intertwined, they would never be
separated.
She started to sob again, the breath pushed out of her with every thrust. Names were still coming to her lips, but
they were fragments only, pieces of pieces
'Sil ... Be ... Han.
She was lost to sensation; lost to his prick, to his lips. For his part, he had given up words entirely. Just his
breathe, expelled into her mouth as though he were resurrecting her. His eyes were open, but he no longer saw
her face, nor the candles that shook around them. There were instead vague forms, particles of light and dark,
pulsing before him; dark above, light below.
The sight brought a moan from him. 'What is it?' Rosa said.
'I ... don't ... know,' he replied. It pained him to have this sight before him and not understand what he was
seeing, like a fragment of music to which he could put no name, though the notes went round and round his
head. But for all the anguish it caused him, he would not have had it taken away. There was something in the
sight that quickened a secret place; a place he never spoke of, not even to Rosa. It was too tender, that place; too
frail.
'Jacob?'
'Yes ... ?'
He looked down at her, and the phantom evaporated.
'Are we done so soon?'
Her hand went between her legs, and took hold of his prick. Half its length was still inside her, but it was
rapidly softening. He tried to push it back in, but it simply concertinaed against the tightness of her arse, and
after a couple of dispiriting attempts he withdrew. She stared at him rancorously.
'Is that it?' she said.
He put his prick away, and got to his feet. 'For now,' he said.
'Oh am I to be fucked in installments then?' she said, pulling her skirts down over her pudenda and sitting up. 'I
give you my arse against my better judgment and you don't even have the decency to finish.'
'I was distracted,' he said, picking up his coat and putting it on.
'By what?'
'I don't know exactly,' Jacob snapped. 'Lord, woman, it was just a fuck. There'll be others.'
'I don't think so,' she replied sniffily.
'Oh?'
'I think it's high time we let one another alone. If we're not out to make children, then what's the use of it? Huh?'
He stared hard at her. 'You mean this?'
'Yes, I do. Most certainly. I mean it.'
'You realize what you're saying?'
'Indeed I do.'
'You'll regret it.'
'I don't think so.'
'You'll be weeping for want of a fuck.'
'You think I'm that desperate for your ministrations?' she said. 'Lord, how you deceive yourself. I play along
with you, Jacob. I pretend to be aroused, but I have no desire for you.'
'That's not so,' he said.
She heard the hurt in his voice, and was astonished. It was rare, and like all rarities, valuable. Pretending not to
notice, she went to her battered leather satchel and pulled out her mirror, and squatting beside the candles for
better light, studied her reflection. 'It is so,' she said, after a little time. 'Whatever was between us is dying,
Jacob. If I loved you once, I forgot how. And frankly I don't much care to be reminded.'
'Very well,' he said. She caught his image in the glass; saw the look of distress that crossed his face. Rarer than
rare, that look.
'As you say,' she murmured.
'I think...'
'Yes?'
'I ... I would like to be alone for a while...'
'Here?'
'If you don't mind.'
He flicked his fingers together, and a feather of flame leapt from them, extinguishing itself above his head. She
did not care to watch him exercise this peculiar gift of his. She had her own skills, picked up, as Steep's had
been picked up, like jokes or rashes, somewhere along the way. Let him have the room to brood, she thought.
'Will you be hungry later?' she asked him, sounding (much to her perverse delight) like a parody of a wife.
'I doubt it.'
'I have a meat-pie, if you want something.'
'Yes?' he said.
'We can still be civil, can't we?' she said.
He let another flame go from his fingertips. 'I don't know,' he said. 'Maybe.'
With that, she left him to his
separated.
She started to sob again, the breath pushed out of her with every thrust. Names were still coming to her lips, but
they were fragments only, pieces of pieces
'Sil ... Be ... Han.
She was lost to sensation; lost to his prick, to his lips. For his part, he had given up words entirely. Just his
breathe, expelled into her mouth as though he were resurrecting her. His eyes were open, but he no longer saw
her face, nor the candles that shook around them. There were instead vague forms, particles of light and dark,
pulsing before him; dark above, light below.
The sight brought a moan from him. 'What is it?' Rosa said.
'I ... don't ... know,' he replied. It pained him to have this sight before him and not understand what he was
seeing, like a fragment of music to which he could put no name, though the notes went round and round his
head. But for all the anguish it caused him, he would not have had it taken away. There was something in the
sight that quickened a secret place; a place he never spoke of, not even to Rosa. It was too tender, that place; too
frail.
'Jacob?'
'Yes ... ?'
He looked down at her, and the phantom evaporated.
'Are we done so soon?'
Her hand went between her legs, and took hold of his prick. Half its length was still inside her, but it was
rapidly softening. He tried to push it back in, but it simply concertinaed against the tightness of her arse, and
after a couple of dispiriting attempts he withdrew. She stared at him rancorously.
'Is that it?' she said.
He put his prick away, and got to his feet. 'For now,' he said.
'Oh am I to be fucked in installments then?' she said, pulling her skirts down over her pudenda and sitting up. 'I
give you my arse against my better judgment and you don't even have the decency to finish.'
'I was distracted,' he said, picking up his coat and putting it on.
'By what?'
'I don't know exactly,' Jacob snapped. 'Lord, woman, it was just a fuck. There'll be others.'
'I don't think so,' she replied sniffily.
'Oh?'
'I think it's high time we let one another alone. If we're not out to make children, then what's the use of it? Huh?'
He stared hard at her. 'You mean this?'
'Yes, I do. Most certainly. I mean it.'
'You realize what you're saying?'
'Indeed I do.'
'You'll regret it.'
'I don't think so.'
'You'll be weeping for want of a fuck.'
'You think I'm that desperate for your ministrations?' she said. 'Lord, how you deceive yourself. I play along
with you, Jacob. I pretend to be aroused, but I have no desire for you.'
'That's not so,' he said.
She heard the hurt in his voice, and was astonished. It was rare, and like all rarities, valuable. Pretending not to
notice, she went to her battered leather satchel and pulled out her mirror, and squatting beside the candles for
better light, studied her reflection. 'It is so,' she said, after a little time. 'Whatever was between us is dying,
Jacob. If I loved you once, I forgot how. And frankly I don't much care to be reminded.'
'Very well,' he said. She caught his image in the glass; saw the look of distress that crossed his face. Rarer than
rare, that look.
'As you say,' she murmured.
'I think...'
'Yes?'
'I ... I would like to be alone for a while...'
'Here?'
'If you don't mind.'
He flicked his fingers together, and a feather of flame leapt from them, extinguishing itself above his head. She
did not care to watch him exercise this peculiar gift of his. She had her own skills, picked up, as Steep's had
been picked up, like jokes or rashes, somewhere along the way. Let him have the room to brood, she thought.
'Will you be hungry later?' she asked him, sounding (much to her perverse delight) like a parody of a wife.
'I doubt it.'
'I have a meat-pie, if you want something.'
'Yes?' he said.
'We can still be civil, can't we?' she said.
He let another flame go from his fingertips. 'I don't know,' he said. 'Maybe.'
With that, she left him to his
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