Bombshell Posted October 8, 2011 Share Posted October 8, 2011 Whistler, British Columbia, Canada, 2022 Sitting next to her daughter on her bed, tucking her in the crook of her arm, Jason read Danica a bed-time story, exquisite, versatile voice regaling her with the tale of Puss-in-Boots. They were working their way through the Histoires ou contes du temps passé, in the original French, and old favourite of hers when she had been a little... toddler. Not yet four, Danica still sensed something was bothering her mother, her easily smiling face subdued, a melancholy light in her indigo eyes. Danica squirmed, gazing up at her mother adoringly and her arms around her tiny waist in a tight hug. "Is mommy sad cuz mommy-Danielle is gone?" Danica whispered. "If it's cuz I wanna pet tiger, it's 'kay if you only get me a cat that wears boots." "Oh, sweetie!" Jason chuckled softly, so melodious is would shame a choir of angels, hugging Danica tight to her full, soft yet firm bosom and kissing on top of her head. "Cats really don't like wearing boots." Jason leaned over, tickling the bottom of Danica's feet with her perfect nails, making the little girl squeal. "They like even less than you do, it seems. But yes, mommy will always miss mommy-Danielle." Jason sighed. Just two days, they had been in Calgary, observing the fourth anniversary of Danielle 'Knockout' Bellefleur-Waters - her wife's - death. It had been tasteful and merry after a long moment of somber silence. The very well endowed couple had been very well loved and the people of Calgary didn't drag down the memory of their Municipal Defender with heavy solemnity, but rather celebrated her life. Jason knew Danielle would have preferred it that way, but was grateful all the same Calgary chose to celebrate it in that fashion without any direction from her. Still, it was a trying time for her, this year more than most. She felt... lonely, despite many good friends and thousands of men - and nearly as many women - seeking her hand, or just a way into her bed. Her full lips tightened - those had started sniffing around less than a week after Danielle had died. She had been in an intimate relationship since she was fifteen, first with Katya, then with Danielle. She hadn't gone longer than six months without sex in all that time, and that only once, following her bewildering and unexpected eruption. She was a fantasy of a woman and had a fantasy woman's sex drive. Following Danielle's death, her grieving had put a damper on it, but now, four years later, it was rearing its head once more. Simply put, she missed sex. With no more than an arch of a brow, a lick of a lip, the beckoning of a finger, or an arch of her back, she could remedy the situation. But the thought of taking any woman to her bed made her feel like she was disgracing Danielle's memory. Jason sighed again, and patted Danica's pillow. "Lay-down, baby. Two more pages, then it's bed-time." "S'not tired," Danica protested, giving the lie away as she yawned hugely, a tiny fist rubbing her eye. "Uh-huh," Jason smirked, watching Danica flop down on the pillow, curling up under her blankets. Jason finished the chapter then closed the book, a flick of her wrist tossing it across the room to land neatly in its place on the shelf. She hummed the haunting refrain to 'When Yanluo Calls' until Danica relaxed into the ease of deep sleep, looking so innocent and carefree. She kissed on the forehead and tucked her in, before gliding to her feet and heading to her adjacent room. Dani doesn't remember the first attempt on her life - for which I'm grateful - but how long can I keep her from having to worry about future ones? How long can I let her hold onto this precious innocence? In her room, eyes flicking to the massive bed she had all to herself, alone, Jason stripped out of her simple jeans and t-shirt, as well as her underwear, tossing them into a hamper, and slipping into a gossamer-thin, silvery-blue robe, knotting the sash loosely. She pulled the hair-clip from her hair and tossed it aside, which collapsed into the blob of her eufiber on the bedside table, her silver mane falling in rippling waves to her ankles. She checked on Danica one more time, her girl was clutching a pink, plushy dragon nearly as big as she was, then closed the adjoining door and picked up an elegantly curved saber leaning against a dresser, seemingly crafted of the clearest glass and with a monomolecularly fine edge. She sauntered onto the balcony, took a deep breath of the cool, mountain air, then casually flipped over the railing, landing in a soundless crouch in her well maintained yard. Jason sashayed up to a life-sized statue standing on a plinth, running a hand over the smooth, verdant marble with wistful longing. She might not have had Chang's artistic virtuosity, but she still possessed skill no baseline could match and she had crafted this one with nothing more than her bare hands, better than any manufactured tool. It was nothing more than Danielle dressed in a pair of baggy jeans hanging from her hips and a loose hoodie that did little to conceal a figure as voluptuous as her own, looking over her shoulder with wide eyes and an embarrassed little smile. It was simple, nothing high concept, but it captured the essence of the woman Jason loved. Holding her grief inside and striving to work out some tension to relief another sort of longing, Jason began flowing through martial forms, a habit from studying with the Sifu so long ago, letting her mind float, focused and yet free, every movement coming without thought. Jason knew many styles and practiced no repetitive katas, instead blending them into an improvised whole. It was a sensual, heart-rendingly beautiful dance, elegant and dangerous, as she flowed around her entire yard with a deceptive speed, even skimming the surface of the pool with hardly a splash. The vivid moon hanging over the mountains made her hair blaze like silver fire and clearly revealed the outline of her matchless figure through the thin shield of her robe, which gaped wide at the front, revealing more of the mesmerizing, shadowed depth between the heaving mounds of her breasts. The blade flickered like a sliver of starlight in her hand, barely seen, air passing through invisible piercings down its length creating a sibilant sigh of music that blended into the sound of the wind blowing through the leaves, the only sound in the night. And with each step she took, falling into the rhythm of the movements, Jason relaxed further, her beauty and grace burgeoning to a ravishing degree, turning her into a beguiling, awe-inspiring goddess, the sight of which would haunt dreams, if eyes could catch the fleeting sight, less than a blur that disturbed not even the air. And suddenly, like a finger running down her spine, Jason felt a pair of eyes on her, She came to a full stop facing those eyes, not abruptly, but rather as if it was simply at the moment, her ineffable dance came to an end, argent mane swirling behind her as if it possessed a life of its own. Under the moon, a tear's wet path glistened on the intoxicating curves of her cheek and jaw, and the owner of those eyes took an involuntary breath, though he hadn't been breathing since he had first arrived. "Shen..." Jason's glorious soprano rippled through the air, more resonant than the most powerful waterfall, sweeter than the purest spring. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
This topic is now archived and is closed to further replies.