This is my entry to the 2011 Valentine's Day contest, as well as my first story submitted to literotica. It wouldn't look nearly as pretty without the help of a volunteer editor, PacoFear. Thanks, man!
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The crunch of snow beneath Gwen's boots sounded determined as she tromped through the trees, only a small part of her consciousness aware of the surroundings. She always went to the park when things went wrong. And things had gone very wrong this morning.
Three years together and he had ended it on Valentine's Day. Today, of all days, he couldn't lie to her, he'd said. He just didn't love her anymore. Worse, he admitted he had already found someone else, and he was going to her today. At least he washed the breakfast dishes before he left.
A chill wind flung Gwen's long, jet-black hair into her face and stung her eyes, forcing her to stop until she could see again. She missed the spring. Flowers. Warm sun. She'd never cared for winter.
As Gwen blinked her vision back into focus, she realized that she didn't know where she was anymore. Her forehead furrowed above her cloudy gray eyes. The trees here seemed bigger, older than she remembered seeing in the park before. The little birds chirping down at her from the bare branches didn't look familiar either.
The distinctive rusty gate sound of a squirrel's alarm call caused Gwen to look up. A red squirrel? Here? As soon as the little animal had her attention, it fell silent and skittered down the trunk of its old oak perch.
Gwen smiled as the industrious little creature began porpoising away from her through the snow, leaving a funny, hyphenated trail behind. After a few yards it stopped and turned, chattering over its shoulder at her. The message was clear. She was to follow.
Curious, Gwen eased forward a step. Then another. The squirrel seemed to nod its head in satisfaction, and resumed its hurried quest. Gwen quickened her pace to keep up, adding her larger footsteps to its tiny tracks in the snow.
As the squirrel led her through the thickening forest, a sense of trepidation crept in around the edges of Gwen's curiosity. Just as she made up her mind to turn back around, her small guide slipped under a patch of briars and out of sight.
Gwen sighed and shook her head, realizing that she had been silly to think that a squirrel could want her to follow it. Obviously he was just running back to his home, no doubt terrified that she'd been chasing him.
A little orange nose peeked out from under the brambles, followed by a pair of bright eyes. The chattering resumed, sounding for all the world to Gwen like a high pitched Lassie.
"What is it, boy? Is Timmy trapped in the well again?" she muttered to herself as she stepped towards the prickly bushes. Did she just imagine an exasperated narrowing of those eyes before the little nose disappeared back into the briars?
Gwen was glad she had grabbed her gloves before leaving the apartment. The thorns on the bushes looked like they meant business. To her surprise, the tangled branches parted with little effort when she brushed a hand over them.
Stepping through the yielding barrier, Gwen's eyes widened in surprise at what was revealed. Everywhere, roses. A wild riot of colors danced. A hundred shades of pink gave way to yellows, creams, and scarlets. Climbing roses decorated the occasional tree trunk, dripping out onto low hanging branches. Small shrubs flanked sun-warmed rocks emerging from the earth like natural benches. Other bushes towered over Gwen's head.
Scented, warm air met her face, drawing a flush to her freckled cheeks. A gentle hum of bees and happy bird song greeted her ears. Gwen shed her gloves and unzipped her coat as the snow melted from her hair. Soft, green moss muffled her footsteps as she entered what could only be a garden.
A patient little cough drew Gwen's attention to the base of one of the larger bushes. Her small guide met her eyes, then disappeared behind it. Bewildered, Gwen started to follow him to the far side. Her steps stilled when she heard another set coming around to meet her.
A pair of tanned feet emerged from the bottom edges of a set of hand-stitched suede trousers. Covering long, lean legs, the trousers were tied closed below a trim abdomen decorated with a faint trail of red gold fluff. As Gwen's eyes continued up the approaching figure, they skipped, embarrassed, over the pleasantly smooth chest and paused at the tattoos peeking around from the back of his neck. Small, red blossoms accentuated the thorned vines that caressed the indentations above each collar bone.
"Gwyneth."
