~*~*~*~

    The sun was just passing its zenith when she returned. She spent some time in town and picked something up, something she had seen when she and George were there. She did some thinking as well, going out to the tree they made love under, and sat there for an hour. As she approached her house, she thought she had decent control over her feelings, she felt she had sorted them out relatively well. She and George were having an affair, which meant there was a third party, his wife. She just had to come to terms with it, that they were still together despite problems and he just couldn't leave her at this point.
    She knew he loved her, she remembered how it felt, the way he whispered it into her ear. She didn't doubt it, but things were more complicated, considering the circumstances. They weren't meant to be together, not in body. Soul, yes . . . bless Krishna for that. She would always have that, but never always George himself. And if he "made up" with Pattie, then, what else was he supposed to do? At least the marriage wasn't so badly off that they couldn't make it up.
    Tala leaned her bike back where she found it and went inside. She let her eyes adjust to the darkness and saw George sitting on the pillows in the dayroom. His eyes met hers and he smiled.
    "Where did you go off to?" he asked.
    "Town. Finished mediating?"
    He nodded. "You were gone three hours, I got everything worked out sufficiently enough."
    "I'm glad," she said, walking past him to the table.
    He got up and walked after her. "Yeah, I saw you've got the Vedas there, the Ramayana, the Mahabharata . . . all the old works. What for?"
    "I teach classes every few months."
    "Really?" he asked, brows shooting up. "I didn't know you were a teacher."
    "There's lots we don't know about each other," she commented dryly.
    "I know," he said apologetically, then came around behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. He nuzzled his face in her neck and kissed her there.
    "Let's change that. Let's just be together and talk about that kind of thing."
    She gave a little shrug. "If you want to."
    His arms fell from her and when she turned, his eyes were saddened, beseeching hers.
    "Please, Tala," he whispered.
    She felt pulled, and went to him, fitting into his arms. She tilted her head up and he kissed her, tightening his grip on her.
    "I'm sorry," she murmured.
    "No, I am," he answered, gathering her hair in his hand and pulling it off of her shoulder. He kissed her in that little hollow and it made her shiver.
    "Come on, love," he said, taking her hand, leading her to the pillows. They sat and leaned back against them. He held her hand still, pulling it to his chest.
    "We'll just talk. I really want to. Sometimes I'll be thinking about you and wondering things, and realise I don't know you at all . . . at least on the outside."
    "I feel the same," she answered, glancing at him, "But I don't want to intrude. I understand about your life, and-"
    He cut her off with a shake of his head. "You can ask me anything. No special treatment."
    "Okay. So . . . what does it feel like to be one of the luckiest people in the world?"
    His brows shot up and she expected there to be a silence, but he smiled.
    "Good. I am pretty lucky, I guess no one's leveled with me about it in such a way."
    "You really are," she continued, "You should feel blessed."
    "I am blessed and I know it. It was pure chance that things unfolded as they did."
    "I can't even imagine," she said, voice soft with wonder.
    "I lose sight of it sometimes. That's so easy to do, but being in India, learning about meditation, praying, all that has brought me back. I'm trying not to be so selfish."
    "Well, tell me about how it started. You said it was chance," she urged.
    "Yeah it was. Like I said, I was younger than the others, so I was lucky there that I was  accepted. Even before that, when I started playing, the ability didn't come naturally or right away and at some point the cheap guitar I had broke, and I think I shoved it in a closet for a while. So, I guess that's another lucky thing, when my brother dug it out and fixed it. And then, that so many bands were starting up, there was a lot of recruitment to play places, and we got the chance to go to Hamburg. That was crap at first, playing backup to dancing girls and nobody really listened, but then we got a following and moved up to playing better clubs. Then I got deported."
    "Deported, why?" she asked.
    He turned to face her, and leaned on his elbow.
    "I was only seventeen and you had to be eighteen to work. They found out and I got kicked out. So, I thought that was it. The others would find a replacement and I'd be stuck being an electrician, which was just a bad thing to being with. But, the others came back too, Paul and Pete got in trouble and they all came home. We didn't play for a while, I guess no one was sure about our future. But, we got back together and when I turned eighteen a couple months later we went back and then got a new drummer, Ringo. Eventually we played places like the Cavern in Liverpool, got noticed and got a record deal. Why we got so famous, I don't know. I can't answer that and that's what I hate, being asked if I know why. Timing, maybe. I think out stuff's good, but we're just a rock and roll band. Plenty of those . . . so believe me, I know how lucky I am. It gets hard though."
