Hold On Loosely

HOLD ON LOOSELY……. Written for the 2012 “Chan” Fanfic Challenge BUT I wrote too many words….so here you have it

Rusty / RedNightBird

No copyright infringement intended

You see it all around you, good lovin' gone bad
And usually it's too late when you realize what you had
And my mind goes back to a girl I left some years ago, who told me

Just hold on loosely, but don't let go
If you cling too tightly, you're gonna lose control
your baby needs someone to believe in
And a whole lot of space to breathe in

It's so damn easy when you’re feelins' are such
To overprotect her, to love her too much
And my mind goes back to a girl I left some years ago, who told me
Just hold on loosely, but don't let go
If you cling too tight babe, you're gonna lose control
Your baby needs someone to believe in and a whole lot of space to breathe in  
Don't let her slip away, sentimental fool, don't let your heart get in her way, Yeah, yeah, yeah

You see it all around you, Good lovin' gone bad and usually it's too late when you realize what you had
Just hold on loosely, but don't let go if you cling too tightly you're gonna lose control
Your baby needs someone to believe in And a whole lot of space to breathe in
So hold on loosely but don't let go
If you cling too tight babe, you're gonna lose it, you're gonna -- lose control, Yeah, yeah, yeah
So hold on loosely but don't let go if you cling too tight babe you're gonna lose control.
So hold on loosely but don't let go if you cling too tight babe you're gonna lose control, Yeah, yeah, yeah 

38 Special….Good Lovin’ Gone Bad

It’s hadn’t been a pleasant month. Catherine had flat out bickered with Vincent. He was being his usual chivalrous self, keeping her at arm’s length, watching her, reading the Bond or more aptly, misreading their Bond.

He knew how she felt….just not what or why. And aye, that was the rub!

So, 9:45 Friday evening, too late to head Below for the William’s monthly Pancake Supper, Catherine slogged home, dropped her briefcase at the door and threw her keys at the small telephone table as if she was renouncing something.  With frustration she peeled off her clothing leaving a trail into the bedroom. 

“Screw it” she thought, Vincent hadn’t been up for nine nights. From the vibe she had been broadcasting, she doubted he’d be back for a few more days.

“What a stodge” she whispered about him as she pulled fresh towels and put the Magnolia Bath salts next to the tub.  In her slip she sauntered to the living room and dialed up a radio station then opened a bottle of wine.  She’d drink the entire bottle tonight, why? Because she could.  She wasn’t going to wait for Jenny or her Dad to call. From habit she lit the pillar candles on the mantel and hummed as she sat down and removed her nail polish.  As the next song began she unclipped her hair and shook it loose.

OOOhhhh, she thought as she ran her fingers through it, “Good lovin’ gone bad” she picked up the hair brush and unsnarled a day’s worth of knots. “At least somebody was getting some loving, good or bad”…how could she gauge something Vincent was in no position to mete out? She shook her head to the beat of the music and did a little air guitar dance. She wasn’t going to be using those hips for anything else she figured.

“Just hold on loosely, but don't let go
If you cling too tightly, you're gonna lose control
your baby needs someone to believe in
And a whole lot of space to breathe in”

Catherine knew she and Vincent had many metaphorical knots between them and being apart wasn’t stepping them any closer to “love”.  They had last argued about the “usual”, she simply wanted goodnight kisses, or more accurately, a deep, soulful slow goodnight kiss when he’d leave at night.  He had reverentially kissed her on her fingertips expected her to be sated.  It was gallant and so grand in movies, yet she wanted more.

On a pleasant night she had made a nest of pillows and cushions on her balcony and turned the TV around for them to watch “Gone With The Wind”, at that critical moment when Rhett issued his discourse on exactly what Scarlett needed she thought he heard Vincent’s breath catch. Had he been “reading” their Bond? Had he caught her heart’s pitter patter when Rhett moved toward Scarlett?

She wanted Vincent to catch her in his muscled arms so tight his potent physique could press against her and then kiss her as Rhett Butler suggested Scarlett needed kissing.  She wanted his unique lips on hers often, yes, Catherine needed kissing and she knew Vincent was the right man. 

“You would prefer me to kiss you like that black hearted scoundrel, Captain Butler?” Vincent queried as if she were classing him as a scoundrel too. As her brows rose and she dug for a reply he stomped to his feet and retrieved his cloak from where they had been sitting shoulder to shoulder.

