Rio

© Copyright 1997-2014 - Crimson Dragon All Rights Reserved

Main Page · Short Stories · Snapshots · Novels · Contact

========================================================================
                                  Rio
              (MF, FF, rom, cruise, outdoors, voy, mystic)
========================================================================
                      (c) Copyright - January 1999
                          All Rights Reserved
                            Crimson Dragon 
                          (dcrimson@yahoo.com)
========================================================================
"I don't need this," Tamara spoke in a hushed tone.
She glanced around at the other diners. They ranged from early
twenties to late fifties, all laughing and drinking, and generally
having a good time. Not one was paying the slightest attention to
Tamara talking in her hushed and urgent tones. A young couple,
probably recently married, were staring into each other's eyes two
tables away, hands clasped on either side of the flickering candle.
She tore her gaze from them, and turned back towards Daniel. His face
had fallen from an image of easy relaxation into a look of sadness
and sorrow, which she'd seen there more times than she could
remember.
She whispered to him, more gently this time.
"Daniel, darling, I know ... you've been waiting a long time for
this. It's the first time I've gotten away in five years, but,
dammit, I need to relax, too. And I can't. Not if you keep asking me
that. I'm not ready."
"Tamara ... I ..." His eyes looked like they were going to burst. She
could see the tears brimming there. How the hell did she hook up with
an emotional, sensitive, caring ... she wrenched herself away from
that line of thinking. She didn't have to be here. Nobody had forced
her. She had chosen to be here. With Daniel.
She didn't want to; she recognised her reaction from a million
frustrating boardrooms, and a million idiotic clients. But she did
anyway. She watched him swallow hard, and fight his emotions. He
meant every word, and she wasn't ready, dammit. If nothing else, she
was straightforward.
"Daniel, I'm sorry. I'm not ready." She spoke more firmly this time.
With the words, she rose to her feet, her dinner remaining on the
table half eaten. She didn't dare look back at him. He'd be staring
at his hands, and rightly wondering if this whole trip had been a
terrible mistake. She didn't need this. The dining room doors closed
quietly behind her.
                    <---===***===--->
The soft moonlight filtered through the round triple pane of glass.
The tiny portal was her only connection to the outside world. Tamara
lay awake on top of the covers, soaking in the soft breezes of the
air conditioning. Her mind whirled around as the moonlight danced
across her face. She could feel the hum of the engines, she could
feel the almost imperceptible rolling of the cruise ship as it
slipped like a knife through the dark water below.
For the millionth time since she'd entered the small cabin, she
looked at the travelling alarm clock, which mocked her with its
accusing iridescent scarlet numbers.
"Click," she spoke to the empty room as the numerals flashed over to
4:24 AM. Another minute gone, and no sign of Daniel. Sleep remained
elusive, tenuously out of her grasp like the moon in the night sky.
She sighed and knelt up on the small bed that they should be sharing.
Her fingers pressed up against the cool glass of the tiny portal.
"Please, God," she began. She didn't believe in God, but something
out there was making her miserable. That she had to believe.
"Please, God. Why am I such a mess? Why am I such a goddamn, um, why
am I such a hopeless screw-up? Where's Daniel? He's far too good to
me, and I miss him. Please send him back? Please?" She felt a hot
flush rise to her cheeks. She felt weak and defenceless talking to
herself in the soft glow of the moon and the clock.
Her voice echoed around the small room as she continued to stare out
over the calm ocean. Daniel didn't magically appear, and there was no
answer forthcoming from the higher power that truly she didn't
believe in.
Again she lay back on top of the covers, and closed her eyes. She
pretended to sleep, but her mind kept returning to the dining room.
She wondered if he'd finished eating alone, probably feeling
self-conscious, but not having anywhere to go. She felt sorry for
him, and ashamed of herself. Why did she resist him so? He was tall,
and dark, and handsome, and funny, and utterly perfect for her. And
in her way, she loved him. But why did she resist him? He loved her.
