Erotica Fantastica (3 page)

She stared up into his eyes, adoring him for
his brazen cheek. "I can scarcely believe this," she whispered.

"It is magnificent. Your talent for design
is like a beacon showing the way to the future."

It wasn't what she meant, but she went with
his flow. "You made it happen."

He raised his eyebrows. "I get to share a
little of the credit?"

Humility was not something she was used to
him showing, and it made her heart swell. "A little. Come now,
Dominic, it's yours as much as it is mine."

He fixed her in a glance. "And you? Say you
will be mine."

"Perhaps." Nina smiled and rolled her hips
against his, delighted when she felt him harden again.

"Nina Ashford, you will be mine," he stated
gruffly.

He claimed her mouth, not waiting for her to
reply, but Nina didn't care, because this time she didn't want to
disagree with Dominic Bartleby. He'd built her machine to win her
back, but her heart was already his.

THE TENDER TRAP

Tara couldn't recall how old she was when
the sleepwalking began. What she did remember was that her hands
didn't reach very high when she awoke and found herself holding the
iron railings of the graveyard fence. As time passed and the
sleepwalking continued, her growth was marked more by that measure
than any more normal record.

When it happened, the sudden awakening was
akin to being slapped. Tara would inhale sharply, and the icy night
air stung her face and lungs. The scent of the undergrowth quickly
swamped and intoxicated her, creating a sensory memory that would
call to her over and again.

Often she sensed a presence, as if she was
being watched, and she glanced about. Behind her, where the path
through the woods led home she saw nothing. She clutched tighter
still to the railings and peered into the graveyard. Life pulsated
somewhere deep and hidden in that place, and in the stillness of
the night she felt it call to her. But young Tara was afraid, and
she turned away and ran.

During her childhood years, that was as
far as the nocturnal walk took her. She would leave her family's
cottage in a sleep trance, drawn by a powerful allure that carried
her body in its spell. That force drew her down the sloping garden
path and out into the lane. The graveyard was half a mile from the
cottage, yet her journeys went undiscovered by any neighbor, or
passer-by. When she awoke, she would once again find her thin arms
entwined in the cold metal trellis of the railings. Confused and
afraid, she would tear her hands down from the strange restraint
and flee, back to what was familiar.

Only once did Tara's mother catch sight of
her from the upstairs window in the cottage. Tara was on her way
home. She looked up and saw her mother at the window, peering out
into the night, into the forest, with a wistful look about her.
When Tara approached the cottage her mother jolted, then turned
from the window and emerged from the cottage a few moments later.
Running to her, she arrested Tara in her wandering, held her
tightly in her arms, soothing her, then returned her to her
bed.

Tara's father appeared and stood in the
doorway of the room where Tara slept on a narrow wooden cot. By the
candlelight Tara could see that there was a dark and brooding
expression in his eyes. "Where did she go?" he demanded.

"I do not know," her mother replied,
fretfully. But she did not look over her shoulder to meet her
husband's querying glance.

Even in her state of fear and surprise, Tara
could feel the tension between them.

"If she goes
there
," her father muttered, "she will be
lost to us."

"Don't say that."

"If it had not been for me, you might have
been lost."

Tara's mother closed her eyes and pressed
her lips together. She shook her head. "It is a childish fancy,
that's all." Smiling down at Tara, her eyes glistened. "You went on
a fae night wander, that's all." she whispered.

"Let us pray that she does not have fae
blood."

Tara's mother frowned. "God willing, she
will outgrow it."

She stroked Tara's forehead, soothing her,
and Tara drifted to sleep.

* * *

At all other times her family slept through
Tara's nocturnal journeys and remained unaware of them. Hence her
body would regularly drift out on the night's aura to follow that
unheard call, unhindered. No physical or mental effort was demanded
of her, the spell that had rooted itself inside her would
effortlessly take control. It lifted her unconscious body, and bore
her forth into its domain. Sometimes, in the morning, she would
only be aware that she had again been called by the weariness in
her bones and the dried mud on the soles of her feet, evidence that
she soon learned to hide. But when she brushed the caked earth from
her skin it only made her want to walk barefoot through the forest
again, to feel the damp ground clinging to her once more.

Tara didn't know or question why this
happened to her, for it seemed as if it had always happened. It was
part of her life, part of her essential nature.

As she grew into young womanhood, so her
night voyages altered. She became more conscious during the
sleepwalking phase, and her awareness of sensation and travel
increased.

She began to walk further, beyond the iron
railings, through the gates and into the graveyard itself. She
drifted spirit-like among the ancient graves, her torpid hands
trailing across their rough, weather-hewn surfaces, her fingers
connecting with the ancient moss that ornamented the
place.

Often she would repose for some time across
a particular grave where, as she stared with unseeing eyes at the
moonlit sky, the shadow of its obelisk would lie across her, like a
spirit-lover. Her body would grow aroused and she would writhe and
twist, touching herself with trembling fingertips.

Through her nightdress her nipples felt
hard, while between her legs she melted with desire. Cupping
herself with her palm, she pressed hard against the place that
ached to be touched and filled.

"Oh, oh, please come," she whispered to her
spirit lover, and her body seemed almost to submerge itself into
the stone of the grave as she found her release.

Sighing heavily, she rested there a while.
When she showed herself that way she felt at peace, as if she could
breathe more easily in that place when she revealed her sensual
nature.

Tara felt no fear or concern when in these
trances, only a listless detachment. But, if the awakening came,
she lost that apathy and in its place experienced a heightened
awareness of her vulnerability. Terrified, for several infinite
moments she would be paralyzed, unable to react to the chill in her
mind and body. When the torpor finally released her body, she would
spring up from the grave and run, fast, as if she could escape the
terror by outpacing it. But she still carried the waking fear
within her, and as she ran between the dark shadows and gaunt
monuments, the graveyard would become a maze, for it was never
familiar when she fled from it in fear.