    "It's just difficult to fathom. Not only that your band happened, but that you do something you like and want to do. Do you know how many people aren't afforded that opportunity? People who just have to do something to make a living. There are people so poor, especially here in India. Conditions are horrible, women are treated badly, there's starvation. I can't even explain it all."
    "I know," he said quietly, "Ravi's been telling me about things here getting bad. As much as I love India, when I'm in London, doing other things, it's hard to remember and think about all that's going on. I try though."
    "Well, it's not up to you to deal with other people's problems. It's kind that you care so much. I don't know, it just amazes me that you have so much fortune. It's rare."
    "I can hardly believe it myself. It's not something you get used to right away, especially coming from Liverpool."
    "What's Liverpool like?"
    "It's a pretty poor area. It got bombed a lot during the war, and people like our parents had to deal with it and build things back up again. Just a lot of hard-working people. It's really a port area and there are lots of sailors and seamen. My father worked at sea for a while, then became a bus driver. Thing about Liverpool is that we got a lot of influence from other areas, sailors would bring in the latest music and trends, things of that sort and that's really where we all got our liking of rock and roll. We got stuff from the states a lot sooner than anywhere else, so when we were in the band we always knew the latest songs before other people."
    "Do you miss it?"
    "I did at first. I'd go home and visit, but it gets less frequent. I think I'll just settle outside of London. I'm looking now for a place to live. Somewhere quiet."
    "I suppose you'll stay in music if the band breaks up?"
    "There's nothing else I can do," he said with a smile, "I want to make my own album, though. I'll start with that and see where things take me. Being in music has allowed me to meet many people and there are a lot of possibilities for me. I'll just have to see. But what about you? You teach, you said."
    "Yes. I went to Delhi University and studied classics. Half of the year now I teach a few classes and I work with mediation through the rest of the year."
    "Did you always want to be a teacher?"
    "No. I'm not sure I want to be one for the rest of my life, either. I suppose I'm floating along from one thing to another, waiting until something strikes me. I'm actually feeling the need to go on some spiritual travels, through India, maybe to Tibet."
    George's eyes lit up. "I would love that! I wish I had the time."
    "Make time,"she answered simply.
    He looked at her and gave a disappointed shrug.
    "Not that easy?" she questioned.
    "Never is. But being here, for now, is enough." He paused. "Tell me what your childhood was like?"
    She smiled. "It was a good childhood. My mother died shortly after I was born, so it was only my father and I for years. I was quite fortunate, living in this house, not a hut somewhere, and being close to the village. My father made a bit of money being a professor and that kept us. He also taught me so much about India, the history and he encouraged me to read books, to learn and advance myself. He died while I was in college. I finished up and moved back into the house and tried to make a life for myself."
    "So that's why you're so independent."
    "I don't mind being alone. Too many people interferes with my karma, it trips me up sometimes. I don't mind people, but rarely do I find anyone to connect with."
    "I know just what you mean. The higher I seem to go, the more fake people get. No one has any substance, no one cares about the decisions they make. No one thinks, put it that way."
    "I've found you have to know who to avoid and who to care for. No one says you have to be friends with everyone, you do have choice. That's what I do. If I meet someone who I know won't have a good effect on me, I distance myself. You could call me a loner, I guess."
    "I've always been one," he answered.
    "Two loners, no wonder we connect," she said, grinning.
    He kissed her hand and gripped it tighter. "It's so good to find someone like you. I guess it's comforting to find someone out there like yourself. In a way, that's what it comes down to in life, being able to connect with other people on various levels, in mind and body, spirit and soul. And that's hard to find, which is why it's so rare. I feel myself around you."
    "That's good, to be able to let down all guard and be yourself. Who you are is all you have, when you take away everything else."
    He nodded. "That's one thing I won't let anyone take away. I grew up too hard, and I'm that kind of a person . . . no matter what I do, I'm doing it for me, for who I am. I'm not gonna change and be what everyone else wants. You're a fake when that happens."
