cb.imajica2-第14部分

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ted　there。　This　time　she　didn't　mpve　from　the　room　in　which　she　lay　but　luxuriated　in　its　excesses；　rising　and　falling　like　the　veils　around　the　bed；　and　on　the　same　smoky　breeze。　Once　in　a　while　she　heard　some　sound　from　the　courtyards　far　below　and　allowed　her　eyes　to　flutter　open　for　the　sheer　lazy　pleasure　of　closing　them　again；　and　once　she　was　woken　by　the　sound　of　Concupiscentia's　reedy　voice　as　she　sang　in　a　distant　room。　Though　the　words　were　inprehensible；　Jude　knew　it　was　a　lament；　full　of　yearning　for　things　that　had　passed　and　could　never　be　again；　and　she　slipped　back　into　sleep　with　the　thought　that　sad　songs　were　the　same　in　any　language；　whether　Gaelic；　Navaho；　or　Patashoquan。　Like　the　glyph　of　her　body；　this　melody　was　essential；　a　sign　that　could　pass　between　Dominions。
　The　music　and　the　scent　she　lay　upon　were　potent　narcotics；　and　after　a　few　melancholy　verses　of　Concupiscentia's　song　she　was　no　longer　sure　whether　she　was　asleep；　and　hearing　the　lament　in　her　dreams；　or　awake；　but　freed　by　Quaisoir's　perfumes　and　wafted　up　into　the　folds　of　silks　above　her　bed　like　a　dreamer。　Whichever　it　was；　she　scarcely　cared。　The　sensations　were　pleasurable；　and　she'd　had　too　little　pleasure　of　late。
　Then　came　proof　that　this　was　indeed　a　dream。　A　doleful　phantom　appeared　at　the　door　and　stood　watching　her　through　the　veils。　She　knew　him　even　before　he　drew　close　to　the　bed。　This　was　not　a　face　she'd　thought　of　much　hi　recent　times；　so　it　was　somewhat　strange　that　she'd　conjured　him；　but　conjure　him　she　had；　and　there　was　no　denying　the　erotic　charge　she　felt　at　his　dreamed　presence。　It　was　Gentle；　perfectly　remembered；　his　expression　troubled　the　way　it　so　often　was；　his　hands　stroking　the　veils　as　though　they　were　her　legs　and　could　be　parted　with　caresses；
　〃I　didn't　think　you'd　be　here；〃　he　said　to　her。　His　voice　was　raw；　and　his　expression　as　full　of　loss　as　Concupis…centia's　song。　〃When　did　you　e　back？〃
　〃A　little　while　ago。〃
　〃You　smell　so　sweet。〃
　〃I　bathed。〃
　〃Looking　at　you　tike　this　。。。　it　makes　me　wish　I　could　take　you　with　me。〃
　〃Where　are　you　going？〃
　〃Back　to　the　Fifth；〃　he　said。　〃I've　e　to　say　goodbye。〃
　〃From　such　a　distance？〃　she　said。
　His　face　broke　into　an　immoderate　smile；　and　she　remembered；　seeing　it；　how　easy　seduction　had　always　been　for　him：　how　women　had　slid　then…　wedding　rings　off　and　their　knickers　down　when　he　shone　this　way。　But　why　be　churlish？　This　was　an　erotic　whimsy；　not　a　trial。　She　dreamed　that　he　saw　the　accusation　in　her　eyes；　however；　and　was　begging　her　forgiveness。
　〃I　know　I've　done　you　harm；〃　he　said。
　〃That's　in　the　past；〃　she　replied　magnanimously。
　〃Looking　at　you　now。。。〃
　〃Don't　be　sentimental；〃　she　said。　〃I　don't　want　sentiment。　I　want　you　here。〃
　Opening　her　legs；　she　let　him　see　the　niche　she　had　for　him。　He　didn't　hesitate　any　longer；　but　pulled　the　veil　aside　and　climbed　onto　the　bed；　wrenching　the　robe　from　her　shoulders　as　he　put　his　mouth　against　hers。　For　some　reason；　she'd　conjured　him　tasting　of　chocolate。　Another　oddity；　but　not　one　that　spoiled　his　kisses。
