RATING: "M"

CURRENT MUSE: 'Die Without You', by P.M. Dawn (One of the most beautiful songs ever written)

CHAPTER 2

Too devastated to face any more disappointment, I avoided the park the next morning...

...and the next...

...and the next, as well...

...but finally, on the fourth day, while (grudgingly) admitting that it's unhealthy – both physically and mentally - to hole up in one's apartment for weeks on end, I forced myself out the front door...

...and ten minutes later - tea in hand - I was back on my usual bench, contemplating how the pre-dawn fog, lit only by a single distant lamp post, was such a sadly ironic metaphor for the current landscape of my mind: certainly desolate, obviously un-chartable, and definitely un-navigable.

Well, okay, I was out of the house...so now what?

Swinging my legs, and kicking rhythmically at the lush grass under the soles of my boat shoes, I wracked my brain for an answer but unfortunately, despite my best efforts, absolutely nothing suggested itself.

One thing, however, was certain: I now understood that there was zero chance of seeing Emma here.

Not only Emma, it turned out, but anyone else, either. Aside from myself, the park was absolutely deserted...and so un-nervingly silent that before long I actually found myself wishing for those creeps Marc and Henri to show up, because at least then I could unleash some of my huge reserves of pent-up anxiety on loathing their presence.

Wait a minute...what kind of insanity is that?!

No! I corrected myself sternly. It's far better to be alone, than to have those bullies here, verbally beating you up...

...because you certainly don't need any help with that!

After all, compared to your own black belt in self-torment, they're only rank amateurs!

But still, I thought, if only they were here, then I'll bet I would be able to-

"Damn it, Adele!" I cursed aloud – and loudly – now furious with myself.

"What the hell are you saying...and doing? You need to pull yourself together...right now! For once in your life - just ONCE - stop acting so disgustingly pathetic and instead try to focus on...well, on anything!"

But what?

Once again, I sat turning this problem over (and over) in my mind, but try as I might I couldn't come up with a single constructive thing to do...or even to think about; and as I just mentioned,

my surroundings were completely deserted; and so, with no inspiration nearby, I turned my attention back toward myself...

...or, more precisely, to my hands...

...toward the only thing that was currently available for contemplation: my raspberry tea.

Determined to try my hardest to appreciate it – because it really was my favorite – I held the tall, nearly-full plastic cup up in front of my face and, swirling the contents around, observed its color (as best I could in the gloom); and then, after taking a deep sniff I lifted it to my lips, to take a small, deliberate, thoughtful sip - the way people do at wine tastings...

...planning to evaluate it carefully, and then describe it elaborately...

...but seconds later, found myself staring at the bottom of an empty cup...because, out of habit, I'd gulped the whole thing down instead.

With a sigh of exasperation, I turned in my seat and, taking careful aim, I flung the cup forward...

...and of course missed the trash can completely.

I sat staring at where it now lay on the grass...at least four feet away from its intended target, and then, with a shrug, I turned away dismissively.

I'd dispose of it properly later.

Having just hastily (and stupidly) ruined my only chance at any sort of "entertainment", I (correctly) concluded that there was nothing left in the area to contemplate but the weather – and so, sliding down until my butt was at very edge of the bench, I leaned my neck against the backrest's upper edge, and turned my face upward...

...toward the sky.

I don't remember how long I sat there, gazing passively at the vast, blank slate of lingering dark blue that stretched out on both my left and my right for as far as the eye could see; but eventually I noticed that, in front of me, it seemed to be slightly lighter now, way out at its farthest edge...

...and, tilting my head downward, I looked - expectantly - across to the other side of lake, where, unmistakeably, dawn was breaking...

...and, sitting just as motionless as the perfect stillness of my surroundings..

...I watched, in suddenly-eager anticipation...

...and in total silence...

...until less than a minute later the dense, distant, mist-shrouded stand of trees suddenly caught fire, as a million points of light burst through their branches...

...and the day began.

It was so breathtakingly stunning that I completely forgot - for the moment anyway – all about the cruel reality of my life, as I sat staring, so incredibly grateful to finally have something to appreciate...not to mention something of such aching beauty. After all, there hadn't been much beauty in my life anymore, not since...well, not since I could remember.

As I watched from my own shore, the resplendent rays of newly-emerged morning light began cascading from the distant tree branches and spilling onto the ground in front of them, where they twined themselves together into a unified whole...

...which crept slowly, yet steadily down the far bank; until, after only a moment's hesitation, it tentatively rolled forward, into the lake itself, gradually unfurling a carpet of pure gold across the water...

...right in my direction...

...but, suddenly, my sense of awe was interrupted...as it occurred to me that the dawn must have had broken here before, on most other mornings – and in exactly the same way...

...but I'd wasted every one of them...

...because I had been far too busy hating my life - and myself - to pay any attention.

With effort, I pushed that realization back into the far recesses of my mind.

Within minutes the wide, illuminated path had reached my side of the lake shore, and after ascending gracefully - yet decisively - from the water, it continued forward...

...advancing slowly, yet steadily, up the grassy slope...

...straight toward my bench...

...while I sat watching, nearly breathless with anticipation, and positively aching to be drawn into its warm, desperately-needed embrace...

...which would be my first – of any kind...or from anyone – in many a month.

But then, suddenly, and only inches from the tips of my shoes...

...the glowing swath of promised solace came to a complete, inexplicable stop.

Although this seemed odd to me, I waited, patiently, for what must have been several minutes...

...but it still hadn't moved forward in the least.

Not understanding this at all, I lifted my head...

...to see it lying there, like an illuminated road, stretching out before me - in the most inviting way...

...and, looking forward, along its entire length...

...my eyes traced its wide, glowing path of color all the way back across the lake, back to its source...

...from which it continued to emanate, radiating in numerous, intricate shafts between trunks and limbs, like so many outstretched arms, reaching out to draw me into their passionately longed-for embrace.

One that I needed...so, so badly.

So why, then, was it refusing to move forward...and to wrap itself around my tired, aching, defeated self?

Did the sun hate me, too...just like the rest of the world did?

And every bit as much?

Finding no answer, I continued to stare – directly yet blankly - into the dawn, but now feeling both hurt and confused, until, unexpectedly, I saw a momentary flash of even brighter gold at its very center...

...and then, over to one side, a dark patch shifted...oddly.

