The Maiden, chapter nine

[maculategiraffe]

Sean showed up in the kitchen for dinner when Jonas, Nick, Drew and Kyle were already well underway, and hesitated in the doorway to the kitchen, looking at the four occupied chairs.

"Oh, hey," said Kyle, not finding it as hard to smile at Sean as he would have thought. "We didn't know if you'd be here or not-- hang on, I'll set another place."

Sean stood still in the doorway, watching while Kyle got down a plate, a glass, and extracted flatware from a drawer. He set them down at the table next to himself, and then dragged one of the kitchen chairs that sat against the wall up to the table in front of them.

"Come on, sit down," he said to Sean, who came forward and sat, looking down at his empty plate. "Get yourself some food. You okay?"

Sean nodded without looking up.

"Hey," said Kyle, smiling again, reassuringly. "We're not women. You can talk."

Sean looked up at Kyle and said softly, "Thank you. For earlier."

"No problem," said Kyle, and since Sean wasn't making a move to fill his own plate, spooned rice and then vegetables onto it. "Eat something. Did you get lunch?"

"Yes," said Sean.

"Wow," said Nick. "Doesn't he ever let anybody else get a word in edgewise?"

"Shut up, Nick," said Kyle. "He's just shy."

Sean picked up his fork and started mechanically shoveling in food, as Nick drawled, "Drew, I think you've got competition."

"Shut up, Nick," said Kyle between his teeth. Drew hadn't reacted, but Sean glanced from him to Kyle in obvious puzzlement. "Don't pay any attention to him, Sean. Just eat."

Sean ate, slowly but steadily, without lifting his eyes from his plate; to break the silence without distracting him, Kyle said, "Jonas, you're a reader-- have you ever read much about women's history?"

"Nope," said Jonas, without hesitation. "I stick to the fun stuff. All those weird old stories men used to write, before we got enlightened half to death. Why?"

"I was reading an interesting book in the library earlier," said Kyle. "About the time when girls first started to get the power."

"And fried men right and left," said Jonas. "I know the basics. What's so interesting?"

"I don't know," said Kyle. "It's just-- some of the details-- it was Salem I was reading about. All the stuff with the devil."

"Didn't that one little girl kill her father?" Nick asked idly. "Or was it her uncle?"

"Two of them were cousins," said Jonas. "Didn't you learn this in school, Kyle? The magister-- no, what's the word-- minister-- he was the one girl's father, and the other one's uncle. Who knows which one actually killed him. Maybe both. And then that doctor-- the other girl, what's her name, Elizabeth, she was his servant. He was probably raping her. Women were always getting raped back then."

"Is that what your fun stories are about?" Kyle asked irritably.

"Nah," said Jonas, unperturbed. "Though I do like the stuff about fathers giving women in marriage to men they didn't want. And men killing the women they were sleeping with because they thought they'd been sleeping with other men. Like to see us try now, huh?"

Sean looked up at Kyle, then dropped his eyes quickly back to his plate. Kyle scowled at Jonas, who looked back at him with wide, innocent eyes.

"Only joking," he said cheerfully. "Though if Nick's right about Carol's father, it might--"

He broke off almost in mid-word, blood draining startlingly from his face and leaving it ashen, as he looked past Kyle's head. Kyle turned, startled, to see Bonnie in the doorway to the kitchen, her red-gold eyebrows raised the merest fraction. Kyle swallowed hard.

"Kyle," said Bonnie, without looking at Jonas, "have you finished eating?"

Heart pounding, praying she hadn't overheard what Jonas had been saying, Kyle nodded.

"Then the magistra would like to see you in her bedroom," she said, and Kyle rose at once, leaving his plate; the others would clear it off for him. It wouldn't do to keep his protectrix waiting.

Bonnie didn't move from the doorway, though. After a moment she asked conversationally, "Do you men speculate a lot about Carol's father?"

No one answered. Nick was so pale that his freckles stood out alarmingly, and beads of sweat had broken out on his forehead; Jonas didn't look much healthier. Sean's eyes were fixed on his lap; Drew's were on Bonnie.

"Don't believe everything you hear," said Bonnie, and then she turned, jerking her head peremptorily at Kyle, who followed her quickly without a backward glance at the silent table.

Bonnie led the way out of the kitchen, and then pointed Kyle wordlessly on his way while she took a turning down a different hall. Kyle was relieved; if she'd been planning to report to Rita on the conversation she'd overheard, she probably would have gone with him to do it right away. He moved towards Rita's room with only slightly unsteady legs.








When he knocked on her bedroom door, Rita's voice called, "Come in," and he slipped inside, closing the door behind him and waiting just inside it for further instructions.

Rita lay on her side on the bed, wearing white cotton panties but nothing else. She didn't look happy, or particularly inviting. She didn't look displeased either, though; she looked, he guessed, pensive, and a bit sad.