Catherine’s eyes burned as fiercely as Scarlett’s, “Yes….yes I would. He’s Scarlett’s scoundrel, you’re the man I love” Oh, she forgot the floodgates that sentence triggered. On the balcony she grimmaced at what he might reply.

Vincent cast furtive eyes right and left for nuances of neighbors on their balconies and at confirming their solitude he hissed, “If only that were fully true, Catherine” his furred hand flew to cover his heart, as if to stay its breaking. All she could see was the top of his head as he stood, bowed by her remark.

That had been 3 weeks ago, and his subsequent visits had been very late, usually after she had strained to stay awake.  The evidence of his visits would be a courtly romantic poem in his flowing cursive hand with an apology about having been “detained below” and missing her.

She was vexed to consider Vincent was slipping away from her.  He had often suggested Catherine find someone Above and she was loath to think he had given up the will to deliver that usual diatribes against their moving toward love.

This Friday night she listened to the lyrics within the tune that had her singing into her hairbrush.

“It's so damn easy when you’re feelins' are such
To overprotect her, to love her too much
And my mind goes back to a girl I left some years ago, who told me
Just hold on loosely, but don't let go
If you cling too tight babe, you're gonna lose control
Your baby needs someone to believe in and a whole lot of space to breathe in  
Don't let her slip away, sentimental fool, don't let your heart get in her way, Yeah, yeah, yeah”

Catherine knew he loved her, lived to protect her even at the risk of exposing himself to the world Above.  Her heart clutched that he couldn’t see himself in the same light she held him.Would her good love for him, “go bad”?  Did he believe that holding her too loosely would retain his “control”?

“Good night, nurse” she cursed – she wanted him to lose control, she could only imagine what it would be for his furred flesh to friction against her, she froze at the furiously tactile thought and ran the hairbrush blithely over her forearm.  She wanted to quiver under his muscled weight, or even perhaps sit astride his slim hips.  Catherine knew the hair brush bristles were no comparison to the golden fur covering his hands yet they would have to do. 

After years of her overt “hints”, Vincent simply had no conception of his hypnotic sensuality. As the song ended she sprung to the CD carousel and spun to where she had this cd,  popping it into the player she waited for the guitar to herald those words……

“You see it all around you, good lovin' gone bad
And usually it's too late when you realize what you had
And my mind goes back to a girl I left some years ago, who told me

Just hold on loosely, but don't let go
If you cling too tightly, you're gonna lose control
your baby needs someone to believe in
And a whole lot of space to breathe in”

Now she purposely ran her own nails up her flesh creating white tracks in their wake. There in her living room she shivered at the thought that Vincent would never shake off his endless control to “take her”.  She knew Vincent was the last celibate man in New York and the prospect of ushering him toward “love” left her flushed and wanting him more. She headed toward her tub, hoping water would cool her off figuratively as well as literally.

Vincent sought the comfort from his desperation of their separation in the Chamber of the Winds.  If only it could whip this elusive frustration from his soul. Beholding Catherine’s beauty felt like clutching a pocket full of stars, she sparkled in her personality as equally as her eyes glinted at every meeting. Her soul strummed a symphony through their Bond, most days.  Lately the score was more “Full Moon and Empty Arms” than “Getting to Know You”. He fathomed why.

Friday, he didn’t have the appetite to join his friends for the monthy Pancake Dinner.  Generally this night was a celebrated evening for the families and couples to linger in the Dining Hall, so many happy couples that he couldn’t bear watching their playful teasing moods.  It was no jest to Vincent when he had overheard Father remark to Mary that he always laid in an ample supply of condoms the weekends of the Pancake Dinner. Father’s comment hadn’t meant anything to him until Vincent understood the foreplay of a convivial meal, spritely dancing and perhaps a nip of brandy in the after dinner coffee.

As he passed his compatriots drifting toward the Dining Hall he felt Catherine’s frustration, knowing she was traveling thru traffic to get home he felt relief that he at least hadn’t caused her fuming. He resigned she’d get around to being frustrated with him soon enough, she eventually did.

He recognized his refusal to meet Catherine across a queen size bed was even stifling his enjoying the company of other couples. Vincent believed he was becoming a “3^rd wheel” in general as he sat at the long table, watching even Father and Mary head to head over a desert bowl of berries and custard. 

