.. | the waterstreet mill | chapter 6 The day I decided to ask wasn't too different from any other day. It was dreary outside but the constant mist of rain was comforting to me. I had begun to really like the grayness of winter; its lethargy, the serene monotony of the landscape, the shiny cobblestone streets of my city. For several days after Ghen's suggestion I watched with butterflies in my stomach as Hunter went about his daily business. He conducted himself as usual, unaware of what I desired from him but still saving a little smile for me when our eyes happened to meet. I had often wondered what that smile meant- Perhaps he did know what I wanted? The thought made me shiver. After the midday meals, everyone wandered off to their rooms for a regenerating afternoon nap before the late night, a custom that I had adapted to very quickly. I didn't have to work tonight but I went to my room anyway so that I could be alone. During that time as I lay on my bed, I stared out the window and thought deeply about what I was going to do, as if preparing myself for some great battle. Though the mute colors outside would have been soothing to me otherwise, my stomach began to flutter with nerves the longer I thought about it. It would be impossible to sleep until this was out of the way. Now that the idea had grapple-hooked into my head, one way or another, it was going to happen. At least that's what I told myself. The want was there, and most certainly the need. All that was left to do now was gather enough nerve to go against the very embedded nature of my being and transform from my well-known shy sweetness to the brazenness of a common prostitute. The analogy made me wince at myself and I resolved to think of it more pleasantly, like what would I learn from him, should he agree. But what if he didn't..? Then where would I be? No, he was professional and open-minded, he would surely give me a chance. Or not. I remained in that wavering state until late evening. I had tried to escape my nervousness and pass the time by reading but nothing would stay in my head. I had spent hours up here alone, reading the same paragraph over and over again, trying to wait until the crowds were gone. But by dinnertime I could no longer stand it. I couldn't wait anymore. So I snapped my book closed and resolutely pushed myself up. With a numbed mind I got dressed, took a glance or two in my mirror, and headed downstairs. The crowds had hardly thinned; indeed, there was promise they would get worse before the end of the night. I pushed my way through, trying not to shove people who stood in the way between me and the end of my torment. Ghen saw me and waved. I waved back, hoping and praying he wouldn't try to get to me and ask why I was down on my night off. But I saw he was busy talking to Josif instead of his usual friends, something that was happing quite often as of late, and knew I was safe. Hunter was reading his papers when I sauntered into his den. A half-full wine glass sat next to his elbow and beyond that, a half-empty decanter of wine. He always drank red, and usually a good deal of it; I'd always attributed his languid, easy-going nature to it during hectic and rowdy nights. I hoped he'd been at it tonight, though by the set of his jaw I could tell he was concentrating intently on his task and the wine had probably been forgotten. He looked up at the sudden flood of noise let in by the open door. My resolve fell a little; he looked so busy! Should I disturb him more or let him be? No, it must be now. Like a horse at the races I faltered at the gate, but knew that once that door had opened there was no way to go but forward. Hunter had gone back to his reading when he saw it was only me, and gestured without looking up for me to close the door. I did so, and the proverbial starting gate closed and locked behind me. I waited for him to finish as he set his papers down and glanced up again, his hair in his eyes. He looked tired and worn and I wondered again if perhaps I should have chosen a better night, when he didn't look so frustrated and easily annoyed. I didn't notice how the moments were passing while I dealt with my self-doubt; he was waiting for me to say something, explain my reason for being there. At my silence, he brushed his hair out of his face. "Micah?" he asked, his voice soft but distant. To fill the silence, I heard myself ask, "Am I bothering you?" He blinked, then smiled wearily. With a great sigh he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his face. I watched his ribs move under his shirt as he stretched. "No, you're not bothering me," he said. He leaned forward again, picked up the dark bottle of wine. I listened to the clink of the glass as he poured and watched him take a sip. "I wanted to talk with you about something." With a slight cock of his head he waited for me to go on. There was no way I was about to do this. No way. Hunter raised an eyebrow as the door shut but said nothing. I squared my shoulders to him and my heart began to beat fiercely in my chest and throat. No way, no way. "I want to do it," I said quickly. "I want to be like the others." He just looked at me for a moment, as if he hadn't heard. Then he looked confused. "But, Micah," he said, sounding startled. "I thought you didn't approve of that sort of thing-" "I didn't," I said quickly. "Not after... all that happened but..." I looked away from his eyes, not wanting to recall those events that had left me crying in his arms only a few months earlier. But if that hadn't happened, would I be standing here now with this question on my lips? Or would I have continued on, content to be silent and ordinary? I cleared my throat. "But I've been thinking lately and... I just think I could really do it." I recalled Ghen's words to help my confidence. Hunter raised an eyebrow. His obvious skepticism was not encouraging. "I can't stop you from doing it if you're very sure," he said. Then, after thinking it over for a moment, "You understand what you'll be doing, don't you? It's not all as neat and pretty as Ghen and the others make it out to be, especially to someone with no experience." There, he'd said it himself. My insecurity lessened a bit as he gave me such an easy opportunity to make the real confession. I wrung my hands so that he wouldn't notice their trembling. The point was moot; he noticed the gesture and I saw him become suspicious about whatever he thought I was going to say next. He leaned