"Take off your clothes," she said, without moving, and he pulled off his shirt and started to fold it. "Just drop it on the floor."

He did, and then unbuttoned his jeans, hesitating for a moment and then leaving his underwear in place while he stepped out of the jeans and left them, too, lying on the floor.

"Come on," she said. "Come lie down with me."

He came obediently and lay down on his side, facing her, not touching; it was her prerogative to touch him, or invite touch. She didn't move, though. Her eyes lingered on his face, then skated away, sliding towards the pillow on which her head rested.

"I don't want Sean," she said. "I don't want any man but you."

She'd said things like that before, but then it had sounded as if she were trying to soothe Kyle, make him feel better about being replaced. Now she didn't sound soothing; she sounded almost sulky, like a little girl protesting that she didn't want to eat her spinach.

"You need a daughter," he said after a moment.

"Do I?" Her eyes came back to his face. "Carol is gifted-- and there's Adele, too, when she's old enough. Emily will want my help with training her, I'm sure."

"But you're the magistra," said Kyle. "You need a girl of your own. And Sean--" He tried to smile. "Maybe Sean can-- do it. For you."

She finally reached out and touched his cheek, so softly, her fingertips brushing over his skin like feathers. He moved his head towards her, wanting more of her touch, her gentleness, craving it like a drug; her palm curled against his temple, fingers threading through his hair, sliding through the curls, her nails tickling the back of his neck, and he made a small, happy sound.

"I don't understand you," she said, but her tone wasn't annoyed or impatient; it was soft, dreamy, tender. "You were so angry at Sean-- you frightened me, with how angry you were. And then you asked me to keep him-- and now-- you speak for him again."

"It's not his fault," said Kyle, his eyes half closed as she kept stroking him. "That he's replacing me."

"Whose fault is it, then?" asked Rita, her hand pausing, cupping the back of his neck. "Mine?"

"No," said Kyle, his eyes opening again, and reached out for her, seeing how pale and unhappy she looked, to curl his hand around her shoulder. "No, magistra-- Rita-- it's not your fault."

"Maybe I can't have children," Rita said. "Maybe I'm barren."

Kyle stared at her, frozen-- if anyone else had said it he would have been terrified for that person, but that Rita herself should say it, so bleakly--

"It's my fault," he said, both because it was the only acceptable truth and because he wanted, somehow, to comfort her. "I-- failed."

"Kyle--" Rita moved closer, so suddenly that she scared him a little, and pushed himself into his arms, wrapping her own arms around him. He moved his head to rest his cheek against her neck, breathing deeply; her smell was of myrrh, and sage, and skin.

"You didn't fail," she whispered in his ear. "It's not your fault, Kyle-- even if you can't-- even if you aren't capable of fatherhood-- that isn't your fault either. You're a good man, you're--"

She kissed his earlobe, and the rim of his ear, and the soft skin behind it; he shuddered and wrapped his arms around her, pressing her closer to him, her breasts against his chest.

"Thank you," he whispered, just before her lips found his.

She kissed him softly, sweetly, her hands stroking his back, and he kissed her back, reveling in the taste of her lips until she pulled away, bending her head to kiss his neck, then his collarbone, and then left a trail of gentle kisses down his chest, to his nipples; he quivered as she sucked one into her mouth, licked it and nibbled it. His penis was hardening against her stomach, but she ignored it and sucked on the other nipple while he whimpered quietly. Then she looked up at him, smiling, her eyes dark, her lips and cheeks pink.

"Please--" Kyle pushed his pelvis against her, a little, rubbing his hardness through his underwear on her soft, yielding stomach. "Please-- touch me-- please--"

"No," said Rita, and wiggled back up his body, still smiling at him, beautiful and happy.

"Please--"

"No," said Rita again, pushing her pelvis back against his, the friction-- the thin cotton cloth of her underpants against his, the heat of the skin underneath-- getting him even harder.

"Rita--" Kyle caught his breath.

She reached down and slid her fingers under the band of his underwear, slipping them down his hips, but even when they got caught on his erection she didn't touch it, just wiggled the underpants free and slid them down. Then she pushed herself closer again, rubbed the cotton of her groin on his dick, almost gripping it between her warm thighs, and he groaned desperately.

"Please touch me," he gasped again, "please please Rita please--"

"Touch yourself," she said, and laughed at the look on his face. "Go ahead. You can touch yourself now, you don't have to worry-- here--"

She took one of his hands, guided it down to his dick, and wrapped it firmly around the shaft.

"Oh," she said, and rolled away from him, too quickly-- he wanted her warmth, her body, close to him again-- but she was out of the bed, leaving him holding himself in his hand like an idiot, and rummaging in the top drawer of the dresser, bringing out the lube, and then she was back, sitting by him, and said, "Let go."

