Love At Sea: De La en Glässer

A kind hand

She looked up at him. "I was short of words and nice was what came to mind." Her hands crept up to his neck and locked around it. "You still have not answered me. How do I taste like?" "Well, I have to taste again to find out." His lips sealed with hers but that did not leave his hands without wondering. He loved the way she moaned when he touched her soft lips or played with her wetness. "Open your mouth." He pushed in his three fingers, and she took a while to process its strangeness. "It is not like anything I have ever eaten in my life." "That is because it is different and unique. You taste heavenly my love, beautifully divine. And you are only for me, I do not share." His statement made her smile. "Lucky for you, I do not like to be shared." "Good." He kissed her lips and rubbed his hands on her back. "The bed awaits. I do not know what that woman has planned for us tomorrow, but we need to be well rested for whatever comes up." She nodded and walked towards the mat. The thick fur was pulled up to her shoulders as she snuggled close to Macmillan's nude body. It was a sweet dream that night, one that had Macmillan kissing her in places she could never have dreamed.

Rays of sunlight poured into the small room. Bernadette could hear the chit chattering of animals from miles away. They were of course deep in the forest with a hut made from mud and a roof out of straws. A spot on her wrist stung and she slapped it hard. She had killed the foul beast that had tortured her night long, well at least she had killed one of them. The rest were hard to find as they still flew about in the room buzzing with their busy wings here and there. "Invisible tiny devils." She swore. She pushed off the mountainous thicknesses of far off of her and was not surprised to see herself drenched in her own sweat- again.

The room was extremely bright and that helped to evade any evidence of sleep from her eyes. She spotted her shirt by the side table and stood up for it. A little glow graced her heated cheeks as she took steps towards her destination. She could still feel Macmillan's hands in her inner thigh. Too bad they had not done much that night other than snuggle and kiss. Though she would have wanted more. She followed the low chatting outside and was stunned to see a whole community working together and getting all that was needed ready for the day. Even the young girls sat by their mother's weaving baskets or making pots out of clay while the boys sharpened their sticks ready for hunting. How times were different, while they were learning skills that would possibly help them out in the future, she had learnt from just a very little age how to pick pocket a woman's purse without her noticing.

Anger and respect boiled up in her. Anger for her mother leaving her to the streets for a bottle of wine and respect for the mothers who patiently sat down with their daughters. She was wowed and swore to give her children the best life they could dream of. Her gaze searched the organised grounds and settled on her husband. Unconsciously she touched the flatness of her stomach. Children did not seem like a bad idea, especially if she was to have them with him.

"Most females look for what to do when they awake. You are nondifferent." Bernadette had to compose herself before answering the old grinch. The woman had managed to turn her desire into a delusional dream. "I, as a matter of fact was just about to make myself useful thank you very much." There were ropes tied from tree to tree where bits and pieces of clothes had been hanged. She approached the area curious that one of the women would not stone her with the large pieces of wood she was cooking with.

"And what do you think you are doing?" Ahi An Ma was behind her. "Spreading the fur. What else would I be doing?" Bernadette searched the crowd and caught a glimpse of Macmillan's broad back. He looked damned sexy with sweat glistering on his skin. "Women do not stare at men. That is inappropriate." "I think you should tell that to the men and as well as your daughter. He is my husband."

Ahi An Ma grunted. "My daughters are entitled to whatever and whoever they please and that includes your husband. But if I am correct, you have not given him a child yet so him having my girl would not be such a big of a crime." "You entitled witch!" Ahi An Ma walked away from the steaming woman satisfied that she had managed to anger her just like how she had gotten angry at the words she had said. She had been loved, and she was still loved. True she had never settled for one man, and she had birthed many beautiful girls, who in turn had birthed even more beautiful girls. She was a leader, one of the oldest still alive and she was not giving herself credit, but she believed she was one of the reasons as to why the community still functioned like the way it did. "You no good vile wench." Bernadette was cut short by Soma Na Tas perfect body and smile. At least she was well dressed and not in strings and beads. "You water get, you go now." She threw a heavy clay pot at Bernadette's stomach not giving a care that the white woman stumbled on her heels. "You water. We need cook. You now go." "Some directions would be nice." She shouted at the two retreating women. "How about oh look here is the damned river source."