One of the trees seemed to be...moving.

No; it had to be a trick of the light, I decided dismissively...

...but only seconds later, it happened again.

No, I thought, just an optical illusion...

...but, if that were the case, then why was it moving...sideways?

And, if it WAS a trick of light, then wouldn't ALL of the OTHER trees be moving as wel-

My attempted analysis was interrupted, abruptly, as I saw it happen a third time...

...however, almost immediately the motion halted and, once again, I thought I had been mistaken...

...until only a moment later, near the early summer morning's radiant center, there was a sudden, massive eclipse, as a dark, towering shape moved in front of it...

...and then, as I sat watching, utterly stunned...

...Emma, taking a tentative step forward, emerged from the stand of trees...

...and I almost fell off my bench.

Convinced that - due to my despair and loneliness - I was now hallucinating...severely...I quickly looked away, and then, after a deliberate wait of several seconds - and expecting to see the far bank empty once again - I turned back...

...because what I had just seen couldn't be happening!

But, somehow, and to my complete astonishment, it had happened...

...and was still happening...

...because there was Emma, still, now standing right next to the ancient oak tree...

...leaning against it sideways, and looking at the ground.

"No, Adele...NO!" my mind screamed. "You're finally starting to crack! This non-stop stress and anguish that's been tormenting you for so long now has now escalated to the point where you're so distraught that you're wishing she was there...and wishing so hard that now you actually think you see her...

"...but you don't!

"There's no way you're seeing this...and I can prove it! Last night, you wished so hard to see her here - where she's never been before - and now, only a day later, she just suddenly shows up...in the exact same spot?

"Impossible!

"After all, it's Sunrise...the light over there is so bright that you only think you see the outline of a human shape, when actually, there's no one there at al-"

It moved again.

"Oh, uh, well, okay...maybe someone actually is over there, but it's only someone that that you thinklooks like Emma, when it's really someone els-"

At that moment, she glanced up once again...

...and I clearly recognized her unforgettable face...

...and my heart suddenly flooded with a rush of hope...

...which dissipated, only seconds later, in a most jarring way...

...when, upon seeing me staring back at her, the expression on her face changed...from a blank slate to one of deep hurt...and she quickly looked down again...

...and didn't move...even though I continued to stare at her...

...waiting.

Two things were now painfully obvious: she didn't want to look at me...

...and I couldn't take my eyes off her.

I couldn't...

...and that was because I wanted –no, needed – for her to look up again! Still convinced that I was hallucinating, I needed more assurance...to know that she really was there!

But if she really was there, she definitely didn't want to raise her head and look into my eyes.

So...what should I do now?

Suddenly, I felt an unexpected – yet welcome - surge of warmth, in the entire lower half of my body...not because of Emma...but because the sun - which had prostrated itself at feet for so long - had at last decided to proceed in its trajectory through the park; and, finally moving forward and upward, it threw a wide blanket of warm, liquid gold across my lap...

...which suddenly gave me an idea.

After a bit of frantic fumbling in the depths of my backpack, I found what I wanted...

...and, hastily putting my sunglasses on, I leaned far forward, elbows on knees, and head tilted in the direction of the ground...

...but with my concealed eyes surreptitiously looking upward, full of hope...

...and within seconds my plan paid off, and I saw her lift her head...

...and look straight at me.

And, with my heart in my throat, I waited.

Waited for a wave, a nod, or for any sign of encouragement whatsoever.

But there was none.

She just stood there, her face expressionless again, and absolutely still, looking across the lake...straight at me.

Well, I rationalized, while struggling to keep my steadily-growing anxiety under control, maybe the reason she's not responding is because she thinks I'm not looking...which means that if she made any gesture, I wouldn't notice.

That's certainly easy to fix.

With as much composure as I could muster, I sat up straight and, took my shades off. And then, while trying hard to keep my trembling body under control...I lifted my head...

...and looked straight at her...

...trying to convey, with my eyes alone, how badly I wanted her to respond to me.

And, a moment later, she did...

...but not in the way that I'd hoped.

Noticing that I was looking at her again, she immediately dropped her eyes...

...and then her head...

...and, now looking away from me, she took three very deliberate steps backward...

...back into the outermost edge of the forest...

...and immediately, I dropped my own head and stared at the ground...now biting my lower lip and trying my hardest not to cry...

...because the message she had just conveyed was absolutely clear.

If she wanted anything to do with me, then surely she would have given me some sign...no matter how slight.

But instead she now stood, motionless - and even farther away from me than before...on the opposite side of the lake.

She may as well have been on the opposite side of the sea.

But suddenly, even though she had rejected me (again), I wanted to talk to her.

Badly.

Staring down at my shoelaces, I realized that, even though I had absolutely no idea what to say to her, I did know one thing: that I had to say something.

But...how was I ever going to get across to where she was?

At both its right and left edges, the lake devolved into swampy marshland - for as far as the eye could see - so I couldn't just walk around it...and I didn't even know where the back edge of the park was.

It could be well over a mile from where she stood.

There wasn't even a rowboat nearby that I could temporarily hijack.

And so, with no idea how to get over to the other side – to her - I continued staring at my feet, now frantically praying...pleading...for any sort of inspiration.

But none came...

...not from my own mind...

...nor from her...

...because a minute later, when I had summoned the courage to look up again, she was gone.

Jumping to my feet and shielding my eyes from the sun with both hands, I spent several minutes frantically scanning the far bank, hoping all the while that I was mistaken...

...but knowing all the while that she had left it...

...and me...

...and, finally sinking back onto my bench, I lowered my head into my hands...trying my hardest to ignore the icy glacier that had, despite the day's warmth, just erupted in my core. Now far too numb to be able to feel the sun, which had finally enveloped my body completely, I sat, staring at the ground and biting my lower lip...hard.

What just happened?

Had anything?

Or had I, in my ceaseless torment, only imagined it all? Was it nothing more than a two minute delusion that, due to my desperate loneliness, had forced its way through the the numerous, gaping lacerations of my broken heart?

But it had seemed so real...

...so wasn't it?

Or was I finally, completely, losing my mind?

No, somehow, I knew that I had seen her...

...but, still, how was that even possible? Why was she there...suddenly and inexplicably...the very next day after I'd fervently wished she was?

Since I had no answer to this, I seized onto the one thing that did make sense: if she had been here, then she was now aware that I, too, came here...

