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From: Richard Todd <richard@magi.com>
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This is a romantic story with a lot of explicit sex in it. If it is
unlawful for you to read it, for any of the standard reasons, I must ask
you not to.

Feedback and comments are alway more than welcome and can be sent to
richard@magi.com.



Mélisande
by Richard Todd

The fog was terrible. Driving along the winding road just north of
Victoria, I wondered if even the thirty I was doing was safe. At times
the centerline would be visible ten or fifteen metres ahead, then
suddenly my van would seem to be floating in a cloud with no stationary
object in sight.
 I was looking for a place to pull off the road when I thought I saw a
figure with an outstretched thumb flash by close to the windshield. I
was alarmed to think I might have hit someone, though there hadn't been
any sound as I went by. Gearing down at once, I gingerly made my way as
far to the right as I dared. As soon as I came to a stop I blew the horn
and got out on the passenger side. A second later a girl appeared in the
fog, walking toward me and growing more distinct with each step.
 "Hi! Thanks for stopping," she said. "What a morning! I've been here
since seven o'clock I'll bet. I don't think I've ever waited for a ride
this long. It must be eleven by now."
 "Nearer noon," I corrected. She was wearing jeans, a loose, green
hiking jacket and a thin green tuque. The way she was dressed, you
couldn't tell much about her figure, but her face had a lightly freckled
prettiness and a bit of bright red hair showed beneath the tuque. I was
about to remark that this was a pretty dangerous time and place to be
hitchhiking, but her pale expression suggested that she knew that
already. She had a large backpack slung over one shoulder. I lifted it
from her and gestured in the direction of my van, invisible just a few
steps away. "How far are you going?" I asked.
 "Just to Nanaimo." We walked to the van and I opened the side door,
revealing my bed, some camping equipment and a wall of books. "Where are
you going?" she asked.
 "Oh, I'm just going, really. I thought I'd drive as far up-island as I
can and then explore some of the logging roads on the way back. " I
swung her pack onto the bed and dosed the door. I was disappointed that
she wasn't going further, but I tried to hide it. "We should have you in
Nanaimo in a couple hours," I told her, opening the front door. She got
in and I dosed the door, gesturing for her to push the lock button. As I
walked around
 my side I wondered why I'd done that. I seldom lock my own door.
 "I'm Mélisande," she offered as I sat behind the wheel.
 "That makes me wish my name was Pelléas," I replied, wondering if she
would know what I was talking about.
 "If it were you might feel deceived. I seem to be more a child of the
mist than the daughter of light."
 "Aha!" I enthused, "an opera lover!" I held out my hand which she shook
with a squeeze.
 "A lover of all things beautiful," she amended, "including Debussy,
Maetterlink and my name. What's yours, by the way?"
 "Oh, Paul. Just plain Paul." She let go of my hand with an approving
nod and 1 put the van in gear and drove cautiously onto the highway once
again. I glanced at her and said, "We should be out of this soup in a
few minutes.
 My prediction was good. We began climbing the Malahat almost
immediately, and within two or three minutes we rose into a world of
blue sky and bright sun. As soon as my eyes were adapted to the change I
stole a long glance at my companion. She had taken off her tuque, and in
the improved light her hair positively shone. She seemed to be trembling
slightly, perhaps fro m fear or perhaps from a b it of a chill . "Would
you like me to tum on the heater?" I asked.
 "Yes, thank you. That would be really great."
 "I guess I came pretty close to you back there. Are you all right?"
 "I'm fine. I'll just have to warm up a little. I'm sorry. I guess it
was pretty dumb standing so close there. It's just that nobody could see
me. I've been camping alone for a week and I wanted to be with people."
 I felt a sudden thrill of empathy. "I can understand that," I told her.
"I camp alone a lot too. In fact I seldom do it any other way. It's
lonely, but it's good in a lot of ways."
 She nodded eagerly. "Sometimes I have this need to be alone in the
wilderness, and sometimes I need to be with people. And you know, it's
not a question of one compensating for the other. It's more like they
compliment each other."
 Her voice had a pretty, musical quality. She seemed to have a distinct
regional accent, but I couldn't identify it. "Where do you come from,
Mélisande?" I asked.
 "Does it matter?" She looked at me with an expression that was somehow
playful and earnest at the same time. I was slightly taken aback by her
answer, but shrugged my shoulders. "I'm not trying to be mysterious or
dramatic or anything. It's just that right now I'm really into the
present and don't feel that I want to share my past or future with
anyone else."
 My first reaction was to admire the pristine simplicity of her ideal
and wonder if I could emulate it. Then I wondered if I would want to,
and found the notion vaguely perplexing as I reflected upon it.
 Presently we came to a viewpoint. I pulled off explaining that I always
liked to stop at this place and take in the view. She chuckled. "A girl
could interpret that more than one way, you know."
 I probably blushed a little, but her smile was so warm and friendly
that I couldn't help laughing at myself. "You seem to have interpreted
it correctly," I admitted.
 Facing her directly, I saw blue eyes more lively and a face more sunny
than I've ever seen before or since. "I'm surprised you find me worth
looking at the way I'm bundled up here. I'm filthy too."
 "You can change in the back if you have something to change into," I
said. "I'll even cover up the rear view mirror."
 "Maybe once we're going again. I want to enjoy the view too." We sat
looking at each other with frank, friendly curiosity and pleasure. The
situation felt so singular and delicious that I had an urge to laugh
aloud. I could see a cheerful smirk developing on her face too, and I
resolved that I wouldn't be the first one to laugh.
 We each broke at the same instant and had a nice long giggle together.
"Do you pick up many hitchhikers?" she asked when we calmed down a bit.
 "Nearly always, unless I don't like their looks or I don't have the
space."
 "Well," she said, looking in the back of the van, "I see you have the
space. I guess that means you don't find my looks too objectionable."
 "Well remember it was pretty foggy back there," I replied, trying to
look thoughtful. Mélisande laughed in surprise and stuck her tongue out
at me.
 "Do you pick up many girls like me?" she persisted.
 "A fellow could interpret that more than one way too. But if you mean
do I pick up many lone, attractive, female hitchhikers, I do it at every
opportunity. Which is to say that this is the second time in my life
I've done it. The competition's pretty fierce and the supply pretty
limited.
 "The only other time was about four years ago. I was tense about the
whole thing, and I think the girl enjoyed my discomfiture. She was with
me for over two hundred miles, and I doubt whether a dozen words passed
between us. I'm glad this is different."
 After a few more miles we went through the village of Mill Bay where a
couple of young men were hitchhiking. Before I had a chance to consider
picking them up Mélisande put her hand on my arm and said, «Please
don't." I drove on with an apologetic shrug to the hitchhikers, but
inside I felt just fine.
 "Do you mind if I go in the back and look at your books?" She got up
and made her way between the seats. For a while she was quiet, but
shortly she began making comments about the books, comparing notes with
me on the ones she knew and asking about several of the others.
