* Alphabet Story *

SYNCRONICITY

by Linda S Barth

Vincent couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so completely exhausted, filthy, and sore. That was because he’d never been quite so exhausted, filthy, and sore. He shook his head and watched a storm of silt shimmer in the air, then settle on the mud-stained toes of his work boots. He wanted nothing more than to throw himself – carefully – onto his bed and sleep until dawn. But first he needed to bathe and change clothes, eat the portion of dinner he hoped William had saved for him, give his post-workday report to Father, and make sure the construction project duty roster was updated for tomorrow.

Too tired to risk sitting in his favorite chair where he undoubtedly would pass out from fatigue, Vincent leaned against the edge of his desk, then bent to unlace and pull off his boots and socks. Wincing as his hot swollen feet met the cold stone floor, he wondered if he’d be able to take another step without wishing he had Father’s trusty cane for support.

He sighed heavily. Then, a wonderfully enticing idea occurred to him. What he needed most of all was a long, restorative soak in a hot spring-fed pool, just like the one in the private bathing chamber he shared exclusively with Father. A smile curved his mouth. There could be no better choice. Everything else would just have to wait.

He dragged himself toward the opening in the far wall of his chamber, then paused for several seconds of painful wriggling as he tried to evade the gritty sand lacerating his skin inside dirt-stiffened jeans. Glancing back, he saw dusty footprints marking his path, and when he shook his head, he felt tiny pebbles bounce off his shoulders. Evidently, he’d brought half the work site detritus home with him. He really should sweep up before he did anything else, but in a blink he set aside his guilt. That chore was something else that could wait.

With that happy thought, he sauntered, albeit rather stiffly, into the bathing chamber and began pulling off layers of work clothes. His sweat-soaked thermal shirt stuck to his chest and back, tearing when he finally heaved it over his head. Caked mud caught in the zipper of his filthy jeans, but he managed to yank it down, peel off the grubby garment, and add it to the growing heap on the stone floor. Then, sighing with relief at the thought of the heated water that would in seconds soothe his bare skin, he descended into the steamy, stone-carved pool waiting just for him.

* * *

Catherine couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so completely exhausted, infuriated, and exasperated. That was because she had never been quite so exhausted, infuriated, and exasperated. Slamming her apartment door shut, she mentally apologized to her neighbors, then flung her briefcase under the nearest couch. She wanted nothing more than to fling herself – immediately — into bed and sleep until dawn. But first she needed to tackle the files Joe, for the third time this week, had stuffed into her battered briefcase just before five p.m. There were so many, she’d swear he had xeroxed multiple copies of every single one.

Too agitated to focus on a solution to her dilemma, she paced the length of her apartment, stomping past the French doors as she tried to obliterate the memory of the not-at-all-believable apology her boss had offered. When her toes suddenly seized up mid-stomp, she braced herself on the back of a chair and pried off a new pair of three-inch heels, then yelped as her cramped feet flattened against the parquet floor. She wondered if she’d be able to stagger even one additional step.

She sighed heavily. Then, a wonderfully enticing idea occurred to her. What she needed most of all was a long, restorative soak in a tub of steaming water. Everything else would just have to wait. A smile quirked her mouth as an even better idea flared to life. She needn’t soak in the dinky tub of her apartment’s bathroom, not when there was a much better choice just waiting for her not so very far away…a hot spring-fed pool in a certain private bathing chamber.

She hobbled toward the bedroom as quickly as she could, then jolted to a stop when she saw the hated briefcase sticking out from under a couch. It was as if the files stuffed inside were screaming at her, demanding she second guess the delightful decision she’d just made. She really should work on at least a few of them before she did anything else, but in a blink she set aside her guilt. That Joe-inflicted chore was something else that could wait.

With that happy thought, a burst of energy propelled her into the bedroom. She shrugged off the jacket of her wrinkled linen suit and tossed it aside. With the last bit of her waning patience, she resisted tearing off her silk blouse and scattering buttons everywhere, then pulled it over her head. Wriggling out of her skirt and pantyhose, she added them to the growing heap on the carpeted floor. Minutes later, dressed in a soft cashmere sweater, comfortably worn jeans, and the relief of an old pair of sneakers, she sighed with happiness and descended into the world Below, on her way to the steamy, stone-carved pool waiting just for her.

* * *

Submerged nearly to his nose in the welcome depths of the bathing pool, Vincent knew without a doubt he’d made the right decision. The soft golden haze of candlelight, the support of a wide, rounded, well-worn seating platform carved from the wall of the pool, the faint fragrance of sandalwood, vanilla, and lemon wafting from an open bottle of shampoo and a new bar of soap close at hand. And blessed silence. No clang of pickaxe against unyielding boulders or the rumble of rockslides, no grumbling complaints from fellow workers, not even the ever-present tapping on the pipes could be heard in this candlelit sanctuary. Perfection.

