| Eight: The End Lance didn’t suppose it was wrong to kiss her there in the salty ocean air -- to let his hands cup her face and stare into her endless eyes. He didn’t suppose it would matter that desire flooded him and being naked pressed against such a free spirited woman was making him crazy with a physical and emotional flutter he’d never had. And he did kiss her, with fervor and passion. He let it go -- he slid his tongue against her lips and traced her cheek with his finger. He breathed into her, letting walls of fear crumble down inside of him. Lance gasped when her hands slipped from his waist to squeeze his ass underneath the cool water. And he leaned into her as his erection swelled against her belly. He needed to consume this feeling, let it wash over him in one long surge of pleasure. He desired to make love to her -- to carry her off to the sand and sob her name. To thank her for coming to him in his time of need. To make amends with his own soul which he had abandoned bitterly so long ago. But he held back. Scaring her would do no good -- and lack of restraint would be a sign of disrespect in his eyes. So he pulled back, breathless and hot, and gazed down at her body in the blue glow of the moon. “You are amazing. Have I said that?” Theresa smiled warmly and nodded. “You have. I’m blushing you just can’t see.” She nuzzled her nose into the crook of his neck and sighed. “This is what life is all about. Feeling good. Being compassionate. Being alive.” She kissed his neck tenderly. “Can you feel it now?” Lance gasped for a breath of air. The overwhelming feeling of security he’d been so long without took him by surprise. His world calmed and his body bobbed in the water with alarming clarity. He did feel it -- the universe and the heavens -- God and love. All of it. Theresa shivered in his arms and he pulled back, brushing a wet strand of hair from her eyes. “You’ll catch cold,” he grinned. “Come on. Let’s go.” She stood there for a moment, gazing into eyes that had seen so much -- seen the best of the world, and the worst of the world. “Are you scared Lance? Of me? Of this? Of life?” He licked his lips and his brows furrowed as he contemplated this question. It was so lighthearted, yet he dreaded his own answer. He feared not knowing the answer. So he took a deep breath and held her hand in his, guiding her from the water without words. When the cool sand touched his feet, he scooped her up in his sturdy arms and carried her toward their discarded clothing. Her giggle was music to him. Her skin a map of life. Her face the angels above. And they came together for him, and him alone. “I’m not afraid anymore,” he said as he struggled to slide his shorts over his wet thighs. “I mean, of life. Of freedom. Of being too young or too famous.” Lance could feel her gaze sliding over his body and he shivered from the scrutiny. “I’m not going to let things hold me down, or challenges block me.” The words felt so damn good flowing from his lips -- escaping from their hiding spot. Words he’d longed to say with meaning for so long. Words that held the power to erase his fears and shortcomings. Fame. Money. Greed. All of it. Stress. Crowds. Pressure. He was only twenty two. Still young enough to learn. Lance turned to see Theresa basking in the glow of the moon, her skin glistening from the water and her eyes sparkling like fireflies. A halo of sorts rounded over her head, and Lance blinked, sure it was an apparition. It remained as she stood there, wordless, smiling into his soul. Her body inched closer to his, legs dancing over the sand. Her hair whipping back in the breeze. She took his hands and placed them on her waist. Standing on tip toes, she brushed her lips across his forehead. “Make love to me,” she whispered sweetly. Lance closed his eyes as her request sank into him. He swallowed thickly, wrestling with emotions and morals -- wanting this to be forever and fearful that once he did lie with her, it would be over. Fearful once more that life would throw him a curve and fuck him up. “No fears, Lance,” Theresa whimpered into his mouth. “No fears.” Her tongue licked over his upper lip gently and he moaned to her. “It’s alright. It’s in the stars. We’re meant to be here, on this night, uniting.” She sounded so sure, so confident. Lance wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him tightly. He lowered her to the sand, uncaring of who or what was around them. Uncaring of eyes or ears that may be near enough to see or hear. Uncaring of what the dawn would bring. His mouth found hers in a frenzied kiss, and he found himself lost in harmonious