PART NINE
The following weekend, Ché lay spooned against Kathryn's back, his arm round her waist and his hand cupped comfortably around her breast. He gave it a gentle knead, smiling against her hair when she stirred. It was long after midnight. He had arrived later than usual and Kathryn had been pacing the floor in agitation.
"What took you so long?" she had asked as he swept her up in his arms and kissed her lingeringly. He had hungered for her a whole week, and seeing her standing in her lounge in a light blue dress, the image engraved itself in his mind. Somehow, light had filtered from behind her and the dress, of a thin fabric was not nearly enough to conceal the fact that she wore no bra; in the moments when he had put her down after the kiss, he was dead certain that she wore no panties either. That had incited him to insanity, but Kathryn stood away from him, her eyes glowing.
"Had to tie up some loose ends, sweetheart," he had told her.
Kathryn had given a cluck of sympathy that he had been so busy. Good thing she never pressed him for information about his family business. She had insisted that they have dinner first, much to his disappointment that he couldn't haul her immediately to her bed. So he suffered through dinner during which they caught up on the week's events. She looked completely at ease and so different from the initial images he had of her: lonely, alone, drawn, with shadows lurking in her eyes. Now she was vivacious, her energy infectious.
After dinner, they had walked to the lounge and Kathryn had played some music - mostly Mozart - and read to him from her favourite poetry. His appetite for her was shelved temporarily because he could listen all evening to her voice. It was soft and mellow and she gave the words so much intonation and meaning just by the inflections, the dramatic pauses. Poetry sounded good when Kathryn read it.
When she finished, she placed the book on the coffee table and sidled next to him, sighing into his arms. He had given a moan as he pressed his lips against her cheek. The moment was heady, and his hands started to roam, sliding her dress up from her ankles.
"Just as I thought," he had murmured the second his fingers found her centre, unhindered by impediments such as panties.
"I missed you, Ché...so much," she had murmured as he lifted her into his arms and carried her to bed.
"I missed you too," he affirmed, pulling her dress from her and feasting his eyes on her body, splendidly tanned, glistening.
"Touch me," she whispered as he joined her on the bed. Then had started a slow touching of her body in which he closed his eyes and simply let his hands roam, touching a nipple, squeezing a breast, splaying his hand over her stomach.
"Oh that feels so good..." she murmured again, her head moving from side to side as she surrendered to the thrill of the waves of pleasure coursing through her. He took her hand and guided it to his arousal. She gave a small cry, then spread her thighs and guided him to her.
Kathryn had been warm and moist, wanting him to hurry, but he had taken his time, teasing her into a frenzy. When he thought she couldn't take the intense pleasure anymore - her eyes had been full of tears - he had entered her swiftly, filling her to the hilt. He braced himself over her, his hands at the sides of her head.
"Open your eyes, darling," he ordered. Her eyes flew open. They were dark with emotion. His chest rubbed her nipples as he started thrusting slowly into her, all the time watching her eyes. He had cried out as he felt her climax, and when she gave a long, keening cry, during which her body became rigid and her nails dug into his back, he followed her to heaven.
They had lain entwined, locked together for long minutes. He was still hard, but realised that Kathryn could use the break. They had all weekend. She had murmured tearfully against his mouth how much she enjoyed it. They settled in and he had left the covers halfway down. It was a warm evening. For long minutes, he had just watched Kathryn breathe as he steadied himself on his elbow. He traced little patterns on her skin, damp from their lovemaking. She looked innocent and vulnerable in sleep. Sighing, he settled behind her, a groan of bliss overrunning him.
Tomorrow, they would just walk the beaches, take a picnic basket and sit down when they felt like eating. Kathryn hadn't wanted to go anywhere this time.
"I want to spend it here, with you," she declared.
Now he savoured the feel of her as she lay sleeping, her breathing unhurried. From time to time she stirred. His heart stopped in his throat her he heard her murmur softly, "love you..."
He felt a prick of tears, then pressed convulsively into her. She stirred from his movement.
"Shhh... Sleep now, my love..."
***************
He was sitting on the patio. At 1100 the sun was high. They had slept in, although they hadn't been intimate again during the night, unlike last week they had woken up several times during the night and made passionate love. Breakfast was light since Kathryn was still into her morning swims in the ocean.
