Джерри Хилл - Gulf Breeze

"Please come here," she whispered.

"Pat, you're in pain. Lay down."

"Yes. I'm in pain and it's below the waist."

The beam of the flashlight moved across Pat's body and Carly allowed her eyes to follow it, settling on the swell of breasts that begged for her touch. She simply couldn't resist. She put the water on the small table beside the bed and turned the flashlight off.

"Please come here," Pat said again, quietly.

"Don't start something you don't intend to finish," Carly said. "Not this time."

"I want to make love with you."

In the total darkness, Carly moved to her voice. Pat's arms found her, pulling her down beside her on the bed. Flesh met flesh and Carly was lost. Mouths met and mated, tongues danced, and hands touched. Carly moaned when Pat's hands found her breasts, cupping them both. She forgot about Pat's injury, she forgot everything she had ever vowed. She wanted her. She wanted to make love to her. She pushed Pat onto her back, straddling her. Pat's hips came up and met her and Carly groaned.

"Am I hurting you?" she asked.

"No," Pat whispered. Her face ached but didn't compare to the ache between her thighs. And if she weren't so tired, so drugged, she would already be inside Carly. But her movements were slow, her hands soft upon Carly's skin.

Carly bent down again, and her mouth and tongue moved across Pat's bare skin, finally finding her nipple. Pat arched into her and Carly's mouth closed over the erect peak, sucking it hard into her mouth. She felt Pat's hands slide over her back, moving inside her boxers and cupping her hips, pulling her more firmly to her.

Her hips pressed into Pat, undulating against her. God, she wished there was some light. She wanted to look at Pat, to see her eyes. Then she felt Pat's body relax, felt her hands still. She pulled away slightly, moving her mouth back to Pat's. But the lips that met hers barely moved.

"Pat?"

"Can't move," she murmured. "It's your fault. You made me take the pill."

With an exasperated sigh, Carly let her head fall to Pat's chest. The fucking pain pill. Pat was out.

"I'm not believing this," she whispered. "I'm really not fucking believing this."

But Pat didn't answer. Her even breathing told Carly that she was asleep. Carly rolled off of Pat, her body still on the verge of exploding.

"You will so pay for this," she whispered to the sleeping woman. She lay on her back, staring into the blackness, barely hearing the storm. She had been ready to give herself to this woman, and she had been ready to take everything Pat could offer.

Her breathing finally slowed and she again gained some control over her body. She rolled onto her side, facing Pat. She couldn't see her but her hand reached out, touching bare flesh. She found her breast, her hand closing around it. She felt Pat stir, felt Pat move towards her. She smiled. It was enough. For now. She rested her head on the pillow, so close to Pat. She closed her eyes, her hand still upon Pat's breast, and she slept.

Carly woke to silence. The shutters were no longer banging, there was no rain hitting the house. And Pat was still asleep. Carly untangled herself from Pat, both their bodies damp with perspiration. It was stifling. And it was dark. She got up and moved to Pat's side of the bed, finding the flashlight she'd discarded earlier. She moved out into the hallway before turning it on.

It was later than she'd thought. Nearly six. She moved into the kitchen and opened the window, reaching for the latch that held the shutters. She opened one and smiled as the cool breeze hit her face. The storm had passed. She moved around the apartment, opening all the shutters, letting in light and fresh air.

She wished there was coffee. She couldn't function without coffee. She settled for a shower instead. There was no hot water but it didn't matter.

Later, as soon as it was light enough, she walked downstairs. In the kitchen, she lit the oil lamp and lifted the towel that covered the box. The egrets were huddled together and they both opened their mouths wide when they saw movement.

"Hungry?" Carly asked. The only thing remotely suitable she found was a can of tuna. It would have to do until they could get into town and buy some fresh fish. She fed them the small bits of tuna, pleased that they ate so easily. But they probably hadn't had food since early yesterday morning, if then. She covered them back up, then opened the back door.

The sun was barely up, but there was enough light for her to see the thick clouds that still swirled overhead. And it was a mess. Limbs and branches lay scattered around, but the two old oaks behind the house looked intact. Pat would be pleased.

Carly walked around the house and towards the Visitor's Center. She nodded. It looked fine. She began moving some of the branches that had blown against the entrance, then gave up. There were too many for her to even begin to make a dent. And she doubted that even with Elsa and Martin's help they would be able to clean up the mess. She would have to hire someone. Or gather volunteers from town.

Then, with a heavy heart, she walked around the front and to the marsh. It was flooded, as she knew it would be. It looked like a small lake. She was mentally planning how they could drain it. It would have to be pumped into the bay. There was too much salt water in it for them to dump it into the woods. It would damage the oaks and probably kill the shallow-rooted brush if they did that, which of course, would have been the easiest solution.

Then she turned a complete circle, looking all around her. It could have been a lot worse. It should have been, she realized. The wind had been so strong. She could see a few uprooted trees and she knew that they had suffered the brunt of the storm. But the structures looked intact. Of course, she hadn't been to the old barn. She was surprised that it was even still standing this morning.

She walked back to the ranch house, seeing for the first time the damage to the roof. The corner section was torn. She was surprised that they hadn't had water in the living room upstairs.

When she went back inside, Pat was standing in her kitchen, freshly showered. Her wet hair was slicked back from her face. She had on long, baggy shorts which didn't cover the scratches on her knees.

"Let me see," Carly said, pulling Pat towards the window and the light. The swelling had gone down some but the bruise was deeper now. Her wound appeared to be healing. There was no infection that she could tell. "How's the pain?" she asked.

"Bearable," Pat said. Her eyes searched Carly's. She remembered her dream from last night. It had seemed so real. Carly had come to her in the night, had covered her body with kisses. When she woke this morning, she still felt the lingering touch upon her breasts.

"What?" Carly asked as she met Pat's eyes.

Pat smiled slightly, but shook her head.

"Nothing. I was just remembering my dream," she said.

"Dream?" Carly saw the wistful look in Pat's eyes. So, Pat thought it had been a dream. Great. "Going to tell me about it?"

"Oh, no. It's too early to get you pissed off at me. Besides, there's no coffee."

"I won't get pissed off. I promise. Now tell me about your dream."

Pat swallowed, embarrassed. She shouldn't have said anything. But did it matter? Carly already knew how Pat felt about her. Surely she assumed that Pat had delicious fantasies about her.

"We made love," Pat said quietly. "Or, you made love to me," she clarified. "I don't remember participating."

Carly smiled. "Maybe that's because you fell asleep."

Pat's eyes widened.

"Wasn't really a dream, Pat."

"You made love to me?" Pat whispered. "You made love to me and I don't even remember it?"