The Blossomed Thorn The Blossomed Thorn A Love Story By Michelle Sinclair Rated R(m/f sex). Please Note: The events in this story follow the events of Sturm Und Drang'. ***** The Blossomed Thorn That lateness of the season here allows the thorn to blossom now; in opulent but brief career each single bow is bent on show Once passing with a troubled mind I saw one bush of all in flower that had a presence of a kind my senses had no sequel for As gazing at it long I stood a strange awareness stirred within, not of my flesh becoming wood and stinging where the buds begin, but of a flowing universe that poured and streamed toward the tree, swept with a magnet's silent force into One Reality The sluicing earth, the rushing sky seemed thrusting into twig and spray; to hoard my risked identity I had to pluck myself away. John Hewitt A fan turned slowly in the hot apartment. It was nearing midnight, but it was still over 90 degrees Fahrenheit. Constable Benton Fraser had borrowed the fan from his neighbor, Mr. Mustafi. The fan was not in very good working order, in fact, it did little to cool the hot room. Summer in Chicago was as blazing as the winters were frozen. Of course, winter in Chicago was nothing like the cold of the Territories, but it was cold enough. However, the heat of the summer was barely lukewarm as compared to the inferno that blazed within his heart and soul. Ben looked thoughtfully at the sluggishly turning blades of the small fan. He would have it repaired before he returned it to Mr. Mustafi. He felt the woman lying next to him stir in his arms, readjusting her position, trying to get more comfortable. He had borrowed the fan, not for himself, but for her. Although she never once complained about the general warmth and stuffiness of his apartment he had noticed how the beads of sweat would form on her brow as she slept next to him. She had never even asked to go back to her place, which was fully air conditioned and much more comfortable. He noted she seemed to like his place, perhaps for its austerity, perhaps because of him. At times he would get a soft, cool, damp cloth and gently, tenderly wipe her brow as she slumbered. He thought of how he used to lose sleep because of his unrequited desire for her. Now he lost sleep because he couldn't seem to stop looking at her. He would watch her sleep, thinking how angelic she looked then. The only thing he hated was the dawn. The new day would take Meg from him. She would slip out at 5 A.M.. He would see her two short hours later at the consulate but she wasn't his Meg then. At the consulate, she was Inspector Thatcher and he was Benton Fraser of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. And it was all business. Except for the rare occasion when they were alone in her office and she would steal a kiss from him. "Go to sleep, Ben," he heard her whisper softly. He knew that she knew that he usually didn't sleep much. She knew he liked to watch her. She didn't mind. It brought a soft smile to her face. He did love her so much, though neither had said those words yet. It was enough that he held her in his arms and made her feel safe. "Yes ma'am." He listened to her and closed his eyes and fell asleep with his Meg against his skin and nothing between them, except a uniform that hung on a hanger nearby. ***** A Difficult Man He was boring often with his laborous talk describing some technical process in tedious detail, though admittedly well briefed in his narrow reading; annoying too in his stubborn postures, for instance, not painting in watercolours because he was thinking in oils. Even the meticulous manner in which her folded his scarf before putting on his overcoat seemed surely designed indefinatly to delay his overdue departure, yet we liked him because he was honest and loyal. John Hewitt Saturday afternoon at Wrigley Field. Cubs versus the Braves. Ray thought there was possibly no better way to spend a day. A day game at Wrigley, struck a cord of nostalgia for Ray. This was tradition, and Ray enjoyed the simplicity of it. Sitting in the bleachers with a hot dog, a beer and a new Cubs cap was all he really needed in the past. But now he needed something else. He needed his friend Benny with him to enjoy it fully. He wanted to impress on his Canadian friend the meaning of all this Americana. Ben was late. It was the third inning and Ray still was waiting. Fraser said he had to "take care of something at the consulate." Ray knew what that meant. Although Ray didn't like Meg that much (she seemed icy to him), he admitted that she made Ben happy, and that was enough to make Ray happy. After Victoria . . . well, Fraser deserved to have some joy in his life. "Hello Ray, I am sorry I am late." Ben sat next to him. He had on a Cubs cap too, having bought it on his way in as the vendor assured him it was required apparel. "It's okay Benny, you didn't miss much. Nice cap." "Thank you Ray." "Everything cool at the consulate?" "No, actually that's the problem. The air conditioning is not working and the Inspector asked me to take care of it before Monday." "Do you call her that when you're in bed too?" "N-No. Um, I call her . . . well Ray, I don't see why you have to know what I call her." "Jesus Benny relax. Let's just watch the game okay?" "Yes. You know Ray, I read a book--" "In