That much was obvious. He stayed with her, through good times and
bad, in sickness and in health. She sighed. Why the hell wasn't she
ready? Was she that happy with her life?
Corbin and Wallace. Law Firm extraordinaire. Her life. Defending
criminals? And winning? Just because she could? The nameplate on her
office door mockingly proclaimed her: Tamara Wilson, Esquire. A bold
stab at the male dominated field. But what had her life become? A
statement of independence outside of her gender? That she could do
anything a man could do, but better? Had she risen above the Daniels
of the world, done better than become their equals? Why? At what
cost?
She rose up on her knees again. The moon winked at her as it moved
ever so slowly through the sky. It beckoned to her, as though it had
a crooked finger, urging her from her prison.
She blinked and the moon returned to its white, pockmarked face. But
she was sure it had winked at her.
She heard a low moan through the wall, and then a light rhythmic
rocking. A woman's voice, muffled, but still audible, cried out in
ecstasy or pain. Tamara couldn't tell, but if the rocking was any
indication, probably ecstasy. She couldn't remember the last time
she'd moaned like the girl in the next room.
The moon winked at her again, and she slipped off the bed. She
rummaged through the suitcase, the one that she had brought but
hadn't unpacked. The satin nightgown felt cool and sensuous to her
fingertips. It was far more daring than she normally would consider,
but it was better than going nude.
The soft garment settled over her shoulders and she shivered. She
reached for her socks, and then realised it was the Caribbean, at
4:24 in the morning. She tossed the socks back into the suitcase and
opened the cabin door. She stepped barefoot into the corridor.
                    <---===***===--->
She had encountered nobody on her short walk from her cabin to the
deck. The polished wood planking shone like a ballroom floor
underneath the moon. The wood felt slick and warm beneath her feet.
From somewhere in the distance, a low bass thumping carried over the
ship. The disco was probably still providing entertainment for the
young crowd. As she silently slipped past the swimming pool, she
thought she heard soft giggling at the darkened far end. She heard a
gentle splash and another giggle, followed by a definitely feminine
voice: "Oh, Sara."
Tamara swallowed, flushed crimson in the darkness. She was surprised
she wasn't glowing like Rudolph's nose. As quietly as she could, she
slipped away from the illicit tryst in the pool.
The railing was cooler than the muggy air swirling around her. She
could hear the rush of the water sluicing by the bulkheads of the
giant ship as it slowly churned through the water. She briefly
considered jumping--she was sure that the water was comforting and
warm--but her survival instincts kicked in and she simply stared
across the expanse of water.
Soft music flowed over and above the diminished bass beat of the
disco. It was a lilting music, more like classical, or soft rock,
perhaps Celtic. Her eyes searched for the source.
The moon winked at her again, and she softly cried out into the
breeze, her voice carrying across the water, reaching out, for what
she wasn't sure.
The nearby landscape startled her. She stepped back from the rail, as
though the ship would run aground against it, like the Titanic
finding its inevitable iceberg. A sharp squeak escaped her lips
before she could prevent it.
The ship was no more than a hundred metres from the beach. The beach
had slowly been illuminated in the dark water by the reflected light
of the moon. A high cumulus cloud moved slowly along in the
jetstream, perhaps, or perhaps Neptune had risen to bathe the land,
like Atlantis, in his ethereal light.
Palm trees shifted in a slight shore breeze. She could almost hear
the rustling of the leaves, calling out into the night.
She felt her hands again grip the railing, but in a detached way. The
soft music had swallowed the bass beat of the disco, becoming clearer
as the land became more distinct.
Plastic chairs, lined up like sentinels, peppered the white deserted
beach. Deserted?
A furtive movement, like that of a nervous mouse, shimmered by one of
the lounges. A flash of crimson, and then nothing. Tamara strained
her eyes, fighting her heavy eyelids and the soft glow bathing the
beach.
