A COMFORT IN THE NIGHT
By Eva
Marguerite nervously paced the bare planked floor of their bedroom hoping to hear the familiar sound of the elevator. The chorus of jungle night sounds had begun in earnest now that darkness was settling over the plateau, and she knew she should already be in bed like the other residents of the treehouse. But Roxton and Malone had left three days ago on a hunting trip, promising to return in two. It wasn't like John to break a promise. He always returned on time.
She couldn't believe how her feelings had changed for this man, especially considering how dead set against liking him she'd been at the start of their journey. So many years ago…since that first night in Challenger's study. Recalling their initial meeting, she remembered referring to him as just another snake on a long list of reptiles she had known. How wrong she had been. And, how curious that she could admit, at this point in her life, to being so wrong.
Her silent reverie was thankfully interrupted by the squeaking sound of the elevator ascending through the base of the tree, and by the…. oh, so… welcoming sound of John's voice tossing laughing remarks to Malone.
Before she could throw a robe around her bare shoulders to greet him in the main room, he was hurrying down the stairs of the bedroom they now shared. As they fell together, John firmly folded her slender body into his arms and pressed her close to his strong muscular chest.
He nuzzled his chin into her thick hair as she sighed shakily into the hollow of his neck, "John…...where've you been all this time? You should have been back yesterday. I've been worried…'
He gently pushed her back to peer down into her face. "Worried? My darling, worried?" His thumbs smoothed the thin translucent skin beneath her eyes. "And, are those tears…for me?"
Marguerite pulled indignantly away from him and his burning stare. "No! Tears? No! I was sleeping soundly before you and Malone woke me up. I swear John…the noise you two made… you'd have thought a stampede of cattle were plundering through the treehouse."
She walked deliberately to their bed….the bed perfectly made up from that morning. As soon as she sat down on the edge of the bed, she realized she'd been caught in a fib.
"Woke you up, did we? Where exactly were you sleeping, Marguerite? Certainly not on this bed." He laughed with the self-assured way he had when catching her in a web of her own white lies.
"Don't start with me, John. It's been a very long day…..what with wondering where you were and why you're so late coming back."
The cocky laughter subsided into a tender smile for the beauty that sat before him. He approached the bed, walking gingerly. "Well, it would seem that someone needs a bit of comforting after all that worrying".
It was then Marguerite noticed the deep limp in his usual energetic gait.
"What….John….what happened? What's wrong with your leg?" She quickly rose to go to him, fear beginning to grip her insides again.
"It's nothing. Really, it's nothing. Don't make a fuss, now. We ran into a little trouble with a….well….a small rockslide. That's all."
"That's all?! John you of all people don't give in easily to pain. It has to be something serious. Here lean on me." Her arms gripped his back as she led him to the bed.
Once there, John gratefully sank onto the soft mattress he now shared with the love of his life as she began inspecting the leg he had favored on the walk to the bed.
"Where does it hurt? How badly is it hurt?" She descended upon him like a whirlwind. "We need to get these clothes off you so I can see how badly it's hurt."
"Steady, Marguerite…the clothes were coming off anyway with or without the wounded leg," he said, smirking at the reference to their new-found intimacy.
"Stop joking about this, John. I've imagined all sorts of bad things the past twenty four hours, so don't make light of this."
"I just got banged up a bit….mostly some bruises and minor cuts. Nothing broken, nothing sprained," he managed nonchantly. It was clear now how worried she was and he wanted nothing more than to set her mind to ease.
Marguerite pushed him back so he reclined tenuously against the bed frame and begun to pull his boots off….not an easy job for someone possessing such a small frame as hers. But determination knows no boundaries and when his socks and boots lay on the floor, she moved back onto the bed to undo his trousers, easing them slowly from his bruised legs.