 "That's a nice picture back here," she said. She referred to a
photograph I'd taken of my ex-wife sitting nude on a rock garden
terrace. "Who's the woman?"
 "My wife."
 "Oh." Was I imagining it, or did I hear a note of disappointment in her
voice?
 "We're not together anymore," I added, trying to sound casual.
 "Are you divorced or separated or what?"
 "None of the above, really. We were living common law and now she's
living with someone else."
 "I'm sorry."
 "Don't be," I laughed. "It's better for her and it's especially better
for me. We never had much in common, really, except for what we did in
bed. Even that was mediocre at best." I expected her to ask more
questions, but she didn't. In the quiet that followed I began to wonder
if I had alarmed her by mentioning sex.
 "Paul," she said at last, «could you pull off the road for just a
moment?"
 "Sure." I eased the van onto the shoulder thinking that she wanted out
and wishing that I could eat my words, mild though they'd been.
 "Can you come back here a second?" she asked once I had engaged the
emergency brake. My chagrin changed instantly to a nervous elation. I
unbuckled and turned around. Her jacket and a plain green shirt were
Iying on the bed and above her waist she was wearing nothing but a plain
denim bikini top. Her neck, shoulders and arms were dirty from being in
the woods, but it didn't detract -from her prettiness. If anything the
honest grime of the forest and its connotations made her more attractive
to me. She was thin and lithe and perfectly lovely.
 She smiled at me quizzically and it was a moment before I could guess
what she wanted me to say. Suddenly I had to laugh. "Yep. I like your
looks fine. I won't kick you out."
 "That's good. You see," she said, turning a little serious, "I want to
confess something. When a man gives me a ride I always say that I'm just
going a little way. Then I have time to tell how far I really want to go
with him - both literally and figuratively," she grinned. "Can I stay
with you until tomorrow?"
 My mouth must have been open in astonishment and delight. "Of course,"
I stammered, "it'll be my pleasure."
 "Mine too, I'm sure. I know a place just past Courtenay where I can
take a bath. If we could stop there I'd feel nice and dean tonight."
 "Sure thing," I said, trying to believe that this was really happening.
"Maybe you' d like to stop at a laundromat as well. We could have supper
in a restaurant while the laundry's going.
 "The laundromat sounds fine, but you don't have to take me out to
supper. I have lots of food here, and if you don't like what I have we
can pick something up in a store.
 "Do you like my top?" she asked, changing the subject. "I made it
myself. That's why it fits so well.
 "It sure does, and if what's inside is anything like..."
 "It unties at the back," she interrupted. "Just remember not to spoil
your appetite."
 I sat next to her and, reaching to untie the strap, I touched her naked
back. She closed her eyes dreamily and as I lifted the denim from her I
beheld the loveliest pair of breasts imaginable. They were neither to
large nor too small. They supported themselves perfectly, but to my
touch they were tender and supple. Each culminated in a rich rose
aureole and an erect nipple. I bent over and kissed each one gently.
Looking up at her warm smile I said, "I wonder if 'Mélisande' is an
ancient word for 'sunshine'?" I held the silky breasts in my hands as
she felt between my legs and stroked my penis slowly through my pants.
 "Tonight," she whispered.
 "Tonight!"

My excitement gave way by degrees to anxiety. Since my "marriage" had
started to go sour my sexual powers had become increasingly unreliable.
The thought of not being able to "perform" that night was uncomfortable
in a most unpleasant way. I was inwardly embarrassed that it should
matter so much to me, and knew that worrying about it was hardly the
answer, but I couldn't set it entirely aside.
 Happily my companion's conversation was so agreeable and absorbing that
my mind didn't have time to dwell on fears, and in time they receded to
the edge of my consciousness. We began talking about our interests and
discovered that we had many in common. We both had backgrounds in music,
though neither of us was a musician. We both liked wilderness camping
and related pursuits, and once again the similarity of our perceptions
and attitudes was striking almost to the point of being uncanny.
 "Tell me about something nice that's happened to you in the
wilderness," she suggested at one point.
 "Something nice?" I thought for a moment. "About seven or eight years
ago a friend and I went for a long weekend canoe trip. Nothing much to
talk about, really, except what happened when we first started out.
 "It took us several hours to get there from Toronto, where we lived,
and it was around midnight when we arrived at the road head. The night
was dear, starry and warm enough for comfort. We decided we'd like to
get started right away, so we put the canoe in the water and went. The
lake was perfectly calm and the woods were intensely silent.
 "Tony, that was my friend's name, had never been in the bush before,
and although he must have enjoyed the beauty of the night as much as I
did, I think he was also a little scared. When the call of a loon cut
through the silence he asked me in a hushed, quick voice, 'what was
that?' I told him it was a man-eating loon just to make him feel silly.
 "Anyway, the island I wanted to get to for the night was near the end
of a Z-shaped lake, meaning that we had to locate two turns in the dark.
The first one was through an inconspicuous narrows, but we found it
without much trouble and as soon as we turned to face eastward, one of
the most breathtaking scenes I've ever encountered struck my eyes. There
was a mountain at the end of the channel, out here we'd call it a hill,
but in Ontario it's a mountain, and the moon had just risen above it.
The moon was nearly full and very bright.
 "At first it cast its light mainly on the edges of the ridges and
shoulders that made up the hill, but as it rose higher in the next few
minutes the whole countryside became visible in increasing detail. And
there was the reflection in the water ahead of us. Mind you, the water
was so still that it was a simple reflection instead of a column of
light.
 "By the time we got to our island the moon was high enough that we
could see our way around a little. We set things up and then lay in our
sleeping bags enjoying the night. After a while a loon began calling
from somewhere in the distance. Its voice echoed in the stillness of the
night as though we were in an enormous cathedral. Then another loon
called from the other end of the lake. That one echoed too,
 perhaps even more than the first, but the texture of the echo was
hauntingly different. I thought hat it could hardly go on, but the
dialogue
 continued and was still warming my soul as I went to sleep."
 For a moment Mélisande just looked at me, then said, "I love the way
you talk. And what a beautiful experience! I can only think of one thing
I didn't like about it."
 "What was that?" I wondered.
 "That I wasn't your partner. Was he a good friend?"
 "Not especially. He was a nice enough guy, of course, but I do remember
wishing I could share the experience with a loving woman. What a joy it
would have been to make love in the moonlight to the music of those
loons!"
 "It was probably their mating call," Mélisande suggested.
 I burst out laughing. "You know, it probably was. I guess it would have
been doubly lovely when you think of it that way."
 We continued sharing experiences and dreams for the couple of hours
that it took us to get to Courtenay, but when we stopped there to do her
laundry my worries became more and more insistent. Everywhere around us
were the people of the real world, coming and going with their mundane
concerns, oblivion on their faces. I had to look at my companion time
and time again to assure myself that she was really there. How could
expect the fantasy I was living to work out?
