God Only Knows……. A Vincent and Catherine “First Time” story, (Rated Adult)

God Only Knows…….
A Vincent and Catherine “First Time” story, Rated Adult

= = = = = = = = = = = =

“Cath..er..ine”……..his gentle enunciation issued all the greeting she desired.

Once her hand left the rung she spun to fly into his waiting embrace.  How long had she ached to see him?  It was late Friday evening, so late that it was nearly Saturday morning. Yet, when Vincent felt her heart racing in cheerful expectation he knew to snap on his cloak and meet her.  His heart lept at the feel of her within his arms. 

“Vincent, I am sorry to keep you up” She pulled back to see the smile she knew was beaming for her alone.

“Never be repentant for keeping me up” inside his heart he found her choice of words a bit humorous.  She alone was responsible for his urgent fleshly yearnings.  He was reconciling all the guilt he felt for his carnal desires while she was doing her best to convey he wasn’t an animal to desire sharing the pleasures of the flesh. Meanwhile, he’d ply her with more gustatory delights, “I’ve gathered a bit of tonight’s dessert and brewed a pot of your favorite tea”.

Catherine fell in step  beside him, his pace casual now as they made their way to his chamber in companionable peace. These days they moved almost silently, listening to each other within the Bond they shared. Their emotions spoke volumes.

“Do you have tomorrow free?” she whispered even though they were in his chamber, the hour seemed to call for her discreet tone.

As the hottest fires forged the hardest steel, Catherine sought the emotional fire of doing more than walking beside him. She sought the heat of lying next to him every night.  She knew if they just kept on moving in tandem, they would soon move as one.

“I have a morning meeting with Father about curriculum, and then I am all yours”, Vincent confessed as he prepared their snack.  Catherine smiled at the image of this large figure pouring tea and plating warm bread pudding as she shuffled out of her shoes and slid into the sheepskin moccasins she kept under his bed. She slid out of her jacket and pulled on the bulky knit sweater he had laid across the pillow.

 It was this sweater that Vincent would take from her each time she left; he’d drape it across the other side of his bed and warm to it as he slept. Did she know that? He didn’t think that she did. Their hearts burned to be together limitlessly.

Once she settled in the gently used upholstered chair that Vincent had added to his chamber for her, they shared the fragrant tea and warm dessert, stealing glances at each other between sips and bites. “What brought you down so late tonight?” Vincent curiously asked, catching the last of the vanilla sauce on his fork and trying not to smack his lips at the flavor.

“I couldn’t go another day without seeing you, the notes under the door are sweet, and they just don’t give hugs” Catherine offered up her empty cup and he stood to pour another cup for each of them.

“And Father recently read a medical paper stating that hugs increase the "Bonding" hormone oxytocin and decreases the risk of heart disease” Vincent had a wry way with stating facts about the driest subjects with so much heart.

“Well with the stress of my job, you can see how heart healthy you are for me” Catherine nodded in agreement as she settled back in the chair Vincent called, “hers”, alongside his rigid wooden chair.

Their hearts spoke to each other about yearning and “one day” while they listened to the sounds of the early morning tunnels. When Catherine felt her head bob she woke suddenly and laughed, “I guess that’s my cue to get home”.

“Catherine, you stay here” Vincent’s words captivated her….was he ready to make that step?  She nodded, diverting her mind from whether her legs were shaved and shrugged at the same time, luminous with the thought of staying within these walls all night.

“I’ll make my bed down the hall, Bert has taken a larger family chamber” Vincent was up and near the door before she could register disillusionment. She knew where her clothes were stored, what else could she do? She was drowsy, too strapped by her heady court schedule that day. Resolutely, she undid her bra and slipped it out from underneath the soft bulky sweater that hung near her knees and slid out of her pants. Within minutes she was sound asleep, clutching at the musky honeyed scent of Vincent on his pillow.

Outside his chamber Vincent stood, smack against the tunnel wall, imagining her hair as it bobbed on her shoulders; he heard her moving about his chamber so familiarly.  His fist clutched at his lips as he regretted not kissing her at least on her cheek. Then silently he stole down to the next chamber and slid out of his boots and cape. Holding the sight of Catherine’s smile he slept peacefully.

= = = = = = = = =

“Vincent”, Father’s voice preceded him into his son’s chamber, yet Father silenced immediately when he saw Catherine smiling in a dream, clutching Vincent’s pillow while she clearly nestled back against the far side of the bed. Vincent was absent from this cozy tableau and Father was curious where his son slept last night.  He retreated into the tunnel while he listened to Catherine’s stirrings.

“Father? Vincent?” she grabbed for her trousers and pulled them on, not hearing a response.  Recognizing her need to use the bathroom was greater than speaking with either of them she made quick steps to the bathing chamber for her morning necessities and splashed water on her face. The small dish that looked like a sugar bowl interested her, so she lifted the lid and sniffed. Ingeniously they mixed baking soda and peppermint essence for toothpaste. She poured a bit into her hand and used her finger to brush at her morning mouth.  She thought she had heard Father, so she made tracks back out to retrieve her bra and make herself presentable.

Vincent made his way to Father’s chamber, leaving a wide berth for Catherine to wake.  He‘d greet Father and share a cup of tea before bringing her over to share breakfast with both of them.

“Vincent, where did Catherine spend the night?” Father asked a bit imperiously as he peered over his eyeglasses.

“Below” Vincent simply stated, as he moved toward his usual morning embrace with his father.

“Where below?” those words froze Vincent before he reached his father’s chair.

“Catherine slept in my bed….” Vincent replied without a hint of remorse.

“And you were. . . . where?” Father’s tone ratcheted upward in tension.

“Does it matter where I slept?” To Vincent this was a sore point, he was an adult. A broad line separated a boy enamored with Lisa from a man deeply in love with Catherine. Yes, by now Catherine had divined that he was entirely a man in love.

“You, Vincent are an example for our community. Can we have you entertaining in your chamber with no doors?” Father’s voice was low, even, and disciplinary.

“Father, there were no witnesses to my entertaining. Our enjoyment was limited to tea and bread pudding I might add” At this point Vincent had halted his steps, his hands rose to his hips and he stood in the posture of an insolent teenager, “Perhaps now is the time for me to install doors, thick wooden doors” Vincent fairly snorted with an arched eyebrow.

“Vincent, when you invite a woman into your bed you cannot explain it away that lightly” Father watched as Vincent’s insolence melted to frustration.

“Father, I did not and have never invited her to share my bed” Vincent swept out of his cape and sat in his usual chair across from his accuser. “She arrived late, we talked, we enjoyed some pudding and tea and I made my bed in Bert’s former chamber” Vincent’s blue eyes bored thru his Father’s tired eyes just enough to soften the patriarch’s moral hard-shell.

“I am. . . . .sorry. . . . .I should have known. . . . .” Father’s voice hesitated, he was lost for words. At his choice of words he caught himself and then recounted, “I know you are an honorable man” which only dug a deeper hole. This comment tossed the immorality into Catherine’s court, implying her steps toward a seduction. “And Catherine is a true lady. . . . .” Father shut up, offering up the tea pot to cover his faux pas.

“Apology accepted” Vincent hid a victory smirk as he accepted his first cup of tea, “Was she asleep when you spied her in my bed?” Vincent’s tone hid a smirk.

“Soundly” was Father’s reply, his lips moved somewhere between a frown and a smirk.  She did seem comfortable below with the rest of them. Was this a vision of things to come?

“Well, then I will gather us all breakfast and return here with her. Also, Father, if I had invited her to share my bed and we had……we are in our thirties” Vincent shook his head in frustration.

“From the smile on her face, I thought you had” Father drew back and stroked his goatee – it was the sign he was pensively weighing the subject.

