The sound of water has always been with me. The sound and the feel. I have been bathed in liquid for so long. Even during the birthing, when my son had made his escape into the upper world, the soft caress had continued to rock me in harmony with my world.
I sense, rather than see him, pass by. A darker shadow than the other dark shadows. A movement in the mind, and I know he has arrived. It has been a long time since we last met. Too long. But now he has come at last to fulfil the destiny we had both started so very long ago.
My being begins a small quivering response to his proximity. A beat that grows heavier and almost physical until I can feel it expanding and contracting throughout me. A bird trying to escape. A touch. A soft, tender, touch.
"Michael?" my mind whispers. A small nervous caress of two beings.
I fall silent knowing that his request is more than a command. It is a matter of life or damnation itself. I wait. And as I lay here, I flesh and become physical. My breasts heave with each painful breath I take, the bubbles trailing from my lips, and my nipples harden with the slow sexual wave washing gently over me. He comes closer until I feel him lie next to my naked body. The time has come. The time of release that will, at last, allow me to join my love forever. Gently he parts my thighs and I separate them willingly. This is my destiny, my fate and my future. He kisses my flesh from arched neck down to the growing ache in my vagina. Slips his tongue inside my pulsating body for a moment, to caress the hardening clitoris. A groan from me. Another "Hush" from him and the tongue moves across my thighs. I drift and dream and remember the last time I had felt his touch. So very long ago...
"Michael why are we going this way? It's much shorter round by the church." Sandra's voice was petulant. She had wanted to be home before dark. It wasn't that she was afraid but, she had to admit to herself, she had always felt more comfortable in the presence of people with bright lights all around.
"I know," Michael replied, "it's just that there's something I want to show you. It won't take long. Just a few minutes out of our way."
"Oh alright then," she said. She loved Mike deeply but sometimes she felt that he was taking over her life just a little too much. 'Too much, too soon', was how she often thought of their relationship. She would never voice such thoughts to him. She really did love him and most times wanted to be with him twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. But now and then she would have liked a little more space to herself. She often felt confused like that. Wanting to be with him all the time then feeling guilty when she felt the need to be by herself or make her own decisions. She was terrified of losing him and so she usually went along with what he said.
That he loved her just as much she had no doubt. It was just that he had a little more independence than she had, and had no idea he was telling her what she should or should not do. She smiled to herself and a wave of tenderness swept over her. 'He'd probably be horrified if he realised he was a being bossy,' she thought, and she reached up and gently rubbed the nape of his neck where the hair hung slightly over his jacket collar. He looked down at her in the gathering dusk and smiled that smile of his. The one that made her melt inside.
She had no idea where he was taking her but she knew the area well enough.
"How much further?" she asked.
"Not far," he answered, trying without success to keep the excitement out of his voice.
Another five minutes and he stopped. "Here we are." he said.
Peering myopically through her glasses she could see nothing of interest, especially now the darkness around them was complete with the fall of night.
"What are we meant to be looking at?"
"No, not right here. Through that door." and he pointed to a shed standing a few yards in front of them on the waste ground.
Suddenly she felt nervous, almost scared. "You mean we're going inside that?"
"Yes come on. It doesn't belong to any one. There's no lock on the door. It's only an old abandoned shed but I want to show you what I found there this morning."
Once again she felt herself doing what he wanted and together they entered the musty, wooden structure. Michael had brought along a torch that he now clicked on, illuminating the inside. She could still see nothing of interest but Michael went over to an old battered armchair and pulled it into the centre of the floor. He pointed the torch at the ground and she saw the outline of a small trapdoor, no bigger than a cat-flap, where it had been opened then closed again disturbing the dirt that had previously been hiding it. He pulled it back on its hinges and brought out the box hidden below.
"Here look at this," he said, sounding excited and boyish at the same time, "I found it by accident this morning. I was taking this way to work when I just wondered what was in here. I mean, the shed's been around for so long that I just thought it a bit strange it hadn't been broken up and used for firewood years ago." As he spoke he swung open the lid of the box. "I wouldn't have bothered with the place normally but I came in here and heard this rustling sound. At first I though it was a trapped bird, but the sound seemed to come from under the chair. So I pulled it away from the wall, did a bit of probing with my pocket knife, saw the trapdoor, opened it up and found this..." proudly he took out the large exquisite cross hanging from a chain which, although lacking in lustre, looked expensive even to Sandra's eyes. She gasped. Her mind took in several things at once. It seemed to glow slightly, even in the light of the torch, and as she looked closely she noticed that the chain swung up the central shaft and looped through a small hole at the base. 'Strange', she thought, 'that would make it hang upside down.' But even as she noticed this small oddity, she also saw a small black spot. No, not a spot, a small round indent, in the centre of the cross, a few millimetres deep. 'I wonder what was in there,' she mused, 'well it's probably lost forever now.'
"God Mike," she whispered, "it's beautiful. Is that gold?" she asked pointing to the chain.
"I wouldn't be surprised considering I don't think this is a trinket from a discount store. This, Sandra, is the real McCoy."
Carefully she took the cross from him and was surprised at the weight she felt nestling in her palm. "The whole thing could be gold," she said, "it's certainly heavy enough for it."
"I know," said Michael, "question is what are we going to do with it?"
To Sandra there was no doubt in her mind. "We've got to take it to a church," she said, "they'll know what to do." As soon as the words passed her lips she knew it was the wrong thing to say. "I mean it is a cross and crosses belong in churches don't they?" Her question was almost a plea for support.
"Yes of course," replied Mike, "that's what we'll do."
Sandra felt warmth creep up her body from her ankles to her thighs to her stomach to her breasts to her neck and finally to her face. She felt peculiar.
In the darkness Michael couldn't see very well but he knew something had affected her. "Are you alright Sandy?" he asked.