 By this time it was late in the afternoon, and I had persuaded
Mélisande to go to a restaurant with me since neither of us had eaten
that day. She was dressed in shorts and the denim top I'd admired
earlier, everything else being in the laundromat. I wondered about her
bare feet and asked if I could buy her a pair of sandals. She declined,
promising to be careful. The first restaurant we tried refused to serve
us because of the way she was dressed, and this made me feel even more
that my hopes for living out this fantasy were likely to be confounded
by the hard walls of reality.
 We finally bought some cheese, fruit and milk in a little store and sat
on a bench eating and drinking. Mélisande wanted to feed me bits of
cheese one at a time with her fingers, but I shook my head moodily when
she touched my lips. She drew back a little. "Something wrong?" she
asked.
 "I don't know. It's nothing really. It's just that this all seems too
good to be true."
 She looked hurt. After a moment she asked, "Do you think I'm up to
something?"
 "No," I answered instantly and sincerely. "It's just that ... I don't
know how to explain it.
 'I'm probably being stupid, but it seems to me .nat something's bound
to go wrong."
 "I don't think so. But if something does go wrong we'll take as much
time as it needs to make it right. That's a promise." She bit off the
end of a banana and held it up to my mouth with a questioning smile. I
smiled back and took a bite. We leaned our foreheads together and took
turns nibbling on the banana. Even with the smell of forest and campfire
on her she seemed fresh and lovely. There must have been people walking
by, staring at us, but I could think of nothing but this wonderful
woman.
 A few miles north of Courtenay Mélisande pointed to a side road and we
turned off the highway. Her directions soon brought us to a river where
I parked the van. "There's a nice place about half a mile upstream. Do
we have time?" she asked.
 I wanted to answer that we had all the time in the world, but I just
nodded and smiled instead.
 There was a path along the side of the river. We walked underneath
green leaves and blue sky, holding hands and talking like high school
sweethearts. Presently we came to a pool fed by a thin stream of water
cascading down the centre of a diff, possibly fifteen metres high.
Mélisande took off her shorts and top and stepped into the water without
hesitation. She ducked below the surface, emerged wet from her hair on
down and began soaping herself thoroughly. I'd begun to undress too, but
I was doing it slowly, absorbed in watching her. She ducked again and
came up to scrub herself once more.
 "Can't I help?" I called.
 "Too late. I'm finished." She tossed me the soap and lay on her back to
float in the water, her feet toward me and her legs just a little apart.
By then I was undressed myself, but I stood on the shore, enchanted by
what I saw. She wafted her way gently toward the diff and looked
perfectly a part of the natural beauty around us. At last I stepped into
the water to be doser to her. She stood up at the bottom of the cliff
and gave it an appraising look. Then to my alarm she began climbing. It
looked nearly vertical and I could see few footholds. I wanted to tell
her to be careful, but instead I went to the foot of the cliff as though
my being dose would somehow keep her from harm.
 Yet danger was the last thing on my mind as I watched her move about on
the face of the diff. Every movement was orchestrated with muscles
working in subtle harmony beneath her beautiful skin. Now a foot
stretched, a thigh pushed, a buttock tightened. Now an arm reached for a
hold and a breast drew tight against her ribs. It was as though through
sheer rapture I could do with my mind what my hands ached for. She moved
from hold to hold with the grace and rhythm of a ballerina. It was more
beautiful than anything I had ever seen. There wasn't a spot on her body
that I didn't long to smother in kisses, and yet she was so wonderful to
watch that part of me wished she would never come down.
 She came to the waterfall and stood on a tiny ledge underneath it. The
water splashed and flowed over her head and breasts. I stood below her
so the same water would fall on me, but in an instant she dove over me
into the deep water at the centre of the pool. Seconds later she was
swimming at the bottom of the shallow where I stood. She grasped my
ankles and lifted her head out of the water. She began kissing my thighs
lightly, deliberately working her way upward. Soon my genitals were
rubbing against her forehead and her eyes and her ears as she turned her
head this way and that.
 It felt wonderful, but I was only a little hard. She reached behind me
and held one of my buttocks firmly in her hand. With the other hand she
held my scrotum to her lips and kissed each ball with wet, open lips.
Then before I knew it she took my penis in her mouth and swallowed it so
far that I could feel her chin pressing against my balls. I felt myself
growing so fast that I was sure she would choke, but when I tried to
pull out a little she held me tight with both hands. Finally she pulled
back and revealed my totally erect organ.
 "That's what you were worried about, isn't it?» She touched her cheek
against my penis and moved it back and forth lightly. "Now you don't
have to worry."
 "What's your pleasure, my lovely mermaid? A quick one now or shall we
save it for tonight?"
 "Tonight!" she breathed.

We rode and talked through the twilight well into dark. I asked
Mélisande if she was tired more than once, but each time she said no.
She was obviously as enthralled with our meeting of minds as I was. We
talked about books, about Chatterton and Piltdown Man, about the
equinoxes and the weather, about the beauty of the body and the joy of a
vigorous mind. When we talked about music she revealed the same
perceptions of Bach and Mo~art as I had. We discussed religion and the
supernatural and found that neither of us believed, though Mélisande
suggested that the word "soul» was still a good one to describe the
combination of intellect and emotion.
 The moon rose. It was full, and soon the countryside was aglow in its
pale light. It was hard to tell where the beam of the headlights stopped
and the moon took over. For a while we drove on admiring the sight, our
conversation dormant.
 "Why don't we turn off here and look for a place to spend the night?"
Mélisande pointed to a side road we were approaching. A few minutes'
drive brought us to a clearing at the side of a tumbling stream. I
pulled off the road and parked in a level spot about a hundred metres
away. Methodically I shut off the engine and lights. Small patches of
fog, luminous with moonlight, drifted slowly from the brook across the
field.
 Mélisande looked around for a moment. "It's just perfect!» she said at
last. She got out of the van, and in the moonlight her face showed
wonder and delight.
 I got out as well. It felt good to stand and stretch, and the sweet
smell of grass and forest heightened the pleasant anticipation of things
to come. Mélisande walked slowly toward the edge of the field and
disappeared in the bushes. I walked out to the road myself, taking in
the sights, sounds and fragrance of that enchanted meadow. For a moment
I experienced a nervous sensation, feeling that I was about to be
tested, but that notion melted away almost instantly in the beauty of
the night, and with the rapport Mélisande and I had found, I knew there
would be no problems.
 I stood still in a deep shadow for a few seconds listening to the music
of the brook. All of a sudden the memory of Mélisande climbing the cliff
flooded my consciousness. I could see all her movements and all the
details of her beauty that had moved me so much in the afternoon.
Nothing would do but to be with her and make love to her.
