what the bracelet does. I promise.’
‘What does it do?’
‘Try it and find out.’
‘Okay.’ He smirked at her. ‘Here goes nothing.’ He turned his face toward the ceiling, shut his eyes, and touched the bracelet to his mouth. He felt the emerald eyes against his lips. He felt the warm gold.
Soothing.
As he waited for the next instruction, he kept the bracelet to his mouth and thought of Elise’s lips. She must’ve kissed it thousands of times. Her lips had touched it here, just where his lips were touching it now.
Feeling pleasantly light-headed, he pictured himself floating up from the sofa. Elise watched him. With the hand that didn’t hold her drink, she gestured for him to approach. ‘Right this way,’ she said. ‘Come on in.’
Don’t mind if I do, he thought.
And suddenly he was inside her.
As if looking through Elise’s eyes, he saw himself stretched out on the sofa, his hands again resting on his belly, his eyes shut. He appeared to be asleep.
I’m asleep, all right. Dreaming this whole bit.
Is he here yet? Must be. ‘Hello? Neal? Are you in me? Welcome aboard .’
Jesus, he thought.
He could feel everything: Elise from head to toe, inside and out. She had numerous pains, but didn’t seem especially bothered by them. She was a little trembly, nervous and excited – and thrilled to have him aboard.
Neal tried to speak, but couldn’t: not from his own body on the sofa, not from Elise.
So he said in his mind, I’m here, Elise. What’s going on? Has to be a dream, right?
Elise thought, ‘ Actually, I can’t hear you. This is pretty much a one-way deal, Neal.’ I’m a poet, but I don’t know it. My feet show it. Longfellows. Stop that, he’ll think I’m an idiot. ‘Neal? You can’t communicate with me. I can’t even tell whether or not you’re in here, but I assume you are. So, how do you like it so far? ’
Incredible, he thought.
Let’s see how he likes this .
She lifted the glass and drank.
Neal felt the cold rim of the glass on his lips – on her lips. He felt the liquid flood her mouth, chill her teeth. He felt the sizzle of the tonic, tasted the vodka and the tart lemon. Then she was swallowing. It was as if Neal were swallowing. He felt the drink slide down his gullet, grow warm in his belly.
All the while, Elise kept on thinking. Not as if talking to Neal, but going along on her own – talking to herself but also wondering and considering things on other levels, a level or two (maybe more) that seemed deep down and barely articulate.
A little like listening to a radio that was picking up a few different stations – some coming in more clearly than others, some nearly inaudible.
She lowered the glass.
Hope he’s not freaking out in there. ‘How’s it going, Neal?’ Let’s see what he thinks of this .
She turned around and started walking across the den.
Neal felt every movement. Very much as if he were the person walking, but different because he had no control. He was merely a passenger along for the ride.
A passenger riding in Elise.
He felt her muscles work. He felt the carpet under her bare feet, and the satin of the pajamas sliding softly against her skin. He felt how her breasts, rather small and not very heavy, sprang up and down with each step. He felt the solid tightness of her flexing buttocks, and a curious absence of weight and movement at her groin.
This is what it’s like to be her, he thought.
Fabulous.
Except for the pain.
The bastard had done real numbers on her. Neal felt where she had been cut by the knife, pinched by fingers, teeth or pliers – hurt in other ways. Where she wore bandages, he detected a slight stiffness on her skin.
Her face seemed fine. But the guy must’ve really worked on her breasts. They hurt all over, and Elise seemed to be wearing about seven bandages on them. Her nipples were very sore, but not bandaged. She wore a few bandages on her belly, and a couple on her left buttock. The lips of her
‘What does it do?’
‘Try it and find out.’
‘Okay.’ He smirked at her. ‘Here goes nothing.’ He turned his face toward the ceiling, shut his eyes, and touched the bracelet to his mouth. He felt the emerald eyes against his lips. He felt the warm gold.
Soothing.
As he waited for the next instruction, he kept the bracelet to his mouth and thought of Elise’s lips. She must’ve kissed it thousands of times. Her lips had touched it here, just where his lips were touching it now.
Feeling pleasantly light-headed, he pictured himself floating up from the sofa. Elise watched him. With the hand that didn’t hold her drink, she gestured for him to approach. ‘Right this way,’ she said. ‘Come on in.’
Don’t mind if I do, he thought.
And suddenly he was inside her.
As if looking through Elise’s eyes, he saw himself stretched out on the sofa, his hands again resting on his belly, his eyes shut. He appeared to be asleep.
I’m asleep, all right. Dreaming this whole bit.
Is he here yet? Must be. ‘Hello? Neal? Are you in me? Welcome aboard .’
Jesus, he thought.
He could feel everything: Elise from head to toe, inside and out. She had numerous pains, but didn’t seem especially bothered by them. She was a little trembly, nervous and excited – and thrilled to have him aboard.
Neal tried to speak, but couldn’t: not from his own body on the sofa, not from Elise.
So he said in his mind, I’m here, Elise. What’s going on? Has to be a dream, right?
Elise thought, ‘ Actually, I can’t hear you. This is pretty much a one-way deal, Neal.’ I’m a poet, but I don’t know it. My feet show it. Longfellows. Stop that, he’ll think I’m an idiot. ‘Neal? You can’t communicate with me. I can’t even tell whether or not you’re in here, but I assume you are. So, how do you like it so far? ’
Incredible, he thought.
Let’s see how he likes this .
She lifted the glass and drank.
Neal felt the cold rim of the glass on his lips – on her lips. He felt the liquid flood her mouth, chill her teeth. He felt the sizzle of the tonic, tasted the vodka and the tart lemon. Then she was swallowing. It was as if Neal were swallowing. He felt the drink slide down his gullet, grow warm in his belly.
All the while, Elise kept on thinking. Not as if talking to Neal, but going along on her own – talking to herself but also wondering and considering things on other levels, a level or two (maybe more) that seemed deep down and barely articulate.
A little like listening to a radio that was picking up a few different stations – some coming in more clearly than others, some nearly inaudible.
She lowered the glass.
Hope he’s not freaking out in there. ‘How’s it going, Neal?’ Let’s see what he thinks of this .
She turned around and started walking across the den.
Neal felt every movement. Very much as if he were the person walking, but different because he had no control. He was merely a passenger along for the ride.
A passenger riding in Elise.
He felt her muscles work. He felt the carpet under her bare feet, and the satin of the pajamas sliding softly against her skin. He felt how her breasts, rather small and not very heavy, sprang up and down with each step. He felt the solid tightness of her flexing buttocks, and a curious absence of weight and movement at her groin.
This is what it’s like to be her, he thought.
Fabulous.
Except for the pain.
The bastard had done real numbers on her. Neal felt where she had been cut by the knife, pinched by fingers, teeth or pliers – hurt in other ways. Where she wore bandages, he detected a slight stiffness on her skin.
Her face seemed fine. But the guy must’ve really worked on her breasts. They hurt all over, and Elise seemed to be wearing about seven bandages on them. Her nipples were very sore, but not bandaged. She wore a few bandages on her belly, and a couple on her left buttock. The lips of her
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