forward in his chair towards me and put his elbows on his knees, perceptive as ever. I took another deep breath and he waited patiently again. "I know I don't… know a lot," I said, stumbling over my words. "Almost nothing really." My nervous laugh sounded frayed. "But that's why I was wondering if you could, well, um, help me-" I closed my eyes and berated myself for stuttering like a child. "Micah?" he said. I looked back at him and could tell by his face alone that he had very much understood what I had been trying to ask. I felt myself flush to the core and there was an uneasy silence when I looked away, unable to hold his mystified expression. I hadn't expected that look to cross his face. Annoyance, mild amusement, even an outright laugh in the face I had expected, but not this look of simple bewilderment. He suddenly got up and paced a few steps. I stood like a prisoner awaiting sentence, knowing I was doomed but dreading to hear the words. He turned to face me again. Before he could speak, I piped up again. "I know that you choose your... friends carefully," I said, feeling like I was damning myself even more. "Everyone knows that you do. But I was hoping that you could maybe look at it as a, you know, teaching experience." I swallowed. Then, softly, "I can't think of anyone else I trust enough." He just gazed at me, his mouth slightly gaping. I had truly caught him completely off-guard, probably as no one else had. At least I had accomplished that much. After a moment, he cleared his throat to compose himself. "You want me to..?" he asked, not even finishing the sentence. I flushed hotly, feeling the burn to the tips of my ears. Meekly, I answered, "Yes." My legs were trembling. I looked up at him again, praying for a quick answer and knowing that it didn't matter if he said yes or no at this point, our relationship was changed. It was up to him now whether or not it would be bearable to look him in the eye ever again. But at that moment, thankfully or not, Ghen poked his head around the door. He didn't know I had chosen tonight or else I was sure he'd have been leaning there with an ear to the door. "Hunter, Josif says he has to leave and I don't think Dray is coming in to take over the bar if he goes." "I'll be there in a minute," Hunter answered, once again the Boss. Ghen gave me a once over before closing the door again. Hunter looked at me for a moment longer before brushing past me to tend to his inn. I wondered if he was thankful for the distraction as means of escape. "We can speak later about this," he said, pulling on his outer shirt which had been discarded over his desk. "When the crowds are gone. Ok?" At my feeble nod, he left. I stood there alone in his study, watching the door slide to a close after him. When he said later, he meant much later. Deep into the night. Numb once more I had made my way back to my room to lay on my bed, feeling sick to my stomach. What had I done? Part of me refused to even believe I had just propositioned Hunter, and the other part was rebuking myself for it. What right had I to ask something like that? Especially of someone who was more discerning about his ten-minute partners than one was about choosing a wife or a trade? What had I to all those beautiful exotics he gracefully left with nightly? Eventually, though, my candles burned out and despite my nerves I fell asleep on my belly, my head in my arms. I hadn't realized how tired I was, how much working myself up had taken out of me. It was the opening of my bedroom door that awakened me with a fright. My heart pounded furiously until I recognized his figure from the light behind him. Hunter shut the door to the hall and silently lit a new candle or two next to my bedside. He sat down next to me, still looking weary and worn but his eyes were bright. I wondered if he had finished his wine tonight, or worse, had already found his lover for the evening and had no interest in me. "There's more to teach than the act itself," he said suddenly, without waiting for any reaction from me. "There is being able to read and then choose the right ones, please them just enough, and gracefully get your rewards. But most importantly," he said, leaning down a bit and looking me square in the eye, "is that you must know what you are worth, and I'm not talking about the money." I felt hot under his scrutiny and resisted the urge to cower and look away. That urge of course, was exactly what he was talking about. "Before anything else, I would teach you that right now," he said. He reached out and raised my chin so that I had to hold his gaze. "When you were young, they taught you that what you are is criminal and wrong. Did you believe it?" I nodded my head faintly. Of course I did. Hunter touched the spot between my shoulder blades. His fingers traced the slightly raised flesh of my mark in an echo of a gesture Archer had long ago made. "This," he said, "was meant to keep you believing it. I would teach you to wear it proudly as a sign of what you are. You are safe here. You are the majority here. You have paid a price for what you are and others would look up to that." My throat tightened and I fought the sudden surge of emotion. I held his eyes. Had all this been in the back of my mind? How in just a few words had he dug so deeply? "I want to show you something," he said. Slowly he stood up, looking so tall and slender from my angle. With nimble fingers he unlaced the ties of his shirt and pulled it over his head. My heart had leapt into my throat. His lean body, new to my eyes, was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. But this wasn't what he was showing me. Not yet at least. He sat back down on the bed next to me and turned his back. There, between the blades of his shoulders, lay a white mark upon his darker skin, long-healed and faded. It was different from mine, with only two bars, not three, and a vertical scrawl dividing them. Wordlessly I reached out to touch it. His flesh was warm and he didn't flinch at the brush of my fingers as I had to him. "How old were you?" I asked in a hushed tone. "Fourteen," he answered. "Too young, too foolish." He turned around to face me again, taking my outstretched fingers in his hands. "There are others, it's not just me," Hunter said quietly. "But people hide them, like they're ashamed. I don't want you to do that." I shook my head, caught in his eyes. I whispered, "I won't." Hunter leaned down even further, his hand now resting