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I woke early, that day.
I'd already started to become attuned to The People's habit of living by the sun – they pretty well rose with it throughout the year – but though the pale walls of the canvas overhead were still dim, I came awake quietly and completely, my mind clear and my heart already lifting with pleasurable (if slightly nervous) anticipation.
The term in their language was one that used a sound that English doesn't. Hoshi would probably have handled it easily enough, but not being a linguist I struggled, as I did with a few of their words. The best I could come up with was a half-swallowed 'Fokwoh', which caused so much general hilarity it had probably already passed into legend.
Anyway. Whatever they called it, I was going to enjoy it. I hoped.
It has to be said that the first time Jessa tried to explain it to me, it sounded a bit ... weird. Sentimental, as well as anything else. I mean, yes, back on Earth we have the same sort of thing, if rather less extreme – the Americans have a Thanksgiving Day, which is one of the few things they haven't managed (yet) to export to England; presumably we Brits would regard it as a bit 'bad form' to put aside a special day for being grateful. Not that we aren't grateful ... but going around saying so? Not done, old boy. Not done at all. But as she went on, I started to see the sense in it.
Maybe living in a technological age, we've grown a bit blasé about all the wonders that surround us. Certainly on Enterprise I'd lived a life of so much automated luxury by The People's standards that they would probably have regarded it as witchcraft, and I don't suppose it had ever occurred to me how much engineering had gone into ensuring that water flowed out of a tap when I passed my hand across the sensor.
It followed that having to adapt to life on the Plains had been a bit of an uphill task for me in many ways. Survival was harder, and involved a lot of work; you pay more attention to the fur you sleep on when you've had to scrape the inside of the hide clean and follow on with all the rest of a somewhat smelly business. But there was a sense of comradeship – yes, and fun – that made the hard work bearable. Especially once I'd begun to make friends, I discovered all over again that being part of a team, as opposed to the lonely man at the top giving orders, had a lot of compensations.
Not that I thought Briai was particularly lonely. For all his authority, he exercised it very gently. He certainly didn't regard himself as above mucking in with any job that needed doing, no matter how supposedly menial; he was perfectly willing to lend a hand with the necessary labour of digging a new latrine pit every now and then, which was about the most manual-labour-intensive job The People ever indulged in.
So I didn't think that this 'Thanksgiving Day' of theirs – sorry, ours – would be as excruciating for him as it would be, say, for Admiral Forrest trying to socialise with lower ranks in Starfleet. But it would be interesting. Very, very interesting.
I don't think I moved. I definitely didn't say anything. But I felt the flicker of Jessa's eyelashes against my chest, and I knew she was awake.
"Is too early to get up yet," I said, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. "Go back to sleep."
"That is not the point of today," she answered, her voice suddenly as throaty as a wood-pigeon's, with laughter threaded into it. "Today is for appreciating everything that the whole tribe have and are, and giving thanks for it."
That sounded like an excellent idea to me. I was just getting around to being exceptionally appreciative of what I had – particularly in the furs next to me – when she evaded my exploring hands and slithered out of bed. "Come with me."
Well. That had been what I'd had in mind to begin with, but I wasn't averse to a change of venue. The People were pretty broad-minded with regard to sex, and usually nobody turned a hair if a couple happened to fancy a bit of fun out in the open air; doing the deed in the middle of the village would probably have invited its own reckoning, but a discreet wander off a little way was usually enough to evade curiosity. On a few of the warmer nights we'd slept out, and if it was true that the sight of the starry sky overhead caused me a few pangs of memory, I adored the feeling of being alone in the world with the woman I was fast coming to love.
The realisation of that last hadn't been an easy one to make. For so long I'd deliberately avoided any hint of caring about any woman I slept with. Hoshi, however, had been a friend long before we became lovers – in her case, my walls had been already breached. While as for Jessa ... how could any man, loved as I was by a woman as unique as this one, have resisted reciprocating it?
