Chasing the Monsters: 62 (adult)

"I never thought I'd see this again," she said, standing at the railing that separated them from the bluest of seas.  There, on the balcony, was the hot tub, the white and blue decor, mostly white, and she reached her hand over and could graze the ocean water with her fingers.

"Well, it was . . . tough for us, but it was also beautiful.  We really reconnected here.  Remember?"  he said.

"You were going through absolute Hell."

"And you were, too."

"We didn't even . . . know everything then."

"No," he shook his head.

They were back at The Melian Hotel, probably the most beautiful place either had ever seen, but somehow it was a combination of awe, nostalgia and memories of sadness, mixed with excitement of being alone, now, in this exquisite haven.

"John McBain was here.  He had the rustica room."

"He was.  You bought him a massage."

"Yeah.  He . . . really helped us."

"He did."

"When you were married to him," Todd started, and began to take his clothes off, slowly, starting with his shoes, "was it . . . normal?"

"Not for me.  Normal is being married to you, Todd.  I feel weird when we're not together."

"Yeah, but he's like Batman or something."  He was down to his boxers.

She was already in just her shirt and bra.  "Not really.  Besides, Batman's boring and he has a stupid mask."

She intentionally ran her hand slowly between her own breasts, and then found the button to undo.  His eyes were pasted to her.  She removed her shirt, sensuously, and left it on the blue and white lounge chair nearby.  She was in just her bra, and she watched him watching her, as he now was sticking up through his boxer shorts.  

She put her hands behind her back and undid her bra, letting herself fall free, and shook her hair in the breeze.  The sun was just nearing the horizon, but the air was still warm.  She leaned back against the edge of the tub, the same one they had made love in and cried in and laughed in when Ray was just a baby and Todd started the journey of uncovering the deeper truth about Peter Manning.  But she was determined to make him forget all about it, at least for the night, and show him everything that was beautiful about them.  Her voice was husky when she spoke, enough to surprise herself.  "Come here," she said, and hoisted herself onto the edge of the tub and opened her legs, running her slender fingers along the inside of her thigh.

He all but bounded to her, and ravished her neck and body with kisses.  "I love you like this, Todd," she said, leaning her head back and speaking in whispery gasps.

"What, desperate?  That's what I feel like," he picked her up off the ledge and slid her onto him.

She wrapped her legs around him, and his strong arms lifted her up and down a few times creating the fierce, addictive friction around him that somehow came only from being with Blair.  Both of them were desperate for the other;  he was throbbing inside her, strong enough for her to feel against her ready, accepting body, and she was saying his name in a primal way that sounded like lustful hunger.  He whispered for her to hold tight, as he carried her up the few stairs into the tub.

Once in the water, he was like a whirlwind, moving his mouth over every part of her that he could, pushing them against one side of the tub.  She moaned and sighed and called his name as he drove into her, then stopped, moving her off and turning her away from him.  He plunged back in her from behind, and with the warm water around them, pounded into her forcefully, while rubbing and massaging her with his long fingers, until she spasmed around him.  

He wasn't stopping.  He worked until she finished coming, doing everything he knew he could do to make it last, then tipping himself, pushing hard against the spot inside her that would make her scream.  She did, and he smiled to himself as it echoed around them and seeped into his ears.  A sexy, deep sound came from his own throat, and he fought the urge to explode in her.  

Not yet.

She came down, breathing heavy, a mixture of "yes" and "Todd," before he started again.  She coaxed, with her voice, and met his strokes with her own against him, until the rhythm made hot, sharp waves start up, very deep inside her.  She said, "again, again!" and he cooperated willingly.  While holding her onto him by her shoulders to bury himself deeper, he gyrated against her, his hips circling and his voice now coaxing her.  She squealed, and her sounds made him groan.  He said, "You like this?"

"Yes, yes I like this!  Yes!"

He set himself again, regaining a foothold, with his thumb pressing on her, and his long thickness pushing from the inside, and moved again, in hard strokes, hearing her shriek with passion and release.

This proved too much for him, unable to hold off any longer.  He called out her name and spilled inside her, pulling her onto him by her hips in a wild rhythm as he did.  

Within moments, felt herself pulled back around to sitting on top of him, her back still to him.  He was still inside, hard and beating.  He wrapped both arms around her, dwarfing her waist and she wrapped hers around his.  They floated, and he turned on the jets and the heat increased.  Both relaxed, and sighed, then laughed, softly.  She felt him start to soften and leave her body, and said, "Whoa."

"Yep."

"Never a dull moment with you, Mr. Manning."

"Good, Mrs. Manning."

***

She wore the dress he liked, and black heels.  She shouldn't, it was church day.  She should know better.

She straightened the hem on the dress, and put on her lipstick. Red.  Jezebel.  He'd want to take her, right there, on his altar.

