Jen's Legacy.

It would be so easy to imagine that she was Jen. She felt like Jen, she smelled like Jen—all of her—even to that faintly haunting smell of her vagina on his fingers, which drove him wild, but she was not Jen. He had to learn to see and feel her as Claire; the woman she was, the woman he was also in love with.

In the dark it was easy to believe that this was Jen. It had to be Jen, or he could easily believe that it was. Only Jen had ever affected him like this.

It was too confusing, and he was tired.

When it got cold, he would cover them with his shirt and jacket or even a fold of the sleeping bag.

He spoke, his mind in a different place again, until that other urgency reared it head again.

“Now that the fire’s died down you can see the stars clearly. We are so far from the glare of city lights that you can see them in their full majesty out here, and even catch a glimpse of a few meteors… there…” he pointed… “and there... another one.”

She lay on her back, cradled on his arm, with him raising his hand from holding her breast, or resting on her middle, as he pointed out the constellations whose names were all familiar to her, and then returning to hold her again.

She studied his face as he pointed them out and knew that he also studied hers in the little light that there was, as she looked up into the sky herself.

She had never been so happy or felt so complete with anyone, and could never have imagined being this way with any man in this way before, and certainly not with them lying naked together, touching, caressing, kissing, and trying to become fully intimate, but she knew that this was right, for her.

He got up and made up the fire before he came back to her, seeing the relaxed way she laid, with her legs apart. He almost fell, seeing that. She was so beautiful, and so tempting, and she was looking up at him, doing everything deliberately to torment him.

She learned fast.

He lifted her into his arms and cradled her as he pulled the sleeping bag down to lie flat, opened it and slid her into it, following her in as she turned into him, lifting her leg over him and then reaching down behind her leg to touch him and bring him to life.

He would have to do the rest. She did not have courage to do any more than that yet, other than to offer him all of the opportunities she could.

They would soon have to discuss the future that they wanted together, and for each other; where it would take them; where they would live; their dreams, their wishes, their desires, though it seemed to be already laid out. Recognizing their love for each other was the best first step. Doing something about it was the next, and they had already got a start on both of those.