The Meeting Point (8 page)

“So what now?” Angelo asked, and Lena was at a loss. “It's still quite early in the day. We could try and get down there this afternoon.”

Lena shivered. It seemed too close and too easy. She wanted to think about things for a bit. “I don't know. I kind of want to camp here for a bit before we decide.”

“Why?” Mae picked up a bit of withered grass and began to chew the end. “I thought this is what you wanted.”

Lena hesitated. “It is. It really is, it's just... What if it doesn't work and we get caught and…we get torn apart again? I couldn't bear it.”

Mae threw the grass to the ground and came over, pressing her body into Lena's. “My one Lena, we are in that danger no matter what we do or where we go. It's our way of life now.”

“I know, but it scares me.”

“It scares me too,” Angelo joined in the conversation. “But at some point very soon, we have to make a decision. Let's camp here for the night. There's cover and I heard a stream close by. We can sleep on it and go down in the morning.”

The burden lifted from Lena, and she was grateful that someone had taken the decision from her and now she was free to suddenly realize just how thirsty the talk of a stream had made her. Following the gentle gurgling sound of the running water until she found the tiny river, she practically fell face first into the quenching liquid.

 

 

“Show me.” Deborah finally plucked up the courage to speak when the breakfast dishes had been cleared away and there was nothing left to do but ask.

“I don't want to, I've been really stupid.”

“Look, Marcus, I have a fairly good grasp of what might have happened, but I need you to show me.” Anger tinged her words even though she tried her best to stop it. “I know whatever you did wasn't intentional, but I am angry that you're being so reluctant. We're supposed to be a unit now. A team.”

Marcus slowly got out of the bed and bid her to follow him to the chest of drawers. He lifted her onto them and followed. Once atop, he crouched down behind her and hoisted her up to the ledge. Catching the sill with her fingertips, Deborah hauled herself up as Marcus pushed until she could see out to the ground below. Her heart dropped as her worst fears were realized. There, their little key to freedom lay, lifeless, battered, and useless. What would they do now? Lena and her companions would never find them without the butterfly. She slumped, leaning her chin on her forearms as Marcus took her weight on his hands and knees.

“Maybe we could reach it somehow?” Marcus tried, his voice high and thin like a child caught lying.

“With what?” Deborah sighed. She wasn't feeling open to suggestions really. A moment to wallow a little in disaster was what she needed. “Marcus, don't say anything for a bit. I'll just dismiss it.” It was true. She would.

“Okay,” he said meekly, and she felt sorry for him. He had only wanted to be the hero for once. The rescuer, not the rescued. “Come back in now, please.”

She pulled back from the sill and let him lower her to the floor where she just stood.

“Maybe we could tie a magnet to some material and hoist it back in?”

Deborah took a breath and swallowed down her scientific knowledge of the outcome. She had studied the creature briefly before letting it go on the moors and knew it didn't contain any iron or nickel. It wouldn't have made any sense anyway to have anything that might cause it to become ferromagnetic and get caught somewhere. Like in the bars of a prison. Or be pulled toward the now abandoned electro-magnetic towers that once held the promise of a new energy to power the earth. Of course the thing had been made to avoid all of that. She could see how clever Lena's partner was now. Trying to force a smile, she lifted onto her toes to kiss Marcus before tugging a sheet off the bed.

“Come on then,” she said, her voice threatening to crack. “It's worth a try.”

Marcus leapt to her aid, smiling, and her heart broke for him. She knew her silence was patronizing, but she also knew he needed to feel like he was doing something. She nibbled at the corner of the sheeting, trying to free up a tiny bit to tear into a strip. It hurt her teeth when she pulled and Marcus took it from her and grasped it between his fists, shredding the material as if it were tissue. Deborah couldn't help swooning inside just a little at this display of strength. It didn't take long before several inch-thick strips lay in a pile and Deborah began to tie them together in one long rope.

“So where's this magnet then?” she asked as she inspected their handiwork.

Marcus looked sheepish. “I don't have one,” he said, that awful look of defeat crossing his face once more.

Deborah crawled over the pile of torn fabric and clambered onto his knees. “It's all right.” She put her arms around his neck. “It wouldn't have worked anyway. I don't think it has any magnetic metals in it.”

“Oh.”

“They might still find us.” Deborah could hear the pitch of her own voice and cringed at how unconvincing she sounded. “I mean, maybe they released it pretty close by?”