Were there any words to explain himself or was this their Rubicon?  He passed the sentries and slipped out for the evening taking tonight’s trip across the tops of the buildings, dallying to draw in the lazing car lights as they navigated the crowded New York streets. He lollygagged at the roof corner of her building, relishing the light breeze as if it cleansed him. His long legs hung over the building’s wall as he felt the cool stone calm him through his heavy denim jeans. “Gargoyling” was the term that Cullen coined, hanging there observing as if to be a stone edifice and of course Vincent felt as publically fearsome as the term’s namesake.

This rooftop was his open air cathedral to admire the humanity he couldn’t share shoulder to shoulder and the solitarity of it poked at Vincent, would he ever share this sacred place? He chalked his perch up to another aspect of his “aloneness”.

The wave of gritty ambiance drifted over Vincent as he felt Catherine’s heart lighten, caught up in something bouyant that caused her to shed her week’s heavy mantle. He weighed the confusion derived from their Bond as he watched the trees dancing in front of the Park street lamps, imbuing the lamps with the appearance of fireflies from this perch. 

Oh, if his heart was this festive, he thought as he drew himself to the parapet.  As the sky came to moonrise he watched the skyline brighten one star at a time. Had Vincent relinguished himself to nightly gargoyling alone?  

Vincent felt her relax with a tinge of her regret while the thought flustered him. This thing of theirs, this divine love he held for her, would it self destruct if he succumbed to share the pleasures she ached for? They had seemed to burn up months of “meantimes” while she waited for him to move toward love. While his heart cried to hold his iron clad resolution it also cried for Catherine’s ache. Was there a future to their love’s dream? Although not fortified to resume their standard debate he felt a nudge within their Bond, “go to her” it whispered.

Slipping silently to her dark balcony Vincent heard the pop music, and unaccustomed to its volumne he shrank back to the corner.  Peering carefully he sought evidence of guests as her entire apartment was awash in sound. When he felt only her energies he clutched as her emotions swung from one point to pivot into another direction. Then Vincent hung on the words she crooned along with the band.

“It's so damn easy when you’re feelins' are such to overprotect her, to love her too much
and my mind goes back to a girl I left some years ago, who told me just hold on loosely, but don't let go”

Vincent was drawn first to the lyrics and then her voice, so different from the lullaby sung to sooth a restless child.  These words ‘To overprotect her, to love her too much’ provoked his sensations as much as the sinuous movement of her hips and the sway of her breasts caught in a filmy bra and slip. As she flipped her hair and adopted a Rock Star’s posture he was thrown back against the low brick balcony wall. Inasmuch as he could gaze on Catherine endlessly, this dance stirred all of his wanton characteristics he fought violently to subdue.

Mesmerized, Vincent sank down to his knees to drop back on his heels, a submissive stance he assumed haplessly as the unfamilar tune and lyrics punched at him. At the end of the radio’s song he watched Catherine feverishly pluck into her collection for her copy.  He knew he was in for a second dose of what his mind had fought to decipher. The lyrics hammered the issue of “Losing control” as he weighed whatever this musician could consider whatever “losing control” would be. 

Vincent mused the musician wouldn’t be scoring soft flesh with clawed hands while he clenched and unclenched his own clawed fingers without thought. Vincent’s eyes widened as Catherine drew her own polished nails up her bare arms, that gesture wasn’t his issue. What spun wildly within the Bond was her scintillation at inciting this sense of pleasurable and tactile pain. While he watched her trails turn from white to pink it triggered his embroiled physique to blister from his tightened thighs to his ribcage. His chest labored at her escalating moods surging thru their Bond, his clothing bound him as his skin vibrated.

Electrically he felt Catherine’s soul quicken as her head fell back in the delight of her fantasy.  He gaped at her bare, pristine neck and shoulders and Vincent’s chin dropped to his chest half by shame and half to reign in the desires igniting his shamed flesh. Vincent suffered in silence as the rest of the album played out. When he glanced back at the living room, Catherine had moved out of his sightline. He heard the sounds of water and splashing and imagined her Below within the warm mineral springs. 

A wry smile grew as he justified the images of her floating in the mineral rich waters the women enjoyed when they were tense or suffering from cramps. Then the Angel on his shoulder tapped him back to reality….and his hand covered his smile at his understanding. . . . . he simply wanted her with him, Below!