your grandmother's library?" "Yes. It was about American baseball. An interesting sport really." "I'm glad you think so. Hockey's got nothing on it." "Hm." "What?" "The pitcher. If he would just adjust his pitching motion ever so slightly it would be much more efficient. It would add at least five years to his career." "Benny, do you know who that is?" "I believe his uniform identifies him as number 31, Maddux." "Right. Greg Maddux. Four consecutive Cy Young awards and counting. He's only the best pitcher in all of baseball." "Cy Young? Ah, a best pitcher award. Well Ray, regardless, if he would correct the imperfection he could possibly win 10 in a row." Ray shook his head. Sometimes there was no talking to Fraser. "Ray?" "What Benny? Want to explain to me why Mark Grace's footwork inhibits his fielding ability?" "Well Ray, now that you mention it . . . but no, we can discuss that later. I have a quandary." "What kind of quandary? Is it some weird case you want me to help you solve? Because Benny, I'm not in the mood to scour Chicago for elves." "No Ray, nothing like that. It's Meg." "Ah. Meg is it. Shoot Benny." "Right. She . . . was complaining." "About what? Sexual technique? I'm afraid you're on your own there Bento." "No . . . she was complaining that we never go out. She wants to go on a real date. So I made reservations for tonight at this expensive French restaurant." "Good for you Benny. Most people date first and fuck later but . . . you're not most people." "My problem is that she wants me to wear a suit. Not my dress uniform but a real suit. And I don't have one." "My suits won't fit you Benny." "I know that Ray. I was wondering if you could help me pick out an appropriate one." "Sure Benny, we'll go after the game. I know a place." "Thank you kindly Ray." "No sweat Benny." ***** She's Always A Woman She can kill with a smile She can wound with her eyes She can ruin your faith with her casual lies And she only reveals what she wants you to see She hides like a child But she's always a woman to me Oh-she takes care of herself She can wait if she wants She's ahead of her time Oh-and she never gives out And she never gives in She just changes her mind She will promise you more Than the garden of Eden Then she'll carelessly cut you and laugh while you're bleeding But she'll bring out the best And the worst you can be Blame it all on yourself Cause she's always a woman to me She is frequently kind And she's suddenly cruel She can do as she pleases She's nobody's fool But she can't be convicted She's earned her degree And the most she will do Is throw shadows at you But she's always a woman to me -Billy Joel -Greatest Hits Vol. I & II Ben arrived at Meg's apartment and knocked on the door. He was wearing a very expensive Italian suit that Ray had purchased for him. It was charcoal grey and double-breasted. His blue eyes shined brighter still as contrasted by the darkness of the fabric. He had a dozen red roses with him. He thought she would like them. They seemed to suit her. So pretty and yet if you weren't careful you might prick yourself and start bleeding. She opened the door. She was lovely and captivating. Her red dress clung to her body and was held up by the thinnest straps Ben had ever seen. He worried mildly that a strong wind could tear through the thin fabric. A strong wind or his overzealous hands. "Ben, are those for me?" "Yes. For you." "They're lovely." "You're striking." "Striking? That's a new one." She smiled warmly. It made him ache for her. Why did they have to go out anyway? "I'm sorry. I meant beautiful, exquisite, dazzling, stunning, radiant, resplendent, sparkling . . . " "Put away the thesaurus Ben." "Sorry." "And STOP apologizing." "So--we should go. Our reservations are at eight." "Let's go then." She took his hand and they left. They took a cab over to the restaurant. Ben spoke to the maitre in French. Meg was impressed with his accent. After they were seated and where already sipping champagne she said: "I didn't know you spoke French so well." "I believe it is in my file." "No doubt. Did you spend time in Quebec?" "I was never posted there, but I did visit it once. Montreal is lovely." "It is. Do you miss Canada ever Ben?" "Miss it? No." "Neither do I." They stopped talking just then. A disturbing moment of silence which seemed to last for all eternity. "Ben I--" "Yes Meg?" "Never mind." "Meg?" "Yes Ben?" "I had the air conditioning at the consulate fixed today." "Oh you did? I thought you were going to a baseball game with Detective Vecchio." "I did. I had the air conditioning fixed first." "That's a relief. It was terribly hot in there." "I didn't notice really." "You didn't? How could you not? I could hardly work." "I'm usually distracted at the consulate." He smiled at her. It made her stomach tighten a little. His smile was so intoxicating. Thank God he didn't smile that often or she would turn to mush right in the middle of work. "Yes. Distracted. Maybe it's not that hot. Maybe it's your effect on me." "Are you hot now?" "Smoldering." "Would you like to? . . ." "More than anything. But don't you think we should wait for dinner?" "We'll bring it back to my place," he said. "Agreed." The both stood and he got the food to go, payed the bill and went back to his place. They put the food down on the table. "Eat