...and, if she did want to see me, then she'd come back to the park again...even if it was all the way over on her side of the lake.

Even though her actions had made it very clear that she didn't want to see me, I rejected this, because, I wanted – no...needed – to believe that maybe, somehow, she'd change her mind...

...and come back...

...to me.

And so, the next morning, I returned.

Early.

But, although I sat and waited - for three highly anxious hours - I didn't see her that day.

Or the next.

But, still clinging desperately to the hope that she might somehow come back, I returned the next day...

...and the next...

...until, finally, on the evening of the fifth day...during which I'd suffering through seven consecutive, agonizing hours on the bench, I gave up.

Because I just couldn't take it anymore.

Despite my repeated, long, desperate vigils, she hadn't returned, and I now had to face that fact...

...and the full implication of what it meant.

Falling forward onto my bed, I buried my face deeply in my pillow and let out a long, muffled, primal scream.

It gave me no relief whatsoever.

Rolling over onto my back, I lay staring, exhausted, up at my ceiling, realizing that I was too physically drained to think clearly...

...but still, unwisely, I continued to do so.

Had I really just imagined the whole thing after all? Was it just some desperately-hopeful, yet doomed, conjured-up mirage?

I shook my head.

"No, Adele," I replied aloud, "you know the true answer to that...and it's far, far worse: You know that five days ago, she was there...

"...and she saw you...

"...and she left because of you...

"...and now, she's avoiding the park-no...avoiding YOU deliberately.

"And nothing you could say or do will change that!"

Still, I had no idea how it could be possible that she had shown up...for the first time...a day after I'd wished it.

Well, whatever the case, I was now very aware of one thing: that I wasn't going back to the park...ever again.

It hurt too much to sit there and wait - hour after agonizing hour – only to be utterly crushed - again and again.

After all, even if she did show up again (which was highly unlikely) she'd already made it very clear that she wanted nothing to do with me...

...and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it...except refuse to continue participating in my own mental self-destruction.

Utterly spent, I realized that I needed to stop dwelling on it – all of it - for the moment anyway, because having gotten almost zero sleep for the past five days, I was now way beyond exhausted.

But now, since I'd resolved never to go back there, I might actually be able to unwind enough get at least a few hours of rest, I thought. And then, in the morning, I'll be able to face my now certainly-empty future with a little more fortitude.

And, with a long, shaky sigh, I reached over to my bedside table and switched the lamp off.

Three hours later, I was still lying there, in exactly the same position, but now fighting back tears of equal parts frustration and desperation...

...because, try as I might, I couldn't fall sleep.

The reason: Even though I was sure I was doing the right thing, the finality with which I had made my decision to never return to the park was now torturing me.

What if I was wrong...about all of it?

What if she had just been too busy this past week to come back?

But, then again...what if she hadn't been?

No, I countered, it's much more likely that, because she saw you, she won't be going back there ever again.

But then again, what if-

"STOP IT, ADELE! JUST STOP IT!" I yelled, lying there, and now gasping from my exertions, as I tried to end this violent wrestling match with myself...

...but I couldn't.

However, despite all of my confusion, one thing was certain: I now knew that I was truly beginning to lose my mind...and that my exhaustion was only expediting the process.

But, if I lost my sanity, then I would have lost everything...

...and I couldn't allow that to happen...I COULDN'T!

Somehow, I had to sleep tonight...even if only for a few hours...

...which left me only one alternative: I had to make myself fall asleep.

But I knew of only one way to try to do that...

...and it scared the hell out of me.

Because I already knew how it was going to end.

But I also knew that if I didn't try, I'd end up in the hospital.

So, as much as I hated to admit it, there really was only one possible (though highly improbable) solution.

And, even though I was terrified at what was about to (not) happen, I knew that I had to try anyway...

...and so, rolling over onto my back, I reached under the covers, and then, after much hesitation...

...I finally lifted the front of my nightshirt...

...and slid my left hand into the top of my panties...

...where, due to fear, it lingered for a long moment, just under the waistband; but eventually – and with considerable, conscious effort - it sank completely inside them.

And then, slowly tilting my pelvis upward...

...I moved my fingers lower...

...and opened my legs.

Taking a ragged (yet hopeful) breath, I slid my hand down into the warm valley between my thighs; and then, moving my fingers slightly to left, I slid them upward, toward the top, where they sank easily between my outer lips...

...and I found the spot.

Fear of failing (yet again) had kept me from even attempting this for many long months...even though I had been fully aware of how badly I needed release...

...but this time, my initial efforts were actually rewarded with a (faint) response, as my clitoris (barely) acknowledged my touch...

...and, silently begging myself for a different, desperately-needed outcome this time, I began stroking the spot eagerly...

...but then, after one more tiny, barely-perceptible twitch of my nerve endings...

...there was nothing.

I felt nothing but complete numbness under my fingers.

Anxiety now rapidly escalating to fear, I tried to compensate, by pressing harder...

...and rubbing more vigorously...

...but there was no response whatsoever from my self-punishing body...

...and, less than a minute later, I stilled my hand.

As it emerged from my underpants, I tried to pull myself together - before trying again...because I couldn't fail at this...not tonight!

"Of course nothing is happening," I told myself, desperately trying to remain positive...despite all evidence to the contrary...

"...nothing is happening, Adele...because you're not really trying!"

After all, I reasoned, when you're planning to engage in 'self service', it's always best to think about something exciting first...because then you'll have less actual 'work' to do.

And, deciding to do just that, I closed my eyes; and then, even though it was painful, I deliberately looked back in time...

...back over my (many) sexual exploits with Emma, determined to find exactly the right one...

...and in less than a minute I had pulled up a memory of the most incredible turn-on I'd ever shared with her...one that had whipped me-no...whipped both of us up into even more of an insane frenzy than our first time.

It had happened less than two weeks after we'd moved in together.

Emma had just been commissioned to paint a very large mural of a seascape, for the lobby of a local bank. Even though this was strictly a commercial account, both of us were absolutely thrilled...not only because the fee she'd negotiated was significantly higher than what she had expected, but also because the bank was one of the biggest in the city - which meant that her work was going to be seen by countless people...which could lead to all sorts of lucrative future projects.

But, as excited as Emma was, there was one problem: She wanted to work on the mural – not at night, as the bank officers had requested – but during the day, because the light would be much better.

