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whatever& he'll be out on business when she's coughing up a lung." But he cast
a shrewd look at Green and I, and turned the little lock button on the
doorknob as he closed the door behind him.
Green came around behind me, bunching a sheer nylon stocking in his hands and
holding it out in front of him. I remember my mother doing a similar thing
when she dressed me up to 'send me off to get religion' on the odd Sunday
mornings. But Green was warm and strong and definitely not my mother. "Here,
luv, he murmured in my ear, and I stuck my foot out automatically as he
rolled the stocking up my leg.
"I think we have to put the garter belt on first, I said, feeling warm
because I was naked under the bathrobe and even between the two of them, my
body was not all sexed out yet. In fact, if I'd thought about it, it would
seem that I needed to be touched even more now than I had when Green had been
my only lover. But then, a little voice in my head murmured, you were dying.
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Now that I was happy or as close to being happy as I could be with a really
odd but really wonderful love life, I understood that before Nicky attacked
me, I'd been withering away, root and stock, my heart and my body, turning
brown from pain held in. If this last month had felt like an endless refrain
of "Adrian is dead" then at least I had purged the grief and the poison of
blame and self-recrimination that not saying it to myself had built up in my
once fragile, wilted little heart. So what? I thought, knowing that if I
parted my thighs, even a little, my sex would be open and slick and Green
could take me right then. So what if I needed them to touch me? So what if the
thought of a night without a strong male body next to mine was like the
thought of a night naked on an ice-berg? I was whole. I was healthy. I was
powerful. And these men loved me.
"Stop thinking sex thoughts, luv, Green said from behind me, his voice
strained, and since I was leaning back against the length of him, I could tell
what the smell of my must had done to him. "We're trying to accomplish
something here.
"The garter belt," I breathed, and he bent down again, his warm yellow hair
falling down over my shoulder, his pale, smooth cheek against mine, and slid
the little lace confection up my legs. The contrast between his hand on the
silk and flesh of the leg with the stocking on it, and the brushing of his
fingers on my bare (shaved!) leg had my knees all shaky all over again. Since
he could see me in the full length mirror on the closet door, he could
probably see the shiny slickness that had gathered on my upper thigh. When the
garter belt was in place, and the little snappy things clicked together over
the stocking, his white, long-fingered hand hovered there, over the rust
colored fur of my mound, and I swallowed so loud they could probably hear me
in the living room, where, I assumed, everybody who had managed to get dressed
was gathered and waiting for those of us having some sort of crisis.
Gracefully, Green reached his thumb in to the juncture of my slightly spread
thighs and rubbed it in the slick little place where I was dripping, and then
brought his thumb to his mouth.
"I forgot panties," I remembered with agony in my voice. "We're going to have
to start all over again." I met Green's eyes in the mirror, and I knew what he
was going to say before he said it, because we had a little time to spare, and
because my body needed his and because we loved each other and we felt
powerful and revved and we could.
"Do without, he murmured. And in three deft movements he unhooked his belt
and trousers, pulled my robe down my body, and bent me over the bed. He was
inside me, slick and full and strong before I could even gasp yes, and I was
moaning into the quilt on my bed as he thrust. And again, and again, and he
brought me, quivering, grunting into the covers, needing more, and again and
in a moment he was clutching my sensitive breasts, one in each hand, biting
the back of my neck, and pouring himself into me on a groan.
It had been quick and fierce and potent and I tried to suppress a giggle as we
lay, face down on the bed, with Green collapsed on top of me. "Oh damn, I
murmured. "I have to shower again.
"Don't, he whispered in my ear. "Don't shower. You'll smell like me, like my
sex. My power lies in sex, and now it lies in you, yes? I want to know that
while we're singing, and pulling Mist's power out from under him, that my come
is running down your thighs.
We rarely used sex words, ever. At first it was because they made me feel bad
about sex, and not putting a name to the things we were doing became a habit.
But now he said 'come' and he was still inside me, still hard, and still
moving with our breathing, and his words, whispered harshly in the sensitive
hollows of my ear sent me over the long precipice without even knowing it was
at my feet.
I was caught unaware, and the reason I don't automatically change the world
every time I orgasm is because I can prepare, I can master the magic that my
body creates and control it and make it simply about pleasure and not about
power. But I hadn't been thinking about power and I was surprised in my
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pleasure, and our coupling had been powerful to begin with and the burst of
power that was surprised out of me was shouted into my Gran's already
sparkling quilt, and suddenly the lines of quilting began to twist, changing
shape, glowing with green that ran the gamut of turquoise to loden to emerald
and the quilting lines, a curling, wreathing pattern to begin with began to
spread.
Although it was sudden, the climax itself was a slow, lingering hurtle to
oblivion, and I watched, even as my body quivered, as those green lines began
to crawl rapidly around the room, adorning the woodwork of the bed, the
carpet, the window panes, and even beyond my room. By the time the final
shivers had blown through my skin, I heard various exclamations from the
collection of people waiting for us in the living room.
This time, it was Green who laughed softly, shakily, because he'd been inside
of me as my body clenched, and all he could do was hug me to him and hang on
for the ride. "Goddess& he murmured. "Goddess& I think you've really outdone
yourself this time, Cory, luv.
I opened my eyes and saw his arm next to me on the bed, and the sleeve of his
ivory shirt was now alive with a subtle glow of that same green floral loop
that had run across my Grandmother's quilt, but changed. Changed into the same
wreath that ran across my back. I shifted a little, letting him slide out of
my body with regret, and saw that his cream-colored trousers (which he was now
pulling over his sex-slicked person) were similarly decorated. The pattern, in
that rich tumble of greens, had worked it's way up the stocking on my leg, and
onto the one on the bed, was worked subtly across the green satin of my dress,
and, if the noises from the people in the other room were any indication,
Green and I were not the only ones wearing 'Cory's orgasm chic' this evening.
Our eyes met, in bemusement, and, in my case, embarrassment, and I have no
idea what I would have said because Bracken broke up the moment with a hard
knock on the door.
"Green, you had better have her dressed and out of there in five minutes,
because if you two pull another deal like that we'll all be wearing ivy
loincloths to this thing.
"There's not that much ivy on the fucking planet," I snapped back through the
door, and Green's silent laughter shook his body, even as he was tucking in
his shirt.
"If you keep fucking around like that, I'm sure you'll make some," Bracken
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