kisses that tangled with passionate hands. Soon, her hands were peeling his shorts from him once more, and he lay over her naked. His eyes twinkled like emeralds in the darkness of night, and he propped himself up on his elbows to gaze at her. “This won’t change things?” he asked, fretting the reply. “I mean, I want you next to me in the morning. And the morning after that. And after that even.” Theresa smiled up at him, but said nothing. She pulled her head up and kissed his chest. Lance let his head drop to her, kissing her neck with careless abandon, nibbling her earlobe and jaw line, licking her collarbone and dipping into the hollow of her neck. He felt his erection press against her aching for entry -- for some kind of path to guide him in everyway. He wanted to take his time -- to please her and show her how good he could be. Slowly, he eased down her body, pausing to glance at her face. It took his breath from his lungs as her eyelids fluttered shut, and he could feel the press of her hips against him. Gently, he took time to work over her breasts, to suck and tease, to lick and bite. To taste each nipple and lick the salt from her skin. Her tiny whimpers were encouragement enough, and each sound lit a fire in his blood. “Make love to me, Lance. Now.” He was overpowered by her words -- by her gentle demand. As her legs parted, he feared nothing. As her hand slid down his body to touch and guide him into her, he feared nothing. As he slipped into her and she wrapped her legs around his hips, he feared nothing. There was nothing to fear, he decided, as his body rocked into her and the sound of waves crashed into him. He’d never been so forthcoming with his sexuality, or independence as he was at that moment with her. Lance felt a sheen of perspiration form on his body, and it pressed him onward as the wind carried past him, tickling his skin and singing its song. He dared let his eyes open to watch her face -- to see her hand reach down between them to bring herself to orgasm. His eyes narrowed as waves of desire flooded him once more. To see her mouth part, and her eyes squint tighter -- to watch her head twist to the side, and feel her free hand dig into his shoulder -- to see the pureness of her pleasure ripple over her face as diminutive moans fell from her lips -- to hear her breathing intensify, and her voice call his name. It was the very essence of freedom and he moved quickly inside of her, eager to capture it all in one moment. Lance bit through his lower lip as pleasure raced past him in a fiery explosion. He managed a simple whimper before letting go, and opened his eyes only when the delicious feeling had washed away. And she was smiling at him in this innocent way -- this way that warmed him from the inside out. One finger reached up to wipe the beads of sweat away from his eyes, and she traced along the stubble that covered his jaw line. It seemed words were unnecessary as she cuddled him to her, and their hearts met up in this perfect unison. And Lance no longer feared. ********************* The pinks and oranges of dawn peeked through the sky, and Lance shivered from his sleep. His body was draped with his shorts and tee shirt. He sat up and rubbed the sand from his eyes -- from his hair and body. Quickly, he slipped the clothes on, and looked around in a panic. Theresa was gone, and surfers were beginning their morning ritual of arriving at the beach. Secluded as he was, shame covered him, and he dashed out. “Theresa?” His voice was thick with sleep and deeper than usual. Two surfers paused to look at him, and for a moment, Lance feared they would recognize him. They didn’t, however, and continued on their way. He jogged down toward the water and stared over the ocean. His heart fell as he glanced over the sand, and surf, and dunes for any sign of his angel. She was no where. Silently, he began to trek toward the road, one hand on the cell phone in his pocket, ready to call Justin for a ride. It was then that he saw the message. Written in the sand near where they had walked in just hours before. A message to him. A message from her. Lance backed up as his throat swelled in trepidation. He couldn’t read it all, so he climbed the dune a bit to get a better look. His heart throbbed inside his chest as his palms tingled. His body knew she was gone before his eyes had a chance to read. Take anything you want from me, Anything. Fly on little wing Lance fell to his knees as tears fell down his cheeks. She was his angel, sent to set him free. And now she was gone, leaving him to live the life lessons she had taught him so lovingly. Last Menu |