2.21 The Abyss
“Thank you,” I said. “You are beyond words. You are magnificent, and I have fallen under your spell, too. I didn’t want to. You still scare me. At least, the thought of . . .” “I know. The pooka bit. I’m a supernatural, which is something you’ve had no experience with, but you have nothing to fear from me. I would never harm you in anyway, and be assured, that I would lay down my life for you, if required. I hope there’s no need for that, since I’d like to stick around and enjoy what we just did a million times more.” I giggled. Me, who’d never made that sound before. Not ever. But Timothy was straight out of romance novels, fondling words like he’d fondled me. Did I like it? Incredibly so. “I enjoyed that, but a million times?” I giggled again, I think flirtatiously, which was something I’d never done before either. Only blondes flirted — blondes with hair down their backs, tiny waists, big boobs, and eyes that were capped by eye lashes that fluttered like butterfly wings. But as I was thinking that, it became obvious that Timothy wasn’t done romancing me. He continued, giving my body a warm squeeze, and then centered on my breasts. Oh, my. His thumb on my nipple was erotic as heck. I arched instinctively, which seemed the signal for Timothy to move to my other breast where he massaged and stroked me until I thought I’d die. “When two are entwined as we are . . .” Timothy began. I could barely concentrate on his words. I tried, but his fingers were playing havoc with every nerve in my body. “It is always like this,” he said, continuing in a voice that carried the soft croon of sexy. “I realize that in this time period you don’t believe in the fates, but the truth is that each pookah is fated to love one woman with a constancy and depth that assures absolute purity. If you think this time was passionate, and I am pleased to hear that from you lovely lips, but every time we engage, it will become even more so. Our lovemaking will become an echo inside us, a ricochet of emotion that rebounds and bounces back over and over until we are completely enclosed in magic.
2.20 The Abyss of WonderLand
I hoped that Timothy was cordial to Chris, but I was mute, fragile in my lust. Timothy later said that we were signed up for a package of dance lessons. I had no recall of that. I was already dancing on a high plane somewhere, perhaps in the clouds, on a mountain peak, in the middle of the ocean. As silly as that sounded, that was how it felt. I barely said goodbye to Chris when he let himself out. “Do you wish to go upstairs to my room?” Timothy asked. I was coherent enough to nod. “Will we cleave together?” I’d never heard it called that, but it sounded exactly like what I wanted. I nodded again. And then, just as I’d envisioned, Timothy swooped me into his arms and carried me up the stairs. Was it romantic? I really couldn’t say. How do you define romantic when we tore off each other’s clothes and were kissing, stroking, and carrying on as if passion had overridden all common sense. It was ardent but giving, and exactly how such an occasion should unfold. But cleave, we did. Several times, with smiles, sweet words, promises, and even a bit of laughter. I guess I might have worried that a pookah might change when he became sexually excited. Timothy did not. His kisses continued fiery and enthusiastic. His efforts to lead me into glorious flights were successful, and the way he worshipped my body was something that boosted my self-confidence and made me feel even more special than before. In one word, our joining together was perfection. I told him that, of course. “Did you have any doubt?” Timothy asked, smiling. “I loved you from the first moment our eyes met. I might have been brunt and off-putting; at least, that’s what you said, but that was only because I was in a daze. You cast your spell, and I was lost.” For saying that, Timothy got another deep kiss, and I stroked his chest, a marvelous David statue of a chest, except warm, vibrant . . . and real.
2.19 The Abyss of WonderLand
“Good. Now move, Mr. Caldwell. Don’t worry about the steps or any dance procedure, just allow the music to carry you forward. Miss Casey, you are to imagine that this man has enchanted you, changing you into a floating leaf that flutters in the wind. Feel the movement of his body and flow with it.” And suddenly, Timothy and I were dancing. My feet kept politely on the floor, or at least, following his movements, not mashing or kicking as they’d always done before. We pirouetted, backed, and turned. I could feel Timothy’s body’s and moved with it, almost as if I were that leaf Chris had spoken of, and I was swaying in the wind. The musical piece ended and neither of us broke a part. The magic had sealed us together. A frozen embrace, perhaps. Chris applauded. “Oh, you two are unique, so natural, so unified in movement. It will be a pleasure to guide you through the more formalized dances, if that is what your wish.” Timothy ignored the dance instructor and seared my lips with his. As kisses go, it was soul deep and the most wonderful moment I’d ever known. I forgot about the presence of Chris, standing no more than a couple of yards’ distance away. I forgot about my doubts and about all my indecision. I wanted Timothy carnally, in a way I’d never wanted any guy before. If Timothy had lifted me up in his arms and carried me up to his room, I would not have protested. My body had sent out roots, anchoring me to this wonderful man. Timothy was right; we were meant to be together. When Timothy’s lips lifted, I whimpered. I wasn’t sure I could take such a severing. I might die from the agony, from the piercing of my heart. “Sh, my darling. It’s okay. I won’t let you go. I promise I will hold you forever.” That kind of statement should have sent chills through me. I should have retreated back to safety, but it was exactly what I wanted to hear. I felt at peace.
