Bella Notte

Gina got up from the big armchair, the backache she had been feeling the whole afternoon started to get worse. Joe was asleep on the couch. The book he had been reading lay on his chest. She gently picked it up and placed it on the small side table. His eyelids shivered but he didn’t wake. The house creaked in the cold; this night was predicted to be colder than the last.

The ambers in the fireplace were almost out so she grabbed the poker and stirred until a few flames came back to life. She bent down and picked up two logs of wood and put them on top. Then a strong urge  came over her. She ran quickly across the small house.

The bathroom was cold and cramped, she felt gigantic in there with her big belly. The baby wasn’t due for another four weeks. She sat down on the bowl. Ouch, her stomach hurt now!  Had she eaten something she shouldn’t have? When she wiped and saw the pinkish red on the paper she shook her head.

“No, no, no! Not yet! Not now! Not tonight!”

The pain in her back escalated and she had to take a deep breath.

“Fuck! Not now!”

The long walk from that morning flashed before her eyes. They had walked through the deep snow for over an hour. The spruce had been covered in blankets of snow, the crossbills had been chirping, spilling flakes from the cones on the white snow. The creek, a stream of black ink and the sky endlessly blue.  She hadn’t felt tired. She hadn’t felt any strain. Only a profound sense of calmness.

Another knife in her back, she leaned against the wall and whimpered. When the sharpness slowed down, she opened the door and walked back to Joe. He was still sleeping.

“Joe.” She had to clear her throat. “Joe!” she said a little louder. He opened his eyes and looked at her. “I think…” she started then the pain stopped her. He flew off the couch and ran up to her.

“Is it the baby?”

She nodded, the pain reached its peak and then it diminished again.

“Shit!” He stood frozen for a second, and then he picked her up and put her down on the couch. “Lay here and I will get the car ready.”  He looked down at his hands; it looked like he was counting on his fingers. “And I will call the doctor and your mother and pack a bag.”

He ran towards the bedroom with his cellphone in his hand.

“Fuck, no signal.”

Gina closed her eyes, the thought of being up here alone for the weekend had been wonderful. Only the two of them before the baby came. No family, no parties, nowhere to go.  No calls, no emails, no Facebook, no Google+. Just the two of them in peace and quiet.

“I will call from the road,” Joe said and disappeared into the bedroom. 

She lay on her side, waiting for the next contraction. When it came she tried to remember to breathe. Deep in and out. They only last for about a minute. A minute is nothing. She could hold her breath under water for a minute.

Seven contractions later Joe had helped her out of the house and on number eight he started the car. They drove slowly down the dark road. The snow crunching under the tires, the sky crystal clear and the moon a silver coin.

Joe called the doctor and her mother. She could tell that both parties in the conversation couldn’t really hear. Another contraction interrupted her train of thought. Oh holy moly it hurt.

“Sing to me,” she whispered, “Joe, sing to me.”

He hummed a few tones, then he started to sing.

“It is a little bit funny this feeling inside…”

Gina listened to his voice, the next contraction was worse than before, she whimpered and Joe stopped singing.

“No, no, no, don’t stop.”

He started again and she focused on the words and Joe’s voice. Then something warm gushed down her legs.

“My water broke.”

“Now? Here in the car?”

Joe’s voice filled with stress and panic.

“Yes, here in the car.

The deer appeared out of nowhere on the moonlit road.

“Joe!” she screamed and pointed.

He tried to steer to the side, he pumped the break but it was too late. The thud went straight through her body, then the windshield cracked and she tried to crouch down but her belly was in the way. An eternity passed until the car finally stopped on the side of the road with the bumper buried in the snowbank.

Both of them were panting hard and looking at each other. Gina felt the tears close by. This was not how she had imagined being in labor. On a dark road in the middle of nowhere with deer blood all over a broken window.

“Are you ok?” Joe reached out his hand and put it on her arm.

She nodded but couldn’t speak. If she did she would for certain start to cry.

“You have to go out and see if it is dead,” she said.

“Is that really necessary?”

“Yes.”

He looked at her, pulled his eyebrows together and pursed his lips but stepped out of the car. She heard his footsteps descending and then approaching again. She waited, surprised over that the contractions had stopped.  He wiped his hands on his pants before he climbed in.

