Rendezvous with Hymera (5 page)

By contrast, Colin’s parents were among the wealthiest people in the town. Clara knew next to nothing
about his mother, but she had learned that his father, Mr. Lambert, occupied a leading position in a governmental institution. That guaranteed an excellent economic situation for his family.

Colin was always impeccably dressed, with high quality clothes. He drove a modern car, and he had all the
privileges of a
rich boy
, as his fellows teased him, sometimes without malice.

Despite these privileges, he wasn’t a snob, but had a very pleasant nature. His self-assurance and a slight
dose of arrogance enhanced the sex appeal he fully exercised on the female gender.

Clara wasn’t at all immune to his almost magnetic appeal, but for reasons unknown to him, she had
declined a personal relationship with the young man whom she tried to consider just a superficial rich playboy.

Although she wouldn’t have admitted it, not even under the pressure of the most inventive torture
methods, her refusal to encourage his advances had something to do with the differences between their material situations. Poverty had always made the young teenager feel embarrassed and ashamed, but at the same time had motivated and instilled her ambition to overcome her modest condition using her own powers.

Wrapped in the spell of those bittersweet memories, Clara realized she had slipped in the past’s labyrinth
only when Colin snapped his fingers close to her face, like a hypnotist interrupting a trance.

“Hey, beautiful, are you still with me?” he asked, displaying a puzzled smile.

Looking into the dark eyes that were emanating mystery and sensuality, she returned the smile to the man who had constantly been her fantasies’ subject over the years they hadn’t seen each other.

Gently shaking her head to get back to reality, she consulted the watch on her left wrist and, amazed,
she exclaimed:

“My God, look how late it is! Let’s get back, otherwise Tony’s gonna chew even the
walls from boredom!”

So saying, she rose, arranging her blonde hair, ruffled by the gentle breeze. Colin was
just about to gather the remains of their picnic, when he noticed her taking off her shoes.

“What are you doing?” he asked perplexed.

Clara winked.

“Before we go, I have to stick at
least one toe in this crystalline water,” she said, dropping the shoes on the grass. “Although I don’t have a clue about how to swim, water just fascinates me. I’ll be right back,” she added, heading towards the lake.

He followed her with his gaze, admiring her feline
moves, the long, graceful legs and her great ass, which, frankly speaking, any man with a pulse would have noticed.

With her bare feet caressed by the silky grass, Clara descended the slightly inclined lakeshore, until
she felt the cool water enveloping her ankles. Carefully, she advanced a few slow steps, until the water almost reached her knees. The lake’s bottom was muddy, pleasantly tickling the soles of her feet, and the ideal water temperature alleviated the feeling of discomfort specific to hot days. She closed her eyes, satisfied, and started to invite Colin to join her for a splashing.

Suddenly, she felt her feet sinking in the viscous mud and invisible iron hands seemed to pull her in the
dark depths. She opened her mouth to scream, but for a terrifying moment, she had the impression her lungs were filling with water and she was out of breath. A deafening roar oppressed her eardrums and ice needles were piercing her skin.

Like in a nightmare, she was collapsing into the abyss. The lake wanted to absorb her.

***

Clara felt she was floating inside and around her own body, as if she was trapped between two planes of
reality, but not being quite able to cross neither one’s threshold. She tried hard to cling to consciousness, when Colin’s voice pierced the waves of fog and confusion covering her mind:

“Clara, baby, are you
okay? Please, say something!”

Cautiously, she opened her eyes and saw him bent over her, worry and desperation shadowing
his features.

With
a weak, rusty voice, she asked:

“What happened?”

Colin watched her strangely, while he pressed, rhythmically and energetically, the tops of her middle fingers from each hand. It was a press puncture procedure, applicable in fainting fits or hypotension.

Presently, it seemed to work, for her cheeks began coloring, losing the earlier waxen pallor.

“You tell me, baby,” he said, trying to adopt a calm tone of voice. “I think you fainted or something.”

She stared at h
im, incredulous then rose slightly, supporting herself on her elbows and looking around.

She lay on the grass, the basket and picnic remains along with the folded blanket next to her.

“I cleared out everything while you were dipping,” he told her. “Then I heard you scream and ran just in time to catch you, otherwise you would have fallen straight into the water,” he added, a chill crossing through his body at the thought of such a prospect. “I supposed you could have a low blood pressure due to the heat. How do you feel now?” he asked, gently massaging her neck and shoulders.

“Better,” she answered, unconvincingly. “But I don’t understand what happened to me. I had a feeling of...
falling into an abyss,” she said, turning to look at him. “Something was pulling me down... But it was like... like it wasn’t me, or like there was someone else in my own body, in my mind... A feeling of... depersonalization, for lack of a better word... Oh, just drop it,” she sighed. “Even I don’t know what happened, how could you? Since I got here the strangest things happened, I must be hallucinating from the sun and the wine,” she said, trying without success to smile, although frustration and a strange fear flickered into her eyes.

Colin’s sharp attention didn’t miss a beat. As he took out a water bottle from the
basket and helped her drink, he asked:

“What hallucinations? Did anything like this occur before?”

Clara schematically recounted the bizarre episode of the gazebo barbecue night. “I know it sounds stupid,” she concluded, “I’ve never believed in ghosts or any of that
Paranormal TV
stuff.”

Colin had listened to her, quietly and meditatively.

“
Paranormal
is a relative term. Especially for someone who has just confessed she believed in reincarnation.”