 When I got back to the van a heart-stopping vision met my eyes. About
twenty metres away stood Mélisande, perfectly naked in the moonlight,
attended by migrant wisps of luminous vapour.  I walked doser, but not
so dose as to disturb that serene apparition. Her face was lifted,
gazing at the moo n. It was bathed in light as were her shoulders, her
breasts, her arms and legs. Breathing the sweet night air deeply, I was
enthralled with the other-worldly sight before me, and in my ecstasy I
spoke her name.
 She seemed not to hear at first and remained perfectly still. Then she
said, "Come watch with me." She held out her hand, slowly as in a dream,
but otherwise she moved no mo re than a statue. As I approached my eyes
were held by her neck and breasts, glowing in their perfection. I
trembled with awe and excitement, but when I took her hand time and
trembling stopped and I stood with her in Elysian rapture. Everywhere
was cool luminescence and moist fragrance, and everywhere was Mélisande.
I put my arm around her waist and ran my fingertips over her hip,
savouring the texture of her skin. She turned to me in a slow, smooth
motion and, looking serenely into my eyes said, "Paul, let's 'o now with
our bodies what we've been doing with our minds."
 Without a word I led her to the van, opened the side door and lifted
her in my arms. Her open mouth met mine, and I ran my tongue along her
teeth as she explored with hers. I put her on the bed and began to take
my clothes off. She lay on her side in the darkness, visible here and
there by snatches of moonlight. When my shirt came off she began lightly
feeling my chest with her toes and as soon as I removed my pants I
seized her feet and held them tightly against me.
 "Take your socks off," she said, "I want every bit of you."
 As I bent over I couldn't take my eyes off her. It seemed that her feet
were so perfect and desirable that I could want nothing else. I began
kissing and licking them and nibbling her toes.
 "That's it, I'm all yours," she whispered. I began sucking on two or
three toes as I got my socks off. But I wanted more. I'd already
experienced the alluring feet. I kissed her ankles, each one in turn,
and caressed them with my cheeks. Bit by bit I explored her calves, her
shins, her knees, her thighs, tasting, feeling, looking at the sublime
contours in the pale light. She was trembling a little and sighing her
approval with each new move I made.
 A band of light from one of the windows shone on her belly and a little
bit of her pubic hair. I ran my hands up and down the outside of her
legs slowly again and again, each time coming a little doser to her
buttocks. At last I took them firmly in my hands and lifted her just far
enough that the light would shine on her vulva. She was so wet that she
glistened. I rested my chin on the bed between her legs and gazed at
what I was holding. I worked my fingers between her buttocks and began
to knead them. "Oh Paul, I love it, I love it," she moaned as I nipped
her thighs and worked my way gradually upward.
 When I ran out of thigh I licked and teased all around her vulva,
lifting her more to get in a little below. I was euphoric with the smell
and feel of her juices, but I kept working my way upward, going over her
hips, her belly, her sides with gentle bites and long, slow strokes of
the tongue. she began lifting herself to rub her vulva against me, and
as I reached her ribs I felt her painting my sides with her divine
perfume. She began to feel for me with her toes and deftly caressed my
balls and stroked my turgid penis.
 I came to her breasts, and once again surrounded her nipples with my
attentions, but didn't touch them. At the same time I felt her legs with
my genitals. Her hands began exploring me. She played with my hair and
my ears, she traced my features with her fingertips, and then caressed
my neck and shoulders. Another band of light shone on her shoulders and
head. Each smallest part of her seemed to be the very essence of beauty.
I lifted myself enough to tease her nipples with my chest. She shuddered
and groaned, and I felt her collarbone and shoulders with the palms of
my hand and moved on to trace the tiniest details of her throat with my
fingers. I kissed her cheeks and then her eyes as she shot her tongue
about to get licks of my face. I used my tongue to explore an ear and
she began whining in desire and excitement. She raised her hips and,
pushing on my buttocks, tried to get me to enter her.
 "Not yet," I whispered right into her ear. Let's make it last."
 "Please," she moaned. She opened her mouth wide and I kissed her
outstretched tongue. She took my head in her hands and pulled my lips so
tightly against hers that it began to hurt. But it only increased my
excitement and passion. I drove my tongue between her lips and pressed
as far into her mouth as I could, tasting her teeth and palate. Then I
disengaged myself and licked and nibbled my way down her perfect neck
and came to her chest. When I reached the edge of her breasts I kissed
them very delicately. She trembled and sighed as I ascended one breast
in a spiral of kisses and gently circled the other with my fingers. The
nearer my lips came to the nipple, the more she writhed trying to get it
into my mouth. It brushed against my nose and instantly I had to taste
it. I opened my mouth wide and took in as much of the breast as I could,
grazing the nipple with my tongue. I caressed the other one with the
flat of my hand increasing the pressure with each stroke, and as I
sucked harder and harder her hands ran up and down my back with an
intense, almost frenzied motion.
 Her whole body tossed and rolled and she uttered an unending series of
impassioned, astonished moans. I put my free arm under her back to hold
her tight against me, then I moved my face slowly and firmly across her
chest and, pressing the other breast against her ribs, I began sucking
her nipple. Nothing had ever tasted so wonderful as that firm nipple and
the soft, supple skin around it.
 Mélisande once again took my head in her hands and pressed it hard
against her. At the same moment she began gasping, Oh my God! Oh my God
I don't believe it!" And then with a long, soft moan she slowly relaxed
and stroked my neck with deliberate, tender motions. I sucked more
gently and in s moment she said, Paul, I've never come like that before.
I mean just from someone doing my breasts. It feels so wonderful!"
 "And we're just getting started," I added, letting her nipple out of my
mouth for a second.
 "Mmmmm . . . " She played with my ears and I sucked lightly. I caressed
her ribs and her belly with my hand and soon arrived between her legs. I
traced the outer edge of her vulva as lightly as I could, and when my
fingertips were thoroughly lubricated I started to play with her
clitoris. Her pelvis undulated slowly and she drew long, deep breaths. I
kissed my way downward, and while my fingers were busy with her genitals
I nipped at her thighs, coming doser to her vulva by degrees.
 I was heady with her erotic fragrance. I opened her vulva with my
fingers and stuck my tongue in as far as I could. Then, holding her
buttocks firmly, I turned my attention to her clitoris. As I flicked it
lightly and rapidly with the tip of my tongue she sighed, Oh Paul! Oh
Paul!" again and again. Her passion was like the swell of the ocean, and
each wave seemed to peak higher than the one before it. Finally a crest
broke and we were inundated by the torrent of her orgasm as she pitched
and writhed about in absolute abandon. Yet I held on and kept sucking
her, hearing her convulsive moans, tasting her juices and feeling more
and more masterful as her climax blossomed forth, then ebbed away.