It being the middle of summer on the plateau, John had taken up the habit of cutting off his long johns just above the knees. So as the last vestige of khakis slid over his bare feet, Marguerite was able to immediately see his bare legs and she caught her breath at the sight of the welts forming over his calves and thighs. It was obvious the rockslide had been the victor in whatever skirmish these two had encountered.
"John….my God….you shouldn't even be walking. And, what's this???" Her hands had traveled over every inch of his legs finally discovering a deep cut on the outer side of his right leg, which seemed to be covered with some kind of thick pasty concoction.
"Oh….well I was saving the best for last."
Marguerite shot him a no-nonsense glare that meant in no uncertain terms…..'don't joke about this.'
"All right….I suffered a gash, a pretty deep one. I knew I couldn't make it home like that, so we detoured to the Zanga village. Assai made the poultice and made me stay off my feet for at least a day. As soon as she let me get up, I hobbled the rest of the way here, with Malone's help of course."
"John!" she scolded. "John….you should have stayed there until you were better. You could have sent Malone ahead to tell us. I would have come to you."
"Would you, my darling? Would you have come to me?"
"You know I would have. I'd go anywhere if I knew you needed me." She rose from the bed, and picking up his clothes from the floor, crossed the room to the stairs. "I'll be back in a few minutes, and while I'm gone…if you can manage… take off the rest of your clothes and…"
The smarmy look on his face stopped her short. She drew herself up straight and to the leer retorted , "Get that look off your face, John. You're in my care now, and your bruises need attending to. I was about to say…and turn over on your stomach. So….go on now….take off the rest of your clothes and turn over on your stomach."
As she left the room, he silently complied with her instructions, knowing there was no arguing with her when she set her mind to something. But what was the something in her mind? His insides started to tremble in anticipation. Whatever it was, all he knew it would be administered by the woman who had already brought such a healing to his heart and soul. With that comforting thought in mind, it was easy to give himself over to whatever she willed.
As he fought drifting off into a much-needed restful sleep, he heard her footsteps approaching the bed. He turned his head to face her as she set the tray down on the bedside table. He could see a basin of water and towels, and he watched her closely as she walked to her vanity table and began to pick through the different size, different colored bottles, finally selecting the desired one and bringing it to the bedside.
Marguerite took a longing look at Roxton's naked body before her, and taking one long deep sigh began to set her mission into motion.
She dipped one of the smaller cloths into the basin and squeezed out the excess water. As she placed the cloth onto his back, John could feel the soothing feeling of the lukewarm water cleansing his taut body.
"First we need to get this jungle grime off you. Honestly, John… Assai could have at least bathed you." The amused look on John's face caused Marguerite to realize what she had just said and she added quickly, "Well, maybe it's a good thing she didn't. Knowing you as well as I do, I'm sure you would have enjoyed it too much."
"Now who's making a joke about all of this?"
"Hush…now….no more talking. I want you to relax. Turn your face the other way and just be glad you're home." She leaned into kiss him gently on his cheek and whispered, "I know I am."
With John in position, she proceeded determinedly with wiping the accumulated dust and grime from his bare back, then slowly down to his bare buttocks, then finally to his bruised and battered legs and feet.
Pleased he was clean enough for what came next, she picked up the rose-colored bottle from the night table and poured a small amount of the liquid into the palms of her hands. She began at the nape.
John groaned in sublime relief as her hands wrapped around his neck, rubbing the musky smelling oil into his skin, working it down slowly and firmly onto his shoulders. As much as John was enjoying this, Marguerite seemed to relish it as well. Her hands lovingly took hold of each shoulder, one first, then the other and pressed her weight onto the massive pillars that had so often protected her against the harshness of the world.
Her hands started again at the top center of his back, between his shoulders, rubbing the oil over every inch until she reached the shoulder blades. There she cupped each hand over each, first pushing the skin up, then down with her thumbs, literally expelling all tension and tightness from his back. She could feel his body relaxing as he began taking deep breaths, and she knew her hands were succeeding with their goal.