“Was it dead?”

He nodded.

“Did you pull it to the side?”

He nodded again and reached for the key, he turned it, the car sputtered but did not start.

“No! This is not happening!” He turned the key again. The same thing, car sputtered but refused to start.

“I will call,” he stopped short. He didn’t know who to call. An ambulance? A tow truck? It would probably take an hour for an ambulance to find its way out here. Did anyone even work at the mechanics today? And he didn’t even remember the number.  They couldn’t walk back to the house; they were at least three miles away by now.

Now Gina couldn’t hold back the tears anymore.

“I don’t want to give birth in a car. I don’t want to give birth in a car!”

Joe leaned over the steering wheel, not responding to her pleading voice.

“You won’t.” He lifted his head from the  wheel and looked at her. “You won’t. There is an old barn up here.” He pointed into the woods and Gina shivered. “I will carry you there and then I will walk across the woods and get Mr. Hirt. He will help us.”

Gina shook her head.

“No, I would rather stay in the car.”

Joe opened the car door again and stepped out.

“Not a chance that I will leave you in a car on a dark road on Christmas Eve. Do you have any idea how drunk people get up here? Someone might come along and drive straight into the car.”

She covered her eyes and shook her head.

“Shit, no, shit,” she mumbled into her hands. And where had the contractions gone? She put her hands around her belly and whispered.

“Are you ok in there? Just stay put a little longer. Wait until we are at the hospital. Just stay in there. You are safe in there.”

Joe opened the door on her side; he had put on his hiking back pack and strapped their car blanket on top of it.

“Ok darling.” He reached out his hand and she took it. She didn’t want to leave the car, wanted to stay in the familiar smell, the familiar surroundings but Joe pulled on her hand and she stepped out.

“I can walk,” she said and he nodded.

The snow reached up over her boots as they walked between the trees. The full moon turned the snow into an extraordinary blue.   After a few minutes in the deep snow she felt the first contraction since they hit the deer. Not as intense as before but at least it was there. She stood still as it peaked and then she started to walk again.

The barn was old, crooked and smelled of old hay and coldness. She stood in the dark and watched as Joe walked around with his flashlight and gathered up hay in a pile in a corner. He spread out the blanket on top. Gina looked down at her feet, felt another contraction rush through her body. The pain grew, grew and then started to diminish again. Curves of pain, up to the top of the hill and then downhill again. Rest in the valleys, collect strength, gather your thoughts.

Joe left her with the flashlight and his jacket. He walked out the door in his fleece and the dark grew twice as penetrating.  At first she sat on the blanket but soon  got up, walked over to the door and stood in the opening and looked at the moon. The contractions grew longer, stronger, shorter time in between. Held onto her cellphone, hoping that the signal would be there if she needed it.

He had walked these woods a hundred times in his life. In the summers he had used to run here with his dog Lady and he could make it to Mr. Hirt’s house from his parents in less than twenty minutes. Tonight, the distance was enormous.

All the lights were off in the house as he came running up the driveway. As soon as he got into the yard the dogs in the pen started to bark and before he had arrived at the door the outdoor light was turned on. He slipped and almost fell headfirst into the stone steps. The door opened and Mr. Hirt filled the whole door opening. Still a strong man even though he had passed seventy a few years ago. His father’s best friend, sturdy, deep laugh, next to his mother by the grave on that cold and rainy March day.  Joe was breathing heavily, he tried to get the words out he barely managed.

“What has happened boy?”  Mr. Hirt put a hand on his shoulder.

“Gina, the baby…”

“The baby is coming?”

Joe nodded and tried to catch his breath. The air was ice in his throat.

“Where is she?”

He pointed up the road.

“The old barn. We hit a deer. The car won’t start.”

Mr. Hirt stood completely still for a moment.

“I will get Angela.

Joe coughed hard, he was very close to throwing up.

“You go back to Gina.” Mr. Hirt’s voice was stern. “I will get Angela and then I will get to you with the horse and sled.”

“Angela?” Joe stuttered.

“The old midwife in town. She does home births now. She will know what to do.

Joe almost said “the hippie” but he held back on his words. Angela lived alone in a small house not far from Mr. Hirt. Already as a boy he had understood that the men gladly stole an extra glance at her as she walked by in her long dresses and jangly bracelets.