Catherine had made up her mind, she humorously recollected that some of her truest clarity was realized floating in this tub. Laying there within the magnolia sweetness she opened her heart to him, praying for the avenue to flow both ways. She’d dress and go below, she wouldn’t badger him, she’d simply lay out the facts this last time.  

She’d open her heart to him, trusting she had tempered her emotions to something he could perceive and accept. “He has to understand, he’s the fire in my blood” she whispered to herself as she realized the water had cooled. Catherine sloshed from the tub, resolving she’d confess that his love had infiltrated within her to be as necessary as oxygen. She had tossed too many nights alone with the imagined weight of him within her arms.  The illusion of his loving her was no longer enough. Catherine needed her larger than life love to realize his own place within her life and her arms.

In the meantime, she had to dress without tripping over her own feet! If only Vincent had made the trek tonight where they could have solitude, together.

Vincent sensed her truth and recognized an awakening urgency within her, throwing off his self-defeating habit as if it were his cloak. He rose to stand at her bedroom doors, his hand up to tap on the glass.

“Vincent!” She saw the silouette of her beloved and had only time to throw on a robe to fly to him.

Against his practice he held her to the full length of his body, drawing in her sweet magnolia scent as tonight he came to bury the past and explore a future. When he felt her arms delve under his cloak to surround his waist his booted feet sought to steady the two of them. Then as quickly as she embraced him her fickle hands rose to his face. Catherine’s eyes melted into his gaze as her thumbs traced his brows until her fingers combed into the thickness of his long golden hair. Holding him still, poising her small feet between his she insinuated herself closer than he had ever let her. His “answer”  was to splay his  hands across the small of her back and he felt her skin’s dampness from her bath. He anticipated the kiss and suddenly he flinched, presenting Catherine the need to release her grasp.

“Too much?”. Catherine asked as he ducked his head to hide behind the hair she had released.

“No,   yes….perhaps not here” Vincent surveyed the night sky over their shoulders  and then spied the candles along the mantle, “This would be…  I would feel less exposed …. Inside”

Catherine’s grasp of his intentions shook her to her core….Vincent never willingly came inside, much less asked to come inside.

She entered her living room, his slow steps giving him time to digest the last wave of her decorating after he singlehandedly destroyed her doors and curio cabinet. He swallowed his shame at what Catherine had dealt with as she held tru to her declaration that what they had was worth everything.  It was now worth being within these four walls and swallowing his fears of letting loose.

“I can’t live without you, Vincent” she barreled right into her discourse and anticipating his rebuttal she drew him to the floor in front of the love seat and slid the coffee table aside for space to sprawl. He watched her draw her robe tightly then her eyes sought his, silently asking if he were comfortable. “Let me take your cloak, or perhaps your boots?” 

Not used to relinquishing his clothing Vincent’s curious expression was simply a tilt of his head, his jaw just a a bit dropped as he made his decision to release the neck clasp and then push out of his boots. Catherine smirked, for him this gesture was like taking a man’s car keys.  

“This could take a while…may I offer you a tea or a beer? I think I need a glass of wine” her words tumbled out at seeing him settling this peacefully in her home.

“I need a clear head” was Vincent’s only discreet reply. Those sobering words seemed to secure her place right next to him, shoulder to shoulder for a beat before she could continue her plight.  “I felt your emotions roiling and I needed to see you”. His confession seemed innocent enough considering the emotional barrage she had been projecting toward him. “I cannot let our love solitarily consume you, Catherine” he gently took her delicate hand and trailed a light nail tip in a lazy pattern over the back of her hand. Listening to their Bond he felt her heartbeat lurch.

“Then I’ll share those feelings that we can have a meeting of the…..hearts, as our minds have overthought these points for years” Catherine relaxed her hand that it nearly fell into his lap as he lingered over her.  She seemed to feel his pulse point throb at their proximity.

“A salient point, counselor” he speculated he’d choke on the coming words. “If we were to step. . .toward . . . .love do you expect a sprint or a marathon?” when he felt her heart leap he worried about her interpretations of “love”.

“This has been a marathon, Vincent” she rolled her eyes humorously before she rethought her reply, “you mean our expression of this love, don’t you?”  Their shoulders equally quivered at her question.