She was suddenly in the foyer of the tabernacle; The Messenger was waiting at the end of the aisle, as always, leering seductively toward her.  She had never seen anyone as handsome, as enchanting, as dark . . .

Beside him was Peter, in a stockade, and she smiled, as she neared.   The Messenger said, "My daughter, my love, shall I?"

She didn't respond, she just walked closer.

He said, "You wanted me to take you away, from him, from his house.  You wanted me to save you, yes?"

"Yes, My Lord," she said.  He made her feel safe.  He kept her from . . . Peter's room . . . Peter's wrath . . .he wouldn't let Peter hurt her anymore . . .

"And, here is your chance."

"I want to be with you, Master.  I want to give myself to you," she said, unbuttoning the top of her dress.  Peter leered at them, and as she looked at him a second time, she saw the bullet hole in the center of his head, replete with a line of blood, punctuated with a droplet.  "I will heed," she said, closing her eyes, expecting The Messenger to approach her and defile her in front of Peter's eyes.

Instead of feeling his mouth on her neck, she heard a strange noise, completed with a thud.  When she opened her eyes, Peter's head toppled off the stockade and rolled to her feet.

"Take me, Master," she said, puzzled by her own calm and acceptance of the violence he had just issued forth.

Mitch kissed her, then sucked and bit on her neck, pushing her to the floor, hiking her dress up and putting his hand inside the waistband of her silk stockings. . .

"Bea, Dear, are ya all right?  Y'ar making quite the noises," the nun said, shaking her friend's arm gently.

"Oh, Sister, yes, I'm . . . I'm fine," she said, and she could feel herself flush.

"Ya must have dozed off.  I did, too.  I guess the warm sun and quiet made us sleepy, eh?"

"Yes, I suppose it did," she said.

"I hear Little Raymond the Road Runner on the monitor," Sister Rebecca Katherine said.

"Yes, naptime must be over.  Jack and Sam have been home a while.  It must be nearing dinner."

"At the very least, it's nearing snack time.  They're always hungry," the nun started to get up.  "They've been so quiet."

"Well, it's homework time, I suppose.  They're such good children."

"I know," the nun said, going to the sliders and opening them.

Bitsy gazed back out over the lawn, before getting up.

***

Sunlight bathed them in patterns through a small skylight.  Blair was lying over Todd's waist, her head right above his belly button, her arms positioned as though she was embracing him in sleep.  Todd was completely recumbent, arms outstretched and legs parted, with one hand in her hair.  He woke up, with a slight start, and said, "Blair.  Blair, you up?"

"No," she said, softly.

"Babe, we forgot to call Momma."

Her eyes sprung open.  "We did?  Oh, God.  The kids."

"It's probably okay, but we should," he looked at his phone.  "Shit, it's after midnight there."

"Text Jack," she said, "he's probably up."  She slipped back into sleep.

He did.  Within a few minutes:

Hey Dad.  Figured you and Mom got . . . sidetracked.  Sam was worried though.  Glad you called.  I'll let everyone know.  Grandma Bitsy and Sister Rebecca Katherine are still up.  They were worried.  Thanks for texting.  Staying in Greece?

Mom and I are resting.  We might be here a day or two longer.  Thing with Zeus is resolved.  We're at Melian.  Remember?

Okay.  Maybe you guys deserve a vacation anyway.  We're fine.  Have a good time, Dad.

"Can't believe it's morning," he said.

She stirred and kissed his stomach.  "Mmmm, I slept so soundly."

"Same here.  I feel . . . well, you know."

"I know, me, too."

He lightly pushed her off him and got up, standing and pulling pajama pants over his nude form.  She watched, feeling her nipples stiffen as he walked, his beautiful body tempting her, his confident swagger calling her awake.  He disappeared into the bathroom.  For a moment, she remembered him, blistering his palm as he held his hand over a flame while sleepwalking.  She turned onto her back, and remembered the comfort that Little Ray brought him, when she placed him gently on Todd's chest after he'd awakened from a nightmare.  "He's come so far," she said, and it was true.  All that, the last time they were in Greece and she almost lost him, was behind them now, and years more of pain and heartache had been uncovered and conquered by him: her strong, resilient man.  

God, how I love him!

He came out of the bathroom, wiping his hands on a small white towel, and threw it toward her.  It bounced off her head and landed on the bed.  She smiled at him and hugged her knees.  "I'll get you back later.  Todd, it's so beautiful here."

"Yep, it's pretty awesome," he said.  "I think I said I'd never want to be back here, but I was wrong.  It's really gorgeous when you aren't burning yourself or something."

"Todd," she looked at him, gently admonishing.  He went out onto the balcony.

She lay back on the bed and stretched, the sun beaming on her chest and stomach through the skylight above her.  She could hear the sea lapping against the balcony outside.

