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“Yes. That day, my love,” she purred. Her heart was beating with a reckless passion now, recalling all their times together since that day … all of their rapturous rendezvous . . . from the first bed she was stretched out upon on the ship, to the time they had made love in the depths of the Indian grasses.
“How could I have ever for one moment not known you were female,” he said, kissing her sweetly on the hollow of the throat.
“Remember the day you made love to me while the tipple of the coal mine seemed to be watching, as though it was a person?” she whispered, tracing his lips with a forefinger.
“Yes, my darling.. . .”
“Then Michael, let's pretend. . . .”
“Pretend?” he said, tilting a brow.
“Yes, my love. Pretend.”
“How .. . ?”
“Lay me down, my love, amidst the tall Indian grasses, and watch me become as the wind, ah, so passion-filled. . . .”
Michael then took her in one swift movement. With a moan of ecstasy, she gave to him all he desired, while at the same time, she smiled, content.
She was free … at last free … yet always a prisoner .. . when in his . .. arms. . . .