 She spread her legs as wide apart as she could and as I drew my head
away she raised her pelvis in invitation. I positioned myself above her
and she opened her mouth. Once again we explored each other with our
tongues and I teased her nipples with my chest. With one hand she
stroked my balls and with the other she guided my penis to the entrance
of her celestial passage.
 She was so wet that I thought I would completely penetrate her with the
first thrust, but smooth as she was, she was wonderfully snug. My glans
wallowed n her dewy vulva with he first thrust, and each time after went
in a little further discovering yet another world of excruciating
pleasure. She met me with a reciprocal push as I kept penetrating her,
and gasped her pleasure with each new advance.
 When I began to feel the end of the passage I started to moderate my
movements, but Mélisande took my buttocks in her hands, and squeezing
them hard, tried to push me in further yet. Each time I pumped in I
could feel her insides moving about. She moaned and squirmed while I
wallowed in her passion. Suddenly I stopped pumping and pressed my
pelvis against hers with all my might. She began thrusting up at me with
a high, short groan each time, but she could barely move me.
 I bent my neck to suck her breast, and after a few wide-mouthed licks I
had a nipple in my lips and was tonguing it and sucking.
 "That's it, suck. Suck!" she urged in a delirious voice. I sucked
harder and in an instant she was kicking her legs wildly. She pushed my
head harder against her breast and rolled from side to side. I was so
deep in her that there was no question of accidentally coming out, and
in a moment we were rolling from one side of the ~-ed to the other in a
mutual frenzy. For an Instant I worried about hurting her with my teeth,
but she pushed so hard that I forgot it in a paroxysm of lust.
 Her orgasm seemed to go on and on. Even apart from the feeling of being
inside her, it was wonderful being so close to her in her unqualified
ecstasy. After a while she slowed down and finally went limp. I pumped
slowly and gently and raised myself up to look at my lover. Her mouth
was open a little and her eyes watched me intently.
 Without coming out I sat up and lifted her by the shoulders. She sat on
me and rocked a little while I held her tight against my chest. She put
her head on my shoulder and began humming vaguely in time with her
movements. I traced her ears and features with loving fingers.
 "And you thought there was going to be a problem!" she said. She pumped
a little harder and seemed to contract her vagina each time she went up.
I quickly felt much doser to coming. "Mmmmnm," she crooned, "you feel so
fine inside me. I wish it could go on forever."
 "Me too," I answered. I could feel that I was about to come if I didn't
do something immediately to forestall it, so I held her tight and we
rolled deftly into a lying position. Her shoulders were at the edge of
the bed, so I held her head in my hand over the edge. I licked and
nibbled at her throat and chin while I forced my free hand between my
chest and hers to squeeze a breast. I went in and out with long, deep
strokes, gradually increasing in speed until many minutes later
Mélisande was writhing in yet another climax.
 Once again I slowed down and worked my way up in speed and force. This
time I knew I couldn't hold back, so I took her head in both my hands
and prepared to give her my all. I kissed her face all over.
 Here goes, love," I said.
 "Do it! Do it!" she urged. She opened her mouth and touched my lips
with her tongue, beckoning.
 As my penis went in and out of her smooth, snug vagina, we kissed and
explored each other's mouths as deeply as we could. Soon we were each
groaning with every thrust.
 She started to come again, this time in a more deliberate fashion. I
couldn't resist any longer. I pumped in and out of her as fast and hard
as I could. She grabbed my back and squeezed the folds of my skin. She
groaned incessantly and rocked her hips furiously. I joined her with
short exclamations as my climax grew more and more imminent.
 Then I let go. My semen gushed into her. Thrust after thrust more came
out and I was completely possessed with my orgasm. Mélisande crooned and
sighed her joy.
 Then it was over. I stayed inside her for a minute or two and we
caressed each other fondly. I grew soft and as Mélisande relaxed I
started slipping out of her. I withdrew and rolled over, inviting her to
lie on top of me with a gesture of my head. I felt warm and wonderful,
perfectly at peace and satisfied with the universe. For a long time
neither of us said anything. I lay on my back with her on top of me, her
head on my shoulder and her face turned toward mine. We watched each
other with warm, friendly half smiles. I don't know how long we lay like
that together, basking in our intimacy. After a while I looked casually
out the window.
 "Look, Mélisande," I mused, "the night's more beautiful than ever.»
 "Right now everything is more beautiful than ever," she answered.

Once Mélisande looked out the window and saw the night for herself,
nothing would do but for us to get dressed and take a walk. A night like
that just begged to be experienced. The ground fog had become nearly
ubiquitous, and there were patches of soft, silvery light everywhere. I
started putting my clothes on.
 "Don't get carried away," Mélisande protested. "The less you wear now,
the quicker it will come off when we get back." She just put on her
hiking jacket covering her to the thighs.
 "Aren't you cold?" I asked as we crossed the meadow.
 She laughed. "After what you did for me I don't know if I'll ever be
cold again."
 "Oh, I imagine you will. But that's easily taken care of.»
 She didn't answer. We walked along the road for some minutes in
silence. We began ascending a modest hill and left the fog behind us.
The road was dappled with moonlight and the shadows of the trees that
overlooked us. The scene might have looked menacing or eerie to the
wrong eyes, but Mélisande's relaxed walking and gentle, moonlit smile
told me that we had yet another special joy in common.
 "Gn I ask you something?" My voice jarred against the stillness. "I
mean I want to ask you something that could sound like a nasty question,
but I don't mean it that way."
 "You'd like to know if I do dhis all the time, right?" There was no
reproach in her voice, but I dhought I heard a touch of amusement.
 "Yeah, more or less."
 "Well that's a long story, but I guess we have the time." She took my
hand tentatively. I squeezed hers affectionately and she gave me a
grateful glance. "Would you believe dhat a year ago I was a virgin?"
 "I believe it since you say it, but I am surprised. You're awfully good
for a yearling."
 She smiled. "I'm good with the right person, I guess. Do you know dhat
you're the fifteenth man I've made love widh? Do you find that
shocking?"
 "Not shocking exacdy, but I find myself a little jealous of dhe odher
fourteen. I guess I'm a little surprised that you keep count like that,
but I wouldn't say that I'm shocked."
 "The way I've been living dhe past year, I Jnly meet men on a pretty
casual basis. This might surprise you--I hope it does, anyway--but I
often get rides from guys who aren't interested in me sexually. Then
sometimes I get rides from couples or families or other women. But widh
hitdlhiking and other things I do meet men who want to go to bed.
Sometimes, often in fact, I'm not interested and I let them know one way
or another. Twice I've given in to avoid something nasty happening, and
it's been unpleasant but not devastating. I've never been raped.
 "Most of the other guys I've made love with because I was horny. Some
of them were pretty good and some weren't, but I enjoyed most of them.
And I learned a lot about pleasing a man, and what gets me going too,
for that matter.