"My my, if my eyes do not deceive me. I beg your pardon ma'am. I have lost my accent over the years, and I am afraid I might have forgotten some words. Though if my memory serves me correctly, the last time I saw an British woman, she seemed to have more skirts than skin. Forgive me if I am being too forward. I am frank Elton." "You live in a society that has more skin than skirts." "Well, there I will not disagree ma'am." "And weird traditions." Her gaze landed on mother and whore, and she wished her eyes would beam out sun rays and burn them dead there and then. "May I help you with that?" The slight tag of her lose shirt had her turning in the direction of the man. "I am sorry yes please do."

She felt as though the weight of the world had been lifted from her. "Usually, the women carry lighter pots and have this one filled from inside. I guess they like you to have given you this big of a pot." "They hate me and if possible, want me gone. Apparently, witch one wants witch two to sleep with my husband and create witch three and four." Frank took a full glance at the somewhat taller woman. "You are Sir Macmillan Wilbur's wife?" The sweet melodious name to her ears made her heat up like the deserts on a hot sunny day. "Yes, I am, and I do apologise I am Bernadette. I have no family name." Again, Frank looked at her strangely as they graced the paths to the stream. "Why of course you do. It is Wilbur."

"Yes of course, I meant, well- what I was trying to say?" She was tongue tied. Shot how could she have messed up? "I was orphaned as a young girl. I only knew Bernadette as my name but never knew my surname. After being so alone for so long, it is kind of hard deepening or accepting anything from the other person that offers his help or his love. I am sorry if I had you confused." Frank shrugged his shoulders. "I understand Mrs Wilbur." "Oh no sir, call me by my name and my husband would prefer it if you called him by his name without any title." For all she knew, the man Frank could be a set up by the infamous Ahi An Ma with her devious ways. Though she could not deny his boyish smile. "How is England like? I have not been there in a long while. I bet my family misses me." It was Bernadettes time to shrug her shoulders and roll her eyes. "If you expect me to say it is beautiful then there is a big lie to that."

"Well it is by far better than here." He looked back at the little village he had known for the past ten years. "And makes much more sense too." They had reached the river. "I still find this very unhygienic, and I am still meant to get water from here. Look at this place, everything and I mean everything is done here, and yet-" Bernadette touched her stomach and swore never to eat or drink anything that was offered to her. "The whole village uses the water for various reasons." Frank could not argue no matter how hard he wanted to, because as of that moment a young boy walked by past them for the shallow parts of the river where he pulled down the cloth around his waist for business number two. "If it helps the water is cooked before used for drinking or cooking. So, you are safe."

A cold shudder escaped her body. "Safe is not all too encouraging." Bernadette dragged the heavy pot to the riverbank, though the water was crystal clear, it did not stop her from thinking about the enormous amounts of bacteria and probably viruses that swam in the water on a daily basis. And to have thought that she had bathed in it. "You know this river has fresh water and it is always clean despite the fact that people use it for various reasons." "Still." She let out a breath. "That is not encouraging." "And neither is it discouraging. I have studied these people and sure they are weird with their practices but even England is not as clean as you expect it to be. The river Thames has more dead bodies than polluted wastes." Bernadette stood to her height and stretched her back. "Well at least it is not the whole country's source of water." Frank walked towards her and took hold of the pot she had been struggling with. He set it in its rightful position and moved to a small wooden cage where he found two smaller pots. "Just because you did not drink from it does not mean it was never drunk from." He handed her a smaller pot. "There." He pointed towards a section of water. "The shallow parts are not best for fetching water but over there where the water is knee length, and do not worry, you might find fish but never any dangerous animals."

Frank turned for the village. "Wait and who will help me take this back to the village?" "I am going to get help. But before that I need to pick some fruits they are on the other side of the river. By the time I come back, you would have been done." Bernadette watched his back disappear among the trees and groaned in exhaustion. "Just great." The pots in her hands were of smallest size. She walked over to the cage and picked out two larger pots but regretted her decision as they seemed heavy. "I you help." "Bloody hell." Bernadette jumped almost crushing the clay on the bark of a tree. "Who the bloody devils are you?" The man before her smiled. "I, Ostamana call. I defender. I fight for village." He bowed down offering her a flower. "I am flattered."

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