the coral garden

- 7 -

Desire met and matched. Pleasure given and received, spiraling, hands full of slippery flesh and tongues seeking more. Alistair could lick her lips and suck her clit until she came in his mouth, then fuck her for an hour. Then cuddle and murmur for another hour, fingertips idly stroking until she fell asleep in the easy circle his arms made around her. He loved to cook, teasing her favorite dishes in words out of her, then helping them back in on the tines of a fork. He listened, he laughed. For the first time in years, Bella felt a contentment. She gained weight, gained curves.

"My boobs are bigger," she said in wonder, gazing at the mirror. "I need new bras."

"Let me buy them for you. I'll come when you try them on," Alistair said huskily, standing behind her. "I mean, I really think I will. In the changing room at the store."

Bella blushed. "I must have put on about ten pounds. God - my ass!"

"Mmm? Did you say something? I didn't really hear you, I'm so captivated by your ass."

"What am I going to wear today? I can't pull the zipper up on these jeans."

He growled into her neck, pushing aside the fabric of her shirt to nip at her.

"Don't wear anything," he said, turning her to face him, peeling the denim back down over her hips. She wriggled to facilitate the undressing; he sank to his knees.

"Go naked all the time. We can declare a nude republic." His voice was muffled as he kissed her through lace.

"We'd get cold..."

"We'll have our nude republic somewhere warm then."

She only just made it to work on time.

"Nothing like starting the day with a bang," her workmate Shelly remarked.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Bella stated, though her blush denied the negation.

"Oh, I think you do, Ms Smileyface. But you've got a nine-fifteen. Maybe you should check your shirt buttons before Mrs Witherdale gets here."

Fingers flying to her buttons, Bella discovered her shirt was indeed askew. She was making the necessary adjustments as their serial client, elderly Mrs Witherdale arrived with her cat James. There was nothing wrong with James beyond the Münchausen syndrome his human companion suffered on his behalf, but Bella was familiar with the two of them and what they needed.

"He's doing well, Mrs Witherdale, for a cat of his age and condition. I suggest you try him on rainwater - have you considered that before? Leave a couple of containers outside to collect it, and put that in his bowl instead of tap water. It should keep him regular, if you know what I mean. And half a multi-vitamin crushed into his food every other day will keep his teeth strong. There's no charge for today. You know we're always happy to see you. James's wellbeing is important to us. Pop by again if you have any concerns."

"One satisfied customer. You're so patient," Shelly said. "By the way, your lovah is on the phone."

Bella cradled the handset between her ear and shoulder, clutching her clipboard and writing up Mrs Witherdale's notes.

"Yes?"

"Bella, I need to see you tonight. Something's come up."

She was about to tease when she realized how grave he sounded.

"Should I be worried?" she asked, already worrying.

"We'll talk about it this evening."

Arriving at her apartment, Alistair didn't waste any time.

"I received notification today that the Federal government is making budget cuts. Our project will only be funded for the next six months."

"Six months? But that's well under the initial commitment! And it isn't long enough to determine whether it's been successful or not."

Taut and disappointed, Alistair nodded. "That's right."

"So what will happen to the project?"

"It will be abandoned. It's a terrible waste, Bella, of resources, and of a lot of valuable work done by dedicated people."

"And what about you? You'll move to something else? A different project?"

"No. There aren't any vacancies. Most of the team I put together are losing their jobs because of the cuts. I'm losing mine. The University can no longer employ me."

Bella was shocked. "But - " the word hung as she floundered. "Maybe somewhere else in the department? In Forestry? Biology?"

"I'm too senior, Bella. Some of the staff are being transferred but there's nothing that's suitable for me."

"What about the private sector? Is anyone else working on this sort of thing?"

"Worldwide - plenty of people. Nationally - some. Right here - no-one. But Bella, preservation of threatened species gets media coverage and philanthropic interest. Different groups are starting up all the time. People in the field know me. The prospects of finding something good are high."

After he'd gone home, Bella worried more. Would Alistair be forced to leave the area? What would happen to them? What did he want to happen? What did she want? He called daily, tired with trying to get as much accomplished as possible before the program ended, and it was difficult broaching something they could have no foreknowledge of.

Their time together became subdued, except for moments deep in passion when their eyes brimmed with the unspoken. Bella thought she might burst.

"I hate this uncertainty!" she told Shelly.