“She can brighten your morning too” Vincent was up and out before Father could raise an issue. His feet barely touched the stone ground to his chamber.

“Catherine?” Vincent stood outside, his heart in his throat. Something about seeing her fresh from his bed that absolutely stirred his soul. Would there be a day when he’d tumble out of that bed with her?

“Vincent, I’m decent” She laughed at the words, her thoughts betrayed those words.  All Vincent could derive thru the Bond was sheer happiness with a bit of playfulness. She rushed him as he turned the corner, their arms ready to hold each other.

“You are more than decent; you’ve brought the morning sun right into my chamber” Vincent’s arm stayed around her shoulders as they headed for the hall and his ease with their public body language caused her heart to soar.

= = = = = = = =

“We have carrot muffins” Vincent announced as they entered Father’s chamber only to meet silence. Father was slumped over his stack of books, the tea cup still in his hand.

Catherine rushed to him, pressing for a pulse and finding it slow and irregular she wailed as if she were Above, “Call  911, Oh my God Vincent, who do you call?”

Vincent shook off the frightening reality of his Father’s episode as he lifted him to his settee.

“Get Mary, and send Kipper for Peter” Vincent’s eyes surveyed his Father’s color and perspiration.  He estimated it was a heart episode, and left Father to gather the aspirin. “Father, can you hear me, take this,” Vincent propped Father up to gather the aspirin bottle.  Returning to Father with medicine and tea, he awoke Father to encourage him, “Father, just as you’ve advised….take this, and a sip of tea.” Minutes extended to eons of time while they awaited Mary and then Peter. 

“It’s just a small episode, Vincent” Father demurred, yet the emotional impact of them seeing Vincent holding his Father as a parent holds an ill child weighed heavy on their hearts.

The Tunnel Patriarch lay within Vincent’s arms as Peter took measured steps thru the exam, “Jacob, I want you to return with me today, no arguments”  Peter was trumping any of Father’s usual reasons for staying Below. 

“I’ll carry you” Vincent immediately volunteered as Father waved him away.

“I’m not dead yet, we can take it slowly I can get there under my own steam.” Father began to rise and took no time to fall back down on to the settee.

“Jacob” Mary was at his side, ready to support him, dismayed at his episode, concerned for his health with all of her love in full bloom she held his hand as their eyes spoke silently.

= = = = = = =

The final determination was that Kanin and Vincent would use a sedan chair to get Father to Peter’s basement, then Mary would spend the afternoon with Father while Peter ran usual tests to verify or rule out a heart attack.

Vincent sat, long legs splayed out in front of him as he slunk down in Father’s chair.  The chair seemed small for the job Father performed for the Tunnel community.  Vincent’s elbow rested heavy as his heart on the very table where he had found his Father in a daze, now the daze overwhelmed Vincent. All his life the Tunnel had Jacob Wells leading them thru natural disasters to Paracelsus. Although Father vexed him over Catherine spending the night in his bed now Vincent prayed that Father come home, hale and hearty for many more “disagreements”

“Don’t be sad, Father is with a good Doctor” Mouse appeared from as if a vapor, startling Vincent.

“Yes, Peter is skilled” Yet Vincent couldn’t help but do the math, a man advancing in years and living in dank darkness was surely not as healthy as someone from Above. Vincent waged a two sided argument with himself.

Father should have more exercise, perhaps somewhere to swim in a large body of warm water. No, he’d not do that – he’d never enjoy the luxury of a large pool. Sadly, Vincent was too embroiled in his own debate to see Mouse scurry away.

The Lunch call was sounded and he drew himself up, rehearsing the safest announcement about Father’s episode, as they had withheld any pipe announcements about the incident. He wished Catherine were by his side right now, instead of with Peter and Father Above.

Vincent felt Catherine’s wave of relief as he entered the dining hall, and the comfort she was returning to them now eased his mind.

Vincent turned to face her and she crushed into him, “Oh, he’s going to be fine with some rest” Without even thinking of the audience she held Vincent’s head to her breasts and whispered, “I know we’ll all be relieved within a couple of days”

“A couple of days?” Vincent bristled at being alone so suddenly.

“I agreed to take him to my place for a few days. Peter drew blood, there were some other tests he’s arranging to have done Monday.  It’ll be good for him to sit on the balcony in the sun – you know just relax” Catherine pulled back and watched the color drain from Vincent’s face, “What’s the matter?”

Vincent nearly stammered at the thought of running interference for the Tunnel world. It would be necessary the day Father passed, yet making day to day decisions while he recuperated meant still answering to the patriarch when he returned.  There was no speedy method of communication between Catherine’s apartment and the tunnel world, no way to discuss emergent issues for Father’s opinion.

“We’ll speak later, right now, why don’t you share the news” He spun out of her embrace and tapped a spoon to his glass, “Everyone, Catherine has news of Father’s illness”

“Peter Alcott is treating Father for what appears to be a fainting spell. He’ll stay with me for a few days while Father has agreed to have tests run.” Catherine waited for questions, yet the fact that Father will be with her stumped the crowd.

“Are you cooking for him, Catherine?” William’s hands rested on his generous hips, “I can send food for the two of you”. Vincent and Catherine shared a secret smirk; everyone did know how badly she spoke of her own cooking.

“Gladly, William, I have a nice sized freezer”, Catherine took her seat beside Vincent and they put their heads together about the next few days.

== = = = = = = = =

Once they were physically settled in Catherine’s apartment they made steps toward being comfortable with each other.

“Catherine, your hospitality is generous and kind” Father succumbed to her throwing open her door and literally pulling him inside. Just seeing her throw open the French doors he felt like an interloper. The vista of the evening skyline beckoned to Jacob.  This was the area where is son wooed Catherine with books and his gentle velvet voice. 

“I have some of my father’s clothes, a bathrobe, a sweater and corduroys” She offered the stack of clothing to Father.

“Peter is going to be out of town for the next two days, I’ll be the one taking you to the medical center” She beamed as if the expression could cast more of a calming mood over Jacob, “In the meantime, I’ve had a more comfortable fold up brought in, everything in the kitchen is on your diet and I even got an electric tea kettle” every word weighed heavy on Jacob. 

Jacob’s relationship with Catherine was born of the friction with Vincent bringing her bloodied body below and with each of Vincent’s steps toward a “relationship” they locked horns. Now Jacob felt the triangle would be dancing closer around each other, grasping for accord. 

“I’m going to heat up our meal, would you be ready to each once I’m out of the shower?” Catherine read his reactions to the decidedly feminine décor.  He was looking for books, simple common denominators they could Bond over. “I have a radio as well as a phonograph, would you like me queue up some music?”

“That would be a pleasure after being Peter’s pincushion” Jacob removed a layer of his Tunnel clothes and moved to the coat closet yet she dodged to him as the gracious hostess and hung it for him. “Kipper is bringing a bag up for you, I expect him at any moment”.  Catherine left Father on the balcony with a steeping cup of tea, alone in the shower she thought of what she had done…….bringing him above almost forcing him to have medical tests.  It was because she loved Vincent, and yes she did love Father too.  She could only imagine losing him so soon after her own Father passed away.  If she could save Vincent from that heartache, she would.

She could hear the piano etudes occasionally thru the staccato of the water striking her head, all the while wishing Vincent were there with them. And then there was a call at the louvered doors separating her bedroom from her living room, “Catherine, we have a guest” it was Father’s voice, sounding lighter than he had all day.

“I’ll be out directly”, Catherine towel dried her hair and threw on her heaviest terry robe, skidding out into the living room on bare feet, wishing for Vincent to be there, wishing the world above could allow him to stride in off the street and ride the INSIDE of the elevator.

