25: R&N: A Magical Metaphorical Conception

7:35 am, Central Park, Balto Statue

Mel gaped at where the little girl had once stood, then looked around. Nobody seemed to be paying the slightest attention, but then again, this was New York. Nothing was truly out of the ordinary in a city like this. As if on impulse, she dug her phone out of her pocket and typed the name "Tory" and "girl name meaning" into her search engine.

"Tory" her screen read. "Middle Irish origins; modern Scottish Gaelic: "outlaw or brigand" or "pursuit," derived from the Latin-rooted name "Victoria," meaning "victory." Talk about serendipity…

Considering she herself had strong mystical origins and Abigael was a hellacious rebel, the name Tory seemed particularly appropriate, should they choose to adopt a little girl…

10:35 am, New York Luxury Apartment, Bathroom

Mel silently handed Abigael the gauze and antibacterial ointment, which the latter used for her arms, now covered in tiny claw marks and the occasional baby tiger bite.

"Here, let me—" Mel dabbed a bit more ointment on one of the nastier bits, as Abigael winced. "There. All set."

"Thanks, love," Abigael murmured, drawing Mel closer for a kiss, as their eyes closed, their tongues tentatively exploring each others' mouths.

Just then, Mel remembered the child. "Abigael—while you were gone—something weird happened…"

"Hmmm?" Abigael continued to kiss the sensitive part behind Mel's ear.

"I went to Central Park—I met a girl—"

Abigael paused and stared at Mel. "No, not that type of situation," Mel was quick to clarify. She swallowed hard. "I mean, I was near the Balto statue, and a little girl took my hand and called me her "mummy" and she had your eyes…"

"Darling, plenty of British ex-pats settle in the cosmopolitan mecca that is Manhattan," Mel swore Abigael had rolled her eyes.

"But do they wear impeccable hair barrettes that match your Ashford color scheme? Or vanish into thin air before your very eyes?"

Abigael pondered Mel's question for a long moment, before finally replying. "Knowing it's you who observed the child, it is rather unusual, I daresay…"

"What do you think it means?" Mel surveyed Abigael's face, trying to gauge a response.

"I think it means…our daughter may have found us."

9:45 pm, One Month Later, New York Luxury Apartment

They had scoured all the nearby foster care agencies in the tri-state area for a little five-year-old girl named Tory, or Victoria, with no luck so far. Some of the social workers Mel had talked to were only familiar with newborns, others only placed primary school-aged boys, and still others focused on relocating teenagers. And of the small number of agencies that did specialize in preschool or kindergarten-aged girls, there was nobody by the name of Tory or Victoria, nor of the ambiguous ethnicity that Mel described.

10 pm, New York Luxury Apartment

"Do you think our baby's really out there?" Mel whispered to Abigael, as they slowly began to undress in the dark, getting ready for bed.

Abigael thought for a moment while she unclasped her dainty stud earrings. "Perhaps she hasn't been conceived by her biological parents yet…Or maybe whoever she's with doesn't know to unite us with her…Better yet, maybe…" she glanced at Mel through the corner of her eye. "Maybe we need to create her."

"As in, a magical conception scenario?" Mel had never heard of such an idea. High school health class had taught her 'guy meets girl, guy sleeps with girl, sperm meets egg, baby pops out.' What if she had it all wrong? Mel thought to herself, as she unhooked her bra while keeping her camisole on, a trick she'd learned as a teenager.

"Metaphorically speaking, of course," said Abigael, shedding her own eggshell-colored slacks as she put on her maroon-colored silk pajama shorts. "Our act would send a message to the universe that we want a child, the natural result of our love and passion for each other. Perhaps we have a better chance of being heard—of being understood, that way."