Mr. Hirt pushed him on the shoulder.

“Go!”

Joe stumbled down the steps and started to run back to Gina.

The water kept dripping out and made her wetter and colder so she pulled off her tights and wrapped the blanket around her waist. Crouched down on the floor, felt the weight, the heaviness in between her legs. One, two, three contractions in a row and now she threw up on the floor. When the next contraction came she screamed from the top of her lungs.

“Joe! Where the fuck are you!!!!”

The last one took a toll on her energy, she dropped down on all fours, rested and then he was there. There with his voice, his warm hands on her back, moved her long hair out of the way.

“Darling.” His voice was close to her.

“Joe, the baby is coming soon.”

“Shhh, Mr Hirt will be here soon. He is bringing a midwife.

Gina leaned against him. Couldn’t even complain anymore. All her strength was centered somewhere deep low down in her body.

How many more could she stand, how many more would come? Joe made her drink some Gatorade  that he had fished out of his bag pack. Then she was sure she heard sleigh bells. The pain was playing tricks on her. Then there was light.

A woman in a fur coat and long grey hair stood in the barn. She held up a lantern in her hand and looked straight at Gina. The light from the lantern was warm, welcome, comforting.  The woman walked straight up to her as she leaned against Joe.

“How are the contractions? Stronger? Closer together? Water broke?”

Gina nodded.   

“Any downward pressure? An urge to empty the bowels?”

Gina shook her head.

The woman smiled and caressed her cheek.

“Soon enough. You are close now. The pain won’t get any worse. Try to stay upright, it helps with opening the womb.”

“But,” Joe said, “the hospital.”

Angela shook her head. “Too late for that. Either the contractions will stop or the baby will be born on the road. Neither good.”

The woman walked out the door again and came back with Mr. Hirt, who carried a big bag.  They pulled out several white sheets from it and covered the hay Joe had gathered up before.

Was it five, was it ten or was it fifteen contractions later when, she suddenly felt a different sensation? She could feel she wanted to push. Oh, the urge was so strong. Angela must have sensed it because suddenly she was there.  Removed the blanket, sat down, put her warm palm on her vagina and applied a slight pressure. Angela lifted her head and smiled broadly.

“Yes, you are ready.

She led her over to the sheets.

“Push when the urge comes, rest in-between. Let your body dictate. Follow the rhythm and this baby will be out in no time.”

Gina was about to lay down when Angela grabbed her hand and stopped her.

“No, not on your back. Use gravity. Kneel or crouch. Do you want Joey to hold you?

Gina nodded and Joe came over. Angela showed him how he could hold around her body so she didn’t have to put all her weight on her legs.

These contractions were different. They were filled with purpose. She pushed when her body told her to. Angela was there, murmuring in her ear how strong she was. Joe’s arms were around her body. She could feel his chest against her back.

 A shorter time had passed than she thought was possible when Angela said she saw the baby’s head.

“Only a few more now. Don’t rush. Slow.”

She pushed a few more times and the overwhelming feeling of being stretched to the breaking point disappeared.

“One more Gina.”

One more and the baby was out. A piercing cry split the world in two. She slumped down, her legs shaking.  Angela urged her to open her blouse and the baby was placed on her naked skin. Slippery, wet, bloody and angry.

“If you can, let her nurse.”

Gina opened her bra; put the tiny girl to the breast and the baby greedily sucked. As the baby lay there Angela snipped the cord and tied it.

The placenta came out in an instant, the cold gone, the pain forgotten. Nothing else existed but her, Joe and the tiny girl on her chest.

Angela sat down next to them, caressed the almost hairless skull.

“Have you thought of a name?”

“Sofia,” Gina said.

“Wise,” Angela said. “Someone who has such an urgency to enter this world…” She stopped and smiled.

As the eastern sky turned into golden green Joe helped her out to the sled. Little Sofia, snug against her chest, sleeping with the nipple in her mouth.  She knew she was supposed to be exhausted but she felt light as a feather.

 

 

The Hook (perhaps more a poem)

Every day we walked by the house.

Old and crooked. Built over a hundred years ago.

The foundation was an array of grey stones and clay.

In the back he had his sawhorse and his chopping block.

The wood he piled high. A round configuration. Perfect. Stable.