2.18 The Abyss of WonderLand
There,” Chris said, suddenly stopping, although the music had not. “Was that painful?” I glanced over at Timothy. A moment before we’d discussed my oatmeal churning indecision, but I saw that the porridge mess had clearly jumped to his face. Shades of jealousy, a touch of indignation, crossness, and stern self-control; his face was drawn so tight, he looked like he’d just had Botox injections. Chris was still holding my hand. He walked me over to Timothy and handed me over to Timothy, like he was a father passing a bride to her new husband. Timothy didn’t object. He swung me up against me and nuzzled his lips on my neck. “That was agony,” he said. “Sometimes my old-world mores fail to adapt to modern times. I did not like seeing you in the arms of another.” “It was just a lesson. Or maybe, an advertisement?” We were holding each other, once more lost in our own world. The stranger, Chris, cleared his voice again. “Now, if you are ready,” he said. “I will begin my instruction with both of you.” Chris turned to adjust his music system, then added, “Do you know how to position your lady, Mr. Caldwell?” Our dance posture was the same configuration that I’d been in with Chris, but Timothy’s touch seemed completely different. I felt fused with Timothy, like we were somehow a unit. The way he was holding me felt like a caress that seemed not only right, but natural. “Excellent. We have chemistry. That will make this lesson as easy as breathing,” Chris crooned. I didn’t know about that. With his words, I stiffened. “You are my soul, darling,” Timothy said. “Relax. I would no sooner hurt you than plunge a knife into my thigh.” The gentle softness of Timothy’s words did allow me to relax. I was suddenly aware of the trust I felt for him. His words were a promise, an affirmation, and my body corresponded, giving into his touch.
2.17 The Abyss of WonderLand
We broke apart and looked to see who’d invaded our romantic scene. A stranger stood there in the house’s exit out to the swim area. He wasn’t the golfer who’d disrespected our privacy, but someone new. Timothy Surely, the fates laugh at me. I was almost forgiven, almost back in her good graces, and then the interruption. Who is this man? How dare he enter my house, frighten my darling one, and destroy a moment so precious it perhaps will never come again? But she is softening to me again? Isn’t she? Chapter Eleven Penelope “Sorry to intrude,” the man said. “My name is Chris Shafer. I’m here because you called about a dance lesson?” “You didn’t,” I said, pushing away from Timothy with a dramatic rolling of the eyes. “As you recall, you said that you didn’t want any public lessons. This is private, and if you don’t like the lesson, we won’t sign up for anymore.” Chris, a nice-looking black guy probably about my age, made a face over Timothy’s words. “That isn’t going to convince her. Why don’t you let me try.” This very athletic but lithe man had brought his own sound system. He turned it on, then walked over to me, and said, “Will you dance a moment with me?” I glanced at Timothy. I don’t know why. Was I seeking permission? But then my mouth opened, and I said, “I’m a foot stamper and a klutz. You wouldn’t want to dance with me, even for a moment.” As if he hadn’t heard me, he reached out to take my hand, unfurled me like a cowboy gathering up his thrown rope, then somehow positioned me, and before I’d had a chance to squeak, we were whirling about in some kind of dance step while he counted, one, two, three, one, two, three. He hadn’t given me a single word of instruction, yet his body rhythm was throwing me into the movement. No fancy footwork on my part, but I did manage to leave his feet untrampled. It was a miracle.
