Hers was muscled and firm, small breasts with dark nipples, black against the blue of her skin. He reached up and undid the clasp holding her hair back in a tidy bun, and it streamed out over the pillow, smelling of perfume and sweat, silky against his hand. She ran her hands up and down him, squeezing and kneading his muscles, sliding his clothes off. Her skin tasted sweet and salty, the musk of their pheromones filled the room.
Then they were naked. He entered her, gasping. The sex was desperate.
Wentworth could feel her hunger. His sense of time faded and she moaned out his name when his lips weren’t on hers. He squeezed her breast as her hips bucked against his. All of their worked up stress combined with the euphoria of the alcohol until it exploded. She climaxed, and her moans threw him over the edge.
They drifted in each other’s arms, floating in the afterglow.
Patricia turned playful. She cuddled into his shoulder with soft animal noises while he ran his fingers up and down her back, making her shiver.
“You’re a strange man, Iain Wentworth.”
“That’s what they say,” he leaned down and kissed her on the forehead.
Looking about the room he saw that it was papered with old prewar posters, the colour bled out. They all showed different actors or musicians posing, all male. They were neither effeminate nor overly-developed; a rare collection. They were of various ages, but all seemed to stand with confidence, maybe a rugged look
He closed his eyes, surrounded by the scent of her hair.
His breathing was beginning to fall into a steady rhythm, and the world was blurring with the onset of dreams when he felt Patricia’s hand slide down his chest to his groin and begin massaging him there. He quickly grew hard again and gently rolled her onto her back so that he could work his mouth down her body.
They made love a second time. Before there’d been heat and need. This time there caressing and tenderness. Their hands and mouths wandered gently over each other, as they continuously changed position, too busy pleasing the other to seek their own climax.
He fell asleep with no memory of orgasm.
“So you and Raxx are the talk of the town wherever I go.” Wentworth was sitting with Vince in the back of Maria’s shop having a late breakfast. Two weeks had passed since eliminating Slayer’s threat. His shoulder had healed without incident. Maria was out front tending to customers while the two of them spoke. “Doing pretty well financially, too, from what I gather.”
“Yeah. We are. Thanks again for working on that cattle sale. You did an amazing job there.”
“Lad, I’ve been doing it long enough, I’d better have.” Vince was wearing new clothes, nothing showy but in much better condition than his old outfit. Maria had made him shave off his beard, despite his protests that with nothing on his head he needed something! “So what are you thinking then? You and the Captain seem to have hit it off pretty well, are you going to set up kip?”
Wentworth frowned, “I thought we’d been subtle.”
Vince let out a guffaw of laughter, “You can’t be subtle in a place this size! Everyone’s keeping quiet out of respect, though, and you managed to overcome their natural prejudices… so is that the plan then, you’re staying?”
Wentworth shook his head, “I can’t do that, Vince. You know about the storm that’s following me. I’ve got to be hitting the road again soon.”
“Wanderlust, eh? Hah! That’s what I thought. Have you talked to Raxx at all about it?”
“No, I haven’t seen him much lately. He’s been busy with Sherry and Michelle.”
“I’ve seen him with them. They’ve been keeping the lad pretty busy! But the reason I asked is because I talked to him the other day. You see, with all the money I’m getting from the sale of the cattle, plus what I’ve saved up over the years, I’ve decided it’s come time to retire. I’m going on one last trading mission around some of the larger burgs, and then heading back to Steeltown, my home. Maria’s good to come with me, and Raxx said he’ll come too. So you want to join up? I could use another caravan guard.”
Wentworth nodded, “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds like a good plan. It’ll be good to be travelling with someone who knows the area.”
“Have you told the Captain you’ll be leaving?”
“No. It never came up.”
“This — this isn’t fair. Not in public like this, not with me. Iain… you always respected my uniform before. This is cruel.”
They were sitting in the town square; Patricia was taking her lunch break. A couple of hotdog wrappers lay on the bench between them.
“You’re right. But I didn’t know where else. I’m sorry. Patty — I don’t have a choice about leaving — if I stayed it’d just put you, and the rest of Hope in danger. These guys who are after me aren’t all that forgiving. I’ve gotta keep moving.”
“Bullshit. You could deal with them if you wanted to. Who are these guys, anyway?”
Without lipstick her lips appeared thin, but to Wentworth the austerity only made her more beautiful. He didn’t answer her question. She wouldn’t believe him. He just held his neck straight.
“Oh, Iain…” she stared into the distance, dry-eyed, “here you are, leaving without reason. It started out as a wild night, and I guess that’s how it’s going to end. So here I am — not even knowing who you really are,” she sighed, “No hard feelings though, nothing lost…” She reached over and squeezed his knee without looking at him. “Where were you ten years ago? I have half a mind to go with you… but I can’t do that. And I guess you can’t stay, either.” Her hand remained resting on his knee.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, not knowing what else to say. Patricia was as good as any woman he’d ever known.
Memory flash. There’d been that other one, holding a compress over his femoral, telling him to breathe—
He felt shame for thinking of her right now.
Another memory flash. A young girl, sixteen maybe, eyes flecked with blood, with pain, her fingers blackening from—
He blinked hard, cancelling the memory. Sunlight, birds chirping, the smell of cooking bread; Patricia was speaking to him.
“Tell me it meant something? It wasn’t… it wasn’t just a collection of one night stands, was it? Iain, give me the truth — did it matter or not? I’m too old for you to lie to me about this.”
His eyes felt heavy. “Patty — it meant something.” He stared at her for a moment, then kissed her hand. She brought a hand to her face and held it there.
Patricia was… competent. In his own mind, he couldn’t think of a better compliment. She was competent, strong, and deep inside she was all woman. But there was no hope here. Not for him. The old loneliness swept over him again.
“Will I ever see you again?” Patricia was staring dully at the stones in front of them.
Wentworth tried to think of what he should say but he was at a loss. The dream-like nights they’d spent in each other’s arms washed up against his chest. He met her eyes and answered as honestly as he could. “I don’t know.”
Now she made eye contact with him, finally, a sad and wistful smile on her face. “Well, Iain Wentworth, take care. I don’t hate you. Though I probably should. I hope you find whatever it is that you’re looking for.”
He met her gaze but didn’t reply. After a few second she moved towards him, awkwardly and took his chin in her hands. They shared one last kiss, trembling, like nervous teenagers. Then she stood up and marched off.
Wentworth watched her go.