In the middle a hole so the wood wouldn’t rot.

 

In the afternoon after school he stood in the early autumn sun.

With great power he halved the wood. Threw the pieces over his shoulder.

We walked by slowly. Tried to catch a glimpse without being too obvious.

Sometimes we would even walk around the block so we had to pass twice.

The sun would reflect off the hook at the end of his left arm.

A cold, steely reflection.

And we were terrified.

A man with a hook! No hand! A hook!

Would he pull us into the shed and kill us with that big axe?

He must be dangerous, even evil.

 

A few years later my mother worked as a home care aid for the elderly.

The man got a name. The man got a history. We had failed to see the man.

The man behind the hook. The man behind our fears.

There was a gentle, intelligent man. A man who wanted to become a teacher.

But grew up in a poor farming family and had no choice but go to the saw mill.

As a fourteen year old. Haul heavy wood, watch out for the sharp saw blade.

Grow muscles on his back, his arms, and his shoulders.

A man who married a sweet woman, had children. A boy and a girl.

A man who was tired one cold winter morning. Walked the four miles to the mill.

His toe nails almost cracked in the cold. A few hundred miles away Europe was on fire.

A war tore through the continent. He was tired this morning. Maybe coming down with the flu.

And his hands slipped. A fraction to the side and the saw blade tore through his arm.

 Blood sprayed on the snow.

“Good thing it was cold,” the doctor said “the blood moves slower in the cold.”

 

On his bookshelf, in front of, August Strindberg, Leo Tolstoy and Ernest Hemingway.

In front of his books stood the brand new prosthetic hand. Pink, a dead piece of rubber.

He refused to use it. Felt handicapped wearing it. Had gotten used to the hook.

Controlled it, never slipped, not even a fraction as he halved the wood in the early autumn sun.  

 

 

 

 

 

The Online Game

Even though the sun had set a few hours ago the roof of the house was still hot. The crickets and cicadas tried to out chirp each other.  The air outside was humid and lukewarm; if you went out you would start sweating instantly.  Lisa lay on her stomach in bed with her laptop in front of her; she tapped on her front teeth with a long, light pink nail.

“Mark,” she said and looked over at her husband, who sat by the computer completely absorbed in what he was doing. He didn’t react at first so she raised her voice slightly. He turned slowly and looked at her.

“Yeah, what?”

“I’m talking to Brian but I can’t remember if I have cats. Do I have cats?”

Mark turned back to the computer and clicked a few times and opened a document called Brian.

“Eh, eh, eh, no honey, you don’t have cats.”

“Thanks,”  Lisa said and went back to talk to Brian. Brian, a widower in Boston who loved to talk about books.  “Brian, Boston, books,” she mumbled to herself.  “B, B, B.”

Tonight they talked about British crime novels. Agatha Christie, Arthur Conan Doyle, Dorothy L. Sayers and P.D. James. A very deep, thorough conversation. Exceedingly interesting and satisfying. 

Mark got up from the computer and stretched his long limbs. He went over and sat down next to her,  put a cold hand on her naked shoulder.  Mark hands were always cold, no matter what. He dragged his pointer down her back.

“Do you want some ice cream?” he asked.

“Sure, Rocky Road.”

He got up and went downstairs, she heard him move around in the kitchen. Open the freezer, the cabinets, putting the bowls on the counter. After a few minutes he came back again, he put the bowl next to her on the bed. 

“Thanks darling.”

Mark went back to the computer and she sat up with the bowl in her lap.

“Who are you talking to?” she asked and took a spoonful of the ice cream.

“Kate.”

“Are you talking about sex again?”

 Mark chuckled, satisfied.

“Is she giving you any good ideas?”

Mark chuckled again.

“I will let you know later.”

Lisa put the bowl on the nightstand and listened carefully.

“Is that the baby?”

Mark pulled his eyes away from the computer; he got up from the chair and walked out in the hallway.

“Yep,” he said quietly.

Lisa sighed and got up from the bed.

“I can go,” Mark said as she walked by him.

She shook her head.

“No, you did it last night.”

Lisa walked down the long hallway to the baby’s room.  She heard how he was crying as she opened the door. She saw him in the glow of the night light.  He was standing at the crib side, his dark hair wild  and clutching his stuffed giraffe in his hand.