“Mary! Please come in” Catherine stepped back as Mary entered wide eyed and cautious.

“I asked if I could bring up Father’s bag,” her cheeks blushed pink as she saw Father on the balcony.  All of a sudden Catherine felt like a third wheel.  Wouldn’t it be sweet for them to share the patio as she and Vincent had? Isn’t that romantic, her heart fluttered at the thought.  If Father were more romantically inclined, perhaps he’d approve of Vincent’s pursuits.  Yes, she’d set the table for 2 and bring her dinner into her bedroom and feign some paperwork.

“It is wonderful to see you, Mary“; Catherine moved to hug her and then checked the kitchen for dinner.  All the while she heard their two voices dancing in the night air. She set the table quietly and plated up the food, “You are in time for Dinner, and you’ll be good company for Father…..I have some paperwork to review while I eat” Jacob and Mary looked like two teens caught spooning.

“Oh, Catherine, are you sure?” ever gracious, Mary left the balcony to help and was stunned by the romantic table Catherine had set for them. The women shared a secret wink and Catherin nodded.  “Jacob, Catherine has set a gracious table, come join me”. Mary caught Catherine in a hug, “You are too sweet, dear” she whispered.

“Certainly we did not intend to run you off, won’t you stay?” Jacob saw the table and he seemed to have the same reticence that Vincent had toward “romance”, what was his excuse???

“I have to get centered over some paperwork,” Catherine motioned to the size of her bed, “I’ll be deep in thought; you two enjoy each other’s company in some peace and quiet”. She did everything she could to NOT listen to their conversation, from the cadence of their words their meal began formally and with each sentence they seemed to punctuate words with a lighter inflection, by the time Catherine had finished her meal, they were nearly in whispers sharing balanced amusements.

Lost in paperwork her attention span would not process, she longed for Vincent! When his tapping rescued her from her self-imposed tedium she threw open the bedroom’s French doors and put a finger to her lips, “They are having too much fun together, don’t interrupt them”.

 Vincent’s eyes widened, first missing the meaning of her words, “Mary went above with Kipper and he returned without her”, his eyes darted to the other French doors incredulous at Mary venturing Above to visit Father.

“They are lost in each other’s words, Vincent, its sweet. If I hadn’t heard their laughter I’d think it was two different people” Catherine’s hand moved to Vincent’s chest and feeling his rapidly beating heart as it calmed she knew he understood the scenario.

“And I sought to become lost in conversation with you” Vincent drew her hands into his as he pulled her back out to the balcony. She’d have let him pull her anywhere, she was wishing for a hug and perhaps one of his kisses to her hair and then she felt his embrace and a rush of his breath on her face.  At once Catherine was wrapped in his cloak, suffused with the fragrances of his world; leather, candle smoke and naturally scented soaps.  Her heart danced a staccato tap dance while his arms wrapped her in “someday” dreams.

Perhaps he had meant a kiss on the cheek yet she turned and there it landed, right on her lips.  She melted to him, her partially opened lips accepted his kiss and reflexively she kissed back.  How many years had it been since she had been kissed clandestinely? She felt the power of his embrace, his broad chest pressed tightly to her, her knees were weak at the belief of it happening right here, right now.

“I’ll move Father here permanently if this is my reward” Catherine confessed, batting her eyelashes.

Vincent let her go and caught her face in his hands, “I. . . .Missed . . . . . your cheek, yet I did not regret it at all” he swallowed a deep breath and straightened up as if another kiss needed such preparation, “We may have to practice this” His smile, his deep blue eyes, he was a man transformed. “Right now I need to say hello, perhaps they’ll think I’ve arrived for more nefarious reasons.”

Catherine tugged him toward the bedroom and Vincent pulled back to the balcony to enter thru the living room’s French doors. He won.

Catherine dodged into the living room, halting the current conversation at the dinner table, as she broke open the doors she realized Father and Mary had pulled apart and adopted more formal postures. Had they been holding hands????

Catherine threw open the French doors with an eager “Good evening, Vincent” she greeted him with open arms and he surprised her by returning a speedy embrace and entering the room with his arm remaining around her shoulder. How thrilled she felt along his side!

Vincent surveyed the dishes and his surrogate parents in what appeared to be a romantic meal.  He looked at their chairs, scooted closer than across from each other, the single flower in a crystal bud vase, the room lit by gentle candle light.  He wished he could have shared it with Catherine, for them alone.

“Good evening, Vincent” Mary and Father seemed to chime in unison. The spell cast by Catherine leaving them alone was broken by Vincent’s arrival.

“I, Father, I merely wanted to assure to those below you were thriving Above” Vincent scanned the room, hearing the classical music, seeing the candles on the mantle, “and that you weren’t missing this”, Vincent proffered Father’s new journal, “I thought perhaps all of the activities of these days might spill over and … …. You’d need a new journal” Sure it was an empty reason for Vincent to arrive – yet justified his being there with Catherine too.

“That was so thoughtful of you Vincent; did you expect me to have so many adventures Above that I’d burn right thru my current journal?” Father’s eyes smiled at the myriad of reasons that would have brought Vincent Above, they all began and ended with Catherine.

“We’ll be on the balcony”, Catherine smiled whimsically as she dragged Vincent back outside.

Once they were facing the starry night sky, Catherine stood on tiptoe and whispered into his ear, “How long have they been in love?”

Vincent drew back, incredulously, “In love?” his expression was 1 part confusion and 1 part denial, “They work together, side by side, they are 2 of a kind perfectly suited to each other” he shook that magnificent head of hair as if its movement could banish the concept of his surrogate parents in love.

“You talk about them as if they were Clydesdales pulling a wagon” Catherine giggled as she regarded his dry words, “I admire someone who can join closely to another, working in tandem on a dream for decades yet they totally sublimate their heart’s desire. I am not that strong” Catherine’s hand sought Vincent’s on the low brick wall.

“You are the embodiment of feminine strength, like Persephone.”  His burning blue eyes cut sideways to her; “she was the Goddess of Spring. One day, as she was out picking flowers, Hades, the God of the Underworld, abducted her and made her Queen of the Underworld.” Vincent’s face saddened, “quite like the night I found you, broken, bleeding”. Catherine felt him reliving the horror at what criminals had to done to her.

She stroked the back of his hand with her gentle fingertips in silence, “You are no Hades”

“At times I feel as if I were.  They rely on my might” He clenched his hands in a sign of frustration. “You, Catherine have been my bright link between Above and Below”. Vincent’s heart teetered between pain and joy. “And like Persephone, you belong Above”

No, no, no, Catherine thought. Not this diatribe, their kiss felt like one step forward, these words felt like two abrupt steps back.

“Did you come to read together tonight?” Catherine bumped him with her hip, still watching the night lights over the city, “You know, we could go in and share desert while we enjoy some classical music”

For Vincent the thought of the four of them on her two small sofas, facing each other seemed downright stifling.  The lighting, even dimmed, seemed to cast too bright a light on them for his sake. “I believe I’ll return Below, you have a full day chauffeuring Father“, Vincent’s leonine features took on a contagious smirk.

“Other than when he was transported by the courts last year, when was the last time Father rode in a car?” Catherine wondered whether his curiosity would outweigh the cumbersome 3 way seat belts and the dense traffic.

“He’s never mentioned autos in any of his few tales” Vincent’s attentions roamed over his shoulder to sneak a peek at the couple. Mary was ferrying dishes back to the kitchen, fawning over Father as she wiped the table and poured more tea.  Feeling free to be someone else above, they totally enjoyed each other’s company. Catherine heard hearty laughter, almost lyrical between Father and Mary.

“Vincent, I wish I could escape with you, I feel like an interloper” Catherine’s hushed tone ran a trill up Vincent’s spine, in her attempt to be discreet, her voice took on a clandestine aura that bored straight thru Vincent’s thick resolve.