    "I think it's very hard to remain different and original in the lives we lead, very few people are non-conformists. And yet, in the end, as long as you know who you are and are happy with it, then that's all you need."
    He smiled at her, a sad smile, she thought.
    "If I ever forget who I am, I'll think of you. You're strong and I know you'd pull me back," he said. Tala felt a bit of bittersweet pass over her soul and said the next thing that came into her mind.
    "When do you leave?"
    His eyes lowered and he rubbed his thumb along the top of her hand.
    "A week and a half."
    Her heart calmed a bit, there was time. They had some time together, yet.
    "I was going to tell you," he said quietly.
    "I know. So, what do we do with our remaining time?"
    "It's up to you. I just . . . I don't want to think of it as doing something before leaving, I just want to be with you. Now I'm sure there'll be this nagging feeling about a week and a half from now . . . unavoidable I suppose, but all I want is you."
    She smiled and leaned in to stroke his face. His dark eyes met hers, and he brought his hand up to rest on her cheek. The mixed emotion on his face made her heart surge and she wrapped her arms around him. He hugged her back, she could feel the need of his body, his weary soul. They held each other for a while, she gently playing with the hair at his nape.
    "Is there anything I can do for you?" she asked quietly into his ear.
    He ran his hand over her hair and gave her a squeeze. "This is just fine," he said sleepily.
    She smiled and pulled back to meet his eyes. Her hands fell to his chest and her fingertips brushed the buttons of his shirt. She slowly began to unbutton them and he smiled, giving her his crooked grin.
    "I think I can do better than that," she said, casting him a glance. He watched her, eyes suddenly intense and feverish. She pushed the last button from the hole and spread the shirt open. He sat up a bit and let her push it from his shoulders. She tossed it to the side and ran her hands down his chest to his jeans.
    "I've never seen you in jeans. You look very sexy," she said, arching a brow. He cleared his throat and gave a little laugh. She popped the button and slowly lowered the zipper. She slipped her hand inside them and rubbed his hardness. His mouth opened slightly and he ran his tongue along his lips. She slowly raised her eyes to his as she massaged him, moving closer, to press her body against his. She felt him tremble, felt his breath on her skin. Her hands crept back up to his shoulders and she leaned to his ear.
    "Take them off," she ordered, voice low.
    He did so and in the meantime, she stripped her clothes off and laid back, smiling at him brightly. He turned to her and gently moved to her side, pulling her to him. He began kissing her, teasing his tongue against hers. She let her hands slide down his back and run over his warm skin and lean muscles. He scooped her up a bit with his free arm, and pressed her at her lower back, fitting her closer to him. She could feel his hardness pressing against her and suddenly the whole feeling of their togetherness turned urgent.
    He pressed hot, wet kisses against her neck and down to her breasts, tugging and probing. She leaned back and spread her legs, wrapping them around his. She felt and grasped for him, them helped to guide him inside her. That perfect feeling she had missed so, over the few days of his absence came flooding back and she sighed with delight. But this feeling was different in some way. She felt his urgency clearly, and there was less touching and feeling of bodies. His thrusts came hard and quick, and she knew he needed it to be that way, to forget why he hadn't come the day before.
    She threw her arms around him and let her body instinctively move with his rhythm, sliding up and down against him, against the sweat of his skin. He lowered his head, his hair dampening, falling in his face. She could feel his breath near her neck, his hard breathing. He gripped her closer, pressed on her more firmly, moving faster. She groaned and tried to raise up, to accommodate him better, to help him in any way. She felt the heat building inside of her, and she closed her eyes, feeling near the bursting point. He began to groan, the sweat trickling down the sides of his face, and she felt him come inside of her. She reached her orgasm then too, and together they fell against the pillows, in each others arms. At that moment as her body shook against his, she felt more differently than she had ever before. She loved the way his body melded with hers, the way his slick skin felt beneath her fingertips, the way she could feel the pounding of his heart and the tremble in his hands. He rested his head on her shoulder, and she ran her hand over his hair, noticing how their chests rose and fell in the same time. He let his hands rest on her back, still holding her close. She leaned her head against his.
    "I love you," she whispered.
    She felt an immediate pulse in his body, a little jerk, and he came away to look at her. His eyes were intense and they seemed to shimmer in the light. He felt for her hands and held them lightly. Slowly, he gave her a sad smile.