Marcus didn't say anything. He just pulled her close and they rocked together in a hug. Deborah twisted her head to look at the high window. Maybe she could squeeze through and be lowered to the ground. She wasn't keen on going back through the main hallways and reception area, though she wasn't sure why. She still had the access-all-areas bracelet, but somehow she was just too afraid.

As if he was reading her thoughts, Marcus spoke. “You're going to have to go and find them.”

Deborah stiffened in his arms, and he smoothed his big hands down her back.

“You can just sneak into the main area again. Maybe Katja could help. If they make it here, maybe she could give them one of the bracelets or something.”

Deborah softened at his words and caresses. It was true. If she was brave enough, they did have the means to make an attempt of escape, or at least finding Lena and the others, but what if it all went wrong?

“What if it doesn't work? What if I can't make it back to you and we get separated again? I don't think I could take it. I really don't, Marcus. I'd rather die here in this bed now than have that happen.”

“We need to try.”

“No, we don't.” She imagined herself, a withering corpse, lying lovesick and still in this bed by his side after being trapped for years. She was just getting into her daydream of romantic doom when he spoke again.

“I've heard rumors.”

Deborah's curiosity was piqued. She drew back from his arms and looked at him. “What rumors?”

He made himself comfortable against the pillows before continuing. “Well, some of the clients from the cities speak about the devastation of the clouds. There seems to be a greater concentration of poisons over built up areas and lower lands. I think we're very lucky to be in a relatively rural area.”

Deborah's scientific brain whirred into action. “Yes, I can see that. The clouds roll very low to the ground. Any houses or structures would easily disrupt its form and disperse its contents.”

“So I have also heard. We have to try and get to higher ground. It's only a matter of time before the clouds fill the valleys and glens for good and start creeping up the moors and hills.”

Deborah shivered. She had witnessed just how much devastation had been inflicted on the open countryside and her mind didn't dare think about the populated inner cities. So far, infrastructure seemed to be functioning to a degree. After all, there seemed to be plenty of food and clients at this farm, but maybe they had just been lucky where they'd ended up. Or maybe these clients feeding Marcus this information were just liars. Either way, it was a horrible thought. Her skin crawled as she remembered how the cloud sample she'd kept in a glass had damaged and corroded the notebook she'd used as a makeshift lid in a matter of minutes.

The notebook! Deborah hadn't given it a thought since she'd set the butterfly free.

“Wait there a sec,” she said, brightening at the thought of being able to lighten the mood. Where on earth had she put it? She must have just stowed it in her robes. She scampered under the bed to retrieve her possessions.

“What are you up to?” Marcus's head came into view upside down as he peered into the shadows.

Finally, Deborah pulled out the little scruffy book. Sitting cross-legged before him, she presented the prize to him. His eyes widened as he took the notebook and turned it over and over in his hands, flicking it and smiling. Blushing every now and then as he read the words, all of which Deborah had memorized.

“Where on earth did you find this?”

Deborah explained how she'd passed their house after they'd been captured and the guard had allowed her to stop and take a look.

“And you managed to keep it hidden all this time?” he asked, still looking amazed.

“It's what kept me sane.” She reached up and ran her fingers along his jaw, remembering all those nights, reading and rereading the words of her lover. “Read to me, Marcus,” she whispered, and lay her head down on his lap.

He coughed a little self-consciously. “I'm not sure I'll be able to—it's so embarrassing.”

“It's not! It's romantic.”

“It's adolescent, horny ramblings.”

Deborah was hurt by his flippant dismissal of the very thing that defined their sexual history. “Not to me it's not, Marcus. Please. Read it to me?”

He settled back and placed his hand tenderly on her head as she lay on his lap. Deborah knew the words were full of raging sexual desire, but for the moment she felt comforted and sleepy, like a child awaiting a bedtime story. Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply, preparing to banish the sorrow that usually accompanied the stories within the notebook. In the prison, she would read, become overcome with desire and sexual want, and masturbate furiously to the point of ultimate unity. She would screech around in the sexual spiritual place, looking for her lover as she rode her orgasm. When it was over, and she was still alone, the loneliness was stifling. But she would do it again and again, never giving up the search. Now he was going to bring the words to life. He was going to complete the circle. And if Deborah could rid herself of the image of the broken butterfly, there would be no sorrow either.

“Are you lying comfortably, my dear?” he asked in a patronizing voice, and Deborah rolled her eyes beneath their lids. “Then I'll begin.” He paused, flicking the pages, obviously trying to choose the most appealing excerpt. “There's so much in here I never got to try, so much I've been waiting for. I'd forgotten how much.”

