by Laurence Doyen
(7/11/07)
He could not recall. A woman, slender, attractive and Asian was rocking to and fro where she perched atop his waist. He was in a bedroom with someone's photos on the walls and clothing visible through an open closet door. But he could not begin to explain how either one of them had gotten there. It could have been initiated at a bar or perhaps they knew one another. She could be a professional. Judging by her movements, unhurried, her skin flawless, her neck long and delicate, she did not seem to be working.
With small whines and half-spoken whispers she encouraged him to take part. Numb in mind and sensitive of loin, he watched her dull eyes flash, her breasts heave, the desirable brown nipples jutting upwards, proudly erect. She put her delicate hands on his chest causing her beautiful breasts to push together and appear fuller, and arched her back, nearly ceasing her rocking. He beheld by her heavy-lidded eyes and half-open mouth that she was savoring his slow glide in then part way out.
She leaned forward, rolling her hips and burying him, blessing him once more with her warm body, then tracing her tongue over his dry lips. She stared at him unwavering as she pushed more of her tongue into his mouth, sliding her taste buds along and between the sharp line of teeth. Her sweet breath filled his mouth.
She exhaled deeply. "Come..." He opened his mouth wider and shut his eyes, wrapped in sudden blissful panic. She felt him swell tremendously, his hands seeking her at the waist, clutching tightly and pulling himself deeper. She spread her legs out where she straddled him. A graciously surprised moan escaped her nostrils at the depth to which she took him.
Instinct was wont to supercede confusion, and he climaxed and came with terrifying stillness. She collapsed on his chest, her hair spilling over his neck, and the two of them breathed heavily. Confusion was permitted to return and any numbness he'd experienced during their coupling was replaced with heightened sensitivity and unease. He noticed first her smell, of lavender and fresh lime soap. Felt himself slipping from her, and her shifting and relaxing and falling asleep. A false sense of contentedness attempted to pass through the warmth of her body and into him. He fought it and longed to lift her face in his hands and look into her eyes, search them for a revealing sign, something that told him she understood, some glimmer that said she knew he could not recall.
Time is a vessel through which all learning takes place. If one were to sit still in a confined space and allow its mere passage, he would begin to accumulate information, knowledge about certain minuscule things. If there are added variables, his learning becomes more prolific, the acquisition more specific. To a man who cannot recall, however, the information the vessel of time provides is not minuscule at all, but offers genuine insight into, well, what exactly?
He lay there listening to her shallow breathing and did not feel tired in the slightest. He wondered if she would sleep like that atop his chest for the whole of the night. She was petite enough. That could be several hours, considering he was unaware of the time and could not find a glowing, digital apparatus when his eyes passed again over the room. It must be her room and it must have been her invitation that brought him here. He breathed steadily, feeling his chest rise and fall and experiencing no undue pain anywhere in his body. It was only his mind that seemed to possess ailment, but with no palpable anguish to distinguish it. He moved his head side to side and found that his spine had not suffered trauma. The woman moaned softly and pushed herself over him once more. When he did not respond, she stopped the gentle gyrations and slid off him and curled at his side.
She was very attractive to him -- from what he could see -- and he made it a point to recall every inch of her body he had seen so far, examining her for identifying marks and characteristics. Her finger tips were well manicured and had a high luster, a transparent sheen. She had almost no hair on her arms and he remembered only a thin patch on her pubis. The hair on her head was voluminous and black, such a striking contrast to her magnolia skin that she appeared to him like a doll. Her nipples, cheeks, and lips offered the only change in tone, her lips and cheeks light pink, her nipples the easy brown of a doctored cup of coffee.
That is what he was smelling. It was coffee and someone was brewing it outside the bedroom. He gazed down at the woman's sleeping figure and judged it feasible to move off the bed without disturbing her. When he turned she curled tighter to a fetal position, breathing softly and resting her cheek upon her flattened hands which were stacked one atop the other. He sat up and placed his feet on the floor. It was made of a tatami material and he enjoyed its uniform texture. He stood and found that his hips were somewhat sore, a general indicator of a long run or over-stretching or -- he glimpsed over his shoulder -- another means of exercise.
He padded over to the closet and stepped inside. There was an unaccountably vast amount of clothing with more varying types of dress, traditional Japanese and modern Western than he could imagine encountering outside a store. It was odd to him to be able to identify many of the articles as Japanese, and yet he was relatively certain he himself was not. It was, however, plainly obvious that the woman in the bed was. He exited the closet and came to a group of framed photos hanging askew on the wall. In the soft light, he saw many people -- all of them Asian -- who he did not know. It became a slight torment for him moving about the room, searching each photo -- every face -- for a familiar one.
The aroma of coffee was becoming stronger and another lesser scent had joined it. It possessed tidings of mint and herb and he knew it was tea. Still, he could make out no sounds coming from beyond the bedroom door. It must not be a restaurant, but how odd it seemed, to be brewing the two beverages together. He turned and found his clothing on the floor. His pants pockets were empty front and back and it frightened him. He moved to the door and put his hand on the knob.
