Unnatural Instinct: Alone

12.

I can't seem to catch my breath. The air is tight in my lungs as I race down the path away from you. I don't go far, just enough to be away and collect myself. I'm dizzy. I feel weak. I can't even see straight. There's a strange feeling in my palm, like the feel of your nipple has imprinted there.

There's something wrong with me. I'm hot. I'm sweating. Enough so that I shake out my shirt. That's not enough and I yank it off. The world spins and I sit down heavily. Leaning over, I brace my head between my knees.

My pants are really tight. There is a nasty throb in my groin that takes my breath away. I grab at my pelvis and close my eyes, trying to shift the urge. It's nothing new. I've felt like this before at odd times in the quiet of my cave, but I've never had anything provoke it before. And it's the worst I've ever known it. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I have caught the sickness of the berries from you.

I'm so caught up in my thoughts I don't hear your footsteps.

'Lance?'

I jerk to my feet and hide my face—and my groin. Somehow, I know that it's rude. Somehow, I know that I need to keep it secret. To be ashamed. Even in the quietude of my cave it embarrasses me.

'I'm fine,' I say in my gravelly voice.

'You can look at me. I'm dressed now.'

I shake my head. 'It's not that.'

'Then, what?'

'I don't know.'

There's a long silence. 'It's okay to feel things. It's normal.'

I clench my fists. 'How do you know my feelings?'

'We all have them. You look at me as a man does a woman. It's natural. Your shirt's off.' And you say it in a way that surprises me.

I dare to turn, just enough to look at you. You're staring at me with an intensity that reflects my own feelings. Your shirt is back on, which I'm grateful for, but your breasts still press against it and I can't help seeing them as they were. Like my palms, they're imprinted on my memory.

There's pink on your cheeks as you study me. 'You're very big. You do a lot of ... er ... lifting out here, I suppose.'

I look down at myself in confusion. I'm just normal.

'Compared to the men I know back home. Your skin's very dark too. And your hands ...'

You approach me and grab my right hand. You study my fingers. You turn it over to look at my knuckles.

I can't stop staring at you. At the way your hair falls around your face. At the blossoming redness in your cheeks; the shine in your eyes. Your hand feels amazing in mine. So tiny and perfect. All I want to do is wrap both my hands around it and hold it tight.

Your eyes suddenly drop downwards and I quickly turn away, sliding my hand out of yours. 'Don't look.'

'It's normal.'

'Normal?'

'It doesn't bother me.' You pause. 'Not like it should.'

You're frowning. Then you notice me watching and smile.

'I'm sorry for being so forward,' you say. 'It won't happen again.'

'I-I don't mind.' I can feel the blood rush to my face. Your nipples have hardened and they're pressing against your shirt. My shirt. I turn away with a wince. 'What is happening to me?' My hand is trembling as I rake my fingers through my hair.

'Has this never happened to you before?'

'Not like this.'

'Do you need some privacy?'