Читать книгу The Tree Within - Stephen Campana - Страница 17

Jack lay there on his bed, head propped against the headboard, thinking about the day’s events. Mostly he was thinking about his conversation with Diane, which had ended with a kind of silent, mutual agreement not to discuss the matter any further that evening. The rest of the evening’s conversation pertained entirely to mundane matters of mutual interest, like the dinner they ate together, the job they shared, and the movie they watched on the sofa before retiring to their respective bedrooms. Some more consideration was given to the matter of naming their cat, and they finally decided to call it Smokey.

He rolled over to his side and stared at the watch on his dresser. It was twelve P.M.. He had already been lying there for an hour, thinking. They covered a lot of ground at dinner, but there were so many things they didn’t cover. So many questions he still had. Were they still trying to kill her too? And if so, why? Why were the two of them regarded as threats, and to whom? And what about their mission? What was it exactly? When was it to begin? And what about them? Did she dream about him the way he dreamt about her? Did she have feelings for him? Those were just a few of the questions he had; there were many more, and right now, they were playing and re-playing in his mind like a record with the needle stuck, blocking him from sleeping.

To make matters worse, he did not even have the cat to curl up with; the darned thing had taken a decided preference for Diane and had chosen to spend the night with her. Of course, cats never were never known for their loyalty; that was more of a dog thing. But at least he did have a bed tonight. That was a substantial improvement over a park bench. And while the cover of the night sky might have a certain charm, it was no substitute for an actual brick and mortar ceiling. In point of fact he had it pretty good right now, if he could just quell the crush of questions that were crowding his brain. If only he had a fraction of Diane’s faith. Or her commitment. But he didn’t, and he doubted that he ever would. But then again, he had never really expected to see Diane in the flesh, and here he was, so what did he know?

The questions continued to swirl in his brain, but gradually, they slowed down, until finally his eyes grew heavy and slumber overtook him.

Moments later he was dreaming.

He was in a garden, alone, surrounded only by the sights and sounds of nature. In the distance a woman was walking toward him. Like him, she was naked. She walked slowly, with great deliberation. Her arms were slightly outstretched, palms facing up. Her hips swayed with each long, graceful stride. As she got closer, a small, wry smile crept onto her lips. She stopped just feet before him, drinking him in with her big, brown eyes, then brought her hands up slowly to his cheeks, tickling his skin with the tips of her soft, tapered fingers. Her touch was like an electrical current, sending waves of pleasure through his body. She began to draw his face toward her waiting lips. As she did, she slid one hand behind him, down his back, and began moving it in circles. The warmth from her hands was like nothing he had ever felt before. By the time their lips touched, his legs were like jello; he realized he was not even standing up on his own power; she was holding him up. As their lips touched he felt himself on the precipice of an ecstasy beyond anything he had ever imagined; he needed only to move a little further, a little deeper into her. But just as that was about to happen she drew back, like she always did at this point. Then she moved her head back and forth in a gesture that said no. And when he reached for her, she was gone.