comfortably on my thigh. I felt its warmth through my breeches. "You're a beautiful boy, Micah," he then said. "But there's more to it than that. There are a lot of things about you that people here find intriguing. You're going to have to realize that before you try this sort of thing, use it to your advantage." No one had ever told me that I was attractive, let alone using words like beautiful and intriguing. Aislinn had perhaps, but she still had not said it with such conviction. I scarcely believed him of course. My modesty was deeply rooted, but I had no idea how quickly he would unseat that and make me into what I never thought I would become. However, for now I was just afraid that these words were all the lesson I would get from him. In a moment he would get up and leave. And I desperately wanted him to stay. "Did you meet someone tonight?" I asked timidly. Hunter gave a slight smile, a little proud at my forwardness. "Of course," he said, reaching a hand to gently brush my hair from my face. My body quickened at the touch. "But I wanted to wait until I got here," he said, "if that is still what you want." I nodded, unable to stop myself, my body rousing at the very thought of him. Did he notice? He was here, he was going to stay. He was going to make love to me. But Hunter hesitated once more. "Micah," he said, "I don't want you to get the wrong idea about all of this." To soften his words he touched my hair again. "I don't want you to take this as more than it is. I'm doing this because you asked me to. Do you understand?" I nodded quickly again, grateful and anxious for anything from him. Little did either of us know that I was already very much in love with him, and he had an unexpectedly keen affection for me, and this night would do nothing but escalate those feelings. Being who I was, I didn't know any better but I think he should have. Or perhaps he did, but chose to ignore his better judgment. Satisfied for the time being that I understood, Hunter brushed my hair back one more time and leaned down, pressing his lips gently to mine. I closed my eyes, unsure of what to do with my hands, or my mouth for that matter. I stared at him after our lips parted. My breathing had become slightly labored to match my heart beating like it would escape my chest. The sheer physicality of the gesture had my body quickened to the point only my dreams about Archer could get it to. I still remembered those deep, late night visions that would wake me in the middle of the night in a hot sweat. But upon my visible reaction, or lack thereof, Hunter just smiled. "Surely you've kissed someone before?" I sat up. "Aislinn kissed me the day I left," I stammered, still tasting him on my lips. He smiled. "She doesn't count." I had no more words for him. The last person that I had kissed was Byrne, on the day my father found us out. That had been naught but clumsy fumbling in the dark, cut short by our discovery. It had been years ago. Hunter leaned in and kissed me again, longer this time and with a greater passion. His hands came up to frame my face as he showed me his own technique. Eventually I would learn that everyone had their own way of doing it, but I would always like his best; it was my true first. It took a moment for my arms to creep around his neck and my back to arch into his embrace. He was gentle in his caresses; he didn't realize that nothing could have frightened me away at that point. As he slowly laid me back on the bed, settling his weight atop me, I still couldn't believe it was him. Everyone wanted something from him and here he was, giving it all to me. And yet, even though I had asked it of him, I felt shamefully undeserving. It showed in the flush of my cheeks. He brushed my hair back from my face, seeing and understanding my anxiety. "You're lovely," he said again, the deep tone of his voice soothing me as easily as his hands. "Everyone here thinks so. Have you not noticed?" I shook my head, disbelieving once more. He laughed and kissed me again. "I'll have to teach you to see it then. This will be a waste of time if you don't learn that one simple thing. Just wait, you'll see how devastating you can be." Me? Devastating? I shyly pressed my face against his shoulder and he laughed with me, letting me hide for a moment. I felt more at ease, though my laughter was still tinged with nerves. Surely he could feel my heart beating against him. We kissed again. Hunter settled even more atop me, pushing his lower belly with sweet pressure between my legs. I could barely feel his passion yet, whereas mine was already full force against him. But the fact that I could feel it- that part of him... it nearly sent me over the edge. I couldn't even anticipate the experience. What was I to expect? Or should I expect anything at all from him? After all, hadn't he already said not to? The questions were pushed to the back of my mind as more important sensations began to take over. I pressed my hands to his face, liking the feel of his jaw moving as we kissed. My lips felt slightly swollen when he left off of me and moved to my neck. He kissed behind my ears, under my jaw, my collarbone, finding all of my sensitive spots. I tipped my head back as far as I could into the pillow. In doing so, arched my back and pressed myself up against him. Hunter seemed a bit surprised by my enthusiasm. He lifted his head, his hair a bit tousled from where I had been running my fingers through it. "You're a natural," he said with a twist of a smile. He divested me of my clothing quite quickly and I avoided his eyes again, my self-consciousness renewed under having such a comforting barrier removed. I was completely naked in mind and body now, but he could have done anything to me and I wouldn't have cared. The ease at which I had given myself to him seemed to surprise him as well; I expected he'd thought he would have to do a little more coaxing than that. I finally looked up at him, watching him watch me. When the urge to kiss him again washed through me, I did it with newfound courage. My hands moved over his shoulders, feeling the lean musculature of his back, and the barely raised skin of his mark. I had never before touched a man like that, or anyone for that matter. His body just fascinated me. Looking amused, Hunter laid back on the bed where I had been and rested his arms above his head on the pillows. With his long body stretched out, I could see the contours of his ribs and stomach, his hips, and