“Catherine, I will make this up to you, you have my word” Vincent’s warm breath washed over her, a shower of heavenly promises. She clung to the front of his cape, too reticent to let him go.

“Will I see you tomorrow night?” She brushed back a stray lock of golden hair from his face, their eyes met, blue facing green, her hunger facing his resolve.

“But of course, Catherine. How could I go a day without the joy of seeing your face in the flesh? I realize our Bond lets us share so much…..yet seeing you, refreshes me. . . .Totally. I’ll return at dark, you have my word” He caught her hands in his and laid a gentle kiss on the backs of both of them.  At the feeling of his lips on her flesh she shivered in delight and melted toward him. Their Bond simmered as Catherine regained control of the gentle burn deep within her; she thought she felt Vincent rein his side of the “sizzle”.

Without thought he dropped her hands as her body propelled toward his chest.  Swept up in the moment he caught her with his arms and they fell into each other’s embrace. She was held there by the resonant sound of his halting deep breaths and of course the fact that Vincent’s arms wrapped possessively around her slim shoulders. Their embrace carried them backwards toward balcony wall and they came to a thudding halt as Catherine’s cheek pressed against his vest. His heart beat captivated her, sang her a love song of his devotion. While she hovered within his encompassing embrace she visualized a night where he would stay till the sky streaked with the flame of dawn, and then some.

“Catherine” Father’s voice beckoned from the other room. She cringed as she realized the doors gaped enough to allow an exchange of voices.  Vincent’s arms dropped as she reflexively stepped back from his body, stiff at Father’s voice.

Frozen, too afraid that Vincent would bolt at her leaving, she shook her head in resignation, “Don’t leave, please”, her hands rested on his broad shoulders and he nodded silently, his lips pursed.

“Father, what did you need?” she asked as she returned inside.  The room seemed to overwhelm her, the heat of the candles, the ceiling felt too low, and the walls too tight.

“Won’t you join us for desert? Mary has brewed a fresh pot of tea” his tone was inviting as well as commanding.  A life time of Vincent’s obedience registered with Catherine as he swooshed by in a blur and began rounding up chairs to fit the four of them pleasantly around the dinner table.

“I can see all I need to do is relax and enjoy the company. You are all charming guests” Catherine exclaimed as she lowered into the chair as Vincent effortlessly slid her closer the cheesecake plated before her.

“We have few cheesecakes Below”, Mary eyed the strawberries in a glaze, waiting for Father and Vincent to dig into theirs. They spoke of view of from the balcony, the broad selection of music in her library and luxury of a modern kitchen for someone who didn’t care to cook!

“True, Father, it’s a small kitchen by some standards but big enough for what I do” Catherine leaned back, holding her tea cup with both hands, wishing she were holding Vincent’s face

“And few chances to sit undisturbed” Father added, “I truly feel relaxed before my first night’s sleep”. Had it been the relative silence of being 18 floors above the street versus being below amid the constant din of the pipe messages?

Their evening ended when Vincent made his apologies for cutting the “festivities short”, “Mary, I’ll send Cullen back to meet you at the threshold”.  Vincent rose and prepared to lift his hood over his head when Catherine caught his hand and led him to the kitchen.

“Words cannot describe how pleasant an evening this has been….I wouldn’t have entertained Father very well, I know he had a lovely time” Her hands rested on the muscular plane of his chest, just over his pounding heart. 

“Then indeed it was a time well spent for all of us” Vincent caught her hands up in his as his eyes dropped to their differences…..her smooth ivory skin, his rough palms and his cruel claws. When she wanted him to catch both of her hands in another kiss he dropped them and stepped to Father.

Embracing Father’s shoulders, he bent close to Father’s ear and whispered “Good night and remember to follow the Doctor’s advice.” Father grimaced and shook his head as if he wouldn’t.

“Certainly, just as you have always followed your Doctor’s advice” Somehow Catherine didn’t believe she had ever heard sarcasm from Father... this was a first!

And in a whisper of wool, Vincent was gone. Shortly Mary sadly made her good-byes when Cullen knocked at the front door.   Father insisted he walk her to the door as Catherine made herself scarce in the kitchen. While she heard their murmured voices the knock fell again, where they stalling opening the door? Had they stolen an embrace or more?

In the apartment’s silence Father watched Catherine extinguish the table’s candles, clear the dishes and prepare his roll away bed.  She had no words, having never held court in her “world” with such a daunting guest.  They had been at opposite ends of Vincent, Father tugging his son from her with words of puritan caution. Catherine simply wanted to be with Vincent, to love him and be loved by him.

“The towels are on the counter, if you’d like to shower.” She offered, urging the evening to an end.  With a nod and a tenuous few steps Father left the living room to get reacquainted with 20th century plumbing.

= = = = = =

“I don’t see what all this has to do with an old man’s fainting spells” Father verbally tussled with Catherine on their way to the Imaging and Lab Center.  At each modern turn he silently regarded the gleaming stainless steel treatment areas, the modern garb of the medical practitioners, the eerily young Physicians and Nurses “Are any of them over 30? Or do they siphon them off to work in another world?” Father flinched at their bright garb and their matter of fact rapid fire questions.

“It’s just a blood draw, Father, they aren’t vampires” Catherine’s patience had been stretched; he had the inquisitiveness of a 9 year old, wanting to contrast and compare medical processes from the 1950’s. Each scrubs clad technician experienced a medical 20 questions before he’d submit to the test.

“They might as well have gnawed my arm off at the elbow.” He frowned as the two of them left the building.

“Well, how about we have a rejuvenating lunch and then I’ll drop you at my apartment. Peter is calling this evening and I don’t want us to miss the call” She ushered Father to her car and pointed them in the direction of her favorite little steak house. “I have a feeling you don’t get many filet mignons Below.” She smirked as she pulled thru the slogging traffic.

Did she hear an almost silent “Harrumph” from Father? She didn’t take her eyes off the road she just smirked at the thought of his sublimating his power to her for those few days. Catherine imagined if she had married, ABOVE, perhaps she would have been charged with ferrying her father in law to his appointments, she’d do her “penance” and look out for Father.  She inhaled deeply, picking up a faint glimmer of candle wax from Father’s suit; it made her daydream of Vincent.

“Catherine, there should be limits to your hospitality.” He really didn’t put up a fight; there wasn’t much conviction in his refusal.

At 2:00pm the family owned restaurant was sparsely filled and the few patrons didn’t pay too much attention to the young woman and the retro fashionably dressed older gent. They sat at a round table in the rear corner and as Jacob hung up his hat his eyes seemed to mist.  “Are you alright?” Catherine leaned in close, seeing nostalgia wash over his lined face.

“How long has this restaurant been open?” His tired eyes scanned the crown molding and tin ceiling. Catherine read the emotions erupting, pulled from below his many secreted layers.

“I believe my parents came here while they courted, so perhaps the 50’s?” Catherine visualized her father holding the chair for her mother, the happy Saturday afternoon luncheons they shared. Her soft smile emerged, wishing there would be moments for Vincent to dine privately with her.

“The city used to be filled with dining establishments such as this, always a joy to eat something crafted with care.” Father was revealing what he missed being Below.

They ordered Caesar salads and onion soup au gratin, and then as their formalities fell away they dug into their steaks, “I have not had such a treat in decades, Catherine, you spoil me, just as you spoil us Below!”

“You have to eat, and it gives us some time to. . . .” Catherine picked over her croutons as carefully as she picked her words, “just take a break and get to know each other better.”

“You think I have cast you in the poor light, that I doubt the viability of your friendship with my son” Father put down his utensils and adopted a serious expression while his fists lay on the white linen tablecloth on either side of his plate.