She spent some time puzzling over what to do about this, but within a few days, she'd figured out a possible solution: since the painting was going to be executed on canvas - instead of directly on the plaster itself - then it would be possible to attach it to the wall after it was finished, rather than before. And so, after a little 'back and forth' between herself and the bank's procurement department, she had made arrangements to complete the mural at home, rather than in the lobby; that way she could work on it during the day without being in the way during business hours.

Within a week, the large shipment of supplies she'd ordered had arrived, and she was ready to begin.

The huge, stretched canvas (three meters tall...and even wider), had been delivered to our home early that afternoon and, from where I sprawled lazily on the couch, I watched as three delivery guys maneuvered it (with difficulty) through our (thankfully high) front door opening, and into her studio.

As soon as they'd left, Emma walked over to where I lay and, leaning down, told me (in a very apologetic tone) that she was going to be insanely busy...for ages...and so, would I please take messages if anyone called...and bring her a sandwich at around six p.m.?

I agreed readily to both requests, and, after kissing my forehead - and with a final, apologetic glance - she turned away...

...and I watched as she disappeared through the doorway of her studio to get started.

From where I lay, I soon could see her again, dragging a very tall ladder across the room, and then over in front of the canvas...

...and then opening it...

...and then getting all of her paints, rollers, and brushes ready.

Once everything was set up, she disappeared from sight again, but soon came back into view...with her arms wrapped around an old, huge, much-used drop cloth.

Throwing it onto the floor, directly in front of the blank canvas, she bent over and started moving around, laying it out...

...while I, reflecting on how great it was that she'd landed this project, closed my eyes to take a much-deserved nap.

Less than a minute later, I opened them again.

Suddenly...and widely...

...because, not yet asleep, I'd heard Emma stumble...

...and then hit the floor with an audible 'whump'...

...and then, upon hearing her utter the loudest/longest/foulest consecutive string of curses that I've ever witnessed, I was up off the couch like a shot, and running into the studio at breakneck speed.

Within seconds I had correctly assessed the situation: while moving around bent over, setting up her drop cloth, she had accidentally backed right into the ladder...

...hard...

...causing it to teeter so wildly that it had knocked over the huge, full tray of paint that she'd set on top...

...which immediately came raining down...

...covering Emma - from her hair all the way down to her bare feet - in a shower of blue.

Without hesitation, I ran over to where she sat on the floor – with both blue hands on her blue face (and still cursing) – and, leaning down, I picked her up in my arms.

"Stop that...don't rub your eyes!" I yelled, staggering under her weight while hauling her, as quickly as possible, toward the bathroom.

With some difficulty, I maneuvered her through its door and then, crossing the room rapidly, I set her on her feet, and still fully dressed, into the bathtub and turned the shower on. As soon as the water heated up, I immediately moved her directly under the spray; and then, kicking my sneakers off, I quickly stepped in with her...

...because now she was - with her eyes shut tightly – leaning down and clawing at the lower area of the shower wall, blindly and frantically fumbling for the soap.

"No! Let me!" I insisted, quickly grabbing it with one hand, while standing her up straight/leaning her back against the shower wall with the other.

Finally realizing that she did, indeed, need me to help her, Emma stopped struggling...

...and I got to work.

In about a minute I had the paint off her face (thank God, none of it had actually gotten into her eyes). Cleaning her hair up took somewhat longer (blue on blue), but as soon as all of the paint was out of it, I turned my attention to her clothes. While doubtful that I'd ever get the stains out completely, I nonetheless rapidly soaped them up while they were still on her body (to get a head start), and then, after instructing her to raise her arms, I pulled her blue-splattered T-shirt over her head.

Throwing it onto the floor of the tub (to continue soaking), I picked the soap up again, and then - carefully and thoroughly – I washed Emma's bare chest and stomach...

...and then her arms...

...and then her back.

Turning her back around to face me, I moved her hands up onto my shoulders (so she could keep her balance), and then, kneeling down in front of her, I washed her blue-streaked feet...

...then unzipped her baggy, blue-stained soapy jeans, and quickly pushed them down to her ankles...

...but, as she stepped out of them, I froze.

Because of what I found under them...and only inches from my face.

With a single, ragged gasp, I quickly stood up straight...

...and then leaned far, far back...

...to fully appreciate what I saw. When it came to underpants, Emma always wore practical cotton ones...

...in black, gray or blue...

...but not today.

It must have been laundry day, because she was wearing a pair of mine...

...and as I stared at the drenched white silk...

...at the way it clung to her body...

...front, sides, and back...

...wetly hugging every inch of every curve of her magnificent stomach, hips, and ass...

...while also giving me a breathtaking, barely-veiled view of what was underneath...

...the sight affected me...so profoundly...

...and so completely...

...that I suddenly found my entire body shaking, and burning with an overwhelming white-hot desire, unlike anything I'd ever experienced before...

...or since...

...and, within seconds...

...and without even pausing to think...

...and with wild, uncontrollable tremors shooting, non-stop, down my legs...

...I wrapped my arms around Emma's body, and lifted her effortlessly - to my surprise as much as to hers - back out of the shower...

…and, immediately lowering her onto the bathroom floor, onto the wide throw rug by the edge of the tub...

...I had taken her...right then and there.

Well, actually, not exactly at that very moment...

...because, as I knelt next to her...

...my body still trembling, and now breathing raggedly...

...and watching my own hand as it caressed the soaking silk between her legs...

...while she lay staring up at me in stunned silence...wet, warm, and weak...

...I soon found myself wondering how much of the wetness under my fingers wasn'tdue to the shower spray...

...because, suddenly, something in her eyes changed...

...and there was no mistaking what I saw in them...

...and a moment later, her hands were on my shoulders...

...and within seconds, I found myself lying – suddenly shirtless - on my back on the rug, with her hovering over me. An instant later, her hands disappeared from view as, reaching toward my hips, and fumbling momentarily (and frantically) with my zipper...

...she yanked my shorts down to my knees...

...and then completely off me.

Grabbing onto the rug on both sides of my body, I shut my eyes tightly and lay there...waiting...breathless...

...nearly naked, and trembling in anticipation...

...but then...

...nothing.

Nothing whatsoever.

Still I waited, until nearly a full minute had passed...

...yet Emma hadn't moved...