the thin trail of dark hair that led down from his navel and disappeared beneath the waist of his trousers. I reached out to him, realizing that this was what he had meant me to do- explore him, satisfy my curiosity. I ran my hands down his torso to start and he suddenly squirmed a bit, emitting an adorable little snort of a laugh. Who would have thought that the royalty of the Mill himself was ticklish! He recovered, showing mock concentration and promised he would try to control himself so I could continue. I traced the slight protrusion of his hip bone right above the waist of his pants and stopped. Serious once more with a little concern at my hesitation, he breathed, "Take them off." I faltered only a little as I slid the rest of his clothing off, staring at the new flesh revealed and getting bashful again. "Go on, touch me," Hunter said with a slight smile on his face. "Do whatever you want. Use you imagination." His voice was so soft, so deep. His eyes were lazy and content, and it seemed he wasn't going to help me at all with this one. He wanted me to be the one to reach out first. It was the planes of his stretched out body that fascinated me, how the light and shadow played over bone and muscle contours. Hunter may be a lean man, but he's healthy and strong. More slightly built than Archer but just as tall, he carried a sort of feline grace about how he let his body lay there before me. I spread my fingers over his chest, too timid yet to touch his nipples, visibly erect in the bedside candle light. Slowly I slid my flat palms down his torso to his hips, until I could feel the texture of the dark, private hair that trailed down from his navel. I left my hands there, watching them rise and fall with his breathing, almost mesmerized by it. With a gentle sigh, he reached down for my fingers and brought them up over his chest again, touching his nipples this time. "I like this," he said, covering my hands as they touched him, showing me how to do what he liked to feel. I smiled, unable to hide the humor of the situation. He smiled back at me. "If you can't get over that, wait until you see what comes next," he said. We laughed again. After those initial awkward moments, he spent the hour letting me explore him, all of him. I still blush to think about it, in truth, of what those first discoveries were like. Then, quite unexpectedly, he flipped me over and began to touch me. I was nervous and scared, ticklish and somewhat uncooperative at first, I admit, but Hunter was patient with my squirming. He was laughing at me, teasing me and tickling on purpose, anything to make me loosen up I suppose before we would both become serious again and settle back into the moment. He began to incorporate kisses in his explorations and I eventually became so used to his touch that I stopped my bouts of blushing hesitation altogether. He put me at ease, made me able to do what I wanted to. He yielded easily to my curiosity, encouraging me to explore what I had dreamed about for so long. I loved kissing him. After a while I stretched out beside him and held his face in my hands, slowly feeding off his lips. He was patient and compliant, and enjoyed the attention I could tell. Perhaps his lovers weren't as interested in the intimacy that I had immediately found so intoxicating. It was just being near him, touching him, watching his eyes flutter closed when he liked what I was doing. I was getting to see what he was like during one of the most private moments in life. But as patient as he had been with me this whole time, he couldn't let the play go on forever. There was more to be taught and learned, and I could very much tell when his body had had enough of the small stuff. The energy was coursing through his veins, pulsing, ready to be released. He laid me back on the bed again, settled between my legs and spent more time calming me with kisses. I held onto his body, frightened and excited at the same time and grateful to the core of my being that he was there with me, willing to teach it all. The things I would learn from him came second to none; everything changed after that, even before the night was over. We could not have remained as we had been before, no matter how we tried. Hunter left when he thought I was asleep, as I had expected he would. He planted a soft kiss on my shoulder before he rolled out of bed to get dressed, something I held onto for the many weeks that passed afterwards. When I heard the door open and close, I rolled over to where he had been lying and breathed in the scent of him. I felt different. I felt alive and grown up, like I had just learned the secret of life itself. Whether or not it was that way for everyone, I don't know, but after one night with him, it had certainly turned me on to that sort of romantic thinking. Would it have been that way with Byrne if my father had not caught us? Probably not, and that was an unsettling thought. If we had gone through with whatever would have happened, I probably wouldn't be here today. I wouldn't have met Archer, or Hunter. I would never have known what it could be like. That night, lying in his spot watching the night outside my window, for the first time I was thankful for what I had been through. All of it. Likely enough, the next day when I stumbled downstairs Ghen was the only one who looked up at me with suspicious eyes. I dropped down beside him at the breakfast table with a grand sigh, furtively glancing around the room. "He's not here," Ghen mumbled. I reached for his mug of hot cider and stole a sip. "I don't know what you're talking about." He pulled his printed gossip paper up to block us off from the rest of the crew that lounged about before getting on with the morning. "Little tramp," he hissed. "You could have told me you were going for it last night." "Guess you'll have to turn my pedestal into a planter or something." He scowled at me a little longer, but couldn't hold back his smile anymore. With a laugh, he dropped his paper and hugged me tightly. "I'm proud of you, you little hussy!" I gave into his hugs with a little shy smile, knowing what his next question would be if he was to be true to form. "So?" he asked, leaning in close. "How was it? How was he?" "It's not like I have a lot to compare it to, but..." I trailed off, hoping he would understand what I couldn't say aloud. Ghen's eyes widened. "Uh huh," he grunted, sitting back. "Can't even put it into words can you?" He slapped the table