly.

"

Ssshhhh...

" he whispers. "It's okay."

"Oh my God, Dominic" I whisper, my hand coming to rest against his cheek, smooth as the day I lost him. "I can see you... feel you, as if you are really here."

"This truly is Heaven."

Long slender fingers interlace with mine and bring them to his beautiful lips. He kisses them. "I am here."

We stare at each other; his dark eyes reflecting my own, wide and wonder-filled. Orange light flickers on his pale skin and in his dark, expressive eyes.

"Are you a ghost? Or am I dead?"

A grin curls his lip at one corner, exposing a long, white tooth... a what? A fang?

His eyes watch mine intently as my mind attempts to process what my eyes see.

"You are not dead, and I am not a ghost. I am..." His words trailing off as his eyes shift away from mine, to the fire.

I stare at him, so unimaginably thankful to be with him once more, and yet, suddenly a seething anger unlike anything I have experienced before belches forth.

"You have been alive, all this time?"

"You've been here all this time?" My voice sounds shrill and odd, even to me. I slap him, hard across the face, and I am up and running before the action even registers to me. My brain has not even begun to catch up with my delirium, and I trip over my tangled legs and fly forward, only to be caught before I fall. Easily and gracefully he encircles my body with his arms, pinning me to the far wall. My chest is crushed against its hard, cold surface, his wet clothing against my back, both a startling shock to my nude, fire-fevered skin. His strength far surpasses my own, still I flail uselessly like a trapped bird.

"Sam, listen to me." His voice is frantic, his face buried into my neck and hair. "Samantha... fuck, my dear, sweet Samantha. I have been watching you come here year after intolerable year. Each time you do, I know as soon as you are within miles of the lake, I am so attuned to you. I come and watch as you write to me from your journal, as you swim in the lake, as you cry on the shore... as you touch yourself, thinking of me." He pulls away slightly, allowing me to infinitesimally twist in his direction, but still holding my body captive between his and the wall. From the corner of my eye, his gleaming white fangs, and I am sure that is what they are now, shine in the dancing firelight. "But look at me! I had to stay away, to let you move on, so you could have a life... a normal life!" His voice turned suddenly dark, "So I couldn't hurt you." He lunges from me, so quickly a startled, strangled scream leaps from my throat. He tears down a calendar from the wall and is back against me before I can move, his actions merely a blur. He holds the calendar where my turned face can see it. Each day is marked with large black X's.

"I have marked off the fucking days for five years, Sam! Five years I have stood by, watching you cry over me, watching you..." He throws the calendar to the floor. "I wanted you to have a... normal, life, Sam. A life I can no longer give you!"

My breaths are ragged and my head spins threateningly. "I don't give a fuck about a normal life, Dominic!" Tears begin to stream from my eyes once again, but this time, his soft lips are there to kiss them away. "I don't care what you are."

My teeth are clenched hard with fury and passion. "I want you. I need you. I love you."

His physical longing presses into that junction between lower back and divide as his hands snake around my bare hips, sending electric shocks throughout my body. Long tapered fingers skim through coarse hairs before slipping between my legs. We moan in unison as his fingers saw into the delicate flesh between my legs. Two fingers hook into me, slipping easily into my primed core. Together, we tremble as the cool heal of his strong hand begins pressing circles over my burning clit; pressing, rubbing, encircling; always the right pressure, always the perfect near miss touch. My knees falter, but he holds me easily with a single hand flat on my belly. Too quickly, my body is straining for release, but I start to pull away. I don't want to come like this. I want him, all of him.

"No." He growls into my ear, as if he can read my mind.

"No." I repeat in a pant, grinding my forehead into the wall. Even as I say it, I know it is futile to try to resist him. "I want you."

"And you will have me. You are mine." Fingers warmed by my flesh pinch my nipple, hard.

"I want you to come for me, Sam. I've been waiting so long to touch you. Give yourself over to me." Another hard pinch on my nipple and I cry out at the wall, the shrillness reflecting back to me instantly. His breath shudders against my neck, spurring my desire, but I need more.

My mind is reeling, trying to sort through what the eyes have seen. My body is ablaze in a way I never thought possible. A carnal need overtakes me, possesses me, sleighs me.

"Bite me!" The words come from my lips as if on their own volition.

I hear him hiss, his body convulses and his fangs, sharp as scalpels jut into my neck. I smell blood, a single line, black in the firelight runs down, dripping from my breast. "Dominic!" I scream, my head falling backward, every nerve in my body near combustion.

"Come for me Sam." He growls from his full mouth.

As if he has sole command of my body, waves of molten pleasure crush me as they build nearly painfully in my core and explode outward, my body completely at his mercy, my cries echoed by a distant howling animal in the darkness.

He turns me to him before the convulsions have ceased their rein. Instantly my hands fly to his shirt, tearing at it as buttons fall to the floor. I need to touch him, to feel his skin beneath my hands.

Bindings gone, I slide my hands across his chest, over his shoulders, and down his arms. His damp shirt falls to the floor at our feet. I scarcely notice the wet squelch sound. I stare at him in wonder of his beauty, tracing my fingertips across the tattoo of my name over his heart. "You're forever eighteen..."

He kisses me hard on the mouth, leaving his forehead pressed to mine when he withdraws.

"I'm perfectly legal." He says, his eyes blazing into mine before his mouth, which is twisted into a fang exposing grin in an expression that it so sexy it's scary, is on mine again, his tongue licking the inside of my mouth, lips roaming from my mouth to my neck to my breasts, licking the spilt blood and drawing each nipple in. He sucks on them with such greed that nearly my entire breast disappears into his mouth. I watch in fascination as he moves from one breast to the other and back again.

I am overwhelmed, but his mouth is on mine before a sob can break from my chest. I can taste my blood as he kisses me, intoxicating. My hands dart in desperation to his trousers, pulling and yanking on them hard until they fly open, a metal clasp falling to the hardwood floor. He laughs at me as I yank them down unceremoniously.

"This is not how I used to imagine what it would be like to have you undress me." He hisses, but when I look at his face, his expression is not one of disappointment, much to the contrary. Our eyes remain locked as he steps out of the slacks pooled around his ankles. I'm lost in those dark expressive eyes that I have yearned to see again for so long.