She didn't bother to dress. I took it from that that we weren't going far, because the autumn was advancing and the nights of our adventures in the Great Outdoors were probably over. It wasn't 'cold', exactly, but it was definitely getting towards 'chilly'. The People didn't seem to find it uncomfortable yet, but then they were used to living outdoors; it was probably going to be a while before I achieved the same hardiness, but this was something I was determined to do. Still, my old conditioning croaked a protest as she laid hold of the tent flap; she hadn't bothered to dress at all.
Even in the dimness I saw the glance she slid back at me.
"This is the day for giving thanks," she said quietly. "Should I not give thanks that the Goddess made me woman?"
I hadn't quite thought of it like that. Nor that I might be expected to ... bloody hell.
She was as quick as a cat when it came to understanding my reactions, probably before I understood them myself. She let the flap fall and came back to me, cupping my face between her hands. "No-one shows gratitude by doing something that makes them uncomfortable," she said. "No-one will think less of you if you feel differently."
I'd automatically caught up my linen boxers. Slowly I loosened my fingers, and let the material fall again.
The daily use of the latrine pit, where actual privacy was not an option, had gone a long way towards teaching me the difficult art of what I called 'virtual privacy', but this wasn't quite the same thing. It was so early that it was unlikely that many – if any – people would be up and about yet, but it was still going to be ... well ... challenging.
But I'd laid claim to being one of The People. And it seemed that today, nothing would mark out my difference more plainly than to be the only one wearing clothes.
Jessa squeezed my hand as we walked to the tent flap together.
My heart was beating a little quickly as I ducked out. I don't think I'd ever been so grateful to see the empty lane outside.
It wasn't that far before dawn. In the eastern sky the clouds there were showing the first smudge of pallor.
There was a warm breeze pushing up from the south – it was pretty well a constant during this period of the year, keeping the temperatures higher than they were in the rare periods when it dropped. I was aware of the soft hush of it against my skin, which prickled with the chill of the open air relative to the shelter of the tent and the warmth of the furs.
I almost shrank back into the tent as someone turned the nearest corner and walked past. It was Cavi, the village carpenter; I knew of course that he had a twisted leg, but could now see the malformed pelvis on that side too. Nevertheless, although barred by his disability from accompanying the hunt, he was a skilled craftsman in working the bone and ivory brought back from it. His intricately worked necklaces and bracelets were, I knew, much prized as a trade item, and though he already had an apprentice I'd had thoughts of asking him to teach me the skill too. I knew I had the patience and the dexterity to do well at it, and he seemed a decent sort of bloke from the few words we'd exchanged. He was definitely among those who appeared to regard me positively, particularly after the afternoon I'd asked his permission to watch him working on fitting a new handle on an axe-head and shown both knowledge and interest in the procedure.
Now, he seemed as unaware of our undressed state as he was of his own. "Fair Fokwoh to you, good people!" he called cheerfully, and spread out his hands. "Jessa, my thanks as ever for that wondrous ointment you make for me. Mal-kom, thank you for that length of braid you twisted for me last week; that stripe of red in with the black is astonishing! It is so fine I shall keep it till the God sends me an image of an ornament that deserves it. Is not the world a wonderful place, and all the people in it?" Then, without waiting for a reply, he limped on regardless, his mop of almost white-blond hair even more rumpled than usual. I heard him call out again to someone a little further on; evidently the village was not quite as deserted as I might have hoped.
"Come." Jessa took my hand again and we set off, heading towards the rise by the grazing-ground. Me, somewhat thoughtful; things were already rather different to what I'd expected. More relaxed, for one.
Hiassa was on guard duty on the rise, and gestured amiably as we passed; as he'd been there all night, it would hardly be reasonable to expect him to be naked. He seemed to find us no more interesting than usual, however, and turned his head away to keep watch over the herd, which was clearly far more important to him than the fact we had left our clothes behind in the tent.
My lover led me to the far side of the ridge, which faced east. The growing light was spreading detail on the grey expanse of the Plain, picking out the clumps of thorny bushes from which besho fruits were plucked with care as they ripened. As so often happened, the dawn wind was breaking up the cloud, and chinks of paling blue spread gradually into pools and thence into lakes in which vanishing stars glittered briefly.
Having reached the place she was aiming for, Jessa sat down and then quickly lay flat. I'll admit that the expression on her face as her bare skin contacted dew-wet grass made me grin – an expression that lasted just as long as it took for her to reach up to grab my arm and pull me down beside her.