“I think you misunderstand what we have.” Catherine’s voice was steady, low as she grasped for a drink of water.  With a gulp she began again, “What we have is real; those eight months we were apart we were empty, searching for the missing part of ourselves.”

“It was far safer for Vincent, he….”Father was adamant.

“Was completely unfulfilled, when we are apart we are incomplete” Catherine emphasized the point leaning across the table, eyes wide open, voice low, “I love him, he loves me in ways there has never ever been.  Please accept us and see us as the couple that everyone else sees.”

“I realize the community is glad for Vincent, they want him to be as fulfilled as they are.” Father drew his lips tight and shook his head.

“Vincent is not a community project; he’s a flesh and blood man who deserves a private chamber without a parade of visitors 24/7.” There she had said it. In their time spent in his chamber there never could have been a romantic tryst….there simply wasn’t 15-30 minutes without someone roving into “chat”.

“That familiarity the community has with Vincent has always been vital to him; he’s a constant resource for the children and those who’ve grown up with him.” Father was confident this was all his son needed, the constant contact with the families…..not having a family himself.

“So you establish him as surrogate for so many without allowing Vincent the first opportunity to have what they have?” Her furrowed brow and grim expression filled in her attitude about that.

“This is not the fairy tale, Catherine; your love will not transform Vincent’s appearance” Father picked up his utensils and took the remainder of his meal in reverent muteness.

“He does not need transformation, he is everything to me.” Catherine shook her head and then stared at her plate.  Father’s staunch attitude wiped out her appetite.

The old patron stood at a distance, watching the mismatched pair of diners.  He caught the tension roiling off them like flames, and he sensed misunderstandings abounding between them. What a shame for a father and daughter to have such hard feelings between them he worried as he fidgeted with his cap. The man at the table seemed familiar although he didn’t recognize the girl.  At his age, all women seemed to be girls he chuckled to himself as he approached the table.

“I am sorry to intrude on your meal, sir, you look familiar to me.” Weak eyes surveyed Jacob’s manner of dress, his clipped beard and moustache, then as the septuagenarian clasped the back of the empty chair he focused hard.

Jacob jumped at the man’s statement, social pleasantries seemed to desert him, so he modestly shook his head, “Perhaps you have mistaken me for someone else“ then Father returned to his meal yet the man did not retreat. Catherine could see the machinations of the older man’s mind, as he summoned all his memories. The man shook his head as if to argue with himself then he tapped his upper lip and the gesture nearly shook Father from his meal, “IS there anything we can do for you sir?” was all he could muster.

“You dined with a young woman, you were courting” Unflappable the man described his recollection, his eyes gently creased by time.

“I am sure more than a few people did that here” Father sniffed dismissively as he prepared for another bite, the piece of steak hung precariously on his fork.

The man shook his head, perhaps the man with the younger woman had reasons to hide from his former life and feeling dismissed he shuffled off, returning his cap to his bald pate as he waved a goodbye to the maître de.

“You’ve eaten here before?” Catherine shook her head, disbelieving Father’s discourtesy, “Would it have killed you to admit it?” Catherine pushed her plate away and tucked her chin down while she picked at a cuticle. She tamped down her emotions; she’d be mortified to have Vincent feel her harsh feelings toward Jacob Wells.

“Secrets need to be kept. I endanger everyone with one slip” Father politely placed his utensils on the plate and pushed it forward before he placed his clasped hands before him.

“You ate here with Margaret, didn’t you?” Catherine’s eyes narrowed this stranger’s recollection of a courting couple brought flavor of humanity to Father’s staid persona.

“What would it have mattered? Below I’m Father; above I was Dr. Jacob Wells, still a fugitive in my mind”. Their eyes wavered as they looked around the room, as if scanning for “witnesses” to his behavior, “Thank-you for lunch, it truly was delicious.”

Catherine understood the wall Father had built, strengthened by isolation and time. What did that mean for her, for Vincent, for them? Catherine had spent two and a half years opening herself to Vincent thru their “Bond”; each step toward their happy life was strapped by two steps back.

PART 2

= = = = = = =

Days later, evening…..

“What causes syncope?” Mary asked, sitting on the edge of her chair in Father’s chamber.

Peter’s intern, Jess, a young man from the Tunnels, flipped thru the lab reports, the EKG along with the notes inside the file, “It may be caused by emotional stress, pain, pooling of blood in the legs due to sudden changes in body position, although they cite possible overheating I doubt that was the cause that evening.  Dehydration could be caused by your caffeine intake, Father”

Now this was infringing on Jacob’s one joy, his teas, some of them having more caffeine than coffee, “I’ve ruled out that it may be a side effect of medicines, you aren’t on any! We checked your glucose level, and it’s not Hypoglycemia”.

The family traded cautious looks, from Vincent to Catherine to Mary and Jacob; they all focused hard on the poor Intern.

“I spoke with Peter and we have nothing definitive; we caution that you watch your diet, get regular exercise but not alone.  I can’t stress that I want you to buddy up and have a companion with you for as many hours as possible and when it isn’t possible keep a bell by your bedside” the young man closed the file and placed it in from of a uneasy Jacob Wells. Mary’s eyes nearly danced at offering to be his “buddy”, yet Jacob shifted in his chair and rose.

“I am not a tenderfoot scout, I do not want to be pampered” He struck his fist on the table as Vincent rose to wrap his Father in a warm embrace.  The sight of this pair, Father and Son silently embraced brought a knot to Catherine’s throat.  When Charles Chandler died she had none of the warning signs, he was stricken and taken in one swoop.  Vincent knew her pain and now he was making moments count.

“It’s not pampering, Father, it is due diligence” Vincent’s embrace brought Jacob back to his chair as if Vincent’s hands had set him there. “You cite diligence to me and I vow my diligence if you vow your care in traveling”.

Now that hit home, Catherin knew Father’s point of irritation was Vincent’s forays above – that would be the first thing mentioned on Father’s list of “diligent care”.

“Enough for now, I’d like some of that rare privacy right now”. He wiggled out from under Vincent’s gentle caress toward the shelf where his curiosities were parceled out in neat rows. He chose the largest of the hand bells and practiced with a heavy shake.  His guests jumped at the strident sound.  He felt triumphantly as if he had claimed the cat bird seat. “Good evening, I’ll be in touch should I need assistance” now he smiled as each of them got the heavy handed hint.

Vincent caught Catherine’s elbow as Jess, the Intern, shuffled along leaving Mary facing Jacob, as if she was granted special dispensation. “Good night, Father” Vincent and Catherine chimed over their shoulders. “Is he OK?” Catherine whispered to Jess as they passed the bend in the tunnel.

“He sits too much, he needs more regular exercise and that caffeine has to be watched” Jess folded his arms over his chest and shook his head.

Catherine caught the opportunity to stay wrapped within Vincent’s embrace, once they were alone in his chamber he’d release her, finding it more comfortable to be across the room, definitely NOT physically linked to each other.

“Suppose he could swim?” Catherine pondered aloud, fingering her crystal on its chain.

“He has every opportunity to swim” Vincent countered, almost too curtly. They sat across the room from each other, peering each other furtively. “I regret my tone; you took him into your home, chauffeured him and no doubt endured his tongue while he was being assessed” Vincent’s head dropped back as he stretched in his chair. Catherine enjoyed the view of his athletic body; his long lithe length fascinated her.  From the tips of his leather boots to the top of his golden shag of hair she trembled at the thought of touching him. Hadn’t she “earned” something after dealing with Father on such a close basis?

“I suppose I need to be getting back…” She was fishing for an invitation for a walk or perhaps a first chapter of new book. Vincent’s reflexes snapped to alert, checking the clasp of his cape his face solemn, unreadable.

