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Subject: Sanglant - Beyond the Thrusts - Chapter 19

Loveroy, 'cause JennS is busy with an Angel
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Date Posted: Monday, January 10, 12:31:03am
In reply to: Jennifer S. and Loveroy 's message, "Sanglant - Beyond the Thrusts - Chapter 17 and on" on Thursday, October 28, 01:27:58am

Nikita weaved her fingers again through his and pulled him towards the trunk that she subsequently pulled towards the couch. Examining its content they found, bottled water, flashlights, a battery operated radio, an inflatable mattress, peanut butter, crackers, jelly, canned juices, devil ham, Parmelad, cereal, and other non-perishable items. It seemed to the suddenly serious Nikita that between what Michael had bought, the content of the trunk and the instructions provided by the hotel, they were set to weather the storm.

Nikita looked at Michael who now handed her another glass of wine and sat next to her, as she held up a can of Spam she said, “Welcome to my childhood.”

Michael was reading the instructions the hotel provided,of course this was another defense mechanism on his part. He could see Nikita’s discomfiture as she reviewed the survival gear and he didn't know how to handle female tears.The picture she painted, with her red nose and wet face made him nervous - how easy would it be to engulf her in his arms.

He quipped, a very unfamiliar behavior on his part and said, “Camping out was never my strong suit either Nikita, can you imagine me as a Boy Scout?”

Nikita, placed a hand on his leg and tried to pull up his pant leg, “I don’t know how you would look in short pants?”

Michael dried her tears with a tissue from the coffee table and whispered hoarsely, within a breath of her face, “Do you want to find out?”

She closed her eyes, he kissed her tenderly just below her lashes, and she whispered, “Yes.” Then recuperating her composure after what seemed like an eternity she kissed him on the mouth hard, no tongue. “But first we put together our first nest.”

Standing and again pulling him and the trunk towards the closet, she laughed when she heard Michael explain, “Hardly a nest… we even have our own generator.”

Nikita followed by Michael entered the bathroom and started to fill the bathtub as instructed by the hotel, and joked, “Yeah, we do spark, don’t we?” And throwing caution to the wind, turning to Michael she seductively said, “I am making it nice and hot…”

Then realizing she was probably being too forward added, “I am sorry, we just met and I don’t want you to think of me as a hussy…” Smiled and mumbled, “We’ll have plenty of time for that…”

Michael raised his brows, slapped Nikita’s ‘high 5’ and then her behind and went out to the kitchenette to move the food towards the dressing room. He brought other bathrobes to their storm room that he found in the drawers as he rummaged looking for extra pillows and blankets, which trip after trip he brought to the space.

“Michael,” Nikita called from next to the bathtub she was filling with salts and bubbles, “Do you think we should get stinking drunk to ride this storm?”

Michael walked into the room and watched her reflection on the multitude of mirrors around the space, she had not noticed he stood relaxed against the doorframe. She still painted an alluring picture, dancing around opening faucets to fill every receptacle with the necessary liquid. Michael thought that if he had to be in a foreign country, in a strange city, in a dangerous situation, then this companion he’d lucked out to find was a blessing.

“No.” He answered, she noticed him and then she moved towards his side.

The robe was gone and all she wore was his sweater, which came mid thigh. Joking she asked “You want me sober?”

“Oh yeah,” Michael answered followed with, “… and hungry.”

“Too late,” She said and raised a bottle of champagne she was drinking straight from. “Mmm.” She mumbled as an alarm rang and a deep voice made an announcement in several languages.

‘The National Hurricane Center has upgraded the storm to a Category 5 hurricane and we are within minutes of feeling the full force as we approach the path of the storm. Please follow the directions contained within your storm supplies receptacle. Please remember to bring all your valuables to your shelter or remain inside your storm safe-room until we advise you otherwise. The elevators are no longer operational and the staircases have been locked down. We are not sure how long this will take. DO NOT leave the room during the lull period when the eye of the storm is passing. Again please remain inside your designated storm safe-rooms until we advise otherwise.’

Michael went one last time to the bedroom; he picked up the king size mattress and put it against the door after he locked it. He told Nikita that it was better to move inside the closet; for security reasons they first blew off all the candles she lit and made sure the water was turned off and then moved to the space farthest from the exterior of the building.

Inside the dressing room and to keep Nikita from panicking, Michael inflated the mattress, and set out the pillows and the blankets as Nikita moved around from wall to wall putting her ears to the surface, listening. She was looking a bit stressed and Michael noticed her shallow breathing and put an arm around her waist drawing her near him in the cramped space. He wanted to insure that his beautiful companion was not going to become hysterical and do something stupid like run out of their shelter.

“Nee-kee-tah,” he started quietly, “we are going to be just fine.”

“I remember a storm,” She confessed, “it must have been while I lived on the streets, it was terrifying. These memories” She was sobbing against his chest, her shoulders shaking, her mind whirling, “are part of my sepia memories.”

Michael comforting her stroked her back with his other hand, kissing her head that was buried on his neck, Michael whispered, “Sepia memories?”

She looked up, tears streamed down her face, “Yes, I have memories I repress and every once in a while I have visions, like sepia colored photographs, of something I must be repressing.”

“I have those too,” Michael confessed pensively.

“Yes? Dr. Jurgen says those are part of a psychological trauma one’s mind refuses to conjure up.” Nikita said and at Michael’s attentive gaze added, “A kind of post traumatic stress syndrome.”

“Hmm.” Michael remarked.

“By injecting an amnesiac into the blood stream that can only be seen in urine or blood samples, a psychiatrist could possibly diagnose what is causing the trauma and bring up the sepia images to determine their content.” Nikita explained.

“Have you had the procedure done?” Michael asked.

“Nope.” She composed herself, “I believe these visions are not that menacing.”

“But they surely are intrusive.” Michael said, “At least mine are.”

“Annoying as hell, coming at the worse moments yes, but not threatening.” Nikita answered, she took another swig of the champagne bottle that Michael was tempted to remove from her hand.

Again offering it to Michael he declined, she shrugged her shoulders and continued, “Mine are from the past.”

“I don’t recognize mine,” Michael said and reclined on the pillows, “you are going to get drunk.”

“No I won’t.” She said as he changed his mind and took the bottle taking a drink from it. “Tell me Michael what your sepia images look like, talking about them helped me define mine.”

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Subject Author Date
Welcome back. Love this story! (NT)MichelleBMonday, January 10, 08:32:38am
I guess they are .....(r)Lady EWednesday, January 12, 11:27:54pm
Waiting for more....(r)MarySaturday, January 15, 05:47:26pm
Gulp *g*Jennifer SFriday, January 21, 11:58:17am

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