"Is he applying for any jobs? Has he told you?"

"Not yet. I mean, yes he's told me. He hasn't heard of anything yet."

A few evenings later, the situation had changed.

Arriving on her doorstep with wine and a bag of groceries, Alistair looked more positive than he had in weeks, though cautiously.

"Are we celebrating?" Bella said, taking the wine. "Tell me!"

"Let me cook first, then we'll talk. Actually - kissing first, then food, then talk."

Kissing nearly turned into nothing but love for dinner, until Alistair exiled Bella to the other side of the table, well out of reach. He served fusilli puttanesca scattered with parmesan, spicy with hope, tangy with impatience, and Bella still had to wait as they shared the clearing up.

"Well?" she demanded on the couch, wrapping his legs with hers.

"Well. There are two things. Firstly - I've decided what I want to do for the next couple of years, and I've set it in motion."

"Did you get a new job?"

"Yes. More or less. It only happened today. Have you heard of Atlas lions?"

"Ah - no."

"They're a sub-species of lion which became extinct in the wild early last century. A few dozen were still living in various zoos around the world, and in circuses. About twenty years ago a billionaire by the name of Jason Jenks started up a facility in Oregon, employing geneticists and zoologists to try and replenish the Atlas population using dna from the few that are known to still exist. I've visited the place several times, because I've been fascinated by Atlas lions since reading about them as a kid."

Oregon. Lions.

"O-kaaayy," Bella said, as Alistair took a deep breath.

"Well, today I spoke to the biologist in charge, Dr Cheney, to ask if there are any employment opportunities going. The short answer is that there are no paid positions but they're always able to use volunteers. So - I volunteered."

"Pardon me? You're going to Oregon? To breed lions?"

Alistair laughed. "Sounds far-fetched, I know. Probably sounds a long way from what I'm qualified for and from where my experience lies. But it's not really. The desired end result is the regeneration of the species, and that's going to involve the release and integration of captive-bred animals into wilderness habitats. I plan to learn everything I can while I'm not being paid, then once any remunerated positions come up I'll be the best placed person to be considered."

Bella was stumped.

"How far away will you be?" she asked faintly, meaning what about us?

"Hey," he said softly. "The flight from here to there is less than an hour. Even adding in the driving time at both ends, the door-to-door trip is under two hours. And since I'm volunteering, how much time I want to put in and when is up to me. So that's something I want to negotiate with you."

"You can afford an unpaid job?"

He shrugged, hand on her knee now, warm and heavy. "Yeah, I can. I own my apartment outright, I'm debt-free, I write academic articles that bring in income, and every so often I speak at conventions or whatever, which pays very well. I'll be fine for money, Bella. And this isn't spur-of-the-moment, I've been thinking about it for years. The timing is perfect right now. I can be there Monday to Friday and spend weekends back here. Seeing you. If that's what you'd like."

Perfect timing? To be truthful, spending weekends together and not weeknights was already how they organized themselves, and it was going well. Really well. Bella slipped her hand underneath his, fingers curling around his palm, not sure how to react.

"I guess that brings me to the other thing I wanted to talk to you about. I said there were two. The other is - " he paused, blue eyes searching before he shuffled on the seat and drew back, just a little. Putting distance between them. "This is probably a bit early on in the piece, but I think the situation calls for it - and it's important. I'd like us to talk about our views on marriage."

Bella choked on her mouthful of tempranillo, spat it in red streams into her palms as Alistair leapt for the tissues.

"Gave you a fright?" he asked. "Sorry. This isn't a proposal, though it's useful to know how you'd react if I did ask you. I suppose I'd make sure you had nothing in your mouth beforehand."

Despite the joking he was genuinely concerned. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, yes," Bella said, wiping her face and hands, giving herself time to recover. "I just swallowed the wrong way. I'm okay. You can sit back down."

"You don't need mouth-to-mouth?"

"Not right now. Where were we?"

"Somewhere momentous. We both know what we have - what we're doing - it isn't casual - don't we?"

Rudely, Bella's phone interrupted, slicing the thick air, chirping like a cricket. Before she threw it out the window, she glanced at the screen.

"That's odd," she muttered. "A call from work at this time of night? I'd better take it."

Seconds later, she turned wide, startled eyes to Alistair.

"Shelly wants me to go in to the clinic. She says it's an emergency. She says there's been an accident."