loudly enough that people looked up at us. "Dammit, I knew it!" Only a moment later, Hunter came walking in, coffee in one hand, his daily print news in the other. He hardly looked up at the room as he strode to the bar, absorbed in whatever he was reading. When he walked in, everyone else miraculously found they had someplace better to be. They finished up their meals and left, knowing Hunter would put them to work somehow if they were caught sitting around for too long. We three were the only ones left in the small bar. "Ghen, Avery will be here with the wine this afternoon and there's a new round of brewing barrels coming with it. I could use your help bringing them in. Get Josif to help too. I can't do it, I'll be busy later." Beside me, Ghen rolled his eyes. "When will you stop with the manual labor? Don't you know I'm not cut out for that kind of work?" He stood up as he spoke and ruefully draped himself over the bar next to Hunter. Hunter looked down at him around his coffee cup, appearing decidedly not sorry for him. "Fine, fine," Ghen said, standing upright and dusting himself off. "We'll do your dirty work. But can Micah help?" As he headed for the door, he looked over his shoulder at me slyly. "Or will he busy later as well?" "No, Micah can help too," Hunter said. He hadn't missed a beat, whereas my jaw had already hit the floor. My eyes shot to him, suddenly afraid he would be angry with me for telling the biggest mouth of the Mill such a secret. But Hunter just smiled after him as Ghen triumphantly left, happy that he could leave at least one of us flabbergasted. Alone with me, I felt Hunter's eyes before I looked up to meet them. "Kissing and telling already?" he said, taking a last sip from his mug and setting it on the bar. I fidgeted with my fingers in my lap. "Sorry," I said, "He kind of guessed it." Hunter came and sat next to me at the bench, leaning his elbows back on the table. I could smell the lingering morning bath salts on him and the familiar scent hit eased my mind with mere remembrance. It calmed me, soothed me, even though I still felt hot under his gaze. "Don't be sorry, I never said it was a secret," he assured. "But perhaps in the future a little more discretion would be in order? To avoid certain rumors?" He said it kindly with a little tilt to his head. It was slightly odd to be face to face with him, knowing what he looked like in the throes of passion- hair all mussed up, his eyes tightly closed, beads of sweat rolling down his jaw line. Now he sat before me well groomed and ready for the day; nothing of what I had seen last night seemed to remain. He reached out and touched my hair. It was just an affectionate brush, but he had my attention. "We're still ok, right?" he asked softly. I nodded to snap myself out of it. "Right. Sure, I'm fine," I reassured him. It may have been the biggest lie I'd ever told, but the last thing I wanted was for him to regret what he had done for me. "Good." He stood up and stretched. "Then I suggest you get with Ghen to find out the rest of the game. He'd know a little more about that than I do." With that and a wink, he was gone. I stayed where I was for a moment alone on the bench as the last remnants of the old, naive me evaporated into the very air. "Ok, here we go. Are you ready?" Ghen's breath was warm in my ear. It was nightfall, two days after my night with Hunter. I had spent the time working myself up to the task, telling myself that this was something I was capable of doing and remembering Hunter's encouraging words for extra reinforcement. There were new thoughts in my head. I suddenly had drive and purpose; I really wanted to be able to follow through with this. I had put myself through the test by getting up the gall to ask Hunter in the first place; now I would use what I had learned. And, it's not too much to say I suppose, that I had enjoyed the experience so much, found all the sensations that came with it so intoxicating that I shamelessly felt the desire for it again. Appalling? Perhaps. Or perhaps not, if I think about the wantonness I'd faced since I was young but had never had the opportunity to act on. My clumsy experience with Byrne, my love for Archer and the rattling dreams of him that often awoke me in the night. Now something had been awoken in me; self-satisfaction was no longer enough. When Hunter had said I was a natural, in terms of eagerness I suppose I was among the most enthusiastic of all. All this in the course of a few days. Well, as Aislinn had often said, when it rains, it floods. Ghen and I stood at the edge of the longest bar at the busiest time of the night. The warm air was close around us smelling of ale, smoke and the hearty meat that grilled outside. Josif had been helping me numb my nerves with an endless supply of what we called glass drops, or large swallowfuls of the hard stuff in tiny colored glasses. "I'm not running a race, Ghen," I said, batting at his hands. My nerves, though dulled by the brew, were stretched thin enough. I didn't need him goading me into further doubts. "All right, all right. Let me see-" His eyes scanned the room, I suppose looking for good target. I slammed back another glass drop and felt it skip my stomach and go straight to my head. It was nice, this floating feeling. In just a few minutes I felt I could handle anything. "Oh, good plan," Ghen said, taking the empty glass from my hand. "Dammit, Josif don't give him any more. We don't want him falling flat on his face." The blond bartender waved off some rowdy patrons and glided down to where we stood. "I won't deny the boy a little strength, my lily," he said, ruffling my hair. My vision blurred a little, but I was so carefree at that point that I simply laughed and playfully pushed his hand away. Ghen grunted. He wasn't one to refute that a good brew softened any blow, and he himself had matched me for drinks early on. His good sense- and he did have some despite popular opinion- had kicked in when he realized he didn't want the embarrassment of having to come and help me up when I stumbled over my own feet in the middle of the floor. "No, no, he's right, no more," I said with a wide, drunken smile. "Right after you give me that one. That one, riiiight there-" I pointed to the array of colorful bottles that stood on shelves behind Josif's head and nearly toppled myself. Ghen slapped my outstretched hand. "Shush! Concentrate." He spun me around again to face the warm room. My cheeks