Author's Note: Like the other unedited scene, I'd rate this a PG-15 at the most. This is probably my favorite of my unedited scenes to date...
Chapter 8: Unedited Storm Scene
"It is the truth," Isabelle repeated, laying her head on her knees.
A solitary tear dropped on her knee, as she thought about how Sirius was faring in prison. Fat raindrops began to fall from the stormy sky, which matched her dark, turbulent mood. She didn't lift her head, instead allowing the rain to drench her hair and run down her back. Within five minutes, she was completely soaked and no longer felt the chill of the rain.
"Isabelle?" a male voice called over the raging storm. She turned her head, stared at the dark-haired man in front of her, completely confused.
"A Sirius?" she whispered in awe, standing up.
A bolt of lightning struck the river, illuminating her sodden frame. The bright halo made Isabelle appear ethereal, otherworldly, at least to a dumbstruck Jake Parker. He'd never seen anything so exotically beautiful in his life. Clumps of soaking wet hair clung to her face, neck, and upper body. And her dripping, thin robes left little, if anything, to the imagination.
"Are you all right?" he asked, wondering what sort of crazy woman stood on a pier set on the river's edge during a thunderstorm. Isabelle smiled seductively, walked up to him, and wrapped her cool, wet arms around his neck.
"You came for me," she said, switching from Gaelic to English. She tenderly brushed a stray strand of hair out of his eyes.
"Uh, yeah. I was a little worried about you, alone here in--"
Isabelle silenced him with a soft, lingering kiss, and lightly ran her fingertips across the back of his neck. She smiled against his lips as he pulled her to him so tightly that a lock of her hair whipped around her shoulders and stuck to his cheek.
"Isn't this a little sudden?" he stuttered as she kissed his neck and collarbone. She laughed – a short, dry laugh.
"Oh, no," she whispered into his ear. "You have no idea how long I've waited for this."
Jake raised an eyebrow. At most, she'd known of him since early September, only two short months. Not that he was complaining, but something seemed a little off. "Isa--"
"Shhh," she insisted. "No one needs to know about this."
Isabelle boldly grasped him by his robes collar and pulled him down on the pier. Neither of them noticed the whipping wind, or the nearly deafening thunder. In the semi-darkness, she could clearly make out the look of desire on her companion's face. This was her deepest, most private fantasy, to make steamy, sensual love in the middle of a storm. In her fragile mental state, she truly believed that Sirius Black had come for her, and wanted to be with her.
Consequently, she sat astride on Jake's lap, and wound her long, shapely legs around his back. Dazed, he simply gawked at her thighs, completely bare all the way to her hips. Despite the little warning bells going off in his mind, he placed a hesitant hand on her hip, and traced her leg with his fingers. "Is this all right?" he hesitated.
"Why do you worry so much about being good? What's wrong with being bad every now and again?" she questioned.
That is a good point, Jake admitted. What would be the benefit of being good right now? Since when do I have a conscience? Since she's my sister's friend, idiot. I've spent my whole damn life trying to get to know my sister, and I'm about to risk losing it all by hooking up with Isabelle? What kind of moron am I? The kind who's being seduced, that's who. Forget being good.
"Absolutely nothing," he replied, kissing her hard and fast, leaving her breathless.
His hands traveled up her side and briefly rested at the front of her robes before unfastening her outer robes and practically ripping them off in an effort to remove them as quickly as humanly possible. The rain made Isabelle's gauzy, sea green camisole transparent long ago, and it clung to her like a second skin. She smiled at his obvious pleasure.
"Is this as bad as you get?" she challenged.
"Hell, no," he retorted, jumping slightly as a particularly loud crack of thunder sounded through the air.
"'Fraidy cat," she teased. "Here, let me relax you."
Consumed by intense, tumultuous emotions, Isabelle slid back a little and leisurely removed his outer cloak for maximum effect. In fact, she took so much time in carefully undoing the buttons and slowly sliding off his robes that it nearly drove him insane. Jake' sheer carnal passion overrode patience, so he shrugged out of his cloak and threw off his shirt in record time.
Isabelle gently caressed his naked flesh with her lips, which caused him to grasp the back of her head reflexively. His chest heaved up and down, and she could feel his hot breath on her neck. When she stretched out her hand to touch his left side, something unexpected happened. She only felt smooth skin.
A horrid realization washed over her as she snapped out of her delusional dream world. This man was not Sirius Black. When Sirius was fifteen, he and James were pulling a prank that went horribly wrong. He never would give details about exactly what happened, but somehow he fell and tore a huge, ragged gash in his left side. No matter what Madame Pomfrey did, the massive cut healed badly and left a jagged scar.
She wanted to cry, scream and crawl into a corner to die all at once. Sirius was still in prison. She, Isabelle, was still in exile, and betraying Sarah Lindsay by using her new best friend's older brother as a Sirius substitute. Jake didn't deserve to be treated this way. But, how could she possibly explain this to him or Sarah Lindsay?
Especially since she knows that I've been with Phillip, Isabelle panicked. She'll never forgive me for this. I don't deserve to be forgiven. Bill's right; I am a whore, aren't I?
Acting on her flight reflex, she stood up and ran down the pier. However, her bare feet slipped on the wet planks, losing her balance. Her head struck the edge of a side post before she had time to extend an arm to break her fall. Right as everything went black, she vaguely heard and felt her body fall into the river.