Unsuspecting Blessing.

xvii

xvii

Tension between the two drove the rest of that night forth, not even the descending of the Sun could have been more potent than the urges they felt. Brian knew, and Julia did too, that what they had manifested within themselves—implicit or mentally explicit, it did not matter—grew too great for one's own subconscious. The trek home was filled with blissful thoughts and held back temptations; each crack in the sidewalk or hanging tree limb made the mind exorcise thoughts out into the open air but only through a whisper. The quiet breath that shared information that was kept internally spilled out of their lips, and they both knew that those words would be heard by the other in due time. The Sun did indeed fall further down, but a problem that did not become, because the race to the apartment turned into an intimate stroll of lingering rumination on what mystery hides beneath the fabrics.

Brian thought of himself, kind and strong, and able to make the right decisions, though the one that he knew stood in front of him as he pushed the wheelchair along had the magnitude of a city-destroying earthquake. What if, he thought, what if things turned out how they seemed? What would he do? What would he do if it all turned to regret and self-inflicted penance?

Julia though, less worked up, thought similarly. What if, she thought, what if this turned into something more grand? She perceived it as fun, playful and harmless intimacy, but she knew that whomever watched her from above or below she did not want to disappoint. The feelings echoed into ruminations of her parents, and throbbing in her leg pulsed outwards into her crotch to make a pleasantly, unpleasant ache within her.

They both wondered if they thought the same. Scenes of the future seemed to be created in similarly different fashions in both of their vivid imaginations; Julia's more so than Brian's as he focused on the glint in her hair with the dying sunlight that dyed it a slight shade lighter still—he could not wait to see it in its natural, provoking shade once again before the commencement of what might come.

They arrived at Julia's apartment, and spared no time. He pushed her up to the door, she unlocked it, and then he helped her out of her chair and onto her bed where she was able to stand on crutches by herself.

"Could you leave for a moment?" she asked, her voice sounding petite and low.

Wordlessly he complied, and left the room. His heart started to race, and the what if's had returned. What if I got the wrong idea? What if she doesn't feel the same? But the electrically erotic feeling held in the air, making him tense, but he knew that something had been between them, perhaps even just one spark from the friction on their clothes—but one was all it would take.

A minute or two passed of Brian standing by the closed door, and he heard slight struggles from the other side, but those minutes strangled him with a tight grip on both his throat and crotch. He could not breathe. Like a tight ring had been put around his nutsack and tightened every ten seconds, the fictional pain started to rush into him as he felt his heart rate go up. Then, "Come in," Julia's voice muffled by the shut door. Brian entered, and saw her lying on her bed dressed in clothing made of lace and supreme fabrics. Her skin showed through all the gaps, and the Sun setting over the building beamed quietly through the window illuminating her figure. He had wondered, since day one, what might have been hiding underneath her clothes. He finally saw an outline, the closest he had ever been.

Stunned, and nearly paralyzed, Brian stood frozen staring at Julia from across the room.

"Come closer," she said, and again a second time, almost begging.

There seemed to be no other option, Brian thought, no other choice but to do as she said. And he did not want to refuse. As he neared closer to her, he watched her body move slowly and find comfortable positions for her surely aching muscles. Brian looked at her legs, surprisingly long and smooth looking. He sat on the bed beside her at her waist, and wrapped his arm to caress the delicate skin that revealed where the lace stopped; her scars from the accident were visible, and he had seen them before when helping her dress herself or even undress but she had made him close his eyes each time, and he thought about touching them. He did, he reached his hands, and placed his fingers gently on the rough, yet oddly smooth skin that had a bumpy quality where her body had healed. His hand jumped back when she moved her legs faintly.

His eyes turned to hers to see if he had hurt her in any way.

She smiled, and a delicate laugh escaped her throat.

His eyes returned to her scars for some reason, and they looked real. He knew they had been, but in his mind they were surreal, almost like a nightmarish illusion that he did not want to believe truly happened to her.

When he turned his eyes back to her, she had moved closer and her lips touched his. The impact of her mouth touching his in such an embrace made his heart raise again, but this time out of arousal, not fear.

He returned her kiss and the night went on. Again, again, again, they kissed, unable to stop. He made sure not to put weight onto her leg, so she moved on top of him. The lightness of her body in that moment shocked him and furthered his arousal. Her skin felt so nice in his hands and under his fingers as he moved them about her body with skillful ease. Her hands wrapped around the back of his neck like a boat's anchor as she stroked her body across his back and forth, back and forth.

Eventually, nighttime came. And they were lying next to one another, filled with lingering sensations that they both desired for it never to leave.