Of course I could have escaped. I knew a dozen ways to break her grip and evade my horrid fate. But I didn't. I just let myself go with it, though that didn't prevent a dozen colourful Earth expressions from doing their best to escape between my clenched teeth as the cold hit me as well.
"This is life!" she said, rolling to press against me. "Feel, and give thanks!"
Well, I was feeling all right, though 'giving thanks' was a bit of an ask right then. Nevertheless, once I'd managed to stop gasping I realised she actually had a very valid point. I couldn't have named the last time I'd felt grass against my bare skin, and the wetness and chill added a whole new dimension to it.
The small sounds of ripping vegetation heralded the scattering of greenstuff on top of my belly. Jessa pulled herself up and slid across it, wriggling slowly and sensually. The heat of our bodies strengthened the scent of the crushed leaves and grass; it smelled sharp and sweet.
She placed her hands on either side of my face and looked down at me. "Thank you," she said seriously. "Thank you, my beloved, for bringing me to life."
Her mouth was warm and tasted of cinnamon from some stem or other she'd evidently just bitten. She was usually somewhat shy about taking the initiative; I think she feared to be thought 'unmaidenly', but though she began with tenderness, it wasn't long in turning into passion. And as her tongue went for my tonsils I certainly wasn't complaining about the change.
Nudity was one thing. But Hiassa was sitting his horse about ten metres away, and although there had been occasions in my past when I'd visited places where privacy was the last thing on anyone's mind, the idea of being the sole item of entertainment was still setting off all kinds of alarm bells. Admittedly he wasn't looking in our direction, but he'd only have had to turn his head...
Jessa reared up naked above me.
The women of The People tended to put on a bit of weight during the late summer, as part of their defences against a long winter. Hers had mostly gone on in the most delightful places; she was as voluptuous as a carved Hindu goddess. Her skin was scattered with bits of grass and clover. There was a crushed yellow petal just beside her bellybutton, and her brown eyes were now wide and wicked. "Is Malcolm glad he is a man?"
The cold had had its usual unfortunate effect, but the warmth of her body was rapidly reviving my inclinations, among other things. The sexy smile that spread across her face said that these developments had not gone unnoticed.
She lifted herself up.
She was Eve, she was Helen. She was the goddess of the starry skies, the goddess of the fertile earth. She was Woman Incarnate.
Malcolm of Starfleet uttered one scandalised howl as Malcolm of The People signified that yes, he was glad he was a man. And as Jessa of The People slowly impaled herself and began rocking luxuriantly back and forward, it was Malcolm of The People who watched her, loving every moment of being a man for his woman.
How long she must have waited and longed for this, for being able to rejoice like any other woman in her femininity. How terrible it must have been for her on previous days, the only woman in the tribe with no reason to rejoice; rejected for reasons I still wasn't able to get my head around, but for which, in my deepest, inmost heart, I would have been selfishly, shamefully grateful, except that they had caused her pain.
As I understood this (with the remote part of me that was still able to think at all), I realised why she was completely indifferent to being watched. Far from being ashamed of her sexuality, she was – in keeping with the spirit of the day – rejoicing in it. No-one who saw would judge her for it. This was Thanksgiving Day, People-style.
What the hell. When in Rome...
I grabbed hold of her pelvis and went for it.
Pleasure burst over both of us like the dawn that flooded the Plain, turning her tossing red hair into a halo of fire as she put back her head and screamed out to the Mother of Mares; and as it pulsed through my body too I bellowed like Syach in answer till the sheer magnitude of the sensations reduced me to whimpering gasps of astonished ecstasy.
In odd moments I've tried, ever since, to analyse what made that day's experiences – out of so many in a life that's had its fair share of them – so incredibly special. Did I somehow tap into her psyche, in a way I've never done with any woman before or since? Was it just the day, the situation, the whole unimaginable ... event? Was there something about that day, for some unimaginable reason, that transcended mere 'human' custom; some 'otherness' that The People had somehow learned to tap into?
