Midnight Reflection

It was past midnight when I looked out the window of my studio. I saw Helen crouched at the water’s edge running her fingers lightly through the sand. I threw on a shawl and walked out quietly to meet her. She’s an intriguing woman. It’s the first time she’s stayed at my camp. She doesn’t seem the type, actually. Rather formal and reserved, yet oddly warm and layered. I can’t seem to help myself. I sleep with Miro when he shows up. And I’m magnetically drawn to her. Something in her eyes, though, tells me she has greater concerns than who could share her bed. Or her heart.

She’s dressed head to toe in black and I’m wearing nothing but my favorite shawl and a late summer’s tan.

“Nothing bites,” I venture. She doesn’t turn ’round but I can tell she knows it’s me. There’s an uncanny awareness in her presence.

“I’d like to go for a swim. Care to join me?” Her English-laced accent is utterly enchanting.

“Sure,” I say, dropping my shawl.

Unfazed, she stands and carefully removes each article of clothing, laying each one by one across a log straddling the shore to her left. She’s unencumbered by her vulnerability and beauty. Few naturalists have the physical ease she effortlessly exudes. And at the same time she seems almost … Victorian.

She turns to offer a smile to me, walks into the small waves lapping quietly against her feet and in a graceful arc dives under the silver moon’s reflection of the water’s surface.

As she rises, her face sparkles with droplets of water and her smile is fuller and deeper than before.

“Why do I have the feeling it’s been a long time since you’ve done this?” I ask, walking in to meet her.

“You’re intuitive.”

“It’s part of my art and business. It helps to know how to read people.”

“An invaluable skill, certainly. One I rely upon heavily myself.”

We swim into deeper water with a quiet breast stroke, water gently caressing at our skin. “Why are you here, Helen? I mean, if you don’t mind me asking. You don’t seem like someone who frequents a place like this.”

“I can’t say, exactly. I can tell you I’m here to help a few locals. I’m a research physician. I study unusual cases.”

“Oh.” My eyebrows rise up, then down.

“What about you, Gwen? How did you come to create the life you live?”

“A love of solitude and natural surroundings. I’m an artist most of the year. Then the influx of people into the campgrounds and naturalist community during the summer, feeds me socially, as well as financially.”

“This works for you.”

“It very much does. I feel satisfied …  most of the time, in most areas of my life.”

“Except one.”

“Well, yes. I do miss having a mate. Being in relationship deeply nourishes me. The man I’m seeing right now is emotionally stunted, to say the least. The sex is good, and damn, is he handsome. But lord almighty is he immature and shut down. I want to be known and cherished for all of who I am. What do you think, Helen? Is that too much to ask?”

“Too much? Not at all. Is it a lot? Yes.”

“What about you, who lives in your heart?”

“Far too many to count.”

“Really. Who’s with you every moment of every day? Whose very presence gives your life meaning?”

She swims over to me and rests a palm on my cheek. “You’re beautiful, Gwen. We’ve only just met so I’d sooner take you into my bed than answer such a personal question.”

I take in a deep breath and manage to whisper, “You would.”

She shrugs and turns to swim into deeper water. “Perhaps.”

“You’re teasing.”

“I would never play with your affections, Gwen.”

“You just …”

“I said perhaps. Why? Are you interested?”

“Well, of course, sure. You’re a beautiful wo…”

“Follow me,” she interrupts.

I swim after her, matching her stroke for stroke. In the middle of the lake she stops and turns to me, treading water.

I swim close to her. She holds my face in her hands and looking at me with soulful eyes, she slowly approaches and places a kiss on my lips. After a few moments of vibrant energy exchange, I open my mouth, allowing her tongue inside. Slowly, she drifts below the water’s surface. Still kissing, I follow. Several moments pass and I realize this breath-taking kiss has been literally without breath. And yet I’m breathing. My lungs are not starved for air. I feel filled with oxygen head to toe and filled with the essence of Helen Magnus through our connection. I reach out to stroke her side, moving closer as I do so. The water around her is so warm. It’s like a blanket of sacred wetness enveloping us. She moves one of her hands to my hip and I move closer still. Our breasts are floating and just touching. I allow my hand to skim her breast. Helen holds my ass. She slides her hands down to my thighs and lifts them, guiding me to wrap them around her waist. I take her between my legs, eager to feel her vulva caress my own. She holds me close and moves to kiss my neck. And then I feel it. There’s a presence between my legs, pressing to enter me. I want to look down to see what it is, but she’s holding me close. Is she packing a dildo? I didn’t see that. Not that that’s a problem …

“God,” I gasp as she slides it inside. It’s warm. This is no phallus. This is her. “Helen,” I try to utter through the water.

“How does this feel?” I hear in my mind.

“Um,” I burble again. “What are you doing?” I think.

“I’m pleasuring you, I hope. Am I?”

“God, yes!” I say inside my own mind.

“Good. I sensed this is your desire. I love remarkable women, Gwen, and you are remarkable. It’s an ecstatic joy to be with you like this.”

“You’re inside me. What are you using? God, this feels so good! Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop. Helen …please …”

“Let yourself go, Gwen. What you’re feeling is my clitoris. It’s enlarged to fulfill your every desire.”

“You’re not getting me pregnant, are you?” I joke.

“If you wish, I can.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Helen …”

“Let go, Gwen.”

I do.

~~~

Nine months and one day later at the start of the summer, I hold a newborn daughter in my arms as a text message arrives.

Congratulations, Gwendolyn, dear.

Rest assured, you are a fine and loving mother.

Anything you desire or need, just ask.

Fondly,

Helen

I quickly reply ‘y-o-u’ and send.

At the end of the summer, while wading in the water late one evening after everyone had gone to bed, I sense Helen behind me. I turn, baby in arms, and see her, nude as the night we conceived our daughter.

“You’re back.” I turn away and press myself to her. “I want another,” I say. “Please.”

Without hesitation, Helen makes love with and impregnates me a second time as our daughter suckles drowsily at my breast. The call of our unified orgasm echoes across the lake.

The following spring this child is born and at the end of the summer, we conceive another.

The year after that, Helen stays for good when she visits and conceives our fourth child.

“God, I love you,” I say as she gives birth.

“Would you like another?”

“Yes.”

~~~

In the end we bear ten children together, all daughters. I seven and she three. They are all as beautiful as the day is long. I know my mate. I asked for and received a lot.

No one fills me mind, heart and soul like Helen Magnus.

~~~

That was thirty three years ago. And now in addition to being ambisexual, water-breathing and telepathic, I, too, am immortal.

As will be our daughters when they each procreate with a true love.

~~~

I am often asked, by those who dare utter such questions, what sex is like with Helen. Think of the goddess in the most beautiful, strong, flexible corporeal form you can imagine. Multiply it by three. Add compassion, passion and focus and take it to the n^th power. Add the universe past present and future. And that is, in a nutshell, loving, and being loved by, Helen Magnus.

What actually happens when we create a child together?

That, my friend, is a story for another time.

___

author’s note: This is an original work of derivative fiction. Links to this page are very welcome  however please do not re-post or archive.