He was reading a book, squirming a little from the sticky heat, dying to get into the water. Kathryn seemed to be taking her time getting ready. Staying with her made it so much more convenient because all he needed to wear first thing in the morning was his swimming trunks. Hearing a sound behind him, he didn't look up as Kathryn padded past him, throwing the large beach towel into his face as she stepped off the porch.
"Hey!" he shouted as he pulled it from his face. Then his eyes popped from their sockets and his jaw dropped as Kathryn walked completely naked down to the beach, her hips swaying seductively. Only when she was about thirty metres away from him, and ankle deep in the water, did she turn round to look at him. "Hell, Kathryn..." he whispered as he threw the book down. By the time he reached the water's edge, he was naked and aroused.
Kathryn had a come-and-get-it look in her eyes and he ran in, splashing madly as he took giant steps to reach her. She swam effortlessly away from him and he followed her, his passion dimmed only slightly. For almost ten minutes they swam until he saw her heading towards the shore again. He stopped. The sun was almost overhead and Kathryn's body glistened as she stood up in the water. He could see the dark patch of curls which he knew, since Kathryn looked so inviting, were already quivering in anticipation.
"Kathryn," he croaked as he stood in front of her. She looked breathtaking; her breasts were firm and pert, the nipples in their pink aureoles erect, her waist so narrow, the shape gently swelling out to her hips, her centre. She stood with her legs slightly apart, and when he looked at the dark tuft of curls, he saw how the water dripped from them. Her hair was sleek and wet, with water running off her face, her ears, little golden drops refusing to leave. Her lips were parted and God! she was steaming. "Kathryn," he groaned her name again, pressing his fevered lips against hers.
Fire and water... Steam, rapture... He licked away the salt on her lips, his cock in a raging inferno against her stomach. She moaned into him. He couldn't breathe; he was giddy with delight as his mouth trailed kisses over her lips, her face. He pulled her head back to arch her neck, finding infinite bliss in the hollow of her neck, where his tongue lapped her skin.
He broke contact. Kathryn's eyes had grown liquid heavy, smouldering, her lips rosy and inviting.
"Spread your legs, honey," he commanded. Her eyes darkened even more as he felt her positioning herself in the water. Only the mild waves disturbed the area around them. Her hands were on his shoulders to steady herself. "Oh, heaven..." he muttered as he kissed her again, then moved his lips down, licking her skin, clamping his mouth over a breast. He heard a cry escape her as he bit gently into the erect nub, her fingers digging into his shoulders. There were going to be more scratch marks later after she had already scored his back last night... Finding the other breast with hungry lips, he sucked on that nipple, too. Kathryn pressed into him, causing a little wave that heaved over his hips as he went lower. He reached her navel, sucking it into his mouth. Kathryn moaned with ecstasy. Her hands were losing their grip on him as he went lower.
"Wider, Kathryn...:" he ordered again as he squeezed the backs of her thighs and attempted to prise her legs wider. He was on his knees, the water at his shoulders. Kathryn's vagina looked like a rose that had opened, its petals velvety and swollen, thick and moist, shimmering with silver droplets of water. Already, they seemed to fold away from her slit, exposing her core. Even the tiny clit, pink and distended, peeped from its lips. He was going to drown here, he thought with amazement. The soft curls, now a lighter shade than when he looked at her at night, quivered slightly in the waft of air as he moved his lips over her vulva.
He closed his eyes. Gods, the folds begged him to swallow them. First the one, which he prised away from her vagina using his teeth, delighting in nipping on it to make Kathryn scream. She was trying to find some grip, with his head the only support. Her folds were soft and pliant in his mouth, between his teeth as he nipped, sucked, licked.
"Are - you - chewing - on - me , Ché?" he heard Kathryn ask, her voice coming in gasps between words. He was chewing gently, dipping here and there, greedy for his food source, keeping the clit for last. When he darted his tongue in and out in quick succession, she arched into him. He couldn't see her face, but her head must have been thrown back in mindless bliss. He pressed her closer to sink his tongue deeper in her sheath. His mind whirled as Kathryn spilled her juices liberally round his tongue and he could feel her little convulsions starting. "More...more!" she cried. He complied, gripping her buttocks tightly, forcing her even closer into him. She pushed in shameless invitation as he covered her clit, sucking it into his mouth, letting his tongue flick it. Kathryn began to shudder, then became rigid as she strained against him. "Oh, God, Ché...Ché!! she screamed as she rocked into her climax. He held her in his mouth, felt how infinitely wet and thick and soft her entire slit was, as her folds and clit throbbed in his mouth. Then Kathryn screamed again as she pitched backwards into the sea. She vanished for a second, then he fell in after her, pulling her up quickly.