Vincent’s jaw momentarily tightened as he nodded and pulled her hand to his heart. Never had she felt his chest pound like this. He watched her smile thru lowered eyelids, and sensed the emotional highway broaden between them.  “That song, the mention of holding loosely what we desire. If you cling too tightly, you're gonna lose control.” Catherine nodded, waiting for more of his account, “You understand the mighty fear these hands strike into men’s souls”

“This is a well-worn subject, Vincent.” Catherine retrieved her hand to draw his hands back to her warm lap, “I was coming below tonight to have this heart to heart. It’s been a horrid week and your being away from…“ Catherine saw his lips begin to form a word and she placed her insistent index finger on those singular lips to silence him, losing her track she went in another direction,  “You found me because we were meant to be together. You’ve fought it and I’ve surrendered to your retreats but it’s painful and wrong” Catherine rose against his chest and planted a hand on either side of broad shoulders against the sofa. 

He was pinned….as she slowly took in the sight of him, golden hair glowing in the candle’s light, blue, blue eyes so serious and attentive, ”Your soul flamed, and my heart caught that fire, Vincent” She pressed an innocent kiss at the center of his forehead, through his fringe of hair, then she blew hot breath to dash that hair aside. 

Catherine tasted his flesh this time, flesh that held his essense of sweet summer sweat and candle smoke. Her breasts loomed closer than he had ever seen them, quivering behind silken lace and Vincent’s hands reflexively rose to catch their soft roundness in his palms.  Mindfull of his clawed fingers he skimmed her delicately with the heels of his palms until his fingers cried to surround her plumpness.

The air was electric and they shared a “humm” as her lips trailed small kisses against the grain of the hairs running up his nose. He sighed as his body surrendered against the sofa. She giggled between kisses as she knee walked to move over his lap.  His hands fell to her side to ride the slope of her hips and pull her close to him. This was going too well she thought. Then Vincent opened his eyes wide and posed the question, “Back to the point of a sprint or a marathon” his voice husked as her lips poised over his and their eyes bored into each other. 

“Please….tell me” she straddled his lap, plopping to land over the prominent crest of his fly.

“I felt your unbridled joy and found you dancing and singing as I had never seen you before” his hands ran down the arc of her hips, trying to spread her slip to cover her thighs. He shook his head at his failure and sought her eyes again. “I listened to the song” he couldn’t reason, her moist heat poised over his eager flesh in a way that even his jeans felt too weak a barrier. Slowly he grasped her waist and with a shared understanding he raised her away from his lap and drew his knees up once she was on the floor before him, “I have to think, and having you, ready and wanting as I feel you are I simply cannot reason” he drew in a long slow breath and began, “I have loved you profusely and been unable to express that love” They stared for a beat before Catherine could nod her understanding, then Vincent continued, “Components of exploring and expressing love are as varied as lifestyles” he dipped his head to draw more words, “If we were of your world we’d go places, sharing restaurants or theatres, exposing each other to things we’ve enjoyed”

“You’ve taken me places I’ve never seen before” Catherine sat feverish in the expectation of his thoughts. Vincent nodded silently then reached for her hand to hold in his.  He calmed to straighten out one leg, yet kept one knee up as if her hold her at bay. “Vincent, I have fallen madly in love with you, it’s a fact you feel, it’s not a case of falling madly in bed with you”. Her jest at the latter comment led them to share a smile, something that broke the building tension.

Their joined hands rested on his knee as he began again. “Before we take steps into that other room” his anxious eyes darted to her bedroom, “To a place we can’t step back from I’d like to share another place” 

“Another place? Just one?” now she was curiously enthralled that he had been that specific. She nodded and he drew her hand to his lips for a kiss, had she felt his tongue this time? Her hand lingered, enjoying the sensation of his breath on her flesh.

“One, yes, then. . . . .perhaps . . . .” His cerulean eyes darted back to the bedroom. Even the word “perhaps” had Catherine’s heart aflutter.

“Where, when, can we go now?” she was on her knees, her hand still cradled in his.

“You need to dress, wear walking shoes” They rose together and she darted from him to dress.

She couldn’t think! The idea that he would take her somewhere and then entertain the notion of entering her bedroom flabberghasted her.  She looked at the clock, it was close to Midnight, where was he taking her? She threw on a sweater and grabbed the skirt she left on her bedroom chair.  Sliding into a pair of flats she slid out to the living room to find Vincent in his boots, clasping on his cloak.

“Where are we going?” Catherine’s green eyes brewed, so anxious, fairly bouncing for the answer.

