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She sat down on the edge of the tub and took another swallow of her wine, considering her surroundings more carefully.
Lisette had kept the large trees around the deck relatively unpruned. Lauren could only imagine what it had been like to construct the house within the span of the branches. It had to have been an architect's dream and a builder's nightmare. She suspected there were contractors on the mainland who could not pass a Lisette Delamar book without shuddering. However, the arms of one particularly impressive specimen reached out and over the deck, so close that a terra cotta birdfeeder had been anchored there.
Lauren stepped to the rail.
The crotch of the tree would require about twenty-five feet of downward climb to reach, but the branch that could take her there was solid, with the circumference of a telephone pole. Once reaching the juncture, it would be a bit trickier, because it was about fifteen to twenty feet above the ground, and the tree's roots clung to the steep incline, giving the trunk the one hundred and ten degree angle of a woodpecker. However, she might be able to work her way down the trunk on that leeward side.
Just like sailing, she hadn't climbed a tree in some time, but she climbed the rope at the gym. She climbed it with furious intent, combating her gender's frustrating upper body weakness with a passion that she knew suggested she was fighting other, more personal weaknesses with her workouts.
No time for personal angst. She could do this. She rewrapped the towel about her waist and knotted it on the side, leaving her breasts exposed like a bleached National Geographic native. She was isolated here, and it wasn't likely the towel would hold firm tucked around her bosom. However, the terry cloth would provide her legs some protection from the rough bark.
She did a couple of stretches, touched her toes, and twisted back and forth. The hot tub had already loosened her up, so with a fortifying swig of wine, she was ready to play Jane. Or maybe Tarzan. Jane would be waiting for Tarzan to come rescue her, never realizing he was banging some Amazon and couldn't be bothered with some whiny city girl.
She smiled at the thought and stood up on the rail. The branch was now level with her waist. It was simple to lean over, grasp it with both hands and slide herself onto it like a horse's back. The bark scraped the tender underside of her breasts and rasped over her left nipple, leaving a red mark on the white skin.
She looked down into the green abyss of the ravine, which was thirty or a hundred feet down, depending on the side of the branch from which she fell. She rethought the idea of going back and breaking the window. It was an acceptable option if the alternative was plunging to her death or certain maiming in the forest below.
Nonsense. She was a strong, healthy woman, capable of climbing down a tree. It wasn't much higher than the rope. She didn't look down when she climbed the rope. That was the main difference.
She managed to wriggle down a good ten feet before her foot touched a branch, an offspring of her present perch. Unfortunately, in its quest for sunlight, this branch had curved upward, so she would have to maneuver around it, an obstacle in her road. Lauren sat up, bracing her hands on the bark between her thighs, and let her legs swing. Her bare back rested against the upward curving branch, forming a chair, and she relaxed a moment, or tried to do so.
Why was she in such a hurry? She didn't have dinner on the stove, wasn't expecting company. Lauren swallowed, remembering when she had expected someone.
She and Jonathan had lived together only a month. From the first day, he had balked at anything that smacked of the "how-was-your-day-dear?" rut, as he called it, describing it in disparaging terms as the innocuous brushing of lips, the sacking out on the couch in front of the TV after exchanging less than two sentences.
So to keep him happy, she ordered him to come home from work earlier than her, every night. He was to put away his briefcase, lawyer's suit and tie, and make her dinner. He would then kneel by the door, eyes gazing at the floor. He would be wearing nothing unless she had specified s
omething in particular.
She would come in, dressed impeccably in her skirted suit; hose and heels take his hand and raise him to his feet. He wasn't to lift his gaze. All subs tried occasionally, they couldn't help themselves, and those brief, forbidden glimpses were full of such naked hunger a Dom could not help but be aroused by a single look.
Not Jonathan. He never had a problem with that, unless he wanted to be punished. He would serve her dinner, and then she might make him kneel under the table and serve her another way while she drank her wine and caressed his hair, even as her body flushed with pleasure and she gasped at the touch of his lips or clever fingers.
Lauren broke into a sweat, and tears pricked her eyelids. She had come here to get away from these cursed memories. She told herself it was just a physical thing. She was feeling deprived. It was the way the tree rubbed her through the towel as she sat, swinging her legs. As the thought occurred to her, she lifted herself up so that the lips between her legs brushed lightly against the cloth-covered bark. Goose pimples ran up and down her skin. What was unpleasant on bare skin was not so unpleasant when covered with a thick cotton barrier. Oh, yes, tree climbing definitely had its up side.
She had gotten so she could get herself off with anything. When she finally came, the combination of intense physical pleasure and unbearable emotional anguish left her limp in mind and body. In those dark moments, her subconscious rose to the surface and laughed at her conscious mind's proud insistence that it was just the fulfillment of a physical need Jonathan had taken away from her.
She wasn't a liar. Not to herself or to anyone else. It was just a way of coping. She knew it was more than just having him naked at her door. It was looking around the corner and seeing his briefcase sitting in their bedroom, the evidence of existing together, sharing everything. In reality, all they had ever shared was sex and the game. Why had it been so hard to see that?
No-brainer question. Because she had wanted so much not to see it.
What cruelty made you give your heart on a platter to someone who didn't want it? It was so painful to have them politely dismiss it . No thank you, none for me please. She'd almost rather a lover attack her heart with knife and fork, consume it in three bites and throw it back up later. At least that was action, passion.
Lauren shook her head. She would rather have her heart hacked up like a hairball than left intact and unaccepted. There was a mental image. She needed to get a grip and stop thinking so damn much, or she was going to drown in pathetic metaphors.
Lauren contemplated the ravine below, all the mysteries of life moving among the foliage. The cycles of birth, life, death, beginning and ending in every moment. There was a majestic hush over it all, each sound resonating like music on a scrolled page. The calling of the birds, the rustle of the leaves in the wind, the soft snap of branches and staccato tap of animals moving along the paths known only to them. So different from the human world. Humans knew nothing of harmony with the world about them. They were so dedicated to enhancing their single note; they couldn't begin to figure out how to make a song.
The cool air of twilight touched her with questing fingers, as if just noticing her. Lauren closed her eyes and felt it stroke her hair off her nape and shiver down her torso, learning what manner of creature she might be. She concentrated on the stillness, seeing if she could somehow, by bringing that stillness into herself, make it dissolve the memories that refused to stop haunting her. She had to come to terms with them, and with herself.
She became more conscious of her breathing, and could almost sense that there were others who breathed with her in the impending night, creatures with liquid brown eyes and twitching noses, and musky soft fur that smelled of earth and animal.
Lauren slowly opened her eyes, not sure how long she had been lost in the meditative state.
Long enough that the air had gotten colder, and the sun had disappeared into the horizon, though it still illuminated the sky. She sighed, looked down, and found she was no longer alone.
Chapter 3
A man stood below her tree, watching her with intent brown eyes, like the creatures of the forest. No wet black nose, but his lips were definitely twitching.