“Wait a minute,” she interrupted. “One thing is to believe in an idea, a
philosophy whose existence will not likely ever be confirmed or refuted, and something else is to believe in... I don’t even know what. That woman, if she would have existed, she couldn’t possibly be flesh and blood, floating in that lake so deep. It was probably an optical illusion. I told you I had drunk a bit too much wine and I’m not used to it.”

“What if it wasn’t an illusion?” he insisted. “What if you saw exactly what you said you saw?”

Meanwhile, Clara had risen, and now she stood with her feet under her on the grass, breathing deeply. She had regained her perfectly healthy appearance, but hearing Colin’s words, she looked at him, wide-eyed and confused.

“Where are you going with this?” she asked, puzzled.

“Back to the cottage for now. But we have something to think about,” he added, taking the basket and blanket in one hand and helping Clara to stand, surrounding her waist with the other arm.

“Are you alright, can you walk?” he asked worriedly.

“Yes,” she said, burrowing closer to his side. “I think I might have had a fainting fit or something like that,” she said, while they were slowly heading to the other side of the lake, where the cottages were. “But, what did you do, carry me from the water to the blanket?”

“No,” he said on a dry, sarcastic tone. “I’ve transported you by telekinesis.”

The humor of his answer had the expected effect and Clara started laughing, that crystalline sound, sweet and sexy at the same time – music to his ears.

“It wouldn’t surprise me,” she finally said.
“With all the strange things happening…”

Suddenly, she stopped, listening carefully.

“What was that sound?” she asked intrigued. “There was a kind of rhythmic sucking noise.”

Colin burst out laughing.

“It’s from my shoes,” he explained. “I got into the water so I could catch you in time.”

She chuckled
and embraced him even tighter, thus cutting their way to the cottage, leaving vague traces of mud.

Tony sniffed them from a mile distant and, barking ecstatically, he was scratching the back door with his paws, threatening in his canine dialect to demolish it if he was not let inside immediately. Clara didn’t even have time to fully open the door, when she was assaulted by the desperate and damp affection of sixty pounds of furry, tongue-hanging animal.

“Hey, down, down,” she ordered, while Tony was literally
embracing her, standing on his back paws and sweeping industriously with the tuft disguised as a tail. The fluffy appendage functioned like a worthy windshield wiper.

Colin received the same loving treatment, not being at all bothered by the quadruped’s obvious lack of
discipline.

“Looks like my dog has fallen madly in like with you,” she remarked, taking off her shoes.

“I love animals,” he answered emphatically. “I have at home an obese and grumpy cat. His name’s Morris.”

“You should bring him too when you come by. All right, sit still,” she addressed to Tony in a firm and
authoritative tone, which caused him to curl on the couch, with his muzzle on his paws.

“You,” she turned to Colin. “Give me your shoes. I’ll put them outside on a chair to dry. Make
yourself comfortable.”

After giving her the shoes, he sat on the couch with pillows so puffy you could sink between them. Clara
joined him, after filling Tony’s bowls with food and fresh water outside.

Colin nestled her head to his chest, stroking her hair, which fell softly on her back, like liquid
gold and caramel.

“Do you feel better now?” he asked with a trace of worry in his voice.

“Yeah, to be honest, it seems like the earlier episode didn’t even happen. I feel great, especially because of you being here with me,” she said placing her hand on his chest, capturing each of his heartbeats.

“Maybe I should stay with you tonight, to make sure you’re okay,” he suggested, with
amusement in his voice, but seriousness in his gaze.

“You’re kidding, right? It didn’t even cross my mind to let you leave!”

A bit surprised and overly incited by Clara’s invitation, bold and direct, but not in the least vulgar, Colin smiled and bent to kiss her. At first, he teased her lips like the diaphanous touch of a butterfly’s wings, and then the kiss, the embrace and the attraction circle between them intensified so much that, when he pulled back for a moment to breathe her hair’s perfume, it was like an electric circuit had been abruptly interrupted.

Holding her tightly and sweetly kissing the silky soft skin of her throat, anticipating in his imagination
the magical night they were about to spend together, Colin stopped abruptly, groaning,

“Oh, shit!”

Clara, wrapped in the intensity of sensations that imperatively demanded a fulfillment, with her eyes closed and her fingers spread through his hair, murmured trance like:

“What is it?”

“Morris. I gotta go feed him,” he grunted exasperated.

Clara detached herself slowly, watching him with a trace of regret, but her eyes lightened quickly
along with the tone of her voice.

“Go and bring him over!” she exclaimed. “Tony would love to have a play partner!”

Although he wasn’t at all inclined to separate from the fragrant softness of her skin, he slightly withdrew to look at her. In similar circumstances, he would have resembled a lion interrupted from a succulent feast, but presently, enchanted with the green temptation of her eyes, he realized that the moment’s spell hadn’t been broken and he didn’t think it would be, not even after a thousand nights spent together.

The woman standing in front of him was everything he had ever dreamed of, possessing a mysterious
and magnetic aura. Under the appearance of fragility was hidden an extremely complex person. Strong, determined, seductive, intelligent, but also sensitive and sometimes vulnerable, all forming a package of irresistible beauty and charm.

Years ago, he had thought he could fall in love with her, given the chance. Now he discovered that, in
fact, he had never forgotten her and, with every moment, the physical desire and ambiguous attraction were taking shape and root in his soul, where Clara had permanently imprinted herself.

“You make me be a better man,” he whispered, stroking her cheek. “You are so understanding. Any other
woman in your place would have had a sulk crisis, and you tell me to bring my cat with me!”