A soft hiccup when he exhaled alerted Deborah to Marcus's emotion. Regret threatened to shatter the atmosphere so Deborah kept still and quiet, allowing Marcus a moment to decide which way he wanted to go. She was delighted when he sniffed back a tear.

“Ahh, here's one that kept me warm on long, cold nights.” He ruffled her hair. “Are you ready for this?”

Deborah nodded into his crotch which seemed already to be swelling.
Good.

He began. “Sometimes she's so busy I want to punish her for it.”

Deborah squirmed, he'd chosen her very favorite. The one she'd read over and over, hand locked between her thighs.

“I know her work is important, but sometimes I want to grab her and drag her to me and spank her soundly for ignoring me. I know if I pull her panties aside during the attentions, she'll be wet. I'll probably slide a finger up the soaking crease and press her clit, but just for a second. She'll squeal and I'll spank her harder for making a noise. She'll get wetter and wetter, and I'll hold her knickers to the side while I slap her quivering, reddening buttocks as she tries her best to hold in her yelps of agony.”

Deborah nudged her forehead against the growing bulge in his robe and brought her knees up, trapping both her hands in between her thighs.

“Her pussy is so ready for me, I feel like it is begging me to skewer my fingers up inside and fill and pump her. I oblige and she bucks back, trying to draw me in deeper. I'm so hard now, I want her so much. But I want to keep her in this state for as long as I can. I shove her off my lap and grab some rope I've kept especially for this purpose. ‘Stand,' I command, and she does, her hair plastered to her face in that fucking sexy way, arousal and anger flashing in her dark, defiant eyes. She's so hot. So ready for more. I tie her wrists together in the front and bend her at the waist, binding her wrists to her ankles. She tries to tell me it's not fair, she'll fall over, but I silence her with her own damp knickers in her mouth.”

He paused. Deborah twisted to look up at him, knowing her cheeks were flushed. “What is it?” she asked, seeing his awkward, embarrassed expression.

“I just… This wasn't meant for you to hear.” He blushed and Deborah grinned. “I mean, what did you think when you first read it?”

Deborah understood why he was hesitant. “I think if I'd read it before our time in the forest, I would have been shocked.”

Marcus bit his lip like a guilty schoolboy.

“However, we'd been through so much by the time I saw it—it all made sense. That we had always been on the path to ultimate unity and expressing our love like that.” Deborah thought back to the time in the forest when they'd witnessed a BDSM scene and how aroused they'd both gotten. And how she felt stuck, unable to express to Marcus how she wanted to submit to him in that way. It had taken Hazel to help her tell Marcus of her need. To know he had felt the same all along was a true gift. She adored this notebook. “It's the most beautiful thing I've ever read.” She pulled one hand out from her between her legs and placed it on his crotch. “Please, carry on.”

“All right, if you insist.” He shuffled around a little more, allowing more space for her hand to roam. “I silence her with her own damp knickers in her mouth and she groans from low in her throat. It is the sound that drives me crazy. It comes from the place where my cock will be lodged deep in just a few moments. I stand to the side of her and grab her hair in one hand, pulling her head up, while I grab her ass with the other. I want to hear that noise again, so I ease my fingers around and hook the tips into her cunt from behind. She gives it to me. The sound. My cock is so hard, my balls are aching, and the straining head oozes pre-come into my jeans. ‘Are you going to keep quiet?' I ask her, releasing her hair and pussy to undo my fly. She nods. ‘Good, you'd better.' I move into position in front of her lowered head and pull the pants from her mouth. She gulps in air, knowing full well what is to come. She looks up at me and smiles with greedy eyes and that sweet, greedy mouth, desperate for me to fill her up.”

The quiver in his voice alerted Deborah to his state and she opened her eyes to see his erection throbbing out of his robes. Peeling them open to reveal his shining cock, she dived onto it in time with his storytelling.

“Oh God,” he groaned, and Deborah slid her mouth off him.

“Keep reading,” she said then enclosed his length with her cheeks and tongue, riding him all the way down until she couldn't even breathe through her nose.

“I spit on my thumb and massage her lower lip. She opens her jaw wide and I hook her cheek, enjoying the power I have. I take aim. Her sexy pout opens wide and ready for me. I grab her hair again and feed her the full length of my cock. Her whole body writhes around, using the full momentum of her tiny frame to pleasure me. I have to dip my knees and I like the resistance the bindings bring. The rising begins deep in my balls right back to the root of my cock near my ass. I'm too close. I pull out of her and decide she needs more punishment for trying to make me come when I'm not ready.”