Part 7 . . . Reality in the Twilight Zone
A boiled egg each, toasted slices, liberally buttered and coated with pure golden honey. The "midnight picnic" was spare and Spartan, yet food for the gods.
The time spent in the kitchen with him was a revelation for Snama on many counts, unveiling aspects of him, she'd never been aware of.
First, the way he moved about and worked. Total economy of movement, total economy of time. He knew exactly where everything was, and in a trice he'd set the eggs for boiling on one burner, the tea kettle on the second, toasted the slices and buttered them while the eggs boiled, all the time keeping up a steady stream of conversation with her. He told her he hardly ever used the kitchen himself, except at such odd hours, when the live‑in help was asleep, but he'd trained his people to be organized and disciplined.
In her forty‑four years, Snama had known quite a few bachelors, but none as good a "housewife" as Neshe.
When she complimented him on this, saying she'd never seen a man work so efficiently in a kitchen, he'd responded
"That my darling is because you've never known a man like me before" emphatically cutting off any further line of enquiry in this direction.
Then there was the total ease, at his nakedness, and of hers. As if he was oblivious to the fact that both of them were naked.
Soon they were washing down the rich golden toast with sips of aromatic green tea, of which he poured himself a second large mug, offering her another too, which she graciously declined.
When she'd risen to tidy up the table as he sipped the steaming hot golden brew, he stopped her, saying he'll have it done in a minute, he just wanted to keep looking at her as she sat opposite him.
And he'd done exactly that, tidied up in no time. Drying his hands with a paper towel after he'd washed the plates and mugs, dried them and placed them in their proper places, he suddenly asked her,
"D'you remember once I told you that the nose ring Indian women wear is a physical mark of belonging, a sort of brand?"
Of course she remembered.
"And you remember what you had said?"
She did.
"I'll be a minute, I want to show you something" he'd said, and walked out, leaving her bemused.
He returned almost immediately, placing a heavy ring on the table between them.
Snama picked it up. It was solid gold, thick and heavy, with an oval face, the letter “N” in sharp bas‑relief on it in an exquisite gothic style.
"What d'you think of it?" he asked.
"It's beautiful. And quite expensive"
"Try it, it'll probably fit your ring finger"
Amazed, she tried. It fit.
Before she could say anything, another bolt from the blue.
"It's yours to wear. And I intend branding you with it."
For a moment she was struck speechless. Then . . .
"Bbb .. Brand me ? me?"
"Yes." His voice was soft, very low. "Just like I've branded your soul with myself, your body with my body, your kuss with my lann."
Snama looked into his eyes for a long while, unflinching at his deep, dark gaze, then quietly said.
"Just tell me one thing Neshe?"
"Ask?"
"What makes you so sure of yourself?"
"You."
There dawned a hint of a smile on her lips. When she spoke, it was almost a whisper.
"And what makes you so sure of me?"
"Us." He answered.
She reflected on that for a moment. Then asked, again in a soft, almost inaudible whisper.
"And what is Us?"
For many a moment he just gazed deeply into her eyes, his own almost burning with a dark flame. When he spoke, his voice was soft and sure.
"Remember the day I told you that if we were to turn around your name it would become "A Man's"?"
She nodded assent.
"What did you say?"
Again, that hint of a smile.
"I'd said that is the essence of me . . . for man, I'm woman, for my beloved, I'm comfort, solace, and warmth . . . for my lover I'm desire and satiation."
"And you know for me you're all this"
She suddenly burst out laughing.
"You know Neshe, this is the most arrogant proposal I've ever heard"
"I know." He said softly. "And I also know you value it."
She looked into his eyes unflinchingly, for a long moment. Then she spoke, softly
"You know . . . when we'd first met, I'd thought I'd penetrated this strange man in a far off land. I didn't quite realize it was I who was being penetrated."
Neshe rose, took a step to close the distance between them, bent and lightly kissed her forehead. With his lips cool on her skin he whispered.
"I'll brand you on five places Snama, on the small of your back, on both your buttocks, and on either side of your yoni."
A hot and cold thrill ran down her spine right down to her anus. Almost in a whisper, she said,
"The decision is made."
"Yes, it is made. It was made the day you told me you'd rechristened me Teags after I sent you that poem Succubus."
Her arms went round him, she raised her mouth to his, kissing him viciously. Then with a surprising vehemence she said,
"You frighten me with your knowing of me."
Neshe just recaptured her lips in his mouth, hungrily.
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