“Again, I do appreciate everything you’ve done for Father, for us. Will you join me for lunch Saturday? Perhaps we can wander somewhere” His voice dipped deep into honeyed tones on his last request and she nodded her head demurely.

“Vincent, lunch would be wonderful, and wherever we wander will be fine with me. I’ll dress to wander”  By then she was beside him, waiting to feel his protective hand at the low of her back, just waiting to feel the spark of electricity between them.  As she snuggled against his side he felt like paradise, highly padded paradise.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Friday Evening

The air hung redolent with myrrh and sandalwood, the waft hit him as he slid into the side door of the Cathedral.  This was a place of repentance, and although it had been decades he had measured his coming words and realized this was where he needed to be.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned” his soberly spoke as soon as the screen revealed the old Pastor ready for the next litany of truly expected venial evils.

“Ah, you have been gone a while, that’s the way they used to do it” The Pastor’s smile crested as he nodded.

“I hold to the old ways” was Vincent’s simple declaration, “I have no small matter to confess” the sober tone drew the Pastor toward the screen although Vincent could not see the confessee, with that Vincent drew back into the darkness. 

“Son, I cannot see you, I am bound by vows to keep your secret and absolve your sins” Realizing the man’s feelings of guilt the Pastor sank back into his seat. “Go on at your comfort” The Pastor folded his hands and tucked his chin in meditation.

“I have killed.  I have killed many.” With a steadiness in Vincent’s tone this confession made the Pastor flinch even for an inner city church. “It was self-defense, they were predators of the worst sense and I protected her, I had to.”

“Self Defense, for her, for your wife?” As if that was more acceptable?

“No, Padre, having her as a partner is just a dream” Sullen, Vincent blinked hard to blanch the flow of hot tears.              

 “Son, as a man, you are instructed to live as St. Joseph did, to take well-considered and effective action” there was an awkward silence; perhaps this confessee was not familiar with the Holy Family.

“Joseph, the earthly father of Jesus, we do not know what went thru his head when angels appeared to him on 3 separate occasions in his dreams. What we do know comes from his actions. Joseph was open to the words of God and he carried those words out, no matter the cost.” The Pastor sat for a moment, hoping that would prod the man behind the screen.

“I did not hear the words of angels, Father.  I felt her terror, I saw them with guns, with their bare hands and I tore at them, I tore at them with my bare hands” The Pastor’s head stopped nodding at hearing he went against guns with his bare hands. He paused to hear more. Who was on the other side of the veneered paneling wall?

“Her terror, is this your wife, your employer, who is “she”?” The Pastor queried.

“No, no, she, she…” The Pastor heard the swish of wool and the squeak of leather at Vincent’s vehement physical denials.

“Does she drive you to the occasions of sin? Can you exercise control in other arenas?” At this point the Pastor figured he would be in for the full run thru all 10 Commandments.

“NO!” This idea plunged a knife into his bleeding heart, “It’s what I am that I keep her at arm’s length.  She….is….simply … a gracious and wonderful friend.” Vincent’s mental pain wracked his broad chest with each heartbeat. “Afterwards, as the din settles, I am consumed with guilt, with pain.  I thought releasing the burden here would be healing; now, in the face of the Lord, I see how horrid my actions are.” Vincent was near tears, he needed to bolt.

“Have you been officially pardoned for these acts, is it that you seek God’s forgiveness now?” The Pastor drew straight lips over his dry teeth, his tongue dampened his lips. Was he talking to a mob bodyguard?

“No, Padre, I mean, no one knows it was I who killed them.  The only pardon I do seek is God’s.” Vincent’s shoulders stooped as he sunk back on his heels, his chin tucked tight to his chest, tears welled at his eyes ready to fall down his cheeks.

“Son, by your actions right now and my absolution, you are absolved” The grey haired Pastor raised his hand to make the sign of the cross, “Make a solid Act of Contrition and as your penance, avoid the near occasion of sin.  Separate yourself from what drew you to this opportunity.  I suggest you study Joseph as your guide in a toxic modern world, as men have many conundrums.”

“Yes, Padre, I understand the admonition” and although Vincent did not know the Act of Contrition and knew there would be no way to stay away from the occasion of his “sin”.  What good was confession when he feared the opportunity would rear its ugly head the moment Catherine was in danger?

All these things troubled Vincent while the Priest made his prayers of Absolution, “I’m here weekly, till 8, whenever you need to speak with me, son”. Yet Vincent had silently slipped out before the Priest’s final words.

Vincent broke away from the solitude of the church, deep in thought his long legs ate up the alleyways.  As the night’s dew settled and he debated his ability to follow, “St Joseph”. Yes, St. Joseph had many exemplars for a man today. When the angel St Gabriel revealed Joseph’s destiny to be Mary’s husband it was Joseph believed he was unworthy of her company.

Vincent understood those feelings…..Vincent understood that, how could he expect Catherine to give herself to someone with nothing?  She gave him everything yet when he dug into his pockets he found nothing to return, no way to provide even what a carpenter could provide for Mary and baby Jesus.

His steps drew him closer to his chamber as he sought some peace in sharing the love that Catherine yearned for.  He opened his journal and found a note he treasured. He fell into his chair and held it reverently.

Dear Vincent:

Happy St Valentine’s Day. In years past it has always meant 2 dozen perfect roses delivered to my desk at the law firm.  Since I’ve known you holidays take on a new meaning. You probably know the true story; your singular education has bested me in so many esoteric areas!

In the year 269 AD, Valentine was sentenced to a three part execution of a beating, stoning, and finally decapitation all because of his stand for Christian marriage. The story goes that the last words he wrote were in a note to Asterius' daughter. He inspired today's romantic missives by signing it, "from your Valentine." 

What Valentine means to me is that there comes a time where you have to lay your life upon the line for what you believe. And with the power of the Holy Spirit we can do that -- even to the point of death.

Vincent, you’ve laid your life down for me so many times. How can I compare your sacrifices to flowers on a table?  There is no comparison….and that is why I send them to you.  Read these words at those times when you doubt you deserve my love. Why?

Because, I love you…..
Yours, completely

Catherine

She loves him, Catherine loves Vincent, Vincent loves Catherine…..even Mouse would understand that. Why couldn’t he?

<><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

Catherine felt she was seized in a state of waiting: waiting for the process of her cases, waiting for the traffic to clear, waiting for Vincent to admit their destiny.  She recognized they trod a rocky path and at times those closest to them like Father, did nothing to comfort or support their atypical relationship. She’d work, breath and live with a vision of them one day, living their happy life, together.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

The night fell quietly, so gently that she wrapped herself in a warm robe and sought the peace of a thick book.  The words on the page were flat and couldn’t hold her interest; her lips trembled for Vincent to gift a kiss. Not the kiss she shared after her Father’s passing, she desired, yes desired the full blown kiss of passion’s released. Her body hungered for his broad hands to span her back, his muscled arms to encircle her strongly as he drew her to his muscled chest.  There was no vanquishing her desire, no antidote for the fever that swept over her bosom to overtake her center.

The book dropped from her hands as her body fell under passions’ sway. She welcomed the craving because it gave her something reality had suspended.  She gave herself over to own hands, as he had not allowed his hands to play over her lovingly.  She knew together they’d be the instruments of love, performing a repertoire of melody never heard.

Her hair splayed back over the back of the sofa, her body tranquil as her legs stretched along the cushions. No tensions seized her as her gentle fingertips rested over her soft breast and the delta of her thighs, visions of Vincent striding thru her dreams.