Kathryn looked drunk from her shattering climax; his mouth tasted of her, experienced the echoes of her throbbing centre. He couldn't smile at her bemused expression; instead, he gripped her waist and lifted her.
"Help me," he croaked as her breasts came in line with his mouth again. Kathryn's hand was cool on his raging cock as she positioned him at her dripping entrance. In a swift thrust, he impaled her on him.
"We're one now," she said, her eyes glowing with passion.
"God, you're so hot!" It was the last words he muttered, as his overheated and aching shaft stabbed into her. The movement was so frenzied that it took him several moments to realise that it was Kathryn who was humping against him. Their grunts filled the air, loud, uninhibited, rhythmic, sometimes long cries followed by short keening wails. With her hands on his shoulders, her legs hooked around his waist, heels digging hard into the back of his thighs, she managed to pull out to his tip, then rammed herself in, keeping up the frenzied pounding and unrestrained cries until he knew he was reaching his peak. Then everything exploded around him. He watched her face, saw victory written all over it. Her eyes...
His legs wobbled as he crashed painfully into her, then pitched with her into the water again.
When they could drag themselves to the beach later, they collapsed there at the water's edge and lay facing one another. There were tears in Kathryn's eyes.
"Thank you, Ché..."
"You are happy..." was all he could say as he stared at her, listening to the gentle, calm sea. Once, he lifted his head to look into the distance. He saw a sailboat on the horizon.
*******
They were sitting against a sandbank in the late afternoon, the sun moving gradually towards the horizon. This time, they had taken a flitter to the south-western shore, lazing in the red setting sun.
Kathryn sat comfortably between Ché's spread legs. She wore only a light sarong and bikini top. Ché had raised an eyebrow when he noticed she wore nothing under the sarong, and asked archly whether she expected him to service her again after their romp in the sea that morning. She hadn't wanted to wear anything underneath. Clothes were fast becoming an encumbrance as she allowed Ché's hand to roam freely over her body.
Ché had been quiet. She threw her head back, to wait for his kiss before asking, "What are you thinking?"
"I think I'll never get enough of you, honey."
"Good. We have a picnic basket, we have a pristine sandy beach and we are...hungry..."
Now, Ché dropped hot, moist kisses on her neck, his arms around her. She had removed her bikini top as soon as they had found this spot, and the sun felt warm on her skin. She wanted Ché again, wanted him badly, shifting her hips forward so that she half lay across him. She whimpered as her centre began to warm, Ché's short, low gasping sounds an indication that he was ready, that he too, was heating up. Her hands were over his on her breasts, helping him to knead them.
"Kathryn..." he groaned.
"Yes?"
"How wide can you spread your legs?"
Her eyes closed at the mental image of sitting in front of him, with her legs as wide as ever she could spread them Giving a light laugh, she replied with, "I'd have to untie the sarong."
"Why do you think I asked?"
Smiling to herself, she opened the sarong, then lifted her legs over his. Ché used his knees to spread her legs wider apart.
"That good enough for you?" she asked.
"Wider."
She gasped. Already the sun bathed her vulva, splayed brazenly open. A little cry of pain escaped as Ché's legs pressed her even further apart 'til she couldn't spread them anymore. The pain soon fled as her hands left his and she touched herself, investigating her moist slit.
"Greedy little thing…that's mine…"
She managed to lift her hips higher, ignoring the slight discomfort.
"That okay?" she whispered huskily.
"Close your eyes. Now, sweet Kathryn, we're facing the sea and a sea of faces is looking at you."
Kathryn imagined an audience close to her, their mouths gaping and drooling as they all stared at her dripping centre, its fleshy folds hanging apart.
"Oh, God..."
"Yes. They have lust in their eyes, seeing you present your swollen vagina to them. They wish they could be you, lying here, or me, touching you..."