"Interesting hypothesis," murmured Mel, who mulled it over for a few more seconds, then walked a few steps toward Abigael, unbuttoning the back of her partner's dark emerald blouse while kissing the area behind Abigael's neck. "So…what do we do?" To her surprise, Abigael disentangled herself from Mel and went to her nightstand drawer, pulling out a smooth, cylindrical, eight-inch piece of what looked to be rose quartz, one or one-and-a-half inches in diameter. Mel looked at it quizzically, admiring the smooth gemstone hues. "Is that—is that a…"

"Dildo?" Abigael completed the sentence. "Yes, a magical one. I found it in my safe earlier this week, and given the turn of events, I figured anything was worth a try."

"So…that—" Mel pointed at the quartz, "goes…up…here?" Her voice squeaked up a notch, anxious of all that would possibly entail. "Oh my," she whispered.

"Relax, Vera," Abigael replied. "I still need to clean it." And so she did with a nearby disposable disinfectant cloth, rubbing her fingers all over the glossy stone, touching the tip, and making her way downward. She completed her task within minutes, and somehow, they both tumbled onto the soft, cozy bed.

Mel removed Abigael's blouse completely, exposing her porcelain skin in the moonlight streaming forth from the uncovered corner of the nearby floor-to-ceiling window. "You're so beautiful, my wild iris," Mel murmured, as she cupped Abigael's breasts, sucking one nipple, flicking her tongue between its nub, then the other breast in turn, as Abigael moaned softly and clawed her back ever-so-tenuously.

"Beautiful and dangerous," Abigael whispered in Mel's ear. As their fervent kisses began, and grew in their intensity, Abigael removed Mel's camisole, reciprocating Mel's earlier acts; soon, they were down to their underwear. Mel noticed that Abigael's was a lacy black silk type, whose very fabric felt like the dewy softness of Abigael's own skin, as she hurriedly removed her own, watching as Abigael grasped the length of the rose quartz rod beneath her nimble fingers. "Ask me where I'm putting this, Vera," Abigael murmured, placing the tip of the stone in between Mel's lips to taste.

Mel gasped aloud as Abigael moved to straddle her from atop; the stone was ice cold to her warm tongue, causing Mel to shiver involuntarily with pleasure. She licked the tip, noticing Abigael's purrs in the background. "And just where are you placing that?" Mel gazed upward at Abigael, who continued to hold the dildo in her hand.

"Inside of you," she replied. "Ask me why,Vera," Abigael ordered.

"Well, Jameson-Caine, why are you putting that thing in me?" Mel could feel her heart beat faster in anticipation; she could feel herself grow moist.

Abigael, still straddling Mel, whispered in her ear, "to impregnate you," as she slapped Mel's naked thigh, causing Mel to moan loudly.

"Fuck," whispered Mel.

"Did I detect foul language, Vera?" Abigael smirked, bending down to kiss the most sensitive part of Mel's neck; Mel whimpered in response. "What do you want, love?"

"I—I want—" Mel softly muttered something only she could hear.

"What's that? I couldn't quite hear you—" Abigael continued her lascivious renderings upon Mel, who, now involuntarily thrusting, was beginning to lose all semblance of propriety.

"I want you inside me," Mel spoke, this time louder, while Abigael continued to tease her, this time rubbing the quartz over Mel's nipples, down to her stomach, and toward her lower folds. "I need you inside me now, Abigael Jameson-Caine," she all but yelled.

"Ok then," Abigael breathed, thrusting the solid rod of quartz into Mel's inner folds. Mel gasped, feeling the strange newness of this foreign object enter her inner sanctum, as Abigael thrust into her slowly, becoming acquainted with her inner warmth. Abigael then increased her pace, moving, rotating and hitting different angles, causing Mel's breath to hitch—thrusting faster, as Mel continued to jolt wildly, aimlessly, bucking her thighs, feeling the crux of her apex approaching—

"I'm going to—I'm about to—" Mel muttered, and Abigael thrust one last time, as Mel came, her core pulsating, her heart beating nearly out of her chest, her inner folds slick upon the quartz's surface, sucking her breath in sharply as Abigael slid the dildo out. They cuddled together in the warmth of their afterglow.

"Is this how babies are made?" Mel whispered to Abigael, kissing a strand of her brunette locks.

"I suppose we'll find out, won't we?" Abigael sleepily murmured in response.