2.16 The Abyss of WonderLand
I stood up and walked over to the pool. I dipped my foot in, wondering if I should suggest a swim, but we’d just eaten, and besides, wasn’t that just another excuse on my part for avoiding making a decision. Did I love Timothy? It all rested on that. Did I love Timothy enough to deal with all the ramifications of being with a pooka? “No decision is necessary now, Penelope,” Timothy said. Let’s just see how the week goes. Then after you return to your apartment — if you decide that’s what you want to do — you will have a long time before you need to make a permanent commitment. We can just continue to date – if you’ll allow me to take you out. You do trust me that much, right?” I turned to face him. “Yes. I would like that, Timothy, because I think I’m falling in love with you, and inside I feel like I’m an oatmeal porridge of indecision. Does that make sense?” “I think I’d be in trouble if I laughed, but your description is a little over the top, wouldn’t you say?” He jumped up from his position and strode towards me with all the force of an el torro bull seeing red. I stood my ground, and when he embraced me with arms that made me want to surrender myself to everything he offered, for a moment I relented and allowed the comfort. Our lips melded, but it was only for a brief respite. “You are falling in love with me? Now I understand completely. I’ve turned into porridge, too, all warm and gooey with delight. I am yours my darling. How ever much you are willing to offer, even if it’s just tiny tastes of happiness, I’ll accept them.” Another kiss was needed to seal that tender offering, and perhaps it would have traveled further, but a man’s voice suddenly coughed and cleared his throat.
2.15 The Abyss of WonderLand
I felt like I’d just read a history book. Timothy’s story was unbelievable. “Did you meet Shakespeare?” “No. I knew of him, but, as I said, we were disgusted by London: sewers in the streets, vermin everywhere, and rampant disease. We spent little time there, and our sporadic visits were only at the request of Queen Elizabeth.” “So, you knew Sir Frances Bacon and Charles Darwin?” “Bacon, I knew of. Darwin came much later. We were already in the Americas by then. We weren’t readers, Penelope. It was centuries before we took the time to develop a library. Books weren’t common for a lot of our early days.” “Of course. Did you get to know Benjamin Franklin?” “No, sorry. We tried to keep away from the glare of publicity. There were early newsprints, and we often read those, but it was only in the missions in California where you could find many printed books. Andrew and I started collecting them. Of course, we had to leave most of them behind each time we moved.” “So, you never met Benjamin Franklin, George Washington, Hamilton, or Lincoln?” “I think we missed out on all the famous men in your history books. Remember we avoided groups and crowds where we might be recognized. It was always important to move before the mobs attacked.” “I get it.,” said nodding, because it did make sense. “And now? How long will you be able to stay in San Jose?” He reached out to take my hand and bent his head to kiss my palm. “That is the big problem, my darling. Twenty, twenty-five years. Will you be willing to accept that kind of life? Will you join me in my travels?” “I would like to see Paris and London. Vienna and . . .” “We can do that. You can choose our next residence.” “And how would Andrew feel about that? About me making it a party of three?” “Probably jealous. He’d like to find someone who was willing to join him in his life. He would not be sorry if you accompanied us, though. He likes you.”
2.14 The Abyss of WonderLand
“But change was always rather slow,” he told me. “I liked the progress, actually. My first house had rats, lice, and fleas. No running water, no toilets, and no coffee. People didn’t live long and often died in gruesome manners. “In the small villages that Andrew and I lived in, there was often suspicion of newcomers. About the time we were accepted, it was time to move on, since we’d both attained our adulthood and then stopped growing physically. We had numerous relationships with women. I won’t hide that from you, but none were like what I feel for you. I never gave any of them a pooka bite. NO children were ever born from such associations, by the way, so I never left a mate with a brood of children, nor did Andrew. “When the Anglo Normans entered our lands, we learned French, or at least the language they were speaking then. We lived in manors and castles for a while and learned to fight like knights. “When we left the islands, we journeyed across the channel and sampled bits of countries that, of course, weren’t countries as we know them today, but, for Andrew and me, our travel was a desperate search for meaning and for a place to belong. We probably lived in France, Belgium, Germany, and Italy. Markers were not clear. “Languages varied. Andrew and I became fluent in the early versions of German, Italian, and Rumanian, as well as Gallic, Irish, and English with sprinklings of old Norse from the frequent raids of the Vikings. We dabbled with some of the early Scandinavian and Russian tongues, but never became proficient. I’d be afraid to use most of what we learned then. The words would be outdated, like reading Chaucer if your primary tongue is English. “When Queen Elizabeth came to the throne, Andrew and I returned to England, but London had become foul with sewage in the streets and rats everywhere. We fled to the countryside, this time with a pile of gold we’d earned over our travels. We traded that for pounds and sovereigns. Working in the queen’s court earned us an estate, where we settled for a bit. But there was always the problem of not ageing like everyone else. We solved that by selling everything and paying our way on a ship to America. “The queen had granted each of us a deed to an estate in the new lands. I believe our plantation was in what they now call Virginia. Not a suitable place for a black man, I’m afraid, and, of course, we were still plagued with the other problem. Constancy to one place provoked potential questions. “That’s why Andrew and I became explorers of this new world. We journeyed up into the Canadian territory and as far west as here in California. We mined for gold and silver, doubled our riches and settled in various places, lasting no longer than ten or fifteen years. And so, we made our way to your time period, one which I find extremely comfortable and enjoyable, especially now that I’ve found you.”