He did, and she uncapped the little tube and drizzled it carefully on his hot erection, in squiggles; he whined softly at the faint, faint touch, the slight chill.

"Put your hand back," she said, and he obeyed. "Stroke yourself."

It had been so long since he'd risked anything of the sort-- so long since any hand but hers had stroked him-- that he was awkward, at first. And it didn't help that she was watching-- he'd never masturbated with a woman watching him, it felt-- something-- disrespectful? But he was so fucking horny, and it felt so good, handling himself-- he knew, after all, just the right amount of pressure to apply, just when to tighten and speed up, and her eyes were half closed and her mouth a little open and suddenly it did help that she was watching, it helped very much, and after a minute, his hot cock in his hot hand, he had to stop, he had to say, hoarsely, "May I--"

"Yes," she said, and he gasped and started again and speeded up, rough, rougher than she ever was with him, manhandling himself, and then he spurted all over her stomach, and she smiled and without even wiping herself off dropped down into his arms, kissing him again while she slid a hand down to push at her own panties. He reached down to help, and when they were down around her knees, she kicked them to one ankle and spread her legs wide, then snapped her fingers and pointed between them.

Kyle didn't need any more than that; he scrambled down the bed, burying his face at her groin, plunging in his tongue right away; she was insanely wet, her clitoris swollen, and he sucked it like a berry, dipping his tongue into the sweet slick of her arousal, until she gasped and shuddered, once, and then again, and then said, "Enough-- come back--"

She took him in her arms again, kissing his mouth, licking her own juices from his lips and cheeks, and then was still. He held her, the soft warm looseness of her satisfied body, against him, until she spoke.

"Kyle," she said, "you know-- now-- you don't have to ask permission to touch yourself. To orgasm-- when you like."

"Right," said Kyle, and summoned his courage to take the opening she'd just inadvertantly given him. "Actually-- uh-- magistra-- I wanted to ask you about-- something. To do with that."

"Yes?"

"It's just--" He cleared his throat. "Um-- what about-- other people? Touching me? Now-- now that I'm not-- your, your stud, any more. Would it be all right if-- other people-- were, uh, intimate? With me? If they wanted to be?"

"Who?" Rita asked after a moment, and Kyle was startled and frightened by the cool evenness of her voice. "Leah? Has she offered to protect you?"

"No," said Kyle, stunned. "No-- no-- I wouldn't even think-- Rita, please, I need your protection, please--"

"Of course," she said, her hand moving over his back, gently. "It's yours, dear. I only thought-- Leah has always liked you-- and if you were thinking of other women--"

"No, I wasn't," said Kyle. "I didn't-- uh, I didn't mean-- another woman."

Her hand stopped moving, and there was silence for an endless minute before she said carefully, "Has someone-- molested you?"

"No!" This was getting awful. Kyle wished he hadn't spoken, but it was far too late to back down now; she'd be left thinking that some man had groped him and he'd been scared to tell her who, which would spell an awful lot of trouble for Jonas, Nick, Drew, and maybe even Sean. "No, he-- he hasn't done anything, he wouldn't-- but-- if it were all right with you-- he'd-- he'd like to."

"And would you like to?"

"If it were all right with you," Kyle repeated.

"Who is 'he'?" asked Rita.

Kyle hesitated, biting his lip, worried by her voice, which was still too cool and quiet. "Magistra, he-- he needs your protection, too."

"I won't withdraw it," said Rita. "Not if he hasn't hurt you."

"You promise?" Kyle asked, like a child, but Rita's tone was serious when she answered, "I promise."

Kyle took a deep breath. "It's Drew."

Rita nodded, and put her hand up to stroke Kyle's hair.

"In the morning," she said, "tell him to come see me in my office."

"Rita--"

"What's wrong?" Rita laid her hand along Kyle's cheek. "Kyle, I'm not going to hurt him. He's done nothing wrong. Has he?"

Kyle shook his head emphatically, and Rita kissed him on the forehead.

"I just want to talk to him," she said. "Trust me, dear."

Comments

[elmyraemilie]

The weather outside during these scenes must surely be rolling clouds, strong wind and lightning on the horizon. Looming. Menacing. Something hanging in the air.

Shy?

[eileenlufkin]

"Shut up, Nick," said Kyle. "He's just shy."

I wondered about this, so I reread the first chapter. Partly because of the way he was able to smile at the woman who gave him food and touched his shoulder, but mostly because of his first conversion with Kyle, I don't think Sean is really shy. I think he's still getting over his PSTD inspired panic attack. He may also have realized that letting Kyle take care of him is the way to get along with Kyle.

I'm enjoying getting to know more about all the other characters.