"Are you still nervous?" the woman said. He turned to find her sitting up in bed, her breasts exposed but beyond hidden beneath the red sheets. The contrast of her white skin to the linen's deep crimson was remarkable. He stared at her as if she were a living painting until she emitted a soft giggle. He followed her gaze down to his crotch and became aware that he was aroused by her, apparently again. He looked at her, feeling the urge to cover himself, but she regarded him naturally and he understood the gesture as needless. She extended a long slender arm toward him, the dip in her wrist out to the erect points of her fingers indicated gentility.
He felt oddly shy, but drew near until he was able to take her hand in his and stand before her at the edge of the bed. She looked up at him and he searched her eyes for something, anything that might bring illumination. She did not look away, instead held his gaze for as long as he seemed to desire it and he understood that she meant no hindrance. The intense depth to which he sought to see had rendered him blind, and so he caused his focus to retract so as to glimpse that which she exhibited plainly. He could see her fondness, her desire for him, her patience for him, and there within the unmarked gaze, love; his to keep safe.
His hands trembled and his eyes wavered as she drew closer, kneeling on the bed before him. Still holding his hand, the sharp green glimmer of her gaze rose again to meet his, locking him into a trance. With painstakingly measured patience and profound purpose, her mouth enveloped his newly pride-filled cock. Her lips pressed his flesh, accepting more and still more of him to pass over her cradling tongue. The edges rolled in on his field of vision and he regarded her silken hair where it fell over her shoulders, and the span and the curve of her smooth porcelain back. A soft hum issued from her throat causing her vibrating tongue to make his cock pulse and his body tremble. In a single breath, his lungs pushed enough air past his lips to make an audible sigh -- the thin wet nucleus of a moan. She took him fully then, feeling the soft fleshy head fill the roof of her mouth. The intense heat relaxed his rigid spine and stilled the momentary quivers embedded there.
She took his shaft at the root between thumb and forefinger and formed a ring in compliment to the tight seal of her lips. She pulled back slowly, bringing her fingers along through the hot conflux of wet and sticky. Her eyes remained fixated to his. The sight of his glistening cock which matched perfectly her fingernails, slipping inch-by-inch from her mouth, caused him to moan anew, and his pulse to quicken. She slid her fingers back and forth over a greater length of exposed shaft, moving faster and feeling his tip swell between her suckling lips. Her mouth was withdrawn then, but her tongue was extended and he could see a shimmering bead of pre-come stretching from tip to tip.
Her sliding fingers were moving with greater urgency and she came forward and held his cock tightly in her lips. His moans surpassed an octave and climbed for another and she became flushed as he pulsed and twitched in her mouth. Neither of them could stand it any longer, and impulsively, she wanted him for her cunt. She withdrew from him with a gasp and took his hands and leaned back on her haunches, falling to her back and coaxing him forward, then jerking him again with the whole of her hand as he pulled her legs up to his waist.
"You're doing so well," she whispered up to him.
But his body tensed and she tore loose her emerald gaze, scooted herself beneath him, jerked fast and watched as his pulsing cock was at once a geyser, then a fountain, and at last making a warm white pool in her black thatch. When he had gone slack she took him inside her, wanting to feel his final twitches, to sense for her whole body his pleasured spasms and dwindling surrender. In moments, her eyes went wide and her mouth came open to awe at his unexpected rebirth.
His face met her hair where it pooled around her in a dark halo and he breathed her in. He felt her movements under him and was inspired to join her lead, bringing his hands to hold her breasts, thrusting back against her thrusts through valleys and up mountains into clouds where his eyes became watery and blurred and his breath could not be caught. She climbed with him, feeling her most delicate nerves raked toward capitulation, their rhythmic gyrations becoming stuttered then forceful -- she cried out, latching her lips to his neck -- and then unnecessary. He clung as she did, tightly with the unconditional refusal to surrender the other's body. As they relaxed he watched her, and still she would not kiss his mouth. Numbness was again deceased and he was troubled anew, moving off of her, permitting the gaze on the side of his face whilst he peered at the ceiling. At last, he turned his head and looked through her measured stare. He had learned all he could by staying in this one-room world. He had to leave her, but was loath to offend by his gesture. Nor could he bring himself to simply request from her a light to shine into his darkness, for fear she would find herself part of it. He wanted with all his being to make her believe he knew her, to believe it himself, and the only way he could conceive of making it so was by going from that room.
He rose up from his back and stared at the door, willing himself to meet what lay beyond. Since he could not recall ever having come to this place, he had no idea what to expect. He got to his feet and pulled on his pants and put on his shirt. He padded to the door and placed his hand on the knob. He breathed deeply. A flicker of illumination lit suddenly his mind, sheer in its clarity. If she who possesses so much love is by my side, I will not have to face this alone. He turned to see her looking after him with an expression cast between hope and frustration. He extended his hand. Her face smoothed and a wisp of a smile traced her lips. She stepped off the bed and held aloft a finger -- bidding him wait.