...at all.

I opened my eyes.

Looking up in confusion, I saw her kneeling above me, motionless, and still looking down at me...

...but not into my eyes...

...and following her gaze, I soon found out why.

It was because she was staring, instead, at my hips...

...and that was because I was wearing only one thing: the very same thing that she was wearing...

...and the sight of them clinging - so wetly and sheerly - to my body had, like me, worked her up into a surprisingly unexpected - and equally unbearable - frenzy.

As for me, the sight of her kneeling between my legs, in just her underpants...

...and, staring intently at - and through - their inviting translucence...

...while knowing exactly what was about to happen to me...

...because of what she was about to do to me...

...the mere thought of it made me so incredibly hot...

...that I felt a sudden, massive contraction between my legs, ripping through me with such force that my entire pelvis jerked up off the floor...

...and, almost simultaneously, a searing pain, along the entire length of my vagina, from my cervix, all the way down to its opening...

...as its walls began to expand, now throbbing rapidly...and positively aching for her touch.

In addition, I knew that if she-

My breathless anticipation was suddenly cut short...but I didn't mind in the least...

...because at that moment, I watched as Emma leaned forward...

...and reached forward...

...and then, suddenly, my own panties were down around my knees...

...and, knowing that there was no turning back now, my tremors of anticipation escalated rapidly...

...as my entire body began to shake uncontrollably.

Emma's right hand was a blur as it plunged downward, between my violently-convulsing thighs...

...and then upward...

...until, seconds later, she was entering me...

..and the instant she was deep inside me, I gasped loudly as the walls of my vagina, which were longing for-, no...demanding her touch, now seized onto her fingers, with a force I had never known they were capable of...

...and, gasping raggedly, I reached down, and around to the back of her body...

...and, grabbing onto her slippery, silk-covered hips...

...I began sliding my hands over every inch of them...rapidly...

...my mind reeling, due to the way they felt under my palms...

...which was every bit as much of a turn-on as what was happening between my legs...

...but still, I wanted more.

Emma's usually-masterful fingers were now moving inside me with difficulty, because of my highly-aroused vagina's vice-like grip on them...

...but still, I knew that I was getting close...

...but not close enough.

I was so eager to orgasm that I didn't want to wait any longer...nor to try - as I usually did – to prolong this current stage of arousal...

...not even for another second...

...and, now so delirious that I barely knew where I was...or who I was...only knowing that I desperately needed release – immediately - I did the only logical thing: With my hands still marveling at the undulating landscape of her wet, slippery backside...

...and with my vagina selfishly clamped down on her fingers...

...I shifted my eyes downward, down to Emma's stomach...

...to what she was wearing...

...and, immediately jerking my hands up to her shoulders...

...and with a loud gasp...

...I held on for dear life...

...as, not moving my eyes from the hottest sight I'd ever beheld, I let go of any and all resistance...

...and just lay back and let it happen...

...and, within seconds my body stilled momentarily...but then exploded in orgasm...

...not once, but three times.

The last one was so violent that I swear I thought I was about to die.

The bruises on Emma's shoulders didn't fade for more than a week.

Finally, after what felt like both an eternity and only a second, I fell, exhausted, back against the rug.

Now gasping for breath...and convinced that I'd never move again, let alone walk...I nevertheless (and to my great surprise) recovered in less than a minute.

And then, after gently moving Emma's lips from my neck...

...I eagerly – well, okay, forcefully - rolled her over...

...onto her back.

I'll never forget the look of surprise in her eyes...

...or what she said next...

...or my response to it...

...because, even though she quickly pointed out that she had no more time for this...

...because she had such a tight deadline to meet...

...which meant that she had to get back to work...

...immediately...

...I had refused to let her get up.

Planting one hand against the front of her chest, and then leaning forward, until my face was only inches above hers, I looked down...

...directly into her eyes...

...and informed her – in a very, very serious tone of voice - that she wasn't going anywhere.

That no matter how busy she was, or how badly she wanted to, she would not be moving from this spot.

Not until she had cum for me.

Three times...

...and just as hard.

Until then, she would not be getting up...for any reason whatsoever.

No matter how hard she begged...

...and no matter how long it took.

At that moment, she opened her mouth to speak again, but what she would have said is anybody's guess...

...because, not interested in hearing excuses, I shifted my weight, pinning her body under mine...

...letting her know - in no uncertain terms - that she had No Other Option.

It was nearly half a minute before she stopped struggling...

...but then, after a short, breathless wait, I knew that I'd made right move...because of the way she wrapped her arms around my back...

...and held on tightly.

Moving my hips to one side, I stole a momentary glance at her...

..at how as she lay under me, trembling violently...

...wearing next to nothing...

...and silently begging me with her eyes.

Emma's wet panties still clung flatly to her stomach, but soon to the back of my right hand instead, as it slid down inside them...

...and then, after a long, delicious, teasing pause from me, I listened with satisfaction to her low, anticipatory moan as, sinking my first two fingers between her outer lips, I then tilted my wrist, pressing them upward.

They met with only the slightest resistance and, within seconds, they were deep inside her...

...and, focusing intently, I began to move them...

...but, suddenly, my attention was diverted from the highly-enjoyable sensation of stroking her vagina's badly-swollen interior...

...because, sliding her hands off my my upper arms, she reached down, toward my knees...

...and, suddenly - and to my great surprise - I felt her dragging my panties back up.

The instant they were over my hips again, she began caressing my silk-covered backside, in random, wild patterns...in exactly the way I'd just done to hers...

...but it had happened so unexpectedly...and was occurring so sensually...that seconds later, my thighs were shaking...just as violently as hers were.

And, suddenly, I was afraid.

Afraid that I was going to cum again...

...and, immediately, I began struggling against it...

...because I couldn't let that happen...

...not now...

...because...now it was her turn!

But, as I knelt above her, resisting as hard as I could, my vagina – from my vulva all the way up to my cervix - started to throb again...

...and to ache again...

...badly...

...and, within seconds, my thighs started cramping up...tightly, painfully, and almost unbearably...

...greedily trying to force out one last orgasm...

...and then, despite my intentions – and definitely against my will - my body froze, completely, as, dismayed that I was ignoring Emma (even though my fingers were still - and stilled - deep inside her)...and now breathing raggedly and shallowly, I waited, motionless and helpless, for the final eruption.