　She　tugged　at　his　clothes；　but　they　were　a　dream　invention：　the　dark　blue　fabric　of　his　shirt；　its　laces　and　buttons　in　fetishistic　profusion；　covered　in　tiny　scales；　as　though　a　family　of　lizards　had　shed　their　skins　to　clothe　him。
　She　was　tender　from　the　bath；　and　when　he　let　his　weight　descend　on　her；　and　began　to　work　his　body　against　hers；　the　scales　pricked　her　stomach　and　breasts　hi　the　most　arousing　way。　She　wrapped　her　legs　around　him；　and　he　acceded　to　her　capture；　his　kisses　being　fiercer　by　the　moment。
　〃The　things　we've　done；〃　he　murmured　as　she　kissed　his　face。　〃The　things　we've　done。。。。〃
　Her　heart　made　her　mind　nimble；　it　leapt　from　memory　to　memory；　back　to　the　book　she'd　found　in　Estabrook's　flat　all　those　months　before…one　of　Oscar's　gifts　from　the　Dominions…a　manual　of　sexual　possibilities　that　had　shocked　her　at　the　time。　Images　of　its　couplings　appeared　in　her　head　now：　intimacies　that　were　perhaps　only　possible　in　the　profligacy　of　sleep；　unknitting　both　male　and　female　and　weaving　them　together　again　in　new　and　ecstatic　binations。　She　put　her　mouth　to　her　dream　lover's　ear　and　whispered　to　him　that　she　forbade　him　nothing；　that　she　wanted　them　to　share　the　most　extreme　sensations　they　were　capable　of　inventing。　He　didn't　grin　this　time；　which　pleased　her；　but　raised　himself　up　on　his　hands；　which　were　plunged　into　the　downy　pillows　to　either　side　of　her　head；　and　looked　down　at　her　with　some　of　the　same　sadness　he'd　had　on　his　face　when　he'd　first　arrived。
　〃One　last　time？〃　he　said。
　〃It　doesn't　have　to　be　the　last　time；〃　she　said。　〃I　can　always　dream　you。〃
　〃And　me；　you；〃　he　said　with　the　greatest　fondness　and　courtesy。
　She　reached　down　between　their　bodies　and　slipped　off　his　belt；　then　pulled　his　trousers　open　with　some　violence；　unwilling　to　be　delayed　by　his　buttons。　What　filled　her　hand　was　as　silken　as　the　fabric　hiding　it　was　rough：　still　only　half　engorged；　but　all　the　more　entertaining　for　that。　She　stroked　him。　He　sighed　as　he　bent　his　head　towards　her；　licking　her　tips　and　teeth；　letting　his　chocolate…sweetened　spittle　run　off　his　tongue　into　her　mouth。　She　raised　her　hips　and　moved　the　groove　of　her　sex　against　the　underside　of　his　erection；　wetting　it。　He　started　to　murmur　to　her；　terms　of　endearment；　she　presumed；　though…like　Concupis…centia's　song…they　were　in　no　language　she　understood。　They　sounded　as　sweet　as　his　spittle；　however；　and　lulled　her　like　a　cradle　song；　as　though　to　slip　her　into　a　dream　within　a　dream。　As　her　eyes　closed　she　felt　him　raise　his　hips；　lifting　the　thickness　of　his　sex　from　between　her　labia；　and　with　one　thrust；　hard　enough　to　stab　the　breath　from　her；　he　entered；　dropping　down　on　top　of　her　as　he　did　so。