"Oh, yes..."
"Splayed so wide... You feel good. The audience is heaving with you, sitting so close. They want this as much as I want it, see? There, one of them wants to touch you…but you're mine… Tell them hands off…"
Ché's left hand pushed away one fold, while the other pressed the small lip covering her clit, exposing the pink nub. Her heart hammered wildly, the ocean roaring in her head as she gave herself over to the sensation of Ché's hands on her. She saw the people, men and women, who looked at her vagina, watching how his fingers pried open her flesh as he displayed her to them.
"Their mouths hang open and you can see them drool; they're scratching their crotches; they are as aroused as you are. Hands with eager fingers are trying to touch your sweet pussy... You're dripping hotly. Why can they see your juices? Why? Because not only did your mind conjure this picture, but because my fingers are massaging your lips, pinching your impudent clit, coaxing you to spill your juices. There...There, it's happening. Your pussy is weeping..." he whispered seductively in her ear.
"Oh, God! This - is - too - much..."
"Not enough. Buck into my hand, honey. Oh, you're so wet and slick. Picture the man in the front row, closest to you..."
Ché teased her clit, turning her into a shameless hussy, wantonly demanding more and pushing towards those expert fingers.
"Got it now?"
She nodded, thrashing her head from side to side, occasionally stopping as Ché's lips burned on her closed eyelids. Where was she? In an underworld auditorium with a select audience? She pictured a man in the front row. His eyes looked glassy from lust, and he licked his lips in dire greed. His fingers moved as if he were pushing into her. Tanned face...tattoo...dimpled smile...
"Now, he's just finished rubbing your clit, pinching it to feel its firmness, making you cry desperately for more. You push into his hand, you want more, you want him..."
"Oh, yes..." she whispered. Her pussy was on fire, answering only to Ché's insistent voice and equally insistent fingers that never left any part of her vulva. He pulled on a tuft and she gave a cry of rapture.
"Lift, will you? He wants you, like I want you. Now, be strong, Kathryn... Be strong...He wants his fingers deep in you. Can you lift more?"
She tried her best, arching her whole lower body off the ground. Only then could Ché's fingers find her. She was dripping all over his fingers. The front row leaned forward, to smell her like dogs smelling the sex of another dog. They were incited, hands grasping towards her.
By this time, she was swirling around in a vortex, Ché's touch and breath on her skin, his lips lapping on her neck, causing her to reel from the unimagined pleasure.
"Ready?"
She was too far gone to hear him; in the next moment he rammed his fingers into her... Two, three fingers... One hand under her buttock pressed her so high up that her legs began to flail. Who cared? His fingers filled her. She was sobbing, lustfully crying out for his hands to ram her hard, so hard that her body rocked, violently pushing back against him.
"Ché!! she screamed as she convulsed, then exploded fiercely. Ché kept his fingers lodged as far into her as he could. Her body was gone, dissolved into a million particles that floated inexorably to earth. She broke into shuddering sobs again, while Ché slowly pushed in and out of her until her body finally connected to his. She felt like a loose, limp rag doll lying open in the sun, her lower body shuddering and the man in the front row watching how her vagina throbbed. Ché's mouth brushed against her cheek, her lips, her hair.
"I love you, Kathryn," he whispered.
"Oh, Ché, you don't know what you've done to me," she murmured as she finally managed to sit up properly again.
"Were you embarrassed, honey?"
"No...it was intensely, magnificently erotic."
"You were quite wanton, lying so open in the sun, without caring who was watching."
"The things you make me do," she replied as she ran to the water and washed herself down. She watched him, saw his slow smile spread. Her heart pounded. She pictured the man's face again, briefly imagined his hand in her vagina.
Chakotay...
**********
It was Sunday. The sun was setting and they were standing in the small chapel at Lexos, on the north-eastern end of the island. Their day had been spent in Naxos Town, going to the hotel to have lunch there. They spent some time on the islet amongst the ruins of the Temple of Apollo, and took long walks along the northern beaches.