“Mama,” he sniffled as she picked him up.

“Charlie boy.” she said and put a hand on his forehead. He had an ear infection and in this heat he was suffering. “Do your ears hurt baby?”

He put his chubby hand over the right ear and scrunched up his face. She took the boy on her hip and walked downstairs to the kitchen, on the way she turned down the AC to 69 degrees.  On the kitchen counter laid the syringes with ibuprofen ready. Charlie opened his little mouth and she sprayed in the pink liquid.

“Mama will give you some milky too.” She fished out his bottle from the fridge and the boy grabbed it. He sucked greedily as she carried him back upstairs. “Let’s try to do some pee pee too.”

They went to the bathroom and Charlie sat on the potty. Lisa looked down at her watch; she had been gone for ten minutes. Brian had probably left by now; she would have to say that someone called next time they talked. In his world she wasn’t married, she didn’t have children and they were kindred souls. So much so that he had on occasion expressed a wish to marry her. She knew that soon she would have to cut him off. Eventually it always started to get strained.  How many excuses can you make up for never talking on the phone and never actually meeting?

When Charlie was done she put on a clean pull up and a new t-shirt. The poor little fellow had sweated through the other one. She carried him back to his room and put him back in the crib with this milk. She sat down next to the crib, put her hand through the slats and rubbed his belly. Hummed “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” until he was asleep again.

Her legs were stiff as she stood up; she needed to start with Yoga again soon. Her body craved it. As she passed Charlotte’s and Charlene’s room, she cracked the door and listened to her twins sleeping peacefully.   When she came back to the bedroom her ice cream had melted, Brian was long gone and Mark sat by the computer with rosy cheeks.  She walked up to him, put her arms around his neck and rested her chin on his shoulder. 

“I am really tired, darling. I think I will go to bed.”

Mark turned his head and gave her a kiss on the lips.

“Ok, honey. I will just finish this and then I will come to.”

Lisa went to the bed, sat on the side and grabbed her foot cream.  Squeezed out a big blob in her hands and started to rub her feet. Slowly and carefully.

“This is so much better than TV,” she said absentmindedly. Mark turned around and looked at her with a big smile on his face.

“Yes, much, much, much better than TV.”

When she was done with her feet she crawled under the blanket and turned to her side. Before she had a chance to fall asleep, Mark came to bed.

“Are you too tired or should I show you what Kate told me?”

Lisa caressed her husband’s excited face.

“Tomorrow darling.”

He nodded and turned off the light, he also lay on his side and she moved closer to him. Put her arm around his waist and her face close to his neck. He grabbed her hand and held it in his. And they fell asleep.

 

 

The Blowjob

She stood close to the wall, the sleet filled wind came whipping down the street. She put her hands deeper into her pockets and pulled her shoulders up  to her ears. The cellphone buzzed against her palm and she picked it up.

“Max”

I’m curious to see if this magic mouth actually can get me off.

Her cheeks got instantly warm and hot honey spread through her body. The same sensation she felt every time she talked to, chatted with, texted or thought of Max.

Max the man she had met a month ago at a conference in Chicago. Max who stood out among the cooperative crowd. As soon as he had come into her view she had noticed him. Slender with thick dark hair.  He had moved with a different swagger in his step, the same way people do who play in a band. He didn’t seem to belong to anyone. He didn’t look for anyone.

He had walked straight up to the walnut bar, stood across from her and ordered a beer. He tapped on the counter with his long fingers as he waited. When the beer arrived he put the bottle to his lips and drank a few mouthfuls. When he put down the bottle on the bar he met her eyes and smiled. Friendly. Charming. Wicked.

After he drank some more he walked up to her and extended his hand.

“Hi I’m Max.”

She heard the slightest southern drawl in his voice.

“I’m Leah.”

He leaned in and looked very carefully at her right earring, lifted it gently with his thumb and first finger.

“Is this Evenstar?”

She could hear the surprise and curiosity in his voice.

“Yeah, I’m a real fan.”

After that they had talked about one thing after another. If he said one thing she said, “Me too!” If she told him something he said, “No way!” Whatever subject they talked about they seemed to be eerily alike.  When everybody else had started to call it a night, they had still been talking.