Surprised at hearing her full first name spoken in a deep, resonate voice, her eyes met his. The green she found there brought to mind the time she held a rose leaf up to the sun, the bright rays illuminating it like the glass in a church window.
"H-how did you know my name? What's going on? W-where am I?" Gwen's nervousness rose, causing her to stutter and step back.
"Peace, Gwyneth. You are in no danger here. You are a welcome guest in my garden. I thought it appropriate, considering the day." His arms spread to indicate their surroundings as he walked towards her. "As for how I know your name, that is simple. You and I have been marked for each other since your birth. I have known your name since before you drew your first breath."
Gwen's fear spiked. Stories from the nightly news flashed through her head. She tasted salt from the sweat that had suddenly dotted her upper lip. A stalker, he must be a stalker. He probably got her name from some junk mail she forgot to shred before throwing it away. That's how they did it, right?
She raised her hands and shook her head. "Oh no, please no. Don't do this, please. I don't know who you think I am, but I just want to go home. I won't tell anyone about your garden here. Please." Her voice choked off into a rough whisper.
Through her fear, she watched his green eyes fall. The tattooed man sighed and lowered his arms, still approaching.
Gwen's knees felt weak and though a large part of her screamed that she should be running, her legs wouldn't obey. She remained, frozen, while he finally stood directly before her.
He smiled again but when he spoke his voice was now heavy with disappointment, "I had hoped you would remember me this time, but I see that it is not so. Gwyneth, sweet one, simply look within yourself and you will see that you are safe with me. I could never raise a hand to you. I would lay my humble life at your feet if you asked it of me. You are my joy, and precious to me beyond measure."
His hand lifted, and Gwen squeezed her eyes tight against what she could not tell was coming. They snapped back open at the brush of his fingertips against her left cheek. He continued across her temple, sweeping a lock of hair behind her ear. His touch opened a door within Gwen and fear drained out of her in a rush, replaced by a warm glow of recognition.
"Draenan." His name rolled from her lips though she was amazed to hear it.. "I know you. How do I know you?" She drank in the features of his face, the straight slope of his nose, the cleft that dimpled the tip of his almost too delicate chin. She raised a hand to mimic his, brushed her fingertips along his hair, secured it behind an ear. She smiled, unsurprised, when she found it delicately pointed.
Draenan's face lit with elation. His arms encircled her waist, lifting and spinning her in a circle. Gwen laughed as she spun, and braced her forearms against his chest. As she felt her feet return to the soft ground, she admired again the inked roses just beyond her fingertips. Weren't they on his shoulders a moment ago?
The errant thought flitted away when his hands cupped her face. His kiss was sweet and earthy, like the marzipan she had tasted once at a Renaissance festival. Draenen's hands drifted down her bare neck and over her shoulders as he slipped her coat, unneeded, to the ground. She swayed forward, dizzy, longing, when his lips left hers. Goosebumps chased his touch along her arms, still covered by her teal sweater. The warmth of his hands encased hers and he took a step back, drawing Gwen towards the roses behind him.
An arch opened up in the tall flowers as they approached the plants. Below, the mossy ground was decorated with petals of blush, cream, ruby, and delicate lilac. Draenan entered the bower and knelt before Gwen, and his eyes begged her to join him. She knelt, suddenly unsure of what to do next.
The uncertainty must have shown on her face because Draenan lifted her fingers to his lips, the kiss a whisper on her skin. "Be at ease, my joy. I am here with no other intention than to bring you pleasure."
Gwen's breath caught in her throat when his touch moved to her waist, lifting her shirt above her head. The puddle it made on the ground was soon forgotten beside them as he slid his hands up her back, releasing the latch between her shoulder blades. In one motion, Draenan caught the straps of her bra and slid them down and off her arms. Never losing contact with her skin, his palms worked their way back up to her exposed breasts.
She lifted her left hand to his right, encouraging the caresses. Her grasp tightened suddenly as she noticed his arms. Roses trailed down what had been bare skin moments before, decorating his corded biceps. "Your tattoos..." She couldn't finish her sentence.