Read Online The Crystal Empire by L. Neil Smith - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: L. Neil Smith
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rassing place. Moments later—what seemed hours to the youth—the spun glass of the hull brushed through upthrust vegetation near a san d bar a hundred yards from the pier. The far shore was unoccupied by man or beast.
The wading-birds had long since fled at their approach.
“The trouble with your invention,” the girl observed, taking the end of the other shoulder-ribbon between forefinger and thumb, “is that we can’t lie down in this boat.” She sighed, smiling up at him from beneath her lashes. “Thus progress claims its price.”
He’d been thinking through this problem himself. “I, er, brought some tools. I can unship it.”
“Stay, good blacksmith, I’ve a better idea.”
Pulling at the ribbon, she stood, letting the shift drop to the floor, and, after a single delicious instant before the boy’s widened eyes, va n ished over the side with a salty splash.
Sedrich followed her.
The water was deeper than their toes could reach. They played about for a time, at last treading together in the pale shadow beneath the tran s lucent boat, out of the glare of the sun. Sedrich had his right hand upon the gunwale, she her left. Once again, an arm about her waist, he pulled her close.
Her nipples brushed his chest.
This time she didn’t weep but returned his probing kiss. This time there was no shift, however sheer, to prevent him knowing the woman she’d become. As she hung before him, his free hand roved with a d e manding and joyful will of its own.
His wrist no longer pained him.
For her own part, in their first magic hour together, Frae wasn’t shy. She began to know him as he knew her, taking the same delight in the learning. When he pulled her body against his, guided only by a bo y hood knowledge of animals and what he’d seen in books, she tried to help.
“This isn’t going to work,” he acknowledged in frustration as they hung from the side of the boat. “Not with one hand apiece. I think we’re su p posed to be lying down.”
Frae touched his cheek and giggled. “I’ve an idea,” she told him. “You hold on to the boat for both of us, and I’ll hold on to you.”
So she did, lowering her body, wrapping both her arms about his neck, her legs about his waist. She gasped, surprised less by the pain she had awaited than by its absence. For some while, Sedrich was quiet, shocked at new sensations coursing through him, reflexes of lower back and thigh he’d not known he possessed. Frae closed her eyes, brushing her mouth upon his, upon his cheeks, his neck, his shoulders, sighing.
She bit gently at his lips.
Abruptly, an explosion in his loins disminded him, wiping away memory and ego, the very instinct for survival. With an openmouthed exclam a tion, he lost his purchase on the boat-edge, plunging them both into the water over their heads.
The next he knew, he was back in the air, both hands locked under one of hers upon the gunwale, while she pounded his back.
“Sedrich! Sedrich!” Frae demanded, fear filling her voice. “Are you all right?”
He coughed, freeing one of his hands, then turned to gaze upon the loveliest face the world had ever seen.
“Love,” he told her, caressing a wet strand of hair back into place at her temple, “I misdoubt that e’er I’ll be all right again!”
4
That night, a sleepless Sedrich followed his mooncast shadow out i n to the smithy. The rent in the cloud-cluttered sky was temporary. A few stars twinkled through, but it would rain again before morning.
They’d made love again that afternoon, he and Frae, a second, third, and indescribable fourth time under his upturned rowboat, beached across the estuary from the village while a summer deluge hammered upon its keel. The third time, Frae found out what had almost drowned her Sedrich and was grateful to be lying upon her back upon solid, if somewhat sandy, ground.
Thunder grumbled to the west.
Lighting a candle, Sedrich inspected the “tiller” of his vehicle: a fifth wheel
The wading-birds had long since fled at their approach.
“The trouble with your invention,” the girl observed, taking the end of the other shoulder-ribbon between forefinger and thumb, “is that we can’t lie down in this boat.” She sighed, smiling up at him from beneath her lashes. “Thus progress claims its price.”
He’d been thinking through this problem himself. “I, er, brought some tools. I can unship it.”
“Stay, good blacksmith, I’ve a better idea.”
Pulling at the ribbon, she stood, letting the shift drop to the floor, and, after a single delicious instant before the boy’s widened eyes, va n ished over the side with a salty splash.
Sedrich followed her.
The water was deeper than their toes could reach. They played about for a time, at last treading together in the pale shadow beneath the tran s lucent boat, out of the glare of the sun. Sedrich had his right hand upon the gunwale, she her left. Once again, an arm about her waist, he pulled her close.
Her nipples brushed his chest.
This time she didn’t weep but returned his probing kiss. This time there was no shift, however sheer, to prevent him knowing the woman she’d become. As she hung before him, his free hand roved with a d e manding and joyful will of its own.
His wrist no longer pained him.
For her own part, in their first magic hour together, Frae wasn’t shy. She began to know him as he knew her, taking the same delight in the learning. When he pulled her body against his, guided only by a bo y hood knowledge of animals and what he’d seen in books, she tried to help.
“This isn’t going to work,” he acknowledged in frustration as they hung from the side of the boat. “Not with one hand apiece. I think we’re su p posed to be lying down.”
Frae touched his cheek and giggled. “I’ve an idea,” she told him. “You hold on to the boat for both of us, and I’ll hold on to you.”
So she did, lowering her body, wrapping both her arms about his neck, her legs about his waist. She gasped, surprised less by the pain she had awaited than by its absence. For some while, Sedrich was quiet, shocked at new sensations coursing through him, reflexes of lower back and thigh he’d not known he possessed. Frae closed her eyes, brushing her mouth upon his, upon his cheeks, his neck, his shoulders, sighing.
She bit gently at his lips.
Abruptly, an explosion in his loins disminded him, wiping away memory and ego, the very instinct for survival. With an openmouthed exclam a tion, he lost his purchase on the boat-edge, plunging them both into the water over their heads.
The next he knew, he was back in the air, both hands locked under one of hers upon the gunwale, while she pounded his back.
“Sedrich! Sedrich!” Frae demanded, fear filling her voice. “Are you all right?”
He coughed, freeing one of his hands, then turned to gaze upon the loveliest face the world had ever seen.
“Love,” he told her, caressing a wet strand of hair back into place at her temple, “I misdoubt that e’er I’ll be all right again!”
4
That night, a sleepless Sedrich followed his mooncast shadow out i n to the smithy. The rent in the cloud-cluttered sky was temporary. A few stars twinkled through, but it would rain again before morning.
They’d made love again that afternoon, he and Frae, a second, third, and indescribable fourth time under his upturned rowboat, beached across the estuary from the village while a summer deluge hammered upon its keel. The third time, Frae found out what had almost drowned her Sedrich and was grateful to be lying upon her back upon solid, if somewhat sandy, ground.
Thunder grumbled to the west.
Lighting a candle, Sedrich inspected the “tiller” of his vehicle: a fifth wheel
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