now or later?" He asked. "Later." He nodded. They faced one another. "That dress . . . " "Yes?" "I love it." "I'll let you borrow it sometime." He smiled. He reached down and caressed her cheek, then her lips, with his knuckles. She closed her eyes. "Fraser," she sighed. He reached behind her and slowly unzipped the dress. It fell off her body carelessly. She had his jacket off and was undoing his tie. "It's a nice suit Ben," she breathed. "Ray helped me pick it out." "Remind me to thank Ray." She ripped the shirt off him, popping several buttons. He laughed lightly at the sound of the buttons hitting the floor. "How much did that shirt cost?" "One hundred dollars." They both laughed now. He picked her up and kissed her softly. He gently placed her on the hard bed. He remembered that it must be horribly uncomfortable for her to make love on that bed, let alone sleep on it. "Get up," he said suddenly. "Ben, what's wrong?" "Nothing, Close your eyes for a minute." "Ben--" she began in protest. "Do it." Reluctantly she closed her eyes. He removed a large package from the closet. It was a very soft, thick mattress pad he had bought in Sears. He put it on the bed and then put the sheet over it. "You can look." Her eyes opened. "What am I supposed to see?" He pointed down. "What I--Ben. Did you buy that for me?" "Who else?" "I'm touched . . . I . . . " "Shhh . . . We were in the middle of something." He again put her on the bed. "Better?" "Much." He smiled. "Ben, that smile of your's is driving me crazy." "I'm sorry." "Don't be sorry. Do SOMETHING about it." "Yes ma'am." They both slipped out of the remainder of their clothes and he began laying soft little kisses on her flat stomach. She had her hands in his hair. He was moving down her body with his kisses, moving closer and closer . . . "Ben!" "What?" He was surprised by the urgency of her call. "Don't." "Why?" "It's too . . . too soon . . . too intimate. Please." "Okay." He moved up to her mouth and began kissing her there. He was confused by her behavior. Why wouldn't she let him perform on her? Maybe she was just scared. Maybe no man had ever done that for her before. He would be patient. She began caressing his organ ever so softly. "Ben . . . please, now . . . " He obeyed her command and thrust himself inside of her. Every time he did this he felt as if he was whole. She was the missing piece of his soul. She was writhing beneath him. He could hear her moans of ecstasy. Ben, Oh Lord, yes. Ohhh. Meg. Ben, more. God. Be--nnn. Love you Meg. It was euphoria and rapture and bliss. A delirium of passion. They had climaxed moments ago but he was still inside of her. She liked how that felt. She listened to his slow, heavy breathing. "Ben?" "Hm?" "Did . . . . did you say you love me?" "Yes." "Ben?" "Yes?" "I can't say it." "I know." "I'm sorry." "It's okay. You don't have to say it." "I want to." "Someday." 'I hope,' she thought. "Can I tell you about someone, Meg?" "Who, Fraser?" "Her name is Victoria." "If you want to." "I do." He began telling her about Victoria. About how she hurt him and how her loved her. About how, until he found Meg, he longed for her. "I thought she was the only woman I could ever love." Meg was quiet. "Meg?" He looked at her. He could see the tears glistening by the lantern's light. "I'm sorry. Meg, I didn't want to upset you." No response. "Meg? Please talk to me." "I can't believe she would hurt you like that." "She never really loved me." "Ben, I would never do that to you." "I know. You're not a criminal." "That's not what I meant, Ben." "I know." "You really loved her?" "Yes. But . . . it's different with us." "How so?" "I never could trust her." "You trust me?" "With my life, my soul, my heart." "I still can't say the words, Ben." "Don't worry about it." "I can't say the words, but I can show you with actions." "Please do then." "With pleasure." As they were once again caught in the deluge of carnality and eroticism, a thought, unfettered finally from its prison in the deep recesses of his mind came to him. What he felt for Victoria wasn't an "inner ear imbalance." It was a futile yearning for love, because it is sometimes "easier to think that you are in love than to admit that you are alone." But he wasn't alone now. He needed Meg. Not because it was easier than admitting he was alone, but just because she made his heart beat a little faster and made his soul move away from the darkness and reach toward the light. ***** "She's Got A Way" She's got a way about her I don't know what it is But I know that I can't live without her She's got a way of pleasin' I don't know what it is But there doesn't have to be a reason anywhere She's got a smile that heals me I don't know why it is But I have to laugh when she reveals me She's got a way of talkin' I don't know why it is But it lifts me up when we are walkin' anywhere She comes to me when I'm feelin' down Inspires me without a sound I can't explain how I get turned around She's got a way of showin' How I make her feel And we found the strength to keep on goin' She's got a light around her And everywhere she goes A million dreams of love surround her everywhere She's got a smile that heals me Oh I don't know why it is But I have to laugh when she reveals me anyway -Billy Joel Greatest Hits Vol. I&II 1996 by M. Sinclair