* * *

As time passed she found herself
journeying further, into a place beyond the graveyard. After she
wove her way through the great family mausoleums, she stepped
beneath a narrow archway of overgrown foliage and found herself in
the undergrowth and rock of a narrow subterranean ravine. It was a
dark, rugged place, but unless she kept to one side of the
narrowing passage, chinks of moonlight sometimes still fell upon
her. It felt warm and inviting, for the damp smell seduced her
senses, infusing her with the earthy scents of the fertile
underworld.

Each night her journey lasted longer than
before and consequently the awakening brought with it a more
fearful journey in return. She had breached an unknown threshold
into another world—a dark, mysterious place and it both enraptured
and terrified her.

Then, one night, around the time her body
had reached full maturity, that world finally made itself known to
Tara.

She passed through the dark entry behind the
graves and beyond the place that marked the end of human life.
Neither asleep nor awake, she felt a deeply pleasurable detachment
that encouraged her to enjoy the sensual stimulations provided
along her path. The caress of long-forgotten leaves on her feet was
stimulating, her body magnetized by the occasional catch of dried
branch upon her nightdress or skin. She experienced these touches
with a new awareness, and for the first time truly understood the
cycle of nature.

She trailed her hands across the damp walls,
and dense slime engulfed her fingers. She felt sacred, and
languidly spread the rich juices of the place upon her face and
eyelids, anointing herself with this lush, secret balm.

As she journeyed further along the
labyrinthine corridors no moonlight lit her path, but an ethereal
glow emanated from the walls, as if their rocky surfaces reflected
her presence in the form of this strange luminescence. She needed
no other light to guide her. With an eager hand she felt her way
along the rock to one side. Light pin-pricks of sensation tickled
at her fingertips. She felt only pleasure as the ancient stone and
her flesh teased one another with their connection.

Deep in the cavern her body encountered
trailing moss, delicate strands of spider webs and other caressing
tentacles. She met the touches readily, entranced by their delicate
embraces.

After a while she drifted to a halt and her
body inclined against the rocky surface while she rested. The
torpor deepened and for a time her consciousness left her
altogether. When her awareness altered again she felt a new
presence and struggled against her lethargy to find out what
touched her.

In time she perceived a large leaf upon her
hand, covering her skin. Its tactile fleshiness moved over her numb
skin, very slowly, arousing her flesh with its caress, a hard stem
following the persuasive leaf. Its insidious path over her arm felt
so good, so seductive. Although she could barely move, her
consciousness wavering, she strained to see what was happening to
her. The distinctive shape of large ivy leaves pressed against her
nightdress. They moved quickly around her body, pulling the fabric
of her nightgown apart as they did so.

Tara had never seen anything like it and her
breath constricted in her lungs as the vine crept tighter around
her.

The awakening came as suddenly as ever, but
this time with a greater chill of fear. Icy terror filled her mind,
froze the breath in her lungs. The vine's strengthening grip
possessed her body totally. Fear clenched her heart. If she tried
to move, the leaves tightened their hold.

There was no escape.

Tara heard herself scream aloud, and the
sound seemed to turn her blood to stone.

She struggled long and hard
against her captor, but in vain — it was far stronger than she.
Exhausted, she hung in its grip and used the last of her strength
to cry for help. Her mind still ran with fear and chaos.
Am I going to die
here in this place? Is that why I have always come here, because
life's passage is always towards its end?

Her cries eventually wavered and quietened.
She hung like a rag doll in the web of vines, wishing for the
trance to take her again. She longed for its numbness, for it would
bring a temporary escape from her trap.

When she calmed she sensed tenderness in the
embrace of the ivy. It seemed to offer her gentle succor, even
while it held her in its terrible grip. Its leaves strained towards
her face. She could see the gloss of her own tears shining in their
veins. It seemed to be trying to comfort her, as if in some strange
way it understood her fear.

When her last shred of hope faltered she saw
a light materialize, a strange gleaming oval that came towards her
from somewhere within the labyrinth. Her senses began to revive. As
the luminous blur got closer she saw it resembled a face, the face
of a man. His eyes glowed. He carried no light, but his gaunt face
shone, suspended in darkness. When he drew to a halt before her she
became mesmerized by the fierce intensity in his eyes. He said
nothing, but his gaze searched her face eagerly, as if to learn
more about her. Then he reached out and unleashed one of her arms
from the mighty grip of the ivy, taking her hand and caressing it,
an action that both freed her and entrapped her anew.

With immense effort she spoke. "Who are you?
What is this place?"

At first he did not answer. Smiling briefly,
he continued to stroke away the vines. As his touch passed over her
it enlivened her body with unfamiliar sensations.

Tara stood before him, uncovered. She could
not draw her gaze from his strange face. His skin looked delicate,
almost transparent, and it was laced with spindly veins close to
the surface. A strange unearthly glow that came from within gave
his skin a hue and texture like that found on the translucent
surface of a pale orchid. His dark hair scrolled over his shoulder,
like a wild creeping vine. He was like no other man she had seen
before.

"Have you come to save me?"

His brow furrowed and she heard a deep
resonant voice speak within her mind. "From what do you wish to be
saved?"

Tara did not see his lips move.

He continued to search her face as she
thought about his question.

Tara's senses altered. Time as she had known
it had adjourned from them, she could sense its very suspension in
the air. She could find no answer to his query.

He leaned forward and put his lips to hers
in a seductive kiss.