Several unbearably-long minutes passed...

...but, much to my surprise/relief, it didn't happen...

...and, finally, my body gave up...

...although I swear I could feel a harsh, burning resentment in my thighs as their violent tremors diminished somewhat (but not completely)...and the pain in my vagina subsided to a dull, persistent twinge.

There wasn't going to be a fourth orgasm...

...because I was completely spent.

It was just as well.

Grateful that I had regained (some measure of) control over my body, I immediately turned my attention back to Emma.

Her hands, which were still sliding over my silk-covered backside hadn't stilled the entire time...

...and it was obvious why: somehow, she had an idea of what was happening to me; and, unselfishly, she was waiting...

...and trying to help me...

...and in that moment, I could not have loved her more.

Now, even more determined that she was entitled to the same extreme earth-shattering orgasms that she'd just inspired/brought out in me, I resumed stroking her vagina's interior...

...and the sounds she soon began making assured me that my focused efforts were, indeed, having the full desired effect.

In less than a minute she began pushing her hips - forward and upward - into my fingers, slowly and tentatively at first, but then with steadily-increasing frequency and velocity...

...and from the way she was now moving - and breathing - I knew that she was getting very, very close.

And so, leaning down and forward, I whispered that the sight of her, clad only in wet silk - and the way that I could see Every Single Thing that was happening inside them - was making me crazy...all over again...

...and, almost immediately, her hands left my hips...

...and grabbed onto my upper arms...

...and then...

...tilting her chin up to the ceiling...and with a moan which changed almost instantly to a long, extended squeal...

...Emma came.

Hard.

The instant she gave in to it, I threw myself forward and down...hitching an amazing, unforgettable ride on the countless, massive shock waves that were ripping with obscene force through her wildly-undulating body.

It seemed to go on forever (no complaints), but, eventually, they lessened in intensity...

...and, after nearly a minute more, they had subsided completely.

As she lay there gasping convulsively, I hugged her tightly, holding her close to me until her breathing evened out; and then I sat up, smiling down at her, and giving her a minute to recover..

...before we began Round Two.

But then, to my surprise, Emma committed a grievous error.

She tried to get up.

That was completely unacceptable...

...and I let her know it.

Immediately.

Ignoring her half-hearted 'protests' - I firmly pushed her shoulders back down onto the floor...

...and held them there...

...and then, as I looked down at her, sternly reminding her of her 'obligations'...

...while noting, with great satisfaction, that this time it only took ten seconds before she – like a good girl - stopped struggling...

...suddenly, she gasped, and her hips jerked upward sharply, and I knew that it was because she'd just felt a violent contraction, deep within her pelvis...

...and, suddenly, my her hands were on the back of my neck, and pulling me forward...

...and, losing my balance completely, I found myself back on top of her...

...and, as she pulled me even closer, I suddenly felt her hot breath on my throat as I, balancing myself on my knees again and reaching back inside her still-soaked panties, listened with satisfaction to her shaky moan of anticipation...as I entered her again...

...my fingers now feeling slipperiness of an entirely different kind (Emma leaks a lot when she cums).

I hooked the ends of my fingers.

Less than three minutes later I knew, from the way she was shaking, that she was close...

...and, so, I doubled my efforts.

Turning my face to hers, I looked deeply into her eyes and whispered...in my best husky/alluring voice, "Which feels better, Emma; what's wetly hugging your butt, or what's wetly stroking your-"

That did it.

With a sudden, massive jolt, and a deep gasp, her entire body stilled...

...but only for a second...

...and then her back arched...so forcefully that it flung her torso up against my own chest with an audible smack...

...and at that instant, her already-throbbing vaginal walls began grabbing onto my fingers tightly, and then releasing them - over and over - with surprising force, as her entire body began to quake...and she began to shriek.

It lasted nearly a minute.

As she lay under me, with her hands in my hair and gasping for breath, I heard her say my name.

Twice.

As I looked down into her face, I knew in advance exactly what she was going to say.

And I also knew what my answer was going to be.

Because there was only one correct answer.

"Adele...pl-please, no! No more! I...can't!" she begged...struggling to sit up.

She was so weak that pinning her again was easy.

Within seconds, she had stopped squirming...

...but even though she was no longer struggling, she hadn't stopped pleading...now positively begging me to stop...

...but I didn't.

Because, despite her protests, her eyes told a very different story.

One glance into them told me what I already suspected: that she didn't really want me to stop...

...but, instead, she wanted me to help-no...make her have another orgasm..

...and that she was very aware that I knew it.

"Adele, please no! I c-can't!" she begged, trying to sit up, yet again...

...a claim that I ignored as I firmly pushed her shoulders back down onto the rug...

...and held them there, as I looked into her eyes...without speaking...but in a way that left no doubt as to what was about to happen to her...

...while making it equally clear that there was nothing she could do about it.

Any doubts that might have been lingering in the back of my mind, about what I was doing dissipated quickly...

...when, leaning back over her, I felt the way she flung her arms around my neck...

...and held onto me so tightly.

But, still, I waited...

...motionless...

...because I needed to be absolutely sure.

Seconds later, her arms tightened again, and then, with her cheek against mine...

...she nodded...

...and then, tilting her head back, and then forward...

...she kissed me.

I clearly felt the thrill of anticipation that shot through her entire body, as my hand slid back down, inside silky dampness...

...and, seconds later, up into velvety wetness.

Three fingers this time...

...and within seconds she was shoving her hips forward, thrusting against them with an unprecedented velocity...

...but less than two minutes later, it was obvious that a very different feeling had overtaken her...

...because, suddenly, her hands were pressing hard against front of my shoulders.

"Oh, God...oh no! Adele...n-no! I'm not...I can't!"

The way she said it left no doubt: She was afraid...

...very afraid...

of what was about to happen...

...because her body, which she had always been able to control – in every situation - had suddenly, forcefully, and fully taken her hostage. Ignoring her commands, it had turned on her completely...

...and now, she was climbing toward orgasm so rapidly...and was about to explode so brutally...and she was very aware that there was absolutely nothing she could do to stop it.

And that terrified her.

"Oh, God...oh God...oh please I'm...I can't! Adele, no!" she begged...

...and looking down, I saw how terrified she was...

...and how close she was to exploding so violently...

...but I refused to stop...