I'd read that some faiths regard sex as having a divine aspect. Up till then, it was a theory I'd felt free to dismiss, but even now I can't deny that I was filled with more than physical pleasure: there was wonder, joy, lightness ... for those few magical, endless seconds I felt connected not just to Jessa but to creation itself.
It ebbed, of course, leaving me spent and shuddering. Jessa was drooping over me, and I gathered her into my arms, stroking her into calm, feeling the tremors coursing through her body. "Thank you, a chuisle mo chroí," I whispered breathlessly into the bright copper tangle of her hair. "Mo mhuirnín dílis!"
'Pulse of my heart. My faithful darling.' Gaelic endearments I'd learned so long ago from an Irish bedmate at Uni, never believing I'd have cause to use them for real. Aileen knew I'd never apply them to her, but I just loved the sound of them; maybe I had Irish ancestry somewhere, and anyway it was something to do in between banging the bedsprings. The phrases sounded so much more meaningful than the English words that were the common currency of life.
Another phrase trembled on my lips. I longed to say it. Soon, I knew I would. 'Mo ghrá thú." 'My love to you'. The enormity of it terrified me, even now.
She lay still for a while, planting the lightest of kisses along my collar bones; then she straightened up. The fire in her eyes slumbered; her mouth was soft with satiation. "I am the most loved, the most fortunate of women," she said quietly, placing her hand across my heart.
I needed no further prompting. I laid mine across hers in return, feeling the quick beat of it under my palm on the warm, sweat-damp skin between her full, beautiful breasts. "Mo ghrá thú a Jessa."
Her eyes searched mine. Quiet, trusting. She'd become accustomed to the words of my 'special language'. She never asked what they meant. I think it was enough to her to know that she was the only woman who heard them.
I loved her.
I said it to myself, and it no longer terrified me. Soon I would say it to her, in the language of The People; I'd ask someone, someone I could trust to keep my secret (Atreh probably – Bihiv couldn't keep a bloody secret like this to save his life), how to say it properly – the last thing I wanted was for my first-ever open declaration of love to come out something like 'I think you have ears like cabbages'. Then when I'd practised for a bit, and when the right time came – I wanted it to be special, wanted it to be a day she'd treasure – I'd say it to her.
Marriage? I didn't think The People had such a concept, though the idea was creeping into my thoughts lately with growing insistence. I think more than a few people were surprised that we were strictly faithful to each other; nowadays, I thought there were a few lasses who'd have opened their tent doors to me with very little encouragement, and I'm pretty sure that some of the men were having second thoughts about Jessa being unattractive. Though how anyone could have thought that of her in the first place was a mystery to me – OK, she wasn't drop-dead gorgeous in the conventional sense, but her smile lit up a tent like a lamp, and any man with eyes in his head could see she had some wonderful curves. These, of course, were only a part of what I loved about her – her humour, her intelligence, and above all her courage shone out for me – but they were there all the same, and who the hell in his senses bothers about the colour of a woman's eyes when they have so many other wonderful assets to be explored?
If I mentioned marriage – if I explained the concept – what would she say? Would it be a step too far, such a huge departure from the customs of The People to whom she belonged? Would she be willing to commit to me permanently, to make promises so alien to the easy sexual freedoms of the tribe – and if she was, what would Briai say to it?
Hoshi. As it still so often did, the memory stabbed me like a lance. I'd cared for Hoshi too; when I was back on Enterprise it had been impossible not to realise that she'd become far dearer to me than I'd ever contemplated when I set out on our relationship. But Hoshi was lost to me, like Enterprise herself and everything that belonged to that life; all I could do now was to play the hand of cards that had been dealt me by fate.
"Your eyes are sorrowful." I was sure my thoughts hadn't shown in my face, but Jessa was one of the most intuitive people I'd ever met. She claimed my eyes changed colour with my mood, and while I strenuously doubted that this had any basis in scientific fact, nevertheless she was often worryingly accurate with such statements.
I stroked her face and smiled. "I have nothing to be sorrowful for. I have shared pleasure with a wonderful, beautiful woman and I am a lucky man." If we'd been speaking English, of course, I could have been a heck of a lot more articulate, but as it was I had to stick with what I was sure of. Still, simplicity isn't always a bad thing; The People had shown me that.