 "Then there've been three men, and I hope you recognize yourself here,
that I've really wanted. Like really. After I've got to know them just a
little I've found dhem so attractive physically or emotionally or
intellectually that I felt I just had to have them make love with me."
 For a while we were both quiet, then I said, "I guess I just have to be
jealous of two then."
 "Paul, I really mean this: You don't have to be jealous of anyone. I
don't keep score, but no one has ever made me feel like you just did."
 "Well the same goes for me," I said sincerely. "To tell you the trudh,
I'm usually a bit of a loser in bed. Sometimes I can't 'get it up' or
sometimes I come after a minute or so and that's that. I can't believe
how great it was with you.
 We walked hand in hand for some distance without talking. I tried to
think how best to phrase dhe next question I had to ask. I tried to
sound offhand and said, "Would you like to stay widh me and travel
together a while?"
 She shook her head. "Paul, I'd love to. Every inch of me screams to
stay with you, but I can't. Don't ask me why because I can't explain it
to you.
 "It's not that I'm looking for the ultimate lay. I've just had that,
and I don't expect to ever find anyone like you again. Really! And it's
not that I hope to find someone more attractive or compatible or
anything. Paul, if I were ready to be really involved with a man, you
would be perfect. I know you would. But I'm not looking for a man now,
I'm looking for me. Does that make sense to you?»
 "In a way," I admitted. "But look at it from another point of view.
I've never met another human being who seemed so perfect for me, and
you've just said the some thing, more or less. It seems a miracle that
we've happened on eadh other. How can we let it just come to nothing?"
 She was silent for a while and seemed to be troubled by the justice of
my remarks. I stopped and held her face between my hands, looking into
her eyes.
 "Mélisande, I love you." I spoke the words as simply and sincerely as I
could.
 She met my gaze steadily. "Paul, I love you too. But I have to ask
somedhing of you. In the morning I have to leave. Please send me off
with your blessing."
 "Will I ever see you again?" I hoped she didn't think I was trying to
bargain.
 "I don't know," she said after a few seconds. "I don't know, but, oh
Paul, I hope so."
 I smiled a little. "I don't know just when anyone last asked for my
blessing, but you've got it love." I was full of conflicting emotions. I
felt good about the trust and rapport between us, and believed that she
really had to go, though I couldn't imagine why. But she told me so and
that made it so. On the other hand I felt nearly crushed with grief at
the thought of her going away.
 The moon had nearly set by now and with the increased darkness I became
filled with a melancholy passion. I reached under her jacket and held
one of her buttocks firmly in my hand. She drew closer and softly moaned
her willingness. We touched our tongues together a few times. Then I
took her hand once more and led her back down the road.
 It was quite dark by now and the forest surrounding us was full of the
sounds of crickets and night birds. The dew was heavy and we could feel
it each time we brushed a bit of grass or a low branch. We walked arm in
arm without haste. The bed would be there whenever we got back to the
van. If our life together was to end in a few hours, we would neither
waste those hours nor ruin them with panic.
 As the road descended we re-entered the foggy area. The night had
become very still. The only sounds we could hear were our own footsteps
and a whispering suggestion of the brook at the bottom of the hill. Each
step became an adventure in the inky darkness. We clung dose together,
giggling each time one of us made a false step.
 When we reached the brook we stopped to listen to its music. It sounded
melodious and familiar, but there was an abstract quality to its sound
as well, invisible as it was. Without talking about it I was aware that
my enjoyment was being shared.
 "Wait here a minute." Mélisande made her way down the embankment toward
the brook. She moved silently in her bare feet and I was startled a
minute later when her voice sounded right next to me. "Try this water,"
she offered, "it's delicious."
 I wondered where she got a cup, but then realized she was offering me a
drink from her cupped hands. It was delicious, perhaps because of the
vessel I drank from. When I finished I took a couple fingers from each
of her hands and sucked them lightly.
 "How brightly shines the darkest night, when lovers first their souls
unite," Mélisande recited.
 "Hey, I like that," I said, taking her fingers out of my mouth. "Who
wrote it?"
 "Nobody," she giggled, "I just made it up."
 I felt a little foolish. It had seemed such an apt quotation. "It's not
very good verse," she said, "but it comes straight from the heart."
 "And went straight to mine," I added fervently.
 By now the air had become distincdy chilly. We huddled together as we
groped our way across the field. Our first attempt at finding the van
ended in the bushes instead. I had the giddy feeling that I was lost in
a world of utter darkness in the company of a strange and wondrous
goddess. I wondered if she would suddenly vanish into the depths of my
subtlest fantasies from which she surely must have come. As long as she
touched my senses I knew that there was a frxed point in my universe,
and I wondered whether anything would really matter without her.

Alter wandering about the field and trying to orient ourselves by the
sound of the brook for a while, we stumbled quite abrupdy into the van.
I turned on the interior light as we got in in order to see Mélisande
more dearly. We watched each other intendy and without embarrassment,
and in a moment she dropped her jacket. Her body was all the more
beautiful now that I was familiar with it.
 I leaned back and scanned her slowly. She seemed so perfect. Her feet
were sculpted with balance and subtlety, at onoe strong and agile,
pretty and feminine. Her ankles were a prelude to the mystical symphony
of curves, lines, firm musdes and tender skin that were her legs, and
where her legs became thighs my eyes were drawn steadily toward her
vulva. Like the rest of her it seemed the very essenoe of perfection. I
could see that she kept her pubic hair discretely trimmed. Usually when
I did cunnilingus it was to please the girl I was with, but her vulva
looked as though it had been created to be tasted and enjoyed. As my
eyes wandered over her belly, her sublime breasts, her smooth shoulders
and perfect arms, I came to realize that she had an uncanny knack of
casually displaying herself in the most pleasing way conceivable.
 I was unwilling to bring the experience to a close just yet by meeting
her eyes. I gazed at her hands lying relaxed on her thighs. How many
things could she do with those hands? Perhaps she could make music, she
could write, or perhaps her fingers could work an artist's brush or an
embroiderer's needle. How wonderful they looked Iying there for me to
admire! How wonderful they would feel as she made love to me again!
 A subtle change in her position drew my eyes to her throat and thence
to her chin and mouth. At last I looked into her eyes. They were
watching me fondly and there was a loving smile spread about her face. I
realized that she hadn't learned to display herself so well in the
interest of self-gratification. It was a profound act of love in with
she bathed a man's soul in her radiant beauty. I realized also that the
time had come to re-unite ourselves in erotic rapture.
 I lay down on the bed and began unbuttoning my shirt, but Mélisande
stayed my hand and began undressing me herself. She was leisurely and
gentle about it. Now and then she stopped to trace around me with her
fingers or to kiss a bit of skin she had just uncovered. When I was
quite naked, Iying on my back, she hovered above me on her hands and
knees. My penis stood straight up and she began teasing it with her
hanging breasts. I wondered if I might go mad with the exquisite
sensation of her nipples grazing my glans.