...because the force with which she was still thrusting her hips forward, now positively jamming herself against my fingers (so forcefully that I could feel the tip of my index finger repeatedly penetrating her cervix) made it very clear to me what my response to her pleas was supposed to be.

"It's alright," I told her, "I promise that it's going to be oka-"

"No...not like other...not ever!" she gasped. "Oh, God!

"Oh, God, Adele...h-h-help me!"

And so, leaning back down, I pinned her upper body under my own...

...so I could be her rock...which she so desperately needed to cling to...

...but almost instantly, I knew that something was wrong: because even as she continued thrusting against my fingers, I could feel that the way she was flinging her arms around my back and holding on as hard as she could...

...was not to orgasm...but to resist.

"No!" she repeated, now practically sobbing, "I c-can't!"

And, immediately, I realized what was going on: that, as badly as she wanted this...

...she was far too scared to let it happen...

...but I also realized that this couldn't continue, either.

It needed to end...right now.

And I needed to be the one to end it for her...

...because she couldn't.

I knew that, right then and there, I had to liberate her...to force her body to release her from this cruel, unbearable prison of mental terror and physical torture.

And so, reaching behind my back with my free hand, I pushed both of her arms up, around my neck and then, struggling up from where I lay against her body, I balanced myself on my knees again, and, with my fingers still moving rapidly inside her, I said, "Emma...open your eyes."

She didn't.

"Open your eyes," I repeated...

...but, in response, she shook her head.

"Emma," I insisted, "I want you to open your eyes - right now - and look down...at what I'm wearing."

"No, I...I c-can't!"

"Emma! Open your eyes!" I demanded...

...and, finally, she did...

...and, obediently and fearfully, she looked up into mine...

...but only for a moment...

...because, instantly sliding my free hand under her head...

...and tilting it forward...

...I held it firmly in that position...

...forcing her to look down at my lower body...

and, with satisfaction, I watched her eyes widen...

...and heard her gasp...loudly and raggedly...

...as the sight, which had enflamed her at the very beginning of this encounter, now propelled her savagely forward...and then flung her – with astonishing velocity – all the way over the edge...

...forcing her to come a third time...

...so violently that, as she lost the last last shred of control over her body, she began to scream...

...and to cry uncontrollably...

...as the countless, vicious spasms that erupted from her core ripped mercilessly through her...

...in every direction...

...until, after what I swear had been no less than four full minutes, her body finally stilled...except for her still-shaking shoulders.

Wrapping my arms around her, I rolled over onto my back, and let her lie on top of me...

...feeling the river of hot tears that coursed across my chest, while I stroked her back and let her cry herself quiet.

Finally, her body stilled completely...

...and, tangling her hands in my hair, she whispered a single word.

"Adele."

I'm not sure how we lay there, but eventually she was wrapping her arms so weakly around my neck and whispering how much she loved me as I got both of us to our feet; and then lifted her back into the shower, where, a second later I had joined her, supporting her exhausted - but finally emancipated - body in my arms.

Leaning back against the shower wall, I shifted my gaze downward...

...taking one long last, lingering look at her in her damp panties...and feeling one last surge of desire deep within myself...before I finally pulled them off.

Where I lay now, breathing quickly and shallowly, I shuddered; very aware - without even needing to look into a mirror - that my entire face was flushed deep red with the memory.

My God...

...that encounter had been the hottest thing ever...

...and in more ways than one, I thought, kicking the covers off and then dragging my nightshirt over my head.

However, there was no more time to reminisce. It was time to try again, I realized, before I lost my nerve...

...and if what I'd just remembered couldn't get me off now, then nothing could...

...and so, holding that vivid memory - every single element of it - in my mind with a vise-like grip...

...I slid my hand back inside my own underpants, eagerly, seeking the spot.

To my utter relief, my clitoris responded instantly...

...with a sharp, fast twitch...

...which was soon followed by a second, lesser one...

...but then...nothing...

...and a second later, as I watched, helplessly - and to my horror - I saw my memory of the seemingly-unforgettable afternoon that I'd shared with Emma...which I'd just cultivated so carefully...

...and so painstakingly...

...and held onto so tightly...

...now began fading at an alarming rate, as it fell away from the forefront of my consciousness, receding rapidly into the back...

...leaving me with nothing...

...nothing but an empty bed, and a lifeless, useless, former pleasure-point between my legs.

I threw my right forearm across my mouth to keep from screaming.

In the two years since our break-up, despite my frequent, frantic efforts, nothing had been able to make me cum...

...and now, I'd even lost this memory, I realized, as I watched the last vestiges of it evaporate...

...completely.

Seconds later, I was frantically trying to recreate it in my mind...

...but the momentary, hazy, blur of blue that I finally managed to conjure up quickly faded to flat black...its edges blending indistinguishably into the utter blackness of my bedroom.

No! My mind screamed.

This isn't happening...because I won't let it! I have to have an orgasm...right now!

I have to!

And, immediately applying much more pressure to the left side of my clitoris...

...way too much...

...I began shoving my fingers against it, while shoving my hips back toward them, every bit as hard...

...while frantically trying again to remember that encounter with Emma...

...any of it...

...and now silently begging my body for any sort of response...

...but, try as I might, my anxious, frenzied efforts resulted in nothing but more numbness and frustration...and, eventually, soreness.

Finally, very near tears, not only from the considerable pain that I felt between my legs...

...but also from an equally-painful spot nearly two feet above it...I stopped.

It was over.

All of it.

Despite everything that I'd just been through, I barely noticed that I was now way beyond exhausted...

...because that was eclipsed by a far more compelling emotion: my terror at the knowledge that, no matter how hard I tried, I was now absolutely unable to orgasm again...

...probably forever.

Never again would I be able to find momentary solace in its desperately-needed physical release.

No longer was a way to drain my chronically-overloaded muscles of their increasingly unbearable burden of accumulated stress.

Emma is gone...forever...I thought, not only from my life...

...but she's now also so far from my memory that I can't even be with her in my fantasies.

And that realization is killing me.

But because of – or maybe despite – my agony, I did know one thing for sure:

That it was now time for me to give up.

No matter how brutal the reality, I now had to accept it...completely.

Somehow.

But even though I knew I was never going back to the park, I still desperately wanted one thing more: If only I could just see her one last time...just take one last look at her face..then I would never try to see her again.