Eventually they ended up in the hallway outside her hotel room.

“Are you going to invite me in?”

He was very close to her face and she could feel his warm breath against her lips.

“No.”

First he looked surprised, then he smiled and moved even closer.

“I am surprisingly good at making out in the hallways of fancy hotels.”

And that was what they did. Kissed, put their hands everywhere they could reach. She pulled on his hair, licked his ears and nibbled on his neck. She hadn’t made out like this in a long time. Almost had forgotten how it felt. How someone’s breath, tongue, hands can bring you to the verge of an orgasm. Fully dressed, standing up sex.

When they finally had said good night she had stumbled into her hotel room. Dizzy, red cheeked, wet through her panties.

The next morning she hadn’t seen him even though he had promised , “See you at breakfast.”

Disappointed, she had gone home only to find an email waiting for her as soon as she had turned on her computer. Now a month later they had spent many hours on the phone, even more hours on the computer.  And now about forty-five minutes ago they had discussed oral sex. He had proclaimed for certain that he never ever came during a blowjob. She had said with a voice filled with cockiness that it was because he never had met her before.

Leah looked around to see if she could spot Jodi’s car in the dark, sleety night. They were going out for dinner tonight and Jodi had made her promise to spill everything about Max. She looked at the text message again, the hot honey bubbled. Never in her life had she been as horny as she had been the last month. How could this man affect her like this, only with his words and his voice?

Deep in her crimson thoughts she didn’t even notice when Jodi stopped the car right in front of her.

“Hey girl!”

Leah looked up from the phone and saw Jodi standing on the sidewalk next to her.

“Oh, hi.”

“What were you thinking about?”

Leah laughed and shook her head.

The restaurant was a warm respite from the cold, raw evening outside. They got a booth by the window and Jodi sat down heavily. She was due in a couple of months but she carried all the weight low down already.

“So,” Jodi panted, “tell me all about this mysterious Max.”

Leah sat down, smiled and started to tell. She was only interrupted by the waiter. A young mulatto woman with wild hair and amazing light green eyes. They ordered a selection of sushi and water and then she kept talking. The sushi arrived, a rainbow on a white plate. It just slipped out, she didn’t mean to say it, but the sushi roll was so good and the words just flowed out.

“And he says that he doesn’t come during oral sex.”

Jodi chewed, nodded and chewed some more.

“Ah, Vincent said that too when we first got together. “

Leah picked up another sushi piece and dipped in the soy sauce.

“I think it is about the ability to let go,” Jodi said. She put a hand on her stomach and caressed it. “Men who like to be in charge don’t like the feeling of losing control. During intercourse they can decide much more but when a woman has their…” Jodi stopped and smiled, then she leaned forward, “I think that old couple is listening.”

Leah turned her head and looked; an old couple was staring at Jodi with curious eyes. Leah put her hand over her mouth and giggled.  Jodi continued whispering;

“When a woman has their cock in her hands and in her mouth, she is in control and can decide when he actually will get off.”

Leah took a sip of water and thought about what Jodi had said. Thought about Max’s sweetness, passion and open-mindedness. And then she thought about how he often said “we will see” when she tried to plan a “phone date”  or asked him if he would be home later, thought about what he had told her about his childhood and then she thought about how he had said  he hated it when people told him what to do.  

“You might actually be right about that.”

Jodi nodded and smiled brightly towards the old couple and said very loudly,

“Or he has never had his dick sucked as good as you can do it.”  

Leah smiled and said fairly loud herself.

“Oh, of that I am 100% certain.”

And to her amazement the old couple applauded.

 

 

 

 

Lunar Pressure

The restlessness made her muscles itch, she got up again from the porch and walked down the path and looked both directions for his car. If he didn’t hurry up and arrive soon she would change out of pure lunar pressure. She took a deep breath, smelled the cold air, her senses were always dilated at full moon, even before she changed.

After a few more minutes she heard his car in the distance and when he turned up her driveway she heard the loud music. As usual Ben played “Werewolves of London”. It didn’t take more than 45 seconds for him to be by her side.

“Seriously Ben? Always the same song?”

He laughed his deep laugh and she couldn’t be angry with him.

“Sorry I’m late. Josh wouldn’t go to sleep and Sara has horrible morning sickness…” He stopped and looked up at the moon. “Well, I guess it technically should be called evening sickness. But now I am all yours.”