His velvet voice held such a reverence, “Up, to a special place” Vincent pulled the hood well up and over his shock of wild golden hair then he glanced into the mirror to assure his face was more obscured than usual. This struck Catherine as odd, and he picked up on her unbridled curiosity. He walked to her front door and listened at the door, “Come” he extended his hand and she fell into step as he backed toward the front door.

“Where?” her expression was quizzical, confused.

“Up” he replied confidently as their fingers meshed and they darted the short distance to the stairwell. Breathlessly they beat up the steps, Vincent’s soft boots near silent to the scuffle of Catherine’s flats. She felt they were flaunting themselves, and the brazen nature of this excursion excited her deliriously.

Pressing his weight into the roof door it opened with a rush of the summer’s night. The sounds of the city were obliqued by the air conditioner compressors humming. It was a point of view Catherine had never pursued.  All the years she had lived here, she had never ventured to the roof. Vincent’s bouyant humor overtook her, she realized she was in his element as he strode to the corner closest to her side of the building and proudly braced his hands on the parapet peering toward the buildings.Catherine awed as he raised his face to draw in the aura of this night. Step by step Catherine approached, watching him lean precariously further over the wide wall.

“Catherine, we do not see things as they are. We see them as we are. Within your radiant heart you see the physical expression of our love as natural. I saw the acts as feasibly animalistic and violent.” He turned and leaned a hip against the wall, nearly rakish in the tilt of his shoulders as his cloak fluttered in the night breezes. Folding his arms across his broad chest he regarded her with a softer, engaging eye. By his wry smile, Catherine knew he was baring his soul to her more bravely than ever before.

“Come, see something with me” he threw his foot over the wall and for a moment he hesitated while he unhooked his cloak and dropped it to the gravel roof. If she hadn’t been totally drawn to him before  this image sealed her covetousness. His proud leonine face turned skyward caused the breeze to send his golden mane airborne, with a self-effacing toss of his head the full, wavy length that casually hung over his broad shoulders spread out behind him. His golden auburn hair flagged momentarily before it fell to the center of his muscular back. 

Vincent could have been the magnificent figurehead of a proud Baroque ship. Catherine remembered the legend that ship figureheads were imbued with guardian spirits and his spirit had certainly saved her in many instances. Catherine shivered at his raw incandescent virility yet Vincent wasn’t a figurehead, he was the Captain of her ship of Dreams.

Vincent beheld her and nodded, his beckoning hand emphasizing his invitation. Catherine guardedly moved to sit on the wall between his sinuous thighs, in that second she succumbed to the vigorous strength of his arms. Feeling the novelty of all his honesty they melted into each other as they gazed together at the New York skyline. When he felt her heart settle from the initial kick of perching at such a height Vincent wrapped his arms around her waist and assertively drew her tighter to his chest, when he whispered “Have you ever been this high?” Catherine relished this “new” Vincent demonstrating his love and she quivered in expectation of their night ahead. In that split second of her being lost in the question, Vincent drew his foot over the wall from the roof and caught her totally within the grasp of his arms and legs. “Catherine, your light banished my darkness” He blessed the back of her neck with a light kiss and was rewarded thru the Bond feeling her thrill burst back at him. 

“Oh, Vincent, your soul found me, you saved me” She snuggled tighter between his legs, grasping the rugged fabric covering his thighs. Their Bond glimmered with their delight – at being “high” and also being out together above their world. 

Vincent calmed as he became accustomed to their closeness, even in this rarified atmosphere “Oh, Love, when I repeatedly urged you to give up, by some means your heart held the hope to try one more time.”

This moment was sealed as their time, their place. Exhilaration flowed between them, the Bond wider and wilder than ever. Vincent sensed her joy so deeply that his own heart felt wrapped in starlight brighter than the sky above them. Tonight Vincent knew their romance  would take flight.

Catherine viewed her love nearly nose to nose as he confessed “There is a defining moment in every person’s life, Catherine, days from now I would be more disenchanted by what we didn't share than the love we’ll share this night”.  

Catherine stirred within their Bond and with an eager joy she sighed, “Tonight, yes, tonight”

Within this night, they would throw off the bowlines of Vincent’s fear and find each other within the safe harbor of their destiny.

Rusty / RedNightBird Patrice “Rusty” Hough Bader TheRedNightBird@gmail.com

The End…… Or a new chapter?