were ruddy and my inhibitions the lowest they'd been since my outlook-changing revelation. I was primed and ready. Ghen suddenly squealed in my over-sensitive ear. "Oh, Josif, look who it is! He'll be perfect-" he grabbed the bartender's arm and pointed out into the crowd. I squinted to see who they were looking at but they were both taller than I and there were just too many people milling about. Josif smiled beautifully and ruffled my hair again. "Mmm. The wine came again today; he must be out looking for you-know-who. Safe enough in my opinion. Go for it, kid." Safe? You-know-who? It took me a moment to realize, though I still hadn't discerned who in the crowd they'd singled out, that the both of them were going to choose someone for me. Someone they both trusted with me. Ghen smoothed my hair and straightened my shirt and light drag coat. "Now remember what I told you," he said. "Don't be nervous, smile, be open and inviting. If he asks about a rate, tell him, otherwise don't mention it, but you have to let him know you're interested. Give them one of your looks." I was just trying to keep my balance as he maneuvered me around. "My looks?" "You know, the one you give Hunter's backside as he walks away." "Josif!" Ghen admonished. The bartender put his hands up with a smile and went back to his drinking patrons. Ghen turned back to me. "Don't listen to him. Just be yourself. If you get stuck, let him talk a little instead." "But who, Ghen?" He put his arm around me and walked me away from the bar a little, carefully avoiding the people that edged passed us. He pointed again to an area of densely populated tables among the throng of standing people by the bar opposite. Most of the tables had several people around them, but one in particular was being utilized by only one body. "His name is Galen and he's got a smith and metal shop down the road a bit. Comes in every so often. I guarantee he'll be interested." Ghen said in my ear as I gazed across the bar at the man. He happened to be sitting directly underneath one of the brightly lit ceiling lanterns so that the halo of his shaggy blond hair shone a brilliant gold. Broad-shouldered and probably very tall, he looked more than a little intimidating to me. A smithy meant rough trade; I wondered why they should chose someone so hardened and tough. But as I looked at him a little longer, even from this distance, I could see there was something about him that aimed to put me at ease. Could have been the brew talking, but he looked... kind. Ghen gave me a little push in my lower back. "I promise, sweets, he's very nice. Go on." But despite his urging, I turned around to the bar once more. "Josif!" I called. The blond bartender didn't miss a beat as he slid the glass drop he'd already poured for me down the slick bartop into my hand. I slammed it back, wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and focused my eyes like tunnel vision on that table way across the room. Now, I had hoped I'd have the length of the room to walk and consider my actions, but it would seem I was already there standing over him before I realized it. How I'd gotten there was already forgotten. He blinked up at me, more than a little startled by my sudden appearance. "Canna help ya?" he asked. His voice was very deep in tone and richly accented, but I knew nothing of the world to be able to place it. His eyes were very brown, nearly black, I could just see the dark pupils as he turned his head just so... But never mind that, where was my tongue? He was gazing up at me expectantly and I was just standing there, looming more like, surely looking like a simple, mute fool. This was awful- Suddenly, a smile spread his smooth lips and he seemed no longer concerned about my sudden arrival. "Wanta set dou'n?" he asked. Mechanically I did so, eyes locked to his, the new accent thrilling my ears. I suppose I couldn't get over his brawny handsomeness either- how the light of his hair stood out against the sun-browned tone of his skin, but even more so it was the gentleness in his face set him apart from the rest of the room, and it had me transfixed. His coloring, his eyes, his little suspicious smile all said one thing- warmth. His eyes were large and lazy and his lips full and set in such a way that he seemed on the verge of smiling broader at any moment. The contrast of such an obviously powerful man having the look of a lamb was fascinating in my inebriated state. He motioned for one of my coworkers to bring us some mugs of ale and then turned brown eyes on me again. "What's yor name?" he asked, leaning both elbows on the table and appearing genuinely interested. I was looking at his coffee-colored eyebrows, thick but smooth, and how the curls of his shaggy hair reached to cover them. "Um, Micah," I stuttered, reaching thankfully for the pint handed to me. I took a fortifying swing. "You're Galen," I finished. "I am," he said with a smile, "but most coll me Gale; 'tis easier to shout over the noise of a shop-" "You're a smith," I interjected. My staggered conversation sounded all right to me, though it was hardly the witty repartee I'd often heard Ghen use. "True again," Gale said as he toasted my pint with his. "Now how d'ya know so much? If we've met a'fore, I cannet recoll." "Ghen pointed you out to me," I said without thinking, and a silly smile spread my lips. I loved the way my head felt, fluffy and flimsy. "He said you were nice." At this admission Gale laughed. "Did he nou'? He be a friend of yorn?" "Well, I work with him, yes-" "Ah," he said, sitting back a little bit. "Then I 'ave seen ya a'fore, but not 'round this game. Still'a new duckie than?" His outlandish speech was making me smile despite myself but it was wholly superficial. In his gaze I could see that he'd understood my 'working' with Ghen. He evidently knew the game and its players, but of course had not recognized me before as one of them. "Only slightly," I managed to get out as I took another swig of ale. This was going nowhere fast, by the amused look on his face. If I wasn't careful, surely he would stop taking me seriously at all, if he hadn't already. Where were the words that Ghen had given me? In my muddled mind I tried to find some gems I'd heard him use when his utter gall had impressed me. Something to get this man's attention, something to show him I was interested and meant business. Meanwhile, as I was racking my muddled brain and consequently not paying attention, Gale had