After administering several long deep strokes to the outward and inward parts of his back, her hands were now positioned over his bare buttocks, an area Marguerite was all too familiar with. She remembered all the times her hands been placed on them, guiding them, in an effort to help him find his place deep inside her…as he searched for that place that would bring the ultimate satisfaction, one to the other.
As her hands touched his bare cheeks, she felt a sudden tightness in the muscles and knew the effect it must be having on that part of his body connecting with the sheets. There'd be time enough for that….later…..after she had released all the pain and tenseness in this man's lovely body.
Her hands gripped the bottom part of his buttocks, squeezing and pummeling them before shifting her position to stand at the top of his left thigh. Pouring more oil into her hands, she took both hands to circumvent the massive size of his leg and with her thumbs, slowly pressed and slid them down to that place behind his knee. She stopped there and brought her hands back up to the starting place, and began again.
Each downward spiral brought a moan of ecstasy from deep inside Roxton's chest. Marguerite had heard him moaning before from pleasure, so she knew the effect this was having on him. Her goal was being realized….to remove all the pain and suffering he had endured over the past day or so. She never wanted him to experience any kind of hurt, physical or emotional. Her happiness depended on his happiness, something she knew he reciprocated in fashion.
She was now exploring the area below his knee, slowly traveling down the length of the back of his calf. She had often thought he possessed the most gorgeously handsome legs of any man she'd ever known, but always stopped short from admitting this to him. Mostly, because it would have sounded immodestly improper (that being making reference to the fact she'd seen other men's naked legs), in light of the fact Roxton was the only man in her life now. And, then there was always the danger of it causing his pride to swell to an unmanageable size. Lord knows, his ego was stretched enough now….but all things considered, rightly so.
Her hands had now reached the part of his anatomy that always gave her delightfully inward tremors…..his beautifully formed, masculine bare feet. Many times since they had become intimate, she'd caught herself lusting over his bare feet, feeling slightly concerned as to whether she had a foot fetish. Truth be told, she lusted equally over the other parts of his body as well. But there was just something about this man's bare toes.
She smiled contentedly to herself as her fingers intertwined with his toes, then lovingly curving his heel and inner soles. She quelled the impulse to bend over and kiss this obscure part of his body that always made her feel such pleasure inside. Not that other parts didn't bring about that feeling as well.
'May as well admit it, Marguerite…..every part of this man's body gives you the feeling you're in the presence of an Adonis,' she thought ruefully.
Finishing the left leg, she hesitated at touching the right one…the injured and bruised one. So many cuts and bruises. There had been some slight ones on the rest of his back and other leg, but it was obvious the right one had taken the brunt of the rockslide. If she'd only been there with him.
Pouring more oil into the palms of her hands, she lightly caressed the leg and gently ran them over the length and back up again. This was as much as she dared touch, fearing to injure the leg any further.
She washed the oil from her hands in the remaining water in the basin, and drying her hands leaned over Roxton's body. His eyes were closed and his face had taken on a peaceful smile. She wasn't sure if he was asleep or not, but decided not to disturb him.
She pulled the cover sheet up to his waist, with his back laying bare to the cool night air now pervading their bedroom. Removing her outer chemise, she quietly laid down on the bed resting her head on the same pillow as her lover, and turned to face his half-sleeping form.
His eyelids opened heavily as he lifted his arm to rest around her shoulder and whispered, "Sorry, I'm so tired tonight. I promise to make it up to you."
"Hush now….go back to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up in the morning."
******
A few hours later, as a small trickle of sunlight drifted across the ceiling of their small bedroom, Roxton awoke and following his usual morning ritual reached for her. As his hands brought down the straps of her thin nightgown and found their way to her warm awaiting breasts, he whispered huskily the words her heart had ached to hear the past three days, "I need you, Marguerite."
She knew without opening her eyes, John was about to make good on the sweet promise he had made the night before.
The End