She went to the bathroom and returned and donned an ornate robe, and ran her hand under her hair with a deft move to let it fall over her shoulders. She came near and placed her hand in his, watching him as he watched his own take the knob and turn it. They made their way down a hallway and came to a flight of stairs. He did not look to her, but faced his decision himself. He led her down the stairway, and the smell of a traditional Japanese breakfast became apparent to his senses.
An older man, a middle-aged man, and a dignified woman with graying hair stood before a low table set with dishes for five. He passed his eyes from one man to the other searching for an answer -- and to the dignified woman -- but their expressions said naught. He looked to his side at the young woman, to whom many of the elders' features belonged. Her eyes were cast downward. The two men and the woman all wore formal attire. They were his elders. He knew it commanded precedence. Instinct obliged him to bow and he did so, gratuitously low. His elders immediately returned his bow and the eldest swept his arm over the table, inviting everyone to sit and begin eating.
The moment they were seated, the elders began to eat, and he watched the unabated feasting. A steamy cloud rose before him and the scent was a blessing. He found his chopsticks, they fit his hand, and he began eating, wondering once again whether he might be mistaken and discover himself truly Asian.
The eldest man began to speak and he looked up to see the three had finished eating. He glanced to his right and saw the young woman was unmoved. Her hands were folded into her lap.
"We are united this morning because you have come to my home to make an important request. One of the most important for this family," the old man said. The other two elders stared while the eldest man continued.
"Have you done what is required?" The young woman nodded and slowly brought her eyes up to regard each of the elders, respectfully. "The mind?" he asked her.
"Curious," she replied, in a small but firm voice. "Strong and sensitive in the same instant. Very giving, desiring to glean understanding. Actively seeking knowledge, while being modest and -- " she dropped her head.
"Yes?" the eldest asked.
"Sometimes fearful."
He looked at the elders and then over to the young woman. The line of questioning had offered him scarce insight into what was taking place and served only to compound his confusion and anxiety. They knew him. He believed it was he they discussed, but as if he were not in the room. He had initiated the meal with a bow and then become invisible. The eldest man reached for his tea and held it aloft while the others did the same. He followed suit.
"If he sought only to remain in your arms, say so." The young woman said naught.
"If he sought only to leave you behind, say so." She did not reply.
"If he sought only to defile you, say so." She remained mute. He dropped his shoulders and lowered his eyes, becoming so close to screaming out that his temples burned, such was his bewilderment.
"Then he is proven and we shall now drink." The eldest drank from the tea and the others did the same. He lifted his stony gaze and attempted once more to seek fulfillment through a final measure of much weathered patience. He brought the teacup to his lips and drank. A powerful herbal aroma assaulted his nostrils and cleared his sinuses. He burst out laughing. The three elders began to chuckle quietly as they drank, their eyes appraising his sips. He laughed again -- a fearful repressed giggle -- and looked over at the young woman who gazed up at him.
"Lin!" He reached for her and clung to her, tears alight in his eyes. "I didn't know, I didn't know, I didn't know anything." It was all he could repeat over and again as she soothed him and pleaded for him to understand that everything was fine now. The younger of the two elders reached out and put his arm on the young man's shoulder.
"You are with family and soon all your memories will reappear. Do you remember the trial?" he asked. The young man shook his head.
"Not quite. Something. A little." His mind was still mostly a fog.
"Last night, when you brought Lin home, you asked me and her grandfather for her hand in marriage." He looked over at Lin who held his hand in her lap. "You agreed to the trial of pure intention and drank from a powerful herbal tea that slowly stripped away your memory as you slept. It peeled your mind to its core, and left you in a place not protected by the knowledge of experience and safety. This requires you to rely on instinct and your heart's internal code of will." Last night's conversation was beginning to come clear, and the eldest man spoke next.
"Some men cannot cope when they've gone to sleep with boundaries and been made to wake without walls. The trial does not seek to place obstacles before you, but instead challenges you to survive when there is nothing at all, much less impediment. You have risen above, conquered through quiet and patience. Most importantly, you took Lin by your side to face the unknown.
"Lin-sama," her grandfather turned. "He showed fear, but that is not the fear of a man who is a coward, but a man who possesses great strength and wishes to do what is right with the responsibility such fortitude bears. Do you have anything to ask this man who asks for you?"
She nodded. "Only one thing, grandfather." She turned to face her lover and gazed searchingly into his eyes. "Why did you never request from me the reason for your memory lapse? You only stared lost for those long periods and then turned to seek solace within. Could this show that deep down you do not trust me?" He held her hands and placed them against his chest.
"I wanted to ask you again and again the nature of things up there. I was frightened. I looked at you and I beheld many answers. In the end, the only answers I truly needed. But I could not bring myself to let on that I did not know you." He broke down and tears welled at his lids and began to course his cheeks. "That this enigmatic creature before me might suddenly disappear or be enveloped in a torrent of anger should I confess a blankness to the love she had shown through her eyes. Lin, I would have gladly remained eternally ignorant would the alternative mean being deprived of you." His words had a profound impact and she clung to him and wept. Her father nodded sagely and the three elders regarded one another, likewise nodding in agreement.
"Is it so," he said. "My permission is yours."