He parked himself on one of the lounge chairs in the sun.  He admitted to himself that with everything that had passed, he felt good.  The sun was in his hair, and the breeze moved just enough to keep the heat from overpowering him.  The water, as blue as a sapphire, shone in the sunlight, and quietly washed against the building.  Things were good.  Everything with his father and his childhood was becoming part of the past, and as difficult as the previous few years had been, he was starting to see the clouds clear.

His most recent revelation, the involvement of the police in his abuse by somehow turning a blind eye, had sent him reeling, and his memories, and rage, at what was done to him, fueled his altercation with Zeus.  But somehow, now that it had all passed, he felt a strange sense of peace and calm.  Looking up, he spotted the domed roof of Melian, white and gleaming, and a small bird, perched on the edge.  He watched as it flitted with the small, jerky movements typical of its species, and another, and then another joined it.  His squinting gave way to a faded expression, and he turned away, and stared at the sea.

She came out onto the balcony, and looked at him from the back, and noticed how still he was.  She came toward him, and touched his head before sitting next to him on the accompanying lounge chair.

It wasn't until she noticed his blank expression that she felt a small leap in her chest, and said, "Todd?  Todd, what's the matter?"

"I remembered something, Blair.  Something I think might be the end of it."

"The end of what, My Love?"

"The end of . . . remembering."

"You mean the last of the memories of your past?"

"It just feels that way.  Somehow."

"Okay."  She waited.  He was calm, not fighting it.  He was letting them come, whatever memories they were, no pacing, no keeping them at bay.

"It's the birds, up there."

"Those little sparrows?"

"Yeah.  Them."

"What about them?"

He gulped slowly, and she saw his jaw working.  "I . . . I know what happened."

"All right.  What happened?"  She touched his back.  He didn't flinch from her touch, he just studied his hands.

"I . . . tried to kill myself.  I was like, maybe 7 or 8."

"What?" she gasped.

"Not the way you'd think.  It was . . . Momma, she went up to the roof.  She was drunk, bleeding.  He'd just beaten and attacked her, did whatever he did to her, and left the house.  I climbed up after her.  She was . . . talking about the sparrows.  Telling me that she wanted them to take her away and that they could take me, too."

Blair didn't say anything.  Instead, she just watched him, calmly relate the story to her.  "She'd spoken of it a lot.  She'd taught me . . . to go into my mind," his voice slightly wavered, and Blair moved her hand in circles along his back.  "She also talked about the sparrows a lot.  That she'd leave with them, they could carry her off, if she wished hard enough."

"Oh, Todd," she said.  She let him tell her, despite knowing the ending.

"Anyway, this day, she was up there.  Her clothes were torn up, she was beaten pretty bad.  I think it was right before he started using the room.  She had a bottle in one hand, and her other hand was reaching up to the sky, for the sparrows, and she kept calling them."

He sighed out, and then he hurried his pace, as if to get it out faster.  "Anyway, she called and called, and none came, and she saw them anyway.  She said, 'they're here, Angel,' and then . . ."

"She jumped."  Blair said, softly.

"She did.  She jumped off the roof, and I grabbed her hand, and slid on the roof to the edge.  I grabbed on to the gutter so I wouldn't slide the rest of the way.  She landed in the bushes, I could see her from the edge. . . to me, she was dead.   And then . . ."

It was silent for a while.  Blair whispered, "You let go."

"Yeah, I let go.  I wanted to be with her, no matter what.  If she was dead, I wanted to be, too.  I wanted to be with her and get away from him."  He grimaced.  "I fell onto a small awning, but broke my arm and a couple of ribs.  The scar on her throat, it wasn't a tracheotomy.  It was from a branch that stabbed her neck on the way down.   The trache was Peter's idea.  We both recited it.  It was probably included in that 'Lord Heir' questionnaire thing, because only I would know the lie."

Blair rested her chin on his shoulder.  "This was when you called for help?"

"Yeah.  One of the times.  Before we even got out there.  And, they covered it.  We went to the hospital.  Not sure how Peter explained that one, but he did.  Something about us both being crazy and being on the roof.  He claimed it was an accident."  He stopped a moment, and she let him be.  Then he said, "I wanted to die every day after that.  He started to use the room, to scare us, at first, not to tell people anything, and then to hide us when he hurt us, and later, well, you know.  It got worse from there on.  About a two years or so later, she left us.  She left me, and it was just his rage and me and my mind.  For years.  Maybe I was too afraid to off myself, or too strong.  Whichever it was, I'm here."

Blair couldn't contain herself; the tears ran down her face onto her chin and his shoulder.  He looked to the side at her, and turned his head, kissing the top of hers.  "I guess that's it."

"Oh, Todd," she said, breaking down in tears, and they held each other.

"That's it, Blair.  That's all."  Over her head, he watched the little sparrows fly off together from the roof of Melian.

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