said something to me and I'd missed it. He didn't notice, too late, forget it, keep going, I told myself. Then I found that I had forgotten what he was talking about completely. Cheeks flushed from ale, glass drops and a flustered mind, I grasped at the next thing that came into my head. "Want a tumble?" Gale had the rim of his mug to his lips and nearly choked on the sip of ale he'd just taken. After regaining himself, he fixed his large brown eyes on me and said, "Comma'gain?" With my jaw dropped at my own nerve, I vaguely thought, Well, it worked well enough for Ghen. Then I remembered, it was all in the appearance. And I only had to appear to know what I was talking about. At Galen I raised my eyebrows, intimating the question again without speaking. His expression was suddenly a little amusing to me. This was kind of fun. "You heard me," I said. He cocked his shaggy head, still not sure if he'd heard me right. After he'd decided that he had, for another moment he rubbed his rough chin and considered whether or not I was serious. "Sure, duckie, why not," he said after a while with a little smile, reaching over the table for my hand. I felt a little pleasurable fire spark in my stomach at the gesture. Without another word, as I was afraid I would spoil the moment if I allowed my mouth to open one more time, we stood up together and I took the lead through the crowd, pulling him behind me by the hand. My heart pounded with every step as I furtively took him along the back wall, weaving through people until we disappeared down one of the back halls that would lead us to a quiet back stairway up to the rooms. To my room. As we climbed the steps I remembered something Josif had said. The wine came again today; he must be out looking for you-know-who... I hadn't been outside to receive the shipment this afternoon but I had in recent days before. As we walked I racked my brain for the someone he might have been looking to meet. "You weren't waiting for someone were you?" Behind me Gale just laughed. "No, not really." Somehow, though, I felt that wasn't quite true. We reached the empty hallway and finally my room door. While my clumsy fingers fumbled with the latch Gale waited patiently, his hand stroking the back of my neck gently. After a moment, he said, "Ya sure 'bout this than, duckie?" The door opened. "Why do you ask?" I was grateful that my back was to him for the moment that he might not see how the effects of the brew were eroding away under the wear and tear of my sudden nerves. He walked in behind me and inspected the room while I closed the door and resolutely locked the bolt. I turned to look at him. Amid the cozy familiarity of my room Gale turned his frame back to me. He was very tall, at least a head taller than I in fact, but I was more intimidated by myself and what foolish thing I could say next. "Y'just seem t'me a little nervous, 'tis all." He moved to sit down on my bed, bouncing a little in testing its softness. I leaned back against the locked door and took an easing breath. It didn't look as if he was planning on going anywhere; I needed to relax. I needed to trust myself. "No, I'm fine," I said with a smile. Commanding my feet to move, I went and sat down next to him on the bed. We both remained there for a moment in silence when I suddenly realized that he wasn't going to make the first move. Why would he? I had invited him here after all, and he seemed too polite and gentle a person to make such an advance before he was even sure it was what I wanted. Time was wasting, my life would pass me by if I didn't get on with this. I'd had the best teacher in the world show me the art of it and I was aching already to try it again. Test my skill. We both knew why we were here; why pretend we were interested in anything else? Gale seemed about to speak but I decided not to let him. I leaned in and kissed him, putting my arms about his neck and pressing my body against his with the genuine passion I was feeling. His arms came around me, hardened and sun-darkened from years of silver and iron work in an outdoor shop. His embrace was wholly different from Hunter's; he was much stronger, more enveloping, a little more hungry. I felt so small within his hold, and I liked it. I liked him. Very much. Enough to leave the natural progression of things in his very capable hands. Galen was a gentle lover, attentive and easygoing, and I wondered how it was that he was here in the Mill among pleasure-seeking vultures, instead of at home in front of a fire with a devoted companion. I decided that someday I would have to ask him. In the haze following our lovemaking, we lay in my bed among tangled sheets waiting for our skin to dry. I rested my head on Gale's chest, listening to the calming ebb and flow of his breathing and heartbeat. My muddled brain had finally cleared and I was able to bask in the afterglow, truly satisfied with myself. "So why hav'a not seen ya on the game a'fore?" Galen asked softly. I shifted a little to get more comfortable. Why not tell him? It was unlikely that he didn't already know anyway. "I sort of just started," I answered. "I mean, I've worked here for almost a year, mostly in the front bars, but haven't actually, you know, worked here." Gale's voice was a smooth rumble in his chest. "Ah, well I'm honeyed ya chose me. Or rather Ghen did." We both shared a little laugh. Then we just lay in comfortable, sleepy silence. I was settling in fast, nearly asleep there against him when I was very suddenly, sharply awakened by commotion in the outside hallway. Beneath me, Galen had startled as well. Heavy footsteps, thumping, shouting. But we only heard one voice and it rang out very clearly. Surely all that ruckus couldn't be just one person? "Gal'n! I know… uhn... I know you're 'p here..! C'mon out, y' lout!" Galen heaved a great sigh and pulled himself up. He cast about for his clothes but despite the calls from an obviously inebriated acquaintance, he seemed to take his time about getting dressed. "Who is that?" I asked, sitting up in bed to watch him. Galen pulled on his breeches and worked casually to lace them up. He had a sad little smile on his face I couldn't read. I looked at my closed door and hoped whoever it was outside couldn't guess which one we were behind. That was all I needed. "Is it your lover?" I asked quietly. "Gale… Galen!" came the drunken call again. "Nay," the smith answered softly, "I wo't say that. He's just… a friend of mine