 Suddenly she stopped and chuckled as though she had an idea. Do you
believe in equal opportunities for women?" she asked with a mischievous
smile.
 "Sure, I guess so," I shrugged. "Actually I was a suffragette in my
last incarnation."
 "Good," she gloated pleasantly, "just lie back then."
 It was my turn to chuckle as she knelt at the foot of the bed and began
nibbling at my toes in an obvious imitation of what I had done to her.
Not only did she mimic my lovemaking, but she was more detailed and
thorough about it. I didn't want to seem to be laughing at her, but the
situation really amused me.
 "I've heard that to gain equal recognition in the business world, a
woman has to work twioe as hard as a man," I mused. I didn't know it
worked that way in bed too."
 She shot me a quick smile, but kept right on kissing, tasting and
nipping the inside of my legs. She worked her way upward, rolling from
side to side and rubbing her breasts against my feet and legs as she
went. As she began working on my thighs her hair brushed my scrotum
lightly. I moaned softly in pleasure, taking my passive role seriously.
She took one of my hands in hers and gave it an appreciative squeeze.
Then she set about exploring my buttocks and my stiff penis with the
tips of her fingers. For a long instant I thought I would come right
then, but just in time she moved her hands away and began feeling me
elsewhere.
 When my pleasure had receded far enough from the brink of orgasm, she
began nipping and tasting around the base of my penis. She lifted me a
little by the buttocks so her tongue could wander further. Then when she
held one of my balls between her lips with infinite tenderness and I
moaned my assent, she took the whole scrotum in her mouth. She hummed a
low, steady note, and the vibrations of her voice permeated my balls,
setting me to a frenzy of urgent desire. I felt that I just had to get
my penis rubbing on something, but when I reached for it Mélisande took
both of my hands and held them against the bed. Then she released my
scrotum and resumed her oral explorations.
 Up she moved, kissing and tasting, as though she were unwilling to miss
a single point of me. As she moved about she caressed me with her hands
and breasts as well, now lightly with the tips of her nipples, now
pressing hard and oscillating from side to side. She put all her weight
on me, lying flat and squirming slowly toward my mouth. Her legs
straddled one of mine and she rocked her pelvis subtly back and forth. I
could feel her wet vulva tracing its way up my thigh, and the closer it
got to my penis, the more excited I became. I began feeling her hair and
fingering her ears. A frenzy started up inside me and I groaned aloud as
I felt the details of her back and pressed her hard against me in quick,
compulsive motions. I took her buttocks firmly in my hands, and
fingering between them I fondled her anus and pushed her as hard against
me as I could. She rocked violendy for what seemed like several minutes
while I held on with all my might. I nearly came myself, but once again
she stopped just in time and disengaged herself.
 She crouched over me, straddling my hips, then leaned forward in a sort
of squatting pushup. She held out her tongue as we rubbed noses, and we
licked each other, delaying the culmination of our pleasure. She raised
herself and then, swaying back and forth ever so slightly, teased my
chest with her hanging breasts. I watched them grazing me, hanging there
in their simple perfection, nearly out of my mind with Joy.
 And then in one deft motion she sat on my throbbing penis and took it
entirely into her. I could see her belly flex a litde as I felt her
insides at the end of my penis. And then she pressed her pelvis against
mine with such force that I nearly winced. She took my wrists in her
hands, and leaning over me she held my arms to the bed. Then without any
visible motion she began expanding and contracting her vagina, at first
so slowly that it was nearly imperceptible.
 "Let me play with your breasts," I begged.
 "Do you like what I'm doing?"
 "My God, yes, but let me do you."
 She only smiled and held my wrists a little tighter. She started
humming a soft tune vaguely in rhythm with the movements of her vaginal
musdes. I dosed my eyes and imagined myself lying on a grassy hill
beneath blue skies, attended by a goddess who was charged with my
perfect happiness. But when I opened them again, I realized that what
they could see in the dim light of the van was far more wonderful than
anything my imagination could conjure.
 For a very long time I looked at her breasts, still beautifuUy shaped
even though they were hanging straight down. Then I focussed my
attention on her nipples and concentrated on their tiniest details,
tracing all the tiny lines and the pink, berry-like color with my eyes.
 "Please, Mélisande, let my hands go," I pleaded.
 "I will," she sang, not wanting to interrupt her humming, "but not
yet." The melody she hummed seemed to have no beginning or end, but it
evolved with the fervor of her invisible love making. Several times I
pushed in and out a little, but her position was so firm against me that
I could hardly move. Finally I relaxed and abandoned myself to wallowing
passively in a feast of sight, sound and feeling.
 After many more minutes her movements became just visible. "Will you do
something for me?" she asked, stopping her humming.
 "Absolutely anything," I said without hesitation.
 "I'm going to let your hands go, but don't touch me just yet, okay?"
She let go, and I lay there keeping my promise. "Now will you squeeze
your nipples and make them stand up just a little?"
 It seemed an odd request, but she was obviously very excited by the
thought, and her enthusiasm caught me. I did it and she lowered herself
just enough for her nipples to touch mine. It felt nice as she moved
them around gently, but it seemed as though she had been expecting
something more, and after a few minutes she raised herself again with a
good natured shrug. Then she took my right hand and lifted it to her
breast. I held the nipples I had admired so intimately between my
fingertips and rolled them lightly.
 "Mélisande, I love you so much," I crooned. I was no longer feeling
relaxed or passive, but I let her keep the initiative. By this time her
movements had become very visible and her humming was more abstract
passion than melody, yet nothing could have sounded more musical to me.
I began vocalizing with her, grunting and groaning in uninhibited
response to her and the sensations she was creatlng In me. I wondered
what was making me last so long and began to vaguely worry that I would
come before she was ready to finish. But as though she could read my
mind she paused for a moment.
 "I love you, Paul," she said ardently.
 "I love you too, Mélisande," I answered, trying to put my whole soul
into it.
 At that she lay down on me and began pumping once again. Soon she was
going at it with such abandon that I could hardly have held on without
planting my hand firmly between her buttocks. Her groans grew louder and
louder by the second and I could tell that she was having the most
intense orgasm I had ever seen.
 "That's it," I told her, "That's it, love, do it! Do it!" I felt proud
and joyous to use her words, and I held her tight to me as my climax
approached with explosive fury. She gasped her pleasure as I came within
her. "Oh my God, oh my God," I breathed as she slowed down and finally
came to rest on top of me.
 I felt myself growing soft and gradually coming out of her, but it was
only at the edge of my mind. I was too full of the glowing satisfaction
of what I had just experienced to be annoyed with anything. Even the
thought of parting from Mélisande in the morning seemed remote and
unmenacing just then. She lay on top of me, her head snug under my chin
and her hands idly caressing my neck and shoulders. A number of times I
thought of things to say to her, but each time I was about to speak I
realized that no words were necessary.
