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