    "I love you," he echoed quietly.
    She lowered her eyes and felt a snap of something between them, as if they both realised what they meant to one another, and what that, in turn, meant for the future.
    "Do you know what this means?" he asked.
    She gave a nod and felt the sting of tears. "It gets harder. It makes us divine and drowns us at the same time," she answered. She saw him swallow and glance away.
    "How unfair . . ." he said, voice trailing. His words felt like a gash, a wound that ached with every heartbeat. How unfair . . .
    "At least we've touched the same place, felt the same way for at least once. There is a current that's flowing through us now, that may never be the same again. At least we've had it once."
    His mouth twisted into a grimace and he hugged her to him. He took a breath and she could feel it shake his chest . She lay against him, sapped of energy and closed her eyes. For the first time she had gained love . . . yet she felt there was a great hole in her heart, bleeding that love away.
    "So this is anguish. I thought I felt it before, but that was nothing. I so much want to get pissed off and rant, curse God why couldn't it be you? Why was this wrong, why couldn't I have waited?" he said, voice dull.
    "But you can't."
    He shook his head. "I have this feeling of acceptance. This heavy feeling, but it's right, I think."
    "I don't want to admit it either, but it is. But here we are, lying together, lovers, and that's good for now. I know soon, I'll regret things, I'll be overwhelmed with sadness, but now I can't really see that. I can't see past you."
    He looked at her and smiled. "I know. All I think about is you. At night, when I look at the sky, when I play my music. All the time, Tala."
    She felt the heat rise to her cheeks and she glanced downward, bashfully.
    "You're not getting all shy on me now, are you?" he asked, grinning.
    "Not too badly," she said with a laugh.
    "Good."
    She smiled and sighed. "I think we should go back to the beach like you said. One night, before all of this ends," she said, waving her hand a bit.
    He nodded. "Make love on the sand. Have a warm fire . . . each other."
    "That sounds lovely," she said, rubbing her hand along the side of his face. She gently caressed the stubble growing there, then kissed him. He held her tightly and put his hands in the long mane of her hair.
    "I love your hair down. The way it feels on my skin," he mumbled.
    She smiled. "Know what I love about you?" she asked.
    "What?" he said, giving her a bemused smile.
    "Well . . . I love your eyes. They're so deep and dark. I'm sure most people can never tell what you're thinking, you keep your eyes veiled. I love the broodiness of your face, your demeanor. You're quite the enigma, sometimes seeming shy, sometimes seeming to seethe with disdain. You aren't easy to figure out."
    His lips began to curl upwards. "Okay. Keep talking."
    She gently ran her finger over his collarbone and down his chest.
    "I love your body, skinny though it may be," she paused, grinning, "I love the firmness of it, the way it fits against mine. I love they way you say my name, I love your accent. I love that you're in love with India, that you're open to learning. That you're so spiritual and you've opened you heart and are trying your best to cope with what life has given you."
    He nodded. "I don't mind flattery - keep talking."
    "I love the way you are, earthy and kind. Maybe a bit depressive, but very conscious and caring. I love they way you sound when you sing. I love the way your fingers look when you play the guitar. I love the poetry you make when you write songs. I love you, every bit of you."
    She cast her eyes his way and his smiled back.
    "That was beautiful. Thank you Tala," he said, kissing her hands.
    "Self-confidence. You need more of that George," she pointed out.
    "I know. I'm a doubter."
    "You shouldn't be. You're more talented than you think. Just trust your heart. It will never lead you astray."
    He gazed at her. "I know. Especially now. I don't think I can sit here and tell you all the ways I love you . . . sometimes I'm not good with words, and it wouldn't sound as eloquent as what you just said. But I love you and I know the connection we have, and I know it will transcend everything, every relationship I have for the rest of my life. I will never meet anyone like you and I believe that you are my soul mate. To say that I love you is not enough."
    Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked quickly and threw her arms around him. He lay back and cradled her for a moment, before kissing her. As his mouth touched hers, she closed her eyes, imprinting in her mind the way everything felt, his body, his lips, the heat of his mouth and skin. Never did she want that moment to end . . .


Chapter 6
Home
E-Mail the Author