Then, as though she had summoned her, a woman walked out between the
palms. The woman shook free her hair and looked around. The ship was
lit like a Christmas tree with its running lights, and yet she didn't
appear to see it. She gazed at the moon, her arms uplifted in
supplication.
The softer music intensified, meeting with the crickets and evening
insects, blending their harmonies into one cohesive night song.
Slowly, ever so slowly, the girl upon the beach began to move. The
girl danced across the sand, her movements matching the music, her
arms outstretched to the moon, her bare feet indenting the soft
crystals beneath her. Tamara watched, unable to tear her eyes from
the woman or her movements. Like a ballerina, the woman captured and
refused to relinquish her distant hold.
Her face uplifted to the stars, the woman began to peel the simple
tunic from her skin, crying out in abandonment and ecstasy. Still her
bare feet whispered across the sand. The dance was beautiful, and
soft, and gentle, and sexual. She was the light and the dark. She was
the palm trees. She was the ocean and the sky and the sand. She was
the river twisting across the beach, forever, and always.
Tamara stepped back from the rail. The land faded as though the
unseen clouds had again obscured the moon. Tamara felt her heart
racing beneath her ribs insistently. She could feel her nipples
tightening, pushing against the satin. She wanted to join the woman,
dance with her, cast away the demands of career and stress, and dance
free. Live.
She thought that she loved the woman.
She stepped back towards the rail, confused. She had never desired a
woman before. Appreciated strong women--yes--she appreciated beauty
in her own way. But never longed for a woman. Not like this. In some
ways, Tamara was glad that metres of deep dark water separated her
from the girl.
The land became more focused as her fingers gripped the rail. The
woman beckoned to her, still dancing lightly over the sand. But the
woman couldn't see her? Could she?
The indistinct shape, the furtive one Tamara had seen earlier,
emerged from between the palms. Her hair was as red as the setting
sun. It flowed over her shoulders, cascading like a waterfall. Her
clothing was a diaphanous white swirling around her body, clinging to
her and then releasing as the wind caressed her. Like the dancer, she
was barefoot, her toes leaving a slow trail through the grains
beneath her.
The dancing woman continued her slow movements, reaching out to the
redhead, and then pulling back. She wanted her, and she didn't. The
dancing girl at last closed the distance and kissed the white-clad
girl. Tamara trembled. The kiss was not chaste. The red-haired girl
returned the kiss, and her moan was audible as though transmitted to
Tamara across the metres of open water.
A pair of soft lips brushed hers, and Tamara gasped, again pulling
away from the railing. Her eyes focused in front of her. Nobody. The
phantom brush of lips were those of the dancer, she was sure of it.
It couldn't have happened, but even away from the railing, she could
feel the soft lips insistent against her own, kissing her throat, her
shoulders. The beach hadn't completely faded. It strengthened again
as she re-gripped the rail, her body tingling. The dancer was kissing
the red-haired girl, her lips, her throat, her shoulders.
The white cloak had disappeared, leaving both women nude upon the
sand. Skin touched skin, breasts touching, caresses, moans, and most
of all love. Love radiated from the pair like heat from an ember.
Lips, fingers, stomachs, thighs, toes. The girls coupled and Tamara
could not, would not, tear her eyes away. Her body tingled, as each
distant touch ignited a new passion. She could even feel the warm
grains of sand pressing into her back. She shivered.
The women rolled, sand adhering to their bodies and their hair. They
were oblivious to anything but themselves, lost in each other. As the
red-haired girl gently sought the dancer's most intimate places,
Tamara gasped, feeling the fingers touch her, pleasure her like none
had ever before. The fingers were soft, and insistent, stroking her
lightly then harder, building, matching her rhythms and soft sighs.
She lay back her head and let her mouth open to the stars. Somewhere
on a beach far away, a brunette dancing girl cried out a name. "Rio."
It echoed across the waves, a beckoning. The same name whispered from
Tamara's lips a moment later as the ghostly fingers coaxed her
further and further. And then as quickly as they had appeared, the
fingers left her.
