Richard pushed his way through the thick brush that hid the caern from the
rest of Central Park. The mid-afternoon sun was muted by the foliage, and
he was submerged in a world of green light as the city sounds muted and he
found a familiar trail.
Just before he entered the caern, a hand fell on his shoulder, and he spun
about to face the man behind him. His father! Although he'd never seen his
father, he knew this was the man -- Thomas Rimer, warrior and hero.
Thomas smiled and dipped his head in greeting as Richard lifted his to
show his throat, and for a moment all Richard could see was his prominent
chiseled jaw.
"Hallo, Richard," said the jaw, "I think you'll like it better over there,"
he waved a hand off to the side, away from the caern. "Besides, there's this
PYT I think you should meet. I sure liked her."
Then Thomas stepped back and disappeared into the night. Richard hardly
hesitated before setting off in the direction his father had pointed,
toward the giant chess board. The brush went further than Richard had
expected, and just before the rain began to fall, he noticed that the forest
was made up mostly of evergreens.
The limbs and branches grabbed at him, clung to him, just like his mother,
desperate to keep him from reaching his goal. Whatever that was. But they
couldn't stop him either, just slow him. He stepped into the clearing, and
the full moon shone down upon the hill. At the top, a large dark pair of
eyes looked down on him.
"I've been waiting for you," they said, "I knew you'd come." The eyes put on
a body then, the body of that Senye girl. The rather delicious if small and
tough body of Senye.
She was wrapped in a translucent cloth that shone silver and dark in the
moonlight. She started down the hill, and at either side of her paced a wolf,
attendants on a goddess or something. The expression on her face seemed to tell
him that she knew him intimately -- inside and out -- and a chill danced up and
down his spine. A chill of fear or sensuality, he didn't know and didn't care.
She slipped the cloth from off her shoulders and stood before him, gloriously
nude. "Here," she said, "I don't have a jacket. Wear this when you ride to
keep warm." She waved a hand at the wolves, each now horse-sized.
Richard shook his head. "I think I'd rather wear you when I ride. I'll stay
warmer." he said, reaching out to slip an arm around her. The wolves
dissolved and melted away as he pulled her to him. Her skin was soft and
electric, and smelled of the spices in those stores -- he forgot which ones
now -- and felt just right against his.
Her hands came to rest against his chest -- he was naked now -- and caressed
him gently, dancing around to his back as she rested her head against his
chest now. Soft breath teased the hair that had begun to grow there in the
last few years, and her hair tickled wonderfully.
The two of them fell to the grass, still dappled with raindrops, slowly and
lightly. She nipped gently at his neck, and said "Richard, wake up." When
he reached up to put his hand in her hair, she repeated it in a much deeper
and more masculine voice. It sounded disturbingly familiar. Not until he
had started to pull her face toward his and she had told him for a third time
to wake up did he recognise the voice as Randall's and awoke with a start.

 
-------
zingaro@peak.org
 
You could've heard a pin drop,
except that we were both screaming 'Fock!' at the top of our lungs.

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