Or close to it. The only thing that could improve his current situation was the addition of the ideal companion.

He pushed himself upward so that the heated water just covered his cramped, aching shoulders. Shoulders Catherine had grasped with amazing intensity during a particularly …athletic…portion of the previous night’s activities. He grinned at the memory. If he’d had any idea of what he had been missing all those long, dark, empty years, he never would have insisted they endure such a prolonged waiting period, one that had finally ended only a few weeks earlier.

He shook his head, feeling wet strands of hair slide across his shoulders. Seriously, what had he been thinking all that time?! Certainly nothing like the thoughts he was savoring now. Thoughts that were encouraging more than just the grin on his unique mouth to grow and flourish as his heart raced with fervent anticipation of their next time together. Maybe when his final chore for the night was completed, it would still be early enough…

He sighed heavily. He had told Catherine he would be working late at a distant construction site, so there was no chance she would expect him to show up on her balcony or, better yet, that she would be coming Below this evening, perhaps even now journeying in that direction. No, it was hopeless. He would just have to cope.

Taking deep cleansing breaths, he reminded himself that he’d had years of practice dealing with prolonged periods of waiting. He could do it again if he had to. For now, he would relax and replenish his weary body and mind in the bathing pool. And after all, such rejuvenation would enhance his chances of being at the top of his game for that deeply desired next time. Yes, sometimes patience truly was a virtue.

He leaned his head back against the edge of the pool, trying his best to yield to his better judgment. For a few seconds, he almost succeeded, then his fevered imaginings took total control and his ragged laugh echoed off the stony walls. Who was he kidding? This time, not even himself!

* * *

Immersed in the familiar atmosphere of the underground world, Catherine knew without a doubt she’d made the right decision. The flickering flames of the torches, the comfort in knowing she could make her own way to the hub chambers just like any other member of the tunnel community, the familiar tapping on the pipes signaling the sentries welcoming her into their midst. And blessed escape from the noisy demands of the world Above. No ringing phones leaving unwanted messages on her answering machine, no echo of screeching traffic along Fifth Avenue, not even the sound of her own previously grumbling voice, now mellowing to a contented hum with each step she took. Perfection.

Or close to it. The only thing that could improve her current situation was the addition of the ideal companion.

She pushed herself to pick up the pace, feeling her heartbeat accelerate and her breathing quicken. Very much like the sensations she’d felt during particularly…enthusiastic…moments of the previous night’s activities. She grinned at the memory. Although she’d begun to despair they’d ever take the next step in their relationship, all fear and frustration finally had been banished – quite effectively – only a few weeks earlier.

She shook her head, feeling silky strands of hair swirl around her blushing face. Seriously, even though it had taken over two years to get there, every bit of exasperation and sacrifice had been worth the ardent arrival at their destination. Just savoring those delicious thoughts made every part of her body quiver and her heart race with fervent anticipation. Maybe Vincent had already returned from dinner and his usual post-workday meeting with Father, and it would still be early enough…

She sighed heavily. Vincent had told her he would be working late at a distant construction site, so there was no chance she would find him in his chamber or that she could expect him to arrive on her balcony later this evening, perhaps even now preparing to journey in that direction. No, it was hopeless. She would just have to cope.

Taking deep, cleansing breaths, she reminded herself that she certainly had become accustomed to dealing with prolonged periods of waiting. She could do it again if she had to. For now at least, she’d be able to relax and replenish her weary body and mind in the bathing pool. And after all, such rejuvenation would serve her – and Vincent – well when that deeply desired next time occurred. Yes, sometimes patience really was a virtue.

At the entrance to Vincent’s chamber, her steps slowed as she concentrated on trying to yield to her better judgment. For a few seconds, she almost succeeded, then her fevered imaginings took total control and her trembling sigh echoed down the stony passageway. Who was she kidding? Certainly not herself!

* * *

Vincent’s eyelids fluttered, aching to close. He knew it was risky to fall asleep in the bathing pool, but he no longer had the strength to resist the force of his fatigue. Besides, it would just be for a few minutes, and maybe he’d dream of Catherine. The thought made him smile. There was no question of maybe. Those dreams were always hovering just a breath away, hotter than her eager hands caressing every inch of his body, steamier than his newfound imaginings, brighter than a lantern’s flame.

A lantern. His eyes snapped open. In his haste to enter his refuge, he’d forgotten to place an unlit lantern at the entrance to his chamber. That error would greatly decrease the chances he would remain undisturbed by well-meaning members of the tunnel community who always assumed they had an open invitation to drop by anytime.