They walked to the back of her house. The forest in front of them, now a dark wall but in a few moments they would be able to find their way perfectly.

“First to the river,” she said and started to get undressed. She still could change faster than him. An advantage of being his senior.  Twelve years between them but in the woods it didn’t matter.  The transformation started in the middle. Her heart got fiery hot and the heat spread through her body.

As soon as she stood on all fours she took off. Her intellect was allowed to rest for the evening. She was pure instinct. It didn’t matter that she only a couple of hours ago had been in a heated discussion with one of her pupil’s parents or that her mother’s cancer had come back or that she had been feeling incredibly alone for the last two weeks. Now all that was gone!

She could hear and smell Ben behind her; she could pick out his sounds and his scent anywhere.

At first they ran as fast as they could to get the restlessness to leave their bodies but soon they ran in joy. Together a stream of glimmering fur in the silver moonlight. Sometimes he was first, sometimes she was first. She came first to the river and Ben almost knocked her into the cold water. She growled and showed her teeth but he simply wagged his tail and ran into the darkness again.

The moon filled the forest with a cold clear light and she could smell winter in the wind. Soon snow would fall and she and Ben would have their best time of the year. The winter suited both of them; they liked the cold and the white pure snow. She followed his tracks and his scent further, deeper into the forest. She knew what he was trying to do.

She listened more carefully, stopped for a moment in the dark to locate him, she heard a faint crunching noise behind her and she started to run again. At the moment he came towards her to tackle her to the ground she took a graceful leap to the side. The speed left in his body made him tumble over and she was on top of him instantly. She put her sharp fangs on his neck and growled, felt his scent in her mouth and his rapid pulse on her tongue. If she had been human now she would have said, “Enough nonsense”

She didn’t let go until Ben whimpered and licked the side of her mouth. They stood and looked at each other, then turned and ran away. He followed in her tracks. Now they ran with purpose.

The scent of the deer drifted through the air and she looked back at Ben. He had sensed it too. They split up, slowed down, tried to get closer before the deer discovered them. They didn’t need to use words or commands, both of them knew what to do. It was part of their anatomy.

As soon as the deer sensed them it left its hideout in fright. Adrenalin flooded her body, her muscles worked harder, her lungs expanded and she ran faster than ever. When Ben came from the other direction and startled the deer, she took the opportunity and sank her teeth in the neck. The deer struggled, tried to escape but Ben was on it. Bit its hind side over and over, he yelped out of excitement. The blood was warm and salty in her mouth and she didn’t let go.

Soon the struggle ended and the deer lay on the ground exhausted. She ripped the throat in two and licked the gurgling blood. Buried her nose in the warm meat, tasted the earth in the blood. The leaves, the green grass, the river’s crystal water in the meat. Everything the deer had eaten she now enjoyed in return.

With bloody noses, bloody faces, bloody bodies they started to walk home. Let their tired muscles relax and stretch. She made sure she memorized how her body felt now.  On days when her human life was hard she brought this moment back and found tranquility.

When they returned to the backyard, Ben started to wash her. His warm tongue moved rhythmically over her body. She sank down, laid down on her side as he worked his way across her bloody fur. She closed her eyes; almost fell asleep and in her relaxed state she transformed back to human. Ben stood with his tongue out, looking intensely happy.  He sat down and waited for her as she went inside to get dressed and get a bucket, a towel and a brush to clean him with.

She started with his face, rubbed it with the wet towel, then his legs and his back.  He licked her hands as she cleaned off the blood. Then she started to brush him, long slow strokes. He sat still, pressed against her body. When he was clean again he laid down and she scratched the thick fur on his neck, rubbed his belly and petted him until he turned back into man.

They were not in love, yet on occasion when they had laid next to each other after an exciting run, they had had sex. But their connection had nothing to do with human emotions or simple attraction. They were more than soul mates. They were sister and brother tied together by what lay in their blood. Tied together by the moon. 

The Killer

The killer

He filtered the whiskey through his teeth. Enjoyed the burn from the alcohol, let it rest for a while on his tongue before he swallowed. Felt the warmth roll down his throat and land in his stomach. The heat spread through his body. He was relaxed now, all the built up tension gone.