Just one last look...and nothing more.

Just one...and then I'd walk away...forever.

I swear.

Oh, God, I wanted to do this! So badly! But, despite my longing, I was well aware that I couldn't go back to the park...

...ever again...

...because I'd already promised myself that I wouldn't.

And, besides, what would be the point? I asked myself. You know for a fact that she's not going to be there anyway. I've been keeping vigil there...for five days. If she wanted to see me...at all...she would have come back.

But then again, I want- "Damn It!

"God-Mother-Fucking-Damn-It!

"Why can't I let this g-no...I AM going to let it go, because it's going to stop...right here and right now!"

In frustration, I slammed my head back against my pillow.

I couldn't go on living my life this way.

This had to stop.

Immediately.

But, then again...it's only one last look...that's such a small request...and one that would mean so much to-

No!

I can't put myself through that again...for nothing!

I'm not going back...

...and nothing can make me...

...even though I want to...so badly...because what if tomorrow is the day?

What if she's there...and I'm not?

But, what if..."STOP IT! JUST STOOOOOP IT!" I yelled aloud...

...but, try as I might, I couldn't...

...and, still deeply conflicted, I got up and went to the bathroom to wash my hands. There was no need to wash between my legs or to change my underpants...

...because, to my dismay – and, even worse, to my shame - I was still completely dry.

Turning the faucet on, I stood, turning the bar of soap over and over in my hands, until it disintegrated into a ball of mush...but I barely noticed...

...because, despite my former resolve to never go back, I still wavered...endlessly.

No, I finally told myself.

It hurts too much.

Besides, she was only there that one time...for one reason...and it wasn't to see you.

And, despite all your wishes to the contrary, you know that.

Otherwise, she would have come back within the next 3 or 4 or 5 days...even if it was way over on the other side of the lake.

But she didn't...

...which can only mean one thing: that her being there had been only a coincidence. You know that Emma always carries her sketch book around...and that artists often like to work in seclusion...so the reason she was all the way over there is because she wanted solitude...because she wanted to be able to focus on her work without being interrupted constantly, by countless people looking over her shoulder and asking endless questions while she sketched.

She wanted to be alone...

...the same way she would sometimes hole up in the studio at our (former) home for hours on end.

Now, obviously, she had wanted to get away from a noisy household, with kiddie cartoons playing in the background, and work in silence.

But then again, if that were the only reason she had gone over there...then why hadn't she stayed?

After all, she hadn't been there for more than three minutes.

Easy question to answer, Adele: as soon as she saw you, she wanted to get the hell out of there...ASAP.

Stop fighting the truth; she was there for one reason...and one reason only: because she wanted solitude...and, within minutes, I ruined that for her...completely.

And now, I'll never see her there again...

...not unless I..."NO!

"I just can't do this anymore!"

Convinced that I was completely losing my mind, it was obvious that there was only one course of action I could now take: Grabbing onto both sides of my bathroom sink with a vise-like grip, I leaned far, far forward, toward my mirror, until my nose was nearly touching the glass...

...and yelled, "You're never going back there, Adele...do you hear me? NEVER!"

Less than an hour later, I caved.

Having completely giving up on the idea of falling asleep, I'd grabbed a random book from one of the teetering piles on my highboy dresser, and sitting up in bed, I'd opened it to some page near the middle, and started to read...

...but, a minute later, I realized that I'd just read the same sentence at least seven times, and it still wasn't registering...

...because I could not get her out of my head.

And so, too tired to continue fighting the urge, I finally surrendered to it.

Completely.

Even though Emma probably wasn't going to return, ever, I realized that I needed closure.

Now.

And so, disregarding the stern lecture I'd just subjected myself to, I made a deal with myself.

One last visit to the park.

One last time making myself crazy.

One last time...and that's it.

One last visit, lasting only thirty minutes – and not a second longer - and then, I would stoically accept my fate...

...whatever it might be.

And then, somehow, I would find a way to force myself to deal with it.

Solemnly committing to this plan, I tossed my book onto the floor next to my bed...

...just as a flash of lightening crackled past the outside of my night-blackened windowpane.

Oh, great...just what I need.

An impending thunderstorm.

Always a bad omen.

Ignoring it, I set my alarm anyway, then switched off my table lamp and closed my eyes...

...and then, somehow, I managed to pass out...

...but awoke the next morning to a horrifying sight: During the night, the storm had temporarily knocked my power out...

...and I opened my eyes to my alarm clock flashing 12:00...12:00...12:00...in a most ominous way.

Highly anxious, I snatched my watch off the nightstand.

SHIT!

I should have been up thirty minutes ago!

Jumping out of bed, I staggered - nearly falling on my face, due to the sheet that was tangled around my legs.

Kicking it off, I stumbled groggily, yet quickly, toward the bathroom.

"It's okay, all of it; everything's going to be okay!" I told myself (without a shred of conviction) as I took the world's fastest shower.

Five minutes later, and barely dry, I was running frantically down the hallway and into my bedroom, while shoving my roll-on deodorant under each arm.

Flinging it aside, I yanked my underwear drawer open...

...and, less than a minute later, snatching a shirt and jeans off the top of my basket of clean laundry, I dressed myself with lightening-speed.

With no time for socks, I jammed my feet into sneakers - not bothering to tie them - grabbed my keys from the tray on my dresser, seized my backpack, and, seconds later, burst through my front door.

Listening to my feet as they pounded the sidewalk, I tore down the street, and straight toward the park...

...but, by the time I had reached only the first corner, my gait had slowed...to a snail's pace...

...because, suddenly, I was terrified.

Of what was going to (probably not) happen.

So now, despite running late, I was walking slowly, apprehensively...

...far too afraid to confront the truth...

...and so anxiously oblivious that I walked - without even realizing it - right past the cafe.

To hell with the tea, I told myself, without even a backward glance; I have no time for it anyway.

And, today, absolutely no interest.

Only two minutes later, and with less than two blocks remaining between me and the park, my anxiety finally overwhelmed my apprehension...

...and, suddenly, my tentative, nervous steps were steadily hastening...

until, breaking into a run, I rounded the final street corner between me and my destination...

...and, tearing down the street...and already looking across the lake the before I even entered the park...

...I flung myself through its wrought-iron gates...

...then, sprinting right past my empty bench, I ran, breathless, down toward the water's edge.