Tamara's hand automatically plunged down, to finish, to find that
sweet release, denied so very, very long. She felt damp satin beneath
her fingertips.
"Tamara?"
Her name. The girls were calling her name.
She opened her eyes, searching the calm black waters for the beach,
for the lovers, for the music.
She swallowed, her eyes drifting up to the moon, cursing the clouds
that weren't there.
Again her name was called, closer and more real than the landscape.
"Tamara?"
She turned quickly towards the male voice, her hand snatched away
from between her legs. Her breath was husky and laboured. She could
feel her entire body tingling.
"Daniel?"
The voice came from a deck chair, three steps over and one back.
The voice was sleepy. "Yeah. God, my back hurts."
The indistinct form rose from the lounge chair and slowly approached.
Tamara backed up towards the railing, throwing another glance out
over the empty water.
"What are you doing up here?" he asked.
"I could ask you the same question."
"I fell asleep. I didn't exactly feel like boogying all night long."
The thump of the disco had returned when the magical music of the
night had fallen silent.
She glanced over the water again.
"What are you looking for?" he asked.
"We ... we just passed an island."
He looked at her oddly. "There's nothing out there. Just water and
stars."
She felt horribly empty and unfulfilled. Her nipples ached.
"I couldn't sleep, Daniel. I came looking for you."
"Well, you found me." He made to return to his lounge chair.
"Daniel?"
He turned.
She licked her lips, fighting the fires that were deep within her.
There would be time for that later. Right now, she needed to live.
"I ... I won't work as much any more. I think I'm going to quit."
He shrugged, moving sleepily back towards his makeshift bed.
"Daniel?" She moved closer to him, her feet whispering across the
deck. "I want to start again."
He looked at her, scepticism in every pore of his being.
"Tamara, I'm not sure we can ..."
She turned her face upwards and kissed him. It wasn't a chaste kiss.
She never wanted to let go, but she did, pushing away from him with
an act of pure will.
"I love you Daniel, and I should have said that earlier. Probably
should have said it at dinner tonight. I don't have a clue why you
stick with me, and I don't know why you love me, but you do. And I
love you. So ..."
She knew what she looked like. A creature, her satin nightie clinging
to her bare skin, her hair wild and her face unpainted. Her body was
fighting her mind, wanting, needing. And this wasn't the right time,
but she was so afraid that he wouldn't ever ask her again.
"If the offer is still open ... I'd like to ... I'd love to ...
Christ, I can argue in front of a judge all day and not lose my mind
... Daniel, I'd love to marry you."
She stood uncertainly, shifting her weight from bare foot to bare
foot, hoping that the island hadn't been for nothing, hoping that it
wasn't too late. She bit her lip and watched him in the darkness.
His smile glowed like the impending sunrise.
The moon winked at her again, a swift goodbye. In her peripheral
vision, she could see the girls, resplendent in their nudity, except
it wasn't sexual any longer, waving on the beach so far away now. The
brunette was dancing again, her hands lifted towards the stars, so
unreachable. She heard a snatch of music, and then it was only her
... and Daniel.
He kissed her, and this time they didn't let go for a long, long
time. She watched the sunrise through the kiss, the ruddy light
illuminating the embrace and what came after.
The sunrise greeted them, its soft light glinting off the reflective
planking and illuminating their naked, entwined forms. The orange
beauty of the morning sky caressed her gently. Like a new day, her
life was beginning anew.
                    <---===***===--->
"Congratulations," the captain smiled. There were more engagements
that happened on his ship... He didn't understand it--perhaps it was
the romance of the Caribbean. "But," and this he'd had to tell more
than one happy couple, "we truly don't pass anywhere near land on
this leg of the journey, so I can't tell you what island you saw this
morning. Sorry. Perhaps you were dreaming."
Tamara hugged her fiance with a puzzled look on her face.
Perhaps she was still dreaming, but the man in moon bore a striking
resemblance to the captain's face as he winked at them.