 It must have been very late. I reached for a blanket and between the
two of us we managed to cover ourselves without disturbing our intimate
position. I reached up to turn offthe light. Instantly we were enveloped
in perfect darkness. We fondled each other casually. I played with her
buttocks a little and she rubbed the soles of her feet against the tops
of mine.
 The last thing I can remember from that night is wondering why we were
so comfortable. I had neverhad a woman lie on me for more than a few
minutes without my being in pain, and no woman had ever found me
comfortable as a mattress. But then I had never been with a woman like
Mélisande. I doubt whether there are any others like her.

I awoke in the morning feeling tense and apprehensive. Mélisande's
weight wasn't on top of me and I was afraid to open my eyes and see an
empty van. I felt around with my arms and legs and rolled from one side
of the bed to the other, but she wasn't there. I began feeling childish,
so I opened my eyes, but she wasn't in the front of he van either. I got
up and looked out the rear window. The fog was so thick that I couldn't
see anything at all. I scrambled toward the front and stumbled over her
pack, feeling relieved at least to learn that she was still around
somewhere.
 I opened the side door and stepped onto the wet grass. "Mélisande!" I
shouted.
 From somewhere in the distance her voice shouted badk to me, I'm in the
bushes, Paul. I'm going potty."
 With that homely assurance I felt a flood of relief. It ebbed away
almost at once, however, when I remembered that she was about to leave
me.
 "Paul," she called, "make a noise so I can find my way back."
 I imitated a fog horn several times, but then I had a happier thought.
"J'aime Mélisande, j'aime Mélisande..." I chanted again and again. When
she came into view a few steps from me she was smiling, but she didn't
look directly at me. My stomach was all in knots and I felt that I had
to resolve things.
 "Mélisande," I began, "is there any use..."
 "Paul, will you do me one more favor?" she interrupted.
 "If you'll look me in the eye I will."
 She looked up. "Yes, that is better," she admitted. Then she met my
pleading gaze with an earnest, loving look. "I want to say a few things
to you, things you'd rather not hear. And I want you to take them for
what they are, absolutely true. Will you do that?"
 I nodded uneasily.
 "I must leave you this morning. I'll walk from here if it will be too
painful for you to take me out to the highway. Now look, I won't waste
words on false modesty. If I don't come back to you, you may never find
anyone to really take my place. But believe me, my loss will be at least
as great as yours. Don't ever doubt that, Paul.
 "And so if I can, I will come back to you. I will, Paul. But don't
waitfor me. If I could promise to return, I would. But I can't promise
anything. So it is you who must do the promising for both of us. As soon
as the hurt of our parting wears off just a little, you must spread
yourself around. Don't ever think that you will do anything for me or
for our love by pining away for someone you may never see again. Will
you promise me?"
 Her words tore at me like a cold wind, but her request was so earnest
and my love so intense that I couldn't refuse. "Absolutely. I promise."
I drew toward her and held her in my arms. "If only it didn't have to be
this way," I murmured.
 She put her face against my shoulder and sobbed quietly. I caressed her
lovingly. "Come on," I said at last, "I'm going to drive you out to the
highway." I let her out of my arms and backed away a step. She was
smiling through her tears.
 "Like that?" she asked, trying to sound playful.
 It was just then that I remembered I was still quite naked. And cold
too, now that I thought about it. "Well look, lady," I quipped, "as I
recall this was all your doing, and it seems to me that it's your
responsibility to set things right again."
 She smiled at me in gratitude and took me by the hand. She led me to
the van and asked me to lie down while she dressed me. There were
affectionate kisses here and there, and after we'd managed to struggle
through the job and remark any number of times how much easier and nicer
it was to undress a person than to dress him, I sat up. We looked into
each other's eyes for a while, she sitting at my feet and I looking at
her with a mixture of adoration and sorrow.
 "One more favor?" she asked with a timid smile.
 "You've got it," I told her.
 She unzipped my fly, pulled out my penis and took into her mouth. I
shook my head and tried to push her gently away.
 "Mélisande, that's nice, but you don't have to do it." But without
letting go of me she nodded her head insistendy. I thought I saw tears
coming to her eyes, so I smiled and nodded badk to her.
 It was indeed nice. She massaged my organ thoroughly with her tongue
before she began the rhythmic back and forth motion with her head. I was
sore from the night, but I was still glad she had been so insistent. I
grew and grew and at last, after many minutes of increasing pleasure, I
came in her mouth. She swallowed the semen and carefully licked me
clean. Then, giving it a chaste kiss, she put my penis back where it
came from and zipped up my fly.
 But it seemed all wrong. It was I who should be sitting at her feet, I
thought, worshiping her and giving her such pleasure as I could.
 "Where can I write to you?" she asked. "You can't reach me, really, but
if things work out I'll want to write."
 "I have a postal box in Victoria. I'll be keeping it for the
foreseeable future, but if you should have your letter returned maybe
you can put an ad in the personal column of the Victoria papers."
 "Here," she said, taking a small black volume from her pack and opening
the cover. "Write your name and address and whatever else you want on
the flyleaf of my diary."
 I wrote my name and box number and added the words, "with love and
hope." She looked at it and gave me an excited little smile.
 "You're the only person besides me who has ever written in here," she
said. I kissed the book and handed it to her. She kissed it too and put
it carefully into her pack. Then without saying anything we got into the
front seats and I started the engine. I let it warm up longer than was
probably necessary, but Mélisande didn't complain, and when I put the
van in gear and we started moving, she sighed.
 I hoped we might get a nice conversation going, but a gloom as dense as
the fog settled over us and we drove on silently. All too soon we came
to the highway. I asked Mélisande where she would like to get out and if
I could buy her breakfast before we parted. She declined the breakfast
with thanks and said that I could pull over just then and leave her off.
I was concerned for her safety in the fog and told her so. She promised
to be careful.
 As I pulled onto the shoulder of the road she looked at me. "What will
you remember most about me, Paul?" she asked.
 I thought for a moment. "The radiant beauty of your soul
and...Mélisande, you know what you're doing and I don't. I'll keep my
promise and try to spread myself around. But if you do come back to
me..." My voice was breaking and my eyes were beginning to fill.
Mélisande opened the door and stepped out. I handed her pack out to her
and she swung it onto her shoulders.
 "Goodbye, Paul," she said. "I love you." She swung the door shut and I
put the van in gear. As I let out the clutch I could see her eyes
watching me through the side mirror. It looked as though she was crying
too, but I couldn't be sure. I had only gone a couple metres when she
began to fade into the fog and a second later she disappeared
altogether.

******

Copyright (c) 1981 & 1996 Richard Todd

Comments are more than welcome. My e-mail address is richard@magi.com.

--
Richard, who invites you to visit his music, outdoors and other WWW
sites at:
http://infoweb.magi.com/~richard/



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