2.13 The Abyss of WonderLand
Timothy changed the topic then, telling Andrew how I’d ridden Molly. “Yes, I sat on top of her. It’s not like I guided her or did anything other than cling to the horn thing.” “You rode like a cowgirl,” Timothy defended me, which made me laugh. *** The next day I was ready for more input. I asked if we could eat breakfast out by the pool, so, of course, we received our French toast and strawberries under the umbrella, next to the sparkling pool that neither of us had swum in that morning. We had a pot of coffee in the delightfully heavy white mugs. It was the perfect place for prying into the life of a pooka. “What benefits do you get from being a pooka?” was my first question. I wanted to know if Timothy had abilities that he hadn’t explained yet. “The main ones are shape changing and dream walking.” “And?” “Sometimes I get stray thoughts and emotions from others.” “Like from me?” “More than most. You are a sender. Your thoughts ripple in the air currents.” “So, all those times I thought you were reading my thoughts, you really were.” He shook his head. “Not exactly, my love. Only sometimes. Oddly, when you blush. That seems to spur your thoughts into a higher wavelength. But like right now, other than the fact, that you’re part curious and part anxious, I’m not receiving anything. Remember emotion is the key. If you were to get angry, I’m sure I would feel that as clearly as if you spit in my face.” “I don’t spit in faces.” In the conversation that followed, I learned that pookas lived an extraordinarily long time, something Timothy had already mentioned before. He didn’t seem to know how long that would be, but apparently his early years were spent in an Irish village in probably the early 1200’s. That was a very, very long time ago. The fact that Timothy could adopt to today’s lifestyle was a remarkable testament to his adaptability.
2.12 The Abyss of WonderLand
I knew what he was asking. I nodded a second time. “Yes, Andrew. I was glad you had the friendship you had growing up. I bet that helped you to endure the hardships.” “And being different?” he asked, eyeing me as if he could stare my thoughts from my brain. I nodded again, shoved the rest of my cake to the side, and drank some lemonade. “Yes, he told me about being a pooka, Andrew.” Timothy had been studiously eating his big piece of cake. He didn’t seem interested in adding anything or indicating that this chat might go south. He carefully kept his eyes on the small plate with part of his cake still sat. “And how do you feel about it?” Andrew asked. “Do you want to go home and run away from the difference?” Timothy looked up then, growled, and put his fork down. His plate was empty, so it wasn’t like he’d lost his appetite and stopped eating. I think he was waiting to see what I’d say, but a bit irritated by Andrew’s wording. But, I wondered. Was Andrew’s predictable question why Timothy had brought me to see Andrew? Was this my opportunity to run screaming into the night, so to speak? “I think I’m still percolating the whole thing,” I said. “I need time to figure out if this will work. I mean, it’s not like you two are human. That’s a hard thing to accept, you know?” Andrew nodded. “I’m not sure if that’s true, Penelope. Maybe a pooka is a cross between a Fairie and a human. Or it could be that a pooka is an earlier branch of humanity. You look at the two of us. Do you see anything strange? Doesn’t that make you think that he and I are as much a product of nature as any of the rest of this wide world of diversity? I’m just saying that you shouldn’t cross us out of your comfort zone because there might be something different about us.” Andrew was someone that I decidedly liked. I’d thought so before from my brief interchanges with him, but after our cake eating session, I was more sure than ever. He was a kind person. I could read that in his eyes, and I liked the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. The fact that he was gorgeous, of course, had nothing to do with it. Even if he’d been the ugliest ogre in the world, I think I’d have wanted to be his friend. “Thank you. I appreciate your saying those things,” I told him. “I’ll put that inside the rest of the magic box that contains everything I’ve learned.”