Outside, Vincent viewed this tableau, his own heart turbulent.  He had digested his absolution as best as he could and came there seeking the good counsel of the woman he loved.  He was inching toward brooking new moves, believing in the power of their hearts.  Because he had not stepped forward to hold her himself, he saw she held herself.  He hung his head momentarily, and then stepped toward the end of the balcony blocking the crest of the emotions bombarding their Bond. 

When her euphoria faded he steeled his emotions and went to the glass, gently tapping.  Catherine startled at the sound and rose to throw open the doors and fall against her love.

“I didn’t expect you” Her confession bathed him in her warm breath; she knew he knew the scenario. He knew she was only taking pleasures he had denied her. This was ending tonight, for his being the love of her life was his fever dream. 

“I couldn’t stay away, come back with me, and stay tonight” His words tumbled from his lips as he held her hands between them. Her scent vibrated around her, he sensed her satisfaction and craved the same.  Her fingers seemed to curl tightly as he raised her hands to his lips. For the first time he kissed each fingertip and she shivered at knowing he could taste her.

“Are you sure, do you remember the last time I stayed below?” Catherine grinned at him as she pulled him back toward the living room.

“We have a new selection of caffeine free tea and Father swam today.  I believe we’re home free” His heart was light, he was expectant, he was approaching giddy from the flavor of her.

“Ok, how can I refuse?” She was gone in a flash, returning with her “go bag”. “I’ll meet you….”

“At the threshold” their words were uttered together.

<><><><><><><><><><> 

Tonight the chamber had less of a bachelor look to it.  Books had been tidied; the doors to the armoire were closed.  Had Vincent dusted? It smelled of cinnamon and newly soaped leather. Catherine licked at her lips to hide the girlish grin. In the corner, Father’s Victrola stood on a well-oiled table top.

“Catherine, time seems never for us” Vincent caught her hand and drew her closer to the hand crank music player.  He picked up two of the records, “Hoagy Carmichael or Beach Boys?” Catherine offered a confused look at the wide variety of his albums and offered a noncommittal shake of her head, Vincent chose the less played of the two.  As the music began softly Catherine ran her finger over her lip and watched Vincent’s eyes. He removed his cape and rolled his shoulders as if he had shed the weight of the world.

I may not always love you but long there are stars above you

You'll never need to doubt it I'll make you so sure about it!

God only knows what I'd be without you and if you should ever leave me

The life would still go one believe me!

The world could show nothing to me so what good would living do me!

God only knows what I'd be without you; God only knows what I'd be without you [1]

For precious seconds they stood in silence, were they to dance to their own tune or sit and chat?  Should they sit in silence or read to each other as they had in past lazy evenings? She understood it was ridiculously simple for her to grab him into her and begin a slow dance. Vincent sensed her swirl of emotions and he understood her repressing her entreaty, he felt her exhilaration at the changes in the ambiance. 

Vincent’s muscles trembled at the thought of snapping her into his arms, so he grit his teeth and lunged. Catherine gulped air he drew her swiftly and in a beat they were swaying to the snap, crackle and pop of the vinyl as much as the smooth tune.

Eyes sought each other as their arms encircled each other lightly.  What began as a polite closeness was drawing them tighter. Vincent and Catherine listened to the tune as well as their hearts as they skirted the perimeter of his chamber. As they neared the opening Vincent broke the embrace and caught the edge of the tapestry to pull it down. Catherine eyed the arch of his brow, the pitch of his lip’s singular smile - it all stirred her profoundly. What was he up to?

“You know, the world does show nothing to me, Vincent. You are my world” Catherine’s words were pressed against his chest as her breath warmed him body and soul. 

“Sometimes music does speak for us, as much as poetry and prose” Vincent caressed her hair with a light hand as he cherished the moment, then in the sequence of their dance his arms outstretched and they rejoined each other, as he hummed along with the music Catherine pressed her cheek against his leather vest.  They swayed in tune, pressing together while she savored his warmth and the time in his arms. Love’s melody played in the air, with each of them carrying their hopes in their hearts…….

Vincent felt his desire build, first in his feet, where he felt each electric step of their dance; his hands felt Catherine’s steady pulse, building as he held her. First their dance began at arm’s length, and as the record spun they too were drawn concentrically closer.  Now her sweater brushed his leather vest, a spark arced and they jumped sharing a smile of expectation.

“This is sooooo nice, Vincent” Catherine’s voice was strong yet soft. His eyes registered her love and his lips moved to speak and froze.  In that pause she wondered, would he drop her embrace? She watched as his tongue moved to form words, then he silently licked his bottom lip. Dry mouthed, was he? He was speechless when he caught her tighter to show the evidence of his desire. 

Realizing this was all for her, she melted into him, pressing tighter, hip to hip.  Their temperatures rose, each of them sweltering with expectation.  “Oh, Catherine, seeing you here, now…. I believe I was born to receive your love and return it tenfold”

Vincent had closed the rest of the Tunnel world out all he sought this night was to let Catherine into his heart, fully.  Taking advantage of being closer they brushed noses, and then cheeks, his velvet warm flesh stroked her peach soft skin.  Passions ignited as Catherine caught his glorious face in her hands.

“Then I should…take …. A step …. forward for us” Catherine broke from the dance, because their liaison had been a dance, three steps forward and two or four steps back.  The time for dancing had ended.

She had dressed in layers, prepared for the tunnel chill, now it served her lascivious purposes. Melodically she unbuttoned the cardigan and slid it slowly down her arms. As Vincent swallowed hard, she turned and undid the cuffs of her blouse, then unclipped her earrings and shook out her hair. Vincent strode opposite her, seeking a more panoramic view – arms crossed over his leather vest, his feet planted apart as his eyes scanned the love of his life.

Her chin was raised as if to prod his sartorial response.  He stood stone stock still, except for the quiver of his nose.  The music ended and their muse was fed by two heartbeats gaining speed.  Catherine toed off her shoes, not stopping to untie them, and then silently she turned to the myriad of candles flickering.  One by one she gently blew them out, until it left a pillar candle over the end of the bed.

Thinking she’d have no grace in bending over to get out of trousers; she slid onto Vincent’s generously sized bed and discreetly unbuttoned her trousers, then held out her arms, “Vincent, will you undress me?” Catherine long had dreams of his deft hands releasing her from her clothes, yet Vincent had wondered if he had control of his trembling hands.

“Undress you….. yes” Vincent’s steps crossed the chamber in seconds and he dropped to his knees,  hands resting on the tops of her wool clad thighs. He was the image of adoration, the supplicant and the goddess.  Time froze as they each recognized the finality of these steps, once undressed they had no return.

“Vincent, we have all night….no hurry….did you want to ……” Catherine’s words were unnecessary, he rushed her, catching her up in his arms and sliding them across the bed.  Their lengths clustered against each other, a tangle of arms and legs. His lips caught her throat, the delicate arch of her shoulder and then they came to rest at the very center of her décolleté.

Waves of her pleasure bombarded him, stoking the fires of their shared passion. Spurred on by her emotional encouragement each of his moves were punctuated by Catherine’s gasps and sighs, she heard his urgent respirations and read his motivations.

Vincent’s reticence had been replaced by hunger, Catherine’s impatience replaced by anticipation.  Their tumbles brought them skin to skin, his clothing brushing her nakedness reminding him to lose the boots, skim out of the trousers and toss the shirt. Catherine’s lips endured his successively lingering kisses. Lips gave way to tongues, nose to nose they groaned when breathing required them to withdraw.  His hands only left her arms when he dismissed his “armor” of all those layers of clothing he wore to separate himself from the rest of the world.