He started to push himself out of the pool, then hesitated, concentrating on the silence around him. For a moment, he thought he felt a trembling sensation, then realized it was only a distant flickering of the bond he shared with his beloved. Not even a ripple of another’s physical presence invaded his sanctuary. With a happy sigh, he collapsed back down into the healing waters. He’d just have to take his chances that his haven would remain undisturbed, save for the dreams of Catherine that could now be set free in his fevered imagination.

Surrendering to fatigue and fantasy, he closed his eyes and began to dream.

* * *

Catherine’s eyelids fluttered, aching to close. She knew it was risky to sit on Vincent’s bed, but she could no longer find enough strength to resist the force of her fatigue. Besides, it would just be for a few minutes, and maybe she’d dream of him. The thought made her smile. There was no question of maybe. Those dreams were always hovering just a breath away, hotter than the memory of his eager hands reaching for her, steamier than her most fervent imaginings, brighter than a lantern’s flame.

A lantern. She looked longingly toward the chamber’s entryway. She had known he wouldn’t be there, and yet she’d been so hopeful, but there had been no silent sentry waiting for her. No unlit lantern promising that the one she sought was within, waiting only for her to join him in his spacious, quilt-rumpled bed, the bed she now pushed herself from with a reluctant sigh.

There was not even a ripple of his recent presence. No amber-tinged glow from the Tiffany lamp, no uncapped fountain pen resting by a pristine page of an open journal, no elusive scent of candlewax and sandalwood and leather. She was alone with her dreams, each yearning to set itself free in her fevered imagination.

Resisting the urge to collapse again upon his bed and savor each ardent imagining, she began to walk toward the opening in the far wall of his chamber, intent on her original and now decidedly less desirable destination. Then, something made her pause and look back, the light from a single glass-globed candle on his dresser illuminating a pathway she hadn’t noticed earlier. Footprints. Dusty, dirty, unmistakably large footprints, each one leading in the very same direction she was heading.

Reveling in renewed energy and enthusiasm, she grinned and began to disrobe.

* * *

Delicious tremors quivered the length of Catherine’s body. She moaned softly, her breath adding its own heat to the moist, hazy air as she silently entered the water, barely suppressing the desire to throw herself into his arms. For long moments, she savored the sight of his slumbering face and form, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he moaned softly in his sleep, breathing the yearning sound of her name.

With patience willingly sacrificed to urgency, she moved closer, caressing him, whispering to him, making promises with her body and voice that she ached to fulfill. Dizzy with lust and longing, she murmured his name on a sigh.

Vincent…

* * *

Delicious tremors quivered the length of Vincent’s body. He moaned softly, his breath adding its own heat to the moist, hazy air. He was suspended somewhere between sleep and waking, and in his yearning dreams, his beloved Catherine was at his side. Caressing him, whispering to him, making promises with her body and voice that he ached for her to fulfill.

Never had he so enjoyed such a lushly sensual hallucination. Never had one seemed quite so temptingly, urgently real. He moaned her name on a yearning sigh. Catherine…

Never had one murmured his name in return.

He opened his eyes.

* * *

Thick beeswax candles guttered into opaque puddles along the edges of the bathing pool. An errant breeze fluttered through the hazy steam of their secluded chamber. Only the muted flickering of torches in wall sconces lit the water lapping gently over the lovers still entwined in each other’s arms.

With a dreamy sigh, Catherine arched her neck to press moist kisses along the bristled line of her beloved’s jaw, then giggled and raised one hand to wipe away bubbles of lather clinging to her lips. “I think we should have rinsed off a bit more after we finished…playing…with that soap.”

Vincent nestled his face in the wet tangles of her hair, a murmuring smile in his voice. “You don’t care for the taste of sandalwood?”

“Not as much’’ – her tongue flickered against his throat – “as I care for the taste of you.”

Vincent moaned softly, then turned her gently but firmly so that she straddled his lap. Gazing into her eyes, he wondered for the hundredth time how he’d been granted this miracle. Then, when she wriggled against him, all conscious thought dissipated in the steamy air, leaving only enough raspy breath for the fewest of words.

“I adore you, Catherine.”

He leaned closer, his eager mouth a whisper from hers, as she purred her reply. “I adore you, too. And…”

* * *

And sometimes there is no further need for words, not when great minds think so deliciously alike.

______________

Words used from alphabet list: adore, boots, chance, dizzy, eager, fragrance, grasp, heart, hallucination, intense, jaw, journey, kisses, lather, moist, nose, opaque, perfect, quirk, quiver, remember, saunter, tremor, urgent, vanilla, whisper, xerox, yield, zipper