who's right ready to be gettin' home." The frustrated calls suddenly turned softer after a moment's pause. "Gale… y' have t', please… c'm out… I need t'… he wasn'…" His voice sounded muffled, as if he were hiding his face against his hands. Or maybe the floor. Gale came back to me in the bed and laid a gentle onslaught to my lips in farewell. "See ya again, duckie?" I gave a little lightheaded nod and he appeared satisfied. Pausing a moment, he dug into his trousers and laid out a folded number of paper credits discreetly on my bedside stand. He came, kissed me again and I watched him head for the door and slip out of it. When the latch had closed again, I listened to the soft murmuring of his voice as he pacified whoever it was outside. Then, nothing; they were gone. I heaved a great sigh and put my hands behind my head. I forgot about the money he'd laid out; I didn't care of its sum though I guessed it was considerable by the number of credits there. I wonder he could afford so much? But my mind was filled with so many other important thoughts that I found it altogether just easier to turn over and wait for sleep and not ponder. Most important to me was how my inner might had been proven to myself; I was capable of the chase, even if I had stumbled a little bit at the gate. Now all I needed was a little practice. A small, surprisingly shameless smile spread my lips. Right before sleep took me I remember a last fleeting thought of Archer and what he would think if he knew what he had sent me to become. The next morning I related to Ghen all that had happened. He listened intently, prodding me on particulars; he wanted details. Nonetheless, I edited my story to him. Eventually he relented and changed his tack to something less scandalous. "Doesn't he just have the most adorable way of talking too? Don't get many people from the southern provinces around here, I could listen to him all day, I tell you." We were sitting at the breakfast tables as usual for the morning before the day's work began. Hunter was even there, though he was across the room, leaning against the bar absorbed in conversation with Josif. I had craned my head around to ascertain his distance before I'd started my story to Ghen, though why I wanted the details a secret from him, I didn't really know. I then told Ghen about the stranger outside my door who'd called Galen away. Ghen gave a little smirk. "I know exactly who it was. Do you remember a couple a' three days ago when the new barrels came in? Galen makes the girders for the barrels, and the winemaker has his son deliver them here. Bantam little blond, a real piece of work if you get him going." I remembered the young man very well, Avery was his name. While I had not talked with him, as Josif did most of the conversing, I had gotten a very good look. He was as Ghen described him- about as tall as I- and I'm not tall at all- and a little more slender of build, with feathery dark blond hair and intense green eyes. He'd spoken in a quipping tone, like someone who socializes well and makes friends of strangers in the matter of a few sentences. I did remember his eyes alighting on me momentarily that afternoon, though he'd said nothing to me nor had given any expression of what he thought of my face, new to his presence. "Well," Ghen continued after a sip of his tea, "it turns out that that little fireball has our smith in the palm of his hand. Or fist, you might say at times." "What do you mean?" Ghen tsk'd forlornly. "Galen's been in love with him for as long as I've known them, but I don't know the history behind that. They've known each other since they were children and you would think that a boy with such a sweet friend would grow up like him, right? Well, I think that kid's got more vices than me!" He laughed at himself as I mused. Avery obviously drank like a fish, as evident by his state last night, but what else was there? Ghen went on, as gossip was his favorite pastime outside of his bedroom. "See, he'll go out to drink when the work is done; flirting, dancing, picking fights. Then Galen has to come and take him home before he breaks something. It's sad and sweet at the same time really; Gale just cares for him all the same, no matter what the little shrew gets into or who he falls in love with for the night." Galen's gentle face came to mind, and his strong, capable hands. I could see very easily his gentle temperament allowing him to put up with such abuse of a friendship, especially if it was someone he cared so much about. I hadn't forgotten the sad little look on his face when he'd recognized Avery's voice in the hallway. "Well I don't think it's right," I huffed, "that Avery should carry him along like that." "I don't think he means to do it," a familiar voice said from behind us. I looked over my shoulder to see that Hunter had come up, printed news under his arm. He took a leisurely sip from his mug before finishing his thought. "Maybe he does in some respects, but I don't doubt that he has some feelings of his own for your smith." My smith? Had he guessed how we'd gotten on the subject of Galen in the first place? Or did he simply just know? "But it's a mean thing to do, string someone along like that," I insisted a little boldly. Perhaps I was a little on edge over the matter because I felt that I could have been in danger of the same treatment, if the subjects of my attention had not both been kind and tender men. Hunter tilted his head a little in noticing my ardor on the subject. "Yes, well, it's all relative I suppose. If you let yourself be strung along, would that not imply that some part of you yearns for it? Especially if it was all you could have?" He gave me a little wink as he walked away before waiting for the answer, which was well because I certainly had no reply for him. I closed my mouth and thought on his words for several moments before turning to Ghen, who had sat quietly listening for once instead of speaking. "What do you suppose he meant?" I asked. My friend shrugged and stood up and I dutifully followed suit. Ghen stretched his back, and we started walking towards the front of the Mill. "Maybe he's telling you not to do the same thing." I stopped at his words. Ghen turned and corrected his statement with a quick smile. "Don't string anybody along, I mean." Whether Ghen spoke his mind truthfully or not, Hunter's implication was less clear to me. Don't string? Or don't get strung? part 7 | back to part 5 | back to main