Now Ché watched Kathryn as she stood a metre away from him near the pulpit area. The first time, he had seen her just like she was standing now - still, introspective. He had tried to divine her thoughts, but the whole day she had been a little quiet, detached, cut off from the world. They had spent the night in each other's arms. In the middle of the night, they had woken up as if by arrangement, discovering they needed to make love intensely. He had lain inside her for almost an hour, moving his body lazily in concert with hers. She could keep him aroused for a long time, and he’d rested from time to time to give her respite, only to continue finding their connection. Kathryn had been soft and pliant and gifting him with her wonderful body. At last, he had sagged softly against her and they had drifted into sleep. When he woke, Kathryn was already down at the water's edge, getting ready for her morning swim.
After that, he had trouble reaching her. He felt worried, because she looked so distant. She was deeply pensive and only responded when he called her name a second time.
Now she looked as she had the first time he’d seen her; he so much wanted to pull her into his arms and beg her to tell him what was troubling her.
"Kathryn..."
When she turned, her eyes were sad and joyful at the same time. He thought of laughter and tears with this woman. Several times this weekend, he had declared his love for her. He’d loved her from the beginning, from the first time he laid eyes on her. The time they spent together were days spent in heaven. She thawed his lonely heart and made him whole again. Kathryn, too, changed from a lonely, sad and detached woman to someone vibrant, exotic as the islands, loving and giving.
So why did he feel that the heavens were about to fall on him?
"Kathryn?"
"I love him, Ché. Perhaps now more than I ever have. He is the kindest, most gentle angry warrior, who has meant so much to me and has done so much. I can't think of a day that my love for him has not been a part of me. I sent him into the arms of another woman and it hurt me so much... You cannot imagine my pain... He made me angry, he made me laugh. He shared my joy and he was part of my sorrow. We married... We - we had our problems...they troubled us for three years..." There was a long pause. "I want to return to him and I want to make our marriage good. You understand that, don't you?"
He could only nod, too mute to speak. He had always known it was going to happen. There had been no promise from her that her holiday would lead to something permanent. Kathryn had never reciprocated his avowals of love although she needed him, was open and spontaneous, and he revelled in that fact. She increased his happiness tenfold. He knew with certainty that he wasn't just a casual fling for her, for Kathryn did nothing in half measures. When she came to him, she gave all of herself - her kindness, her humour, sharing her loneliness with him as she generously did with her body. In the deep nights, she sought him to lie very close to him. Sometimes, he imagined her whispering in his neck "I love you, Ché." Now, Kathryn desired his understanding and she deserved that he give her that in full measure.
He opened his arms and she came to him, resting her head against him. He had never had illusions, but he had hope. And because he didn't have illusions about a future with this woman, it made his hope something that was not dashed or destroyed, but, thank the gods, something honourable and precious.
"My Kathryn," he started, as he held her in his embrace, "we were two lost souls who found refuge with one another. We each became the other's sanctuary, a place where we could drive away our loneliness and our pain in the comfort of our togetherness. We were always going to kiss, we were always going to make love, we were always going to spend entire nights together in our bed. You may ask why this happened. And I tell you it's because, my sweetest love, somewhere in the firmament, a lyre and a dolphin decreed that we become one. Not a man on Earth, not a star in the heavens, not a grain of sand on all the beaches of Naxos, could ever take away from us the time we've had. This is the memory we made here, but just like our old fashioned shooting stars, what we had was but a moment in time alone. It was our most precious golden moment..."
"Ché..."
"And, sweet Kathryn, I am a better man for having had this time with you. It was magical. The islands and the brilliant aquamarine sea that changed here from day to day to deep blue and ink, just as I saw the colour of your eyes change so wonderfully, all contributed to this time of enchantment. This was our interlude, Kathryn, my love. I feel no envy, no bitterness. You have never given me any reason to dream of years growing old with you, but I always knew that there was such a man, who would give you those years by your side forever. Chakotay is that man and, Kathryn, you told me that from the start..."
Kathryn looked up at him, her eyes brimming with tears - tears of joy and tears of understanding. Gently, he placed his arm round her waist and walked out of the small chapel. Outside, to the left of him, were the olive trees where he’d stood hidden the first time he had met her.
He took her to her cottage, where he shared a light meal with her. Quietly he packed his luggage and prepared to leave. She stood just outside the front door. There no were last kisses, no last minute passionate intimacies.
It was memorable, it was unsurpassable, it was being vulnerable again for the first time in years.
It was their Aegean interlude.
***********
End Part 9