The trail was rough and uneven, and I felt gravity pulling me faster than I was comfortable running, especially considering how dark it was.
But Christos’ boots were pounding right behind me.
I didn’t want him to catch me so easily.
I sped up my pace, focusing on where my feet fell and keeping my center of gravity low and balanced.
A thread of my old insecurity knitted my brows and a string of my ingrained civilized sanity spooled through my thoughts. I realized that my desire for Christos had me so turned on, I was being stupid. I mean, I was barreling downhill in the darkness. I could easily break an ankle or a leg. It scared me. I wondered if Christos might destroy me with his unrelenting abandon someday. I expected my old friend fear to snatch my confidence and devour me at any moment.
But I wasn’t that frightened girl any longer. I wasn’t going to let fear run my life.
I was a woman, and I was strong.
A powerful feminine force reared up inside me like a champion mare or a lioness on the tundra and it stomped out my fear decisively. Adrenalin and excitement poured into my veins and swam through my body.
Christos could only have me if he was strong enough to catch me.
I ran as fast as I could down the trail. I jumped over rocks and divots like an experienced huntress in her element until I was on the street below. Then I sprinted toward the house, Christos close behind.
We pounded up the stairs of our home together.
I knew Spiridon was out, so I wasn’t worried about the noise bothering him.
I stumbled into the bedroom and crashed onto the bed. We stripped our clothes off while giggling at each other and dove onto the bed, heedless of the dirt from the trail.
We knelt on the bed together, facing each other. I was brimming over with confidence because I was thrilled that I hadn’t tripped on the trail. I had navigated the rugged terrain in the darkness like a master. My success fueled my throbbing excitement.
I traced the script of the Fearless tattoo on Christos’ chest with my fingertip. “Maybe I should get a tattoo across my chest that says Fearless,” I grinned.
“What, and mar those perfect breasts? Nothing made by the hand of man could ever compare to your breasts, agápi mou. To tell you the truth, I’m a bit worried about capturing their perfection when I paint them.”
“You can totally do it,” I said dismissively. When I’d first met Christos, I would’ve cringed at his words and asked for reassurance he wasn’t lying. Now I took it in stride. But the truth was, I wasn’t really into tattoos for myself. I joked, “Okay, how about I get a tramp stamp that says Fearless instead?”
He chuckled, “Definitely go with the tramp stamp. That way, when I’m taking you from behind, I’ll be reminded how badass you are.”
“Because we both know I have a bad ass,” I quipped, “in a good way.”
“The best way. You have an ass that launched a thousand ships.”
I frowned, “Wait, that sounds like something having to do with farts. Like my ass shoots cannon ball farts or rocket fart blasts that blow the sails that power the ships.”
“All thousand of them,” Christos grinned and shook his head. “Your imagination knows no bounds, agápi mou. Neither of limits nor of propriety.”
“And you love it,” I laughed.
“I do,” he smiled.
We began kissing, naked on our knees, chest to chest on our bed. The passion from the mountain top erupted once again, having never completely cooled. But this time it was sweetly, silkily different. Our love making was quiet and intimate in contrast to the savage intensity and wild abandon before. This time, not just our bodies, but our hearts beat together in that timeless, ancient rhythm of man and woman in perfect union.
The bonding of our hearts brought a powerful immediacy. I was intimately aware of Christos as he thrust tenderly into me over and over again. His heat, his scent, his weight. But also his compassion, his tenderness, and his love. I felt our souls joining as our bodies came together. I could tell he felt it too. Our eyes were locked as pleasure swept through us in a shower of orgasmic release.
We lay in each other’s arms on our bed as the embers of our fire cooled and the bond between our hearts strengthened, much like bedrock after the erupted volcano finally comes to rest. Our ritual of love was complete, body and soul.
Together, Christos and I had laid the foundation for our renewal and rebirth. Like Adam and Eve, we were Man and Woman.
We were Creation.
We were Love.
Love.
Chapter 20
SAMANTHA
“Do you think pirates ever used their peg legs as dildos?” Romeo asked thoughtfully.
I gawked at him.
An old guy with grizzled white stubble who was dressed in a pirate costume stood on the dais in the center of the room. He struck a classic pirate pose: hands on hips, one pirate boot up on a box, like he was at the front of a pirate ship. A cutlass hung in a scabbard from his belt and he had one of those black pirate hats and a fancy captain’s coat with hundreds of buttons.
The students were all circled around the dais, drawing the pirate, sitting on these cute little benches called drawing horses, which you straddled long-ways like a horse, hence the name. A vertical plank stuck up on the front end, much like the neck of a horse, and you leaned your drawing clipboard on it. I didn’t think they were big enough to be called horses, so I dubbed them drawing ponies. I would need to get a saddle for mine and properly bedazzle it with glitter and silver buckles in my spare time.
The class was Drawing The Costumed Figure. Professor Walt Childress, who had taught Life Drawing last fall, was our professor once again.
“I totally think pirates used their peg legs as dildos,” Romeo whispered as he sketched on the big drawing pad in his lap with his charcoal stick.
“He doesn’t have a peg leg!” Kamiko hiss-whispered while she sketched her own pirate drawing.
“But if he did,” Romeo muttered thoughtfully, “he would use it as a dildo.”
The old guy in the pirate costume suddenly coughed. Or was it a laugh? I wasn’t sure. But I did know that he was facing us and stood close enough to overhear Romeo.
Kamiko dropped her charcoal dusted hands in her lap, confused, and gaped at Romeo. “What?”
“I mean, seriously,” Romeo whispered, “pirates are gay. All of them.”
This time, the old pirate made a pfft! noise like he was trying to get Romeo’s attention, like maybe he wanted Romeo to stop talking. I couldn’t blame him. It was hard to concentrate once Romeo got going on a tangent.
Romeo was, of course, oblivious. He was totally going to get busted at the rate he was going.
I glanced around the classroom, trying to determine if we were bothering the other students or not, or if the professor had noticed we were talking when we were supposed to be drawing. Luckily, the professor was sitting at a drawing horse on the far side of the room with two students leaning over his shoulder while he explained how to draw the wrinkles of the captain’s coat just right.
Kamiko whispered, “That makes zero sense, Romeo. Pirates aren’t all gay.”
Romeo rolled his eyes, “Oh yeah? Why would any straight man lock himself away on a ship for months at a time with nothing but guys? Sounds gay to me.”
“What does that have to do with dildos?” Kamiko whispered, frustrated. “With all those dicks around, why would a bunch of gay pirates need any dildos? Duh!”
Romeo titter whispered, “When it comes to an orgy, you can never have too many dicks, darling. Wooden or otherwise.”