Catherine huddled in his bed, wrapped in his sheet and quilt, shoulders blushing with her desire. All she heard was the resistance of leather and brass as he worked the intricate belt off.  Her eyes bored on his fingers as they flew to remove his boots, he sighed deeply in frustration when the buttons on his jeans fought his awkward fingers.  He’d never tried to unburden himself with such a turgid length straining the buttons. Leaning back, panting heavy at his failing efforts Catherine rose on her knees and bent over him.  Silently her eyes smiled at him, then he inhaled deeply and she began to unbutton the worn denim. As each button popped more of his golden flesh was revealed.  Catherine’s eyes feasted on the trail of auburn hair from his “inny” navel to the thatch of curls surrounding her prize.

Once she took in the glorious muscled sight of him she breathed in sighs, “Vincent, you…. Are….. so ……so…..beautiful” Catherine collapsed over him, laving him with sloppy kisses from his navel to his lips.  He splayed back in the bed, arms and legs spread out in submission to her passionate attentions. When he could stand no more, his arms encircled her and Vincent flipped her on her back – he was up out of bed and for a split second Catherine worried he’d head for the Nameless River. He reeled from rising too quickly and righted himself with a crooked grin, the removed the rest of his clothing……standing now proudly male, honored to be her lover.

Catherine watched his chest rise and fall; she saw the sheen of his perspiration glazing his tawny skin. Then her eyes traveled south and she nodded with a broad smile, his muscled thighs a fitting backdrop to his thick, lengthy erection. Her eyes swallowed the sight of him, and he dared to open his grasp of their Bond.  Was her silence a chance for her to prepare an excuse to flee for Above? His chest heaved in trepidation, then his heart lightened, what he felt from her was her welcoming invitation……

"Just let go, Vincent."

He stood by the side of the bed, consumed in a swirl of passion, tenderness, love, fear, desire. He closed his eyes, feeling the rush of instinct.

She felt his change. The power. The release.

The ambiance of the chamber shifted; she felt the fiery intentions of his heart break wide open.

“Touch me, Vincent” and his backs of his hands were against her thighs. He pressed her wider, open to him and she responded. She heard his heavy breath’s rumble as he turned his hand and used his knuckle to stroke her, feeling the soft skin of her graceful thighs. His gaze froze as the sight of the pattern of the fines hairs as they trailed from her navel to the crush of deep brown curls at her apex.

She smiled at the familiar tilt of his head as he regarded something he had become familiar within medical books, yet now this was his prize. Catherine’s breasts rose and fell slowly as she lay under his scrutiny; his mouth fell open as he fell under her enchantment. The sights, her scents played with his emotions and he fought to focus on Catherine’s pleasure.

Vincent lightly trailed the heels of his hands down her hips to her thighs, and then drew his hands together over her.  His hands hovered over the object of his extreme desire, then using the sides of his thumbs he drew lightly upon her curls and froze.

“Your hands are my hands, they can give love” she whispered as she demonstrated, sliding the sides of her thumbs on his shoulders. Their eyes met and he swallowed hard.

“Catherine, I’ve dreamed of touching you like this, so many nights I laid here thinking it selfish of me to want you so”. His confession brought a smile to her lips.

“I too have dreamed of you….touching me there” and with that “permission” he took a deep cleansing breath and lowered his hands between her waiting thighs and spread her lips apart, feeling her heat.

Kneeling beside the bed, between her spread legs Vincent reverently gazed at the wonder of his woman.  He bit at his bottom lip in expectation and shook his head at the reality. He rested his arms on her thighs as if testing the weight she could bear. Catherine secretly smiled at his reticence “Vincent, are you comfortable?”

Then she bit her tongue, was that a colossal faux pas? Of course he wasn’t comfortable, he was facing her more intimately that he ever had faced any woman.  Should she invite him up to share the pillow so she could show him her love? Should she lay there and send him reassurance silently? She wanted his kisses, on her mouth, on her neck; on her hands and breasts…..there wasn’t a place on her body that wouldn’t welcome his unique lips. And with those hungry thoughts bathed in anticipation Vincent was baptized in her fervor for him. With a sweep of his tongue he dropped his head and pressed into her, forcing through long canines, first tentative then her taste grabbed him.

Like nothing he had ever experienced, he reeled under the influence of Catherine’s taste, her scent, her texture. He found his hands unnecessary as he pressed his lips and tongue into her. Vincent’s hands blindly sought the rounded surfaces of her body, lightly skimming as a butterfly would flutter over milkweed.  He touched down to elicit sighs and moans from Catherine, his Catherine.  He heard her speak his name like a prayer first letting him know even without the Bond that he was doing everything just right.

Listening to the voice inside his heart Vincent’s tongue delved deeper, searching for the key to flipping her head over heels.  He held her hips gently, feeling her back arch and her flesh tremble. She cried out, her knees lifting, her body begging him to go on, deeper. Moving to her most delicate flesh, he circled harder.

He felt the strain, the sensation of standing at the Abyss, the taste of her desire. Her breathing a percussion, rattling through them both. He gave her no respite and she came, panting, quivering, her body instinctively curling around him. But he held her still, clawed fingers pressing into soft flesh, and continued, moving across her with his tongue, his fingers pressing into her warm thighs, every touch a flawless agony shooting through her. Catherine’s surrender to him was complete and overwhelmed them both.

Vincent pulled away, feeling his own climax drawing near. Instinct took over and hooking his arms under her knees he pulled her towards him as he stood. One swift movement and he was seated within her, deep with the hungry force of every muscle, forcing himself to the edge of his hunger for her. His thrust, fast and hard, pushed her further.

Her tangled hair tightening across her throat she laid riding every stroke with a blushing flush rising over her body. Caught between her ecstasy and his need, he watched her bite through her lip, and he cried out feeling her pleasure, feeling his steely length as she lovingly crushed him.  Vincent would be consumed by all that was his Catherine, by the emotions she emanated, by the scents she emitted and by all her body could give him.

He held tight, spreading himself across her; she submitted to his need, welcomed it, craving the banishment of the barriers between them. "It’s okay, Vincent. Just let go," her unmoving entreaty, her plea. Catherine tightened her legs around his hips, urging Vincent on, inviting his passion into her. Finally, he understood the need to own her, to find their union through this timeless dance. She had to be his and only his.

Vincent pressed deeper, her sinuousness flowing through and over him, soothing his hunger. He kept going; his movements governed by their Bond, thoughtful of their destination, her loving submission driving him on. Catherine willed him to take what he needed to make himself whole. She cried out, unable to stifle her instinct.

Both spent, exhausted; he sagged against her, tears coming as he dropped her legs and fell toward the bed, sweeping her body into his arms. She answered his satisfied grasp and held him with all her strength. He raised his head, looking at the rumpled bed, tracking eyes and fingers across her. Catherine took his hand in hers and retraced his journey, holding his eye, showing her acceptance.

Overcome with Catherine’s tenderness, he lay on his side, forming a perfect right angle to her, resting his cheek against her belly. He curled his knees up, listening to the recovering rhythm of their bodies. She stroked her hand through his hair, brushing against his temple, then down the bridge of his nose. He caught her hand and kissed each fingertip. Then she took his hand to her lips and issued the same gift.

"Everything okay, Vincent?" She felt him smile, his gentle nod brushing his hair over her.

"I just want to lay here, with you, like this," waiting for sleep, free from secrets, free from fear, free from his past’s inhibitions.

Long after she had drifted asleep, he rose and gathered a lantern to place outside his chamber. Gathering a second quilt from the back of her chair he pulled a sleep shirt from the étagère for Catherine to wear in the morning.  Standing over her, gently stroking his goodnight, he repeated, "I just want to lay here with you, Catherine, forever."

He would be with her when she woke. He crawled under the quilt, pulling her close, losing himself yet finding himself, in her honeyed embrace.

Fini
[1] God Only Knows / The Beach Boys