He laid back, yawned and looked up at the ceiling. The early morning sun filled the room with a red glow. He took a deep breath in, smelled the blood, closed his eyes and fell asleep.

When he woke up it was midday, the sun had moved away from the window and the room was harsh and white. He rolled to his side and got out of bed. His body was soft, the stiff muscles gone, the need, the urge was sleeping. Walked out in the bathroom and stepped in the shower. He had of course showered yesterday. Couldn’t lie in the clean bed with blood on his hands, on his arms, on his face, his legs.  Wouldn’t want to ruin the white clean sheets.

In the hot water he remembered the day before. The tension had woken him up early, would not leave him alone.  He had gone out for a run, it did not help. He masturbated not once but three times but still the tension was growing inside. Eventually he had decided he needed to hunt.

He had shaved carefully, picked out his clothes prudently  and then driven to the closest town. He didn’t understand why but women liked him. Or at least until they understood what lay underneath the clear blue eyes.

The first bar was a disappointment. Nothing to look at, no one who caught his attention. The second bar the same but the third one was filled with prey. He searched the room for a moment. Then he saw her, she stood next to a friend, looked somewhat out of place. Maybe shy or bored, at first he wasn’t sure. She had long dark hair and kept pulling on her blouse. He always picked the ones who looked a tad misplaced; he figured that they had an emptiness, a void inside that needed to be filled with something.  An easy target!

 He looked at her for a long time until she started to react to his attention. But he never talked to them, didn’t want to be seen with them. Until they left the building then he waited outside and if she was about to go home by herself. Maybe catch a cab or walk, that was the moment he made his move. First small talk, charming and open, make them relaxed enough to let him a little closer.

Sometimes he couldn’t get hold of them and those nights were horrible nights filled with the urge, the need eating at him. But last night he was lucky, as soon as she felt the cold steel of the knife against her naked neck she did whatever he told her.

Driving home with her in the backseat, tied up, gagged. Oh, he almost came in his pants. The thoughts were so strong, the thoughts of all the things he was about to do. The pleasure, his pleasure. The pain, her pain.

She was light as a feather when he picked her up and carried her into the house. He dumped her on the bed and tied her to the posts. Her carefully applied makeup was smeared all over, he could tell she had been crying and when he removed the rag from her mouth she started to beg. The more they begged the harder he got.

By this point he was so aroused he had to take her, just simply fuck her. After that he could go slower, enjoy the process more. See how she cringed when he caressed her, hear how she cried when he cut her lightly with the razorblade on the inside of her thighs and listen to her sob filled pleading. After he had fucked her in every hole and every position he could manage without letting her go, she turned limp and silent. When there was no more resistance, no more cries for help and no more sobs, he lost interest for the night.

Now the hot water on his body and the memories woke up the urge again. He got hard, looked down at his cock and thought about what he would do with her today. He would of course water her first and maybe he could get her to eat something. Much more fun when there was some strength left in the body to put up the slightest fight against him. When she was worn down, used up he would dispose of her in the usual way. Butcher her, freeze her for a couple of months then he would go fishing far out to sea for a few days. The big fish seemed to like girl meat; maybe he would even be able to feed some shark.

He took his cock in his soapy hands, started to stroke the head with a firm grip. If he came now he would be able to hold out longer later. Faster, faster, the familiar tension started to grow in his groin. He panted, then pain. Hot, burning, all-consuming pain in his back. Confused he tried to turn around then more pain now in his shoulder, in his neck. He saw the blood pouring down his body. Mixed with the water, became an ocean in red by his feet. Strange weakness came over him and he started to slip down the tub. When he came down to his knees he turned around and looked up.

The girl stood before him, his big butcher knife in her hand, her face hard as stone. The blood dried on her body, rust smeared on her white skin.  Disordered he tried to figure out how this could happen.  He was sure he had tied her up carefully last night.  Why hadn’t he heard her come into the bathroom?  The sun shone in through the window, created a halo around her head. An angel, a Saint in white and brown.  The blood was pumping out of his shoulder and his neck,  the hot shower helped the blood along. He blinked a few times, tried to form a question, but he was too weak.

The last thing he saw was how the girl walked out the door and left.  Her dark hair a mantel around her naked body.