　The　endearments　ceased；　the　kisses　too。　He　put　one　hand　on　her　brow；　his　fingers　laced　into　her　hair；　and　the　other　at　her　neck；　his　thumb　rubbing　her　windpipe　and　coaxing　sighs　from　it。　She'd　forbidden　him　nothing　and　would　not　rescind　that　invitation　simply　because　his　possession　of　her　was　so　sudden。　Instead；　she　raised　her　legs　and　crossed　them　behind　his　back；　then　started　to　whip　him　on　with　insults。　Was　this　the　most　he　could　give　her；　the　deepest　he　could　go？　He　wasn't　hard　enough；　wasn't　hot　enough。　She　wanted　more。　His　thrusts　speeded　up；　his　thumb　tightening　against　her　throat；　but　not　so　much　it　kept　her　from　drawing　breath　and　expelling　it　again　in　a　fresh　round　of　provocations。
　〃I　could　fuck　you　forever；〃　he　said　to　her；　his　tone　halfway　between　devotion　and　threat。　〃There's　nothing　I　can't　make　you　do。　There's　nothing　I　can't　make　you　say。　I　could　fuck　you　forever。〃
　This　was　not　talk　she　would　have　weled　from　a　flesh…and…blood　lover；　but　in　a　dream　it　was　arousing。　She　let　him　continue　in　the　same　mode；　opening　her　arms　and　legs　beneath　him；　while　he　recited　all　that　he　would　do　to　her；　a　litany　of　ambition　that　matched　the　rhythm　of　his　hips。　The　room　her　dream　had　raised　around　them　split　here　and　there；　and　another　seeped　in　through　the　cracks　to　occupy　the　same　space：　this　one　darker　than　Quaisoir's　veil…draped　chamber　and　lit　by　a　fire　that　blazed　off　to　her　left。　Her　dream　lover　didn't　fade；　however；　he　remained　with　her　and　in　her；　more　frenzied　in　his　thrusts　and　promises　than　ever。　She　saw　him　above　her　as　if　lit　by　the　same　flames　that　warmed　her　nakedness；　his　face　knotted　and　sweaty；　his　index　of　desires　ing　between　clenched　teeth。　She　would　be　his　doll；　his　whore；　his　wife；　his　Goddess；　he　would　fill　every　hole　of　her；　forever　and　ever：　own　her；　worship　her；　turn　her　inside　out　Hearing　this；　she　remembered　the　images　in　Estabrook's　book　again；　and　the　memory　made　her　cells　swell　as　if　each　was　a　tiny　bud　ready　to　burst；　their　petals　pleasure；　their　scent　the　shouts　she　was　making；　rising　off　her　to　draw　fresh　adoration　from　him。　It　came；　cruel　and　exquisite　by　turns。　One　moment　he　wanted　to　be　her　prisoner；　bound　to　her　every　whim；　nourished　on　her　shit　and　the　milk　he'd　win　from　her　breasts　with　suckling。　The　next　she　was　less　than　the　excrement　he'd　hungered　for；　and　he　was　her　only　hope　for　life。　He'd　resurrect　her　with　his　fuck。　He'd　fill　her　with　a　fiery　stream；　till　her　eyes　were　washed　from　her　head　and　she　drowned　in　him。　There　was　more；　but　her　cries　of　pleasure　were　mounting　with　every　moment；　and　she　heard　less　and　less。　Saw　less　too；　closing　her　eyes　against　the　mingled　rooms；　fire…lit　and　veiled；　letting　her　head　fill　with　the　geometries　that　always　attended　pleasure；　forms　like　her　glyph　unraveled　and　reworked。
　And　then；　just　as　she　was　reaching　the　first　of　the　peaks…a　range　of　stratospheric　heights　ahead…she　felt　him　shudder　and　his　thrusts　stop。　She　didn't　believe　he'd　finished；　not　at　first。　This　was　a　dream；　and　she'd　conjured　him　to　perform　the　way　actualities　never　did：　to　go　on　when　lovers　of　flesh　and　blood　had　spilled　their　promises　and　were　panting　their　apologies　beside　her。　He　couldn't　desert　her　now！　She　opened　her　eyes。　The　fire…lit　chamber　had　gone；　and　the　flames　in　Gentle's　eyes　had　gone　with　it。　He　had　already　withdrawn；　and　all　she　felt　between　her　legs　was　his　fingers；　dabbling　in　the　dribble　he'd　supplied。　He　looked　at