A Port in the Storm
Ok; I’m just going to leave this here because @gotham-ruaidh (being all kinds of amazing, as she is) and me had a late night (for this Brit anyway…) conversation where she was inspiring and generous with her time and many more things besides. From it I wrote a little something and sent it to her…and she was so supportive and, well, every nice word in the dictionary I will now attribute to her. So Gotham, this is for you. THANK YOU. I’m so incredibly grateful to know you. Hugs.
She was perched on the windowsill staring across the now empty fields.
“Where’s yer heid lass…?”
“It was the storm…I…we were stuck out there”
The goosebumps raised on her arms as she spoke.
“…we were stuck, and the light…the light was going…gone, the rain…I hid in the barn to wait it out. I didn’t know he was there, at first. And then he was…there. Close, like static.”
“…and ye what, Claire?”
“It was my fault. I’d u-undone my laces, I was soaked…cold…”
Her cheeks flamed red; her eyes watered,
“Did ye lie together, Claire?”
She returned; a whisper. A fresh tear slid down her cheek.
“The light came and went with the flash of the storm. We k-kissed. I don’t much remember losing my clothes…but I did.”
She took a jagged breath.
“I couldn’t stop. Didn’t want too.”
She lifted her chin in defiance.
“The sky was alive; every touch…his touch…his mouth on mine…I felt alive.”
She clenched her arms tighter around herself and swallowed before continuing.
“W-we were on the floor, surrounding each other. Every inch of my skin was on fire…and then, then i-it happened.”
Her eyes closed.
“His hips were against mine…”
The words nearly ran together, she spoke so quickly.
Her legs rose; closer towards her as her toes curled at the memory.
“…we were so close. It hurt at first, but then it didn’t anymore and I-I don’t understand it all…what it was between us, why…why I couldn’t think properly. I felt like my soul had risen from my body.”
It didn’t seem possible, but her voice dipped lower still.
“A-and then I was flying and shaking, and h-he was shaking too. Not from the cold or rain…it wasn’t much rain anymore, anyway. We were clutching at each other, he…his mouth was on my neck, his stomach against mine, my legs…”
Her eyes opened, clouded with the high of reliving the experience,
“…anchoring him to me.”
She turned to meet her visitor, eye to eye.
“I’m not sorry it happened.”
She spoke confidently, but her eyes betrayed her worry.
“Aye, I see that lass. Well, neither is he.”
The breath she didn’t realise she was holding came out all in a rush from her lungs, as a smile tugged at the corner of her lips.
“Jamie isna sorry either.”