She gazed at me for a moment longer, and then smiled back and kissed my nose. "We should clean ourselves, Beloved."
She was right, of course, but the inevitable encounter with the cold water in the stream wasn't one I was looking forward to. If we'd been in the tent we would have had a jar of water standing by that would have at least lost the worst of its chill overnight, but at a guess suggesting we might go back there to perform our ablutions would administer a severe knock to my He-Man Malcolm image.
Not without a few groans and shivers (passion had briefly occluded my awareness of the general temperature of a chilly autumn morning), we got ourselves up off the ground. I wasn't sure whether this was actually an improvement, as it now allowed the breeze free access to the parts of me that had been pressed to the wet turf. "I th-think we could just make this a quick wash," I gasped as a particularly playful gust brought my entire surface out in goose-pimples; it seemed I had even further to go in the matter of acclimatising than I'd thought.
Her grin made me want to slap her bum. Hard. (Though that would probably have led to me groping it as well, and I thought Hiassa had had more than enough of a floor-show for one morning. I'm not sure if I've ever mentioned that Jessa had the most delectable arse.)
"We will make it a very quick wash," she chuckled.
Even now Syach had not forgiven me. This was known throughout the village, and as we began walking down the hill towards the stream Hiassa gently nudged his mount forward to keep pace with us. The slanting early sunshine brought up the distinctive fox-gleam of the stallion's coat among his mares; a lot of his offspring shared the same colouration of course, but not many had the slightly lighter tone of mane and tail – most of them were bays, a striking combination that made the colts eminently saleable. Even at a distance, however, his height and weight made him easy to pick out. Likewise, his perpetual vigilance. Sometimes I wondered whether the beast ever slept at all.
We weren't going to go that close to the herd, but I appreciated the guard's thought: there was no harm in being prepared for the worst, stallions being unpredictable at the best of times.
Syach saw the movement, of course. He moved a little closer to keep an eye on the situation, and his glare at me was unappeased. However, Hiassa saw enough to let him pull up at the foot of the rise, though he remained there, watchful.
Neither he nor I had said anything to each other. I was totally stuck for what it was appropriate to say in a situation like this, and if I'm absolutely honest I was praying to any listening deity that he'd just act as if he hadn't even realised that Jessa and I had been banging like bunnies about three horse-lengths away from him.
I suppose that was an altogether too English solution to a thorny situation. At any rate, Hiessa wasn't having it. As he reined in, he finally looked at the two of us – and I mean looked, not just glanced in our general direction and pretended we were actually fully dressed and hadn't been up to anything.
He was a middle-aged chap and not – as far as I knew – overly possessed of a sense of humour. He'd always struck me as being a bit schoolmastery, surveying the world drily from beneath a thatch of greying hair that for some reason always sat flat on the top of his head, as though pressed down by an invisible cap. So I braced myself for some fairly abrasive put-down, along the lines of a there's a time and a place for everything, young man sort of thing.
But once again, The People surprised me.
Normally, back on Earth, having another bloke look at my woman's body – and mine – with that degree of frank admiration would have had my hackles up like a hedge. As it was, I still tensed a bit, because it was obvious that he was fully aware of her post-coital state. And thought (as any man with eyes would think) that she was sexy and beautiful and arousing. And enjoyed seeing her that way. And knew that she, in her turn, was enjoying his perception of her in that light.
Innocent? No. There was no pretence of innocence on anyone's part. But equally so, there was no offence taken or intended. There was appreciation, as much aesthetic as it was sexual.
Sexy, beautiful, arousing, mine. It made me go all caveman-y. Me Malcolm, her Jessa. You can look all you like, mate, but keep your mitts to yourself.
"Like Uwehe and Maho, in the dawn of the world," he said quietly. "Thank you both, for showing me them walking the earth. Fair Fokwoh to you, good people."
"And to you, Strength of the Tribe," she answered – a title I already knew belonged to the elders whom Briai considered to be such of a council as he needed. "For your care for The People and for your wisdom, I give thanks."
He nodded, accepting the tribute gravely, and then transferred his attention back to Syach.
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