Mansions of Fire

     He raked his fingers through his hair and readjusted his hat to try to look more presentable in case she was. Riding past the estate from the road, he didn’t see her at first, although he looked far and wide across the horizon. He smiled to himself when he finally spotted her near the back pond area, close to the split-rail fence. She appeared to be looking over the pond area; to Ben, it looked different than the last time that he had seen it.

    “Any fishing allowed here?” he teased.

     Looking back and around her sunbonnet, she didn’t immediately recognize him in the glare of the sun. Holding her hand up to her forehead, she shielded her vision from the subduing heat of the evening.

     “No fishing, Ben! No horse racing, either!” she teased back.

     Ben approached and got off of the horse. Looking about, he noticed a lot of landscape alterations around the pond area. Although Gabrielle didn’t want to admit it to him, she was renovating the pond area for him. The workmen had gone home for the night; the landscaping changes were obvious and starting to take shape.

     Ben touched her fingertips with his and gazed about. They were alone, hidden away in the heavy foliage of the brush and reeds. Gabrielle took his hand and directed him to sit down on the same old log where they had previously sat.

     Putting his arm around her waist was much easier this time because she was ready for that type of hug. Ben removed his hat, set it down next to him on the log, and placed his cheek next to hers. She felt soft and moist and warm, and it felt good again. Pulling her closer now, he closed his eyes then placed his lips onto hers. She placed her hand behind his head to draw then closer, into a locked embrace.

     A cool evening breeze passed by. Leaves swayed in the wind, the breeze felt comforting to both of them. Sitting there in the tranquil of the evening, Ben just couldn’t help but think how beautiful she was once again. Gabrielle was lost in her need to be wanted and desired. Nothing else mattered when she was with Ben, and he was so gentle, so understanding.

     She slid her hand from behind his head, moving it to waist level; he, in turn, moved his hand slowly to her right side, placing it under her right breast. Turning his head, he became more aggressive now, more eager. She sensed his feelings, and she, in turn, kissed him harder, abandoning all gentleness. But she was distracted. She could hear noise in the leaves, as though someone was approaching from the stable house area.

     “Ben,” she whispered, “I do hear somebody or something.”

     Ben slowly but surely pulled away from her and stood up and moved away, believing he heard it as well. By now, it was undeniable. Someone was coming in their direction. It was just too late for him to leave on his horse, so he would just have to act innocent. The footsteps came closer, and then a shadowy figure emerged from the trees.

     “It’s Charles, the stable boy,” she whispered. “If you want to see me again, you better talk about your horse or something different, ‘cause he’ll go right to my father with this, if he thinks it’s anything more than just talk. I know he will!”