Love Among The Ruins
“What are the chances of you being able to wheedle your way out of the office for the rest of the afternoon?” he asked, speaking very quietly into his cellphone.
“I imagine that would depend upon who was asking and what was happening.”
“I, and nothing pure,” he replied, an amused tone creeping into his voice.
“Well, in that case, the chances are excellent,” she told him. He knew she was grinning with delight as she asked, “When and where?”
“In about an hour. I’ll pick you up on the corner of Manchester at Latimer Square,” he said.
“Is it going to take you that long to squirrel out of your afternoon?”
“No, but I have a stop or two to make,” he explained.
“Hmm, the mystery deepens,” she whispered, making the hair on the back of his neck rise.
“See you in an hour.”
True to his word, he stopped his Toyota at the appointed corner an hour later and found her waiting there for him. He leaned across and opened the door for the curvaceous, golden-haired beauty.
Smiling, she climbed into the front seat and took his hand immediately.
“What an unexpected delight this is, Martin.”
He gave her hand a warm squeeze.
“I’m so pleased you’re able to come and play hooky with me this afternoon, Chloe.”
He leaned in to nuzzle her neck and inhale the intoxicating scent of her, then shifted into drive and took off down the street. Heading north across town, he eventually turned east along the river. Chloe’s hand remained on his and there was a comfortable silence.
Once they’d left the city proper, Martin glanced over at her.
“Aren’t you going to ask where we’re going?” he inquired nonchalantly.
The sound of her soft laughter delighted him and lit the flames of his desire.
“If I did, Martin, would you tell me?” she asked, already knowing the answer very well.
He grinned boyishly and drove on.
“I’m also assuming that I don’t need anything specific for our afternoon together since you didn’t mention it,” Chloe said, watching the river drift by.
“You don’t, my sweet; I’ve taken care of everything,” he assured her.
“You’re awfully good at that,” she said, her fingers drifting from the top of his hand to his palm.
Her sensual touch made him shift in his seat and hit the accelerator a bit more zealously.
A few miles down the road, he turned away from the river, leaving it behind them. Chloe took a quick look around and knew where they were headed.
The Red Zone.
It had been four long years since a series of earthquakes and aftershocks had unleashed death and destruction on Christchurch. Nearly 200 lives had been lost, and billions of dollars worth of homes, buildings, and infrastructure had been rendered useless. Rebuilding was still going on in the central city, but the suburbs nearer to the coast were a different story. In some of those areas, the damage was so severe that it was deemed best for the residents to relocate permanently to safer ground.
As a result, the area they were now entering — known in the days after the quakes as the Red Zone — was, for all intents and purposes, a ghost town. Many of the homes were little more than rubble; others consisted of only a few supporting walls. Here and there, the odd outbuilding dotted the landscape. Nature had reclaimed the areas it could, leaving lush carpets of grass and small gatherings of native trees and plants. The people, however, were gone.
“An afternoon in the Zone? This should make for an interesting date,” Chloe commented.
“Not up for some love among the ruins?” Martin asked, chuckling.
“I’m very certain you have a plan, my dear — at least, I pray you do,” she answered.
Indeed, he did.
Martin had been coming into the Red Zone for a couple of years now. Once the initial restrictions had been lifted, many people were curious to see for themselves exactly how bad the damage had been — Martin included. After a visit or two, most of the curious were satisfied and never returned, but Martin was different.
There was something about the destruction and the solitude and the transformation that resonated with him. After his first few visits, he stopped driving around, choosing to wander on foot instead. Month by month, he could see what changed and what stayed the same. He saw new sprouts of grass where there had been nothing living, and he found trees that continued to bloom and deliver up their fruits. He would sometimes sit beneath those trees and contemplate the pleasures and the perils of life.
As someone who had always enjoyed a little peril with his pleasure, it had recently struck Martin that this would be a perfect venue for that pursuit. Over the last two weeks, he’d made a visit into the Zone for the purpose of research then left his ideas to simmer. Late this morning, bored and restless at work, Chloe had popped into his head and the simmering ideas suddenly boiled over.
Martin pulled the car over and turned to Chloe.
“This isn’t our final destination, but come with me. I have something to show you.”
They exited the car and Martin took Chloe’s hand, leading her along a narrow path in the grass. Three minutes later, he stopped in front of a group of trees and looked up. As Chloe followed his gaze, she was astounded.
“Are those figs?” she asked.
“They are,” Martin replied. “I’m going to pick some for us.”
He pulled a small bag from his pocket and gave it to her to hold. Reaching up, he pulled several purplish fruits from the branches. She held the bag out and he carefully dropped them in.
“I can’t believe that figs are still growing out here!”
“That’s not all,” he said. “Come.”
The two walked a little further and turned to the right. In the stand of trees ahead, Chloe could already see the round shapes of golden pears among the branches.
“Ohhh, pears!” she murmured happily.
Martin trotted over, looking at the fruit and selecting three or four, depositing them in the bag.
“Well, we have the makings of a lovely little picnic here,” Chloe said, her smile lighting up the shady grove.
“Yes, and we’re not done quite yet.”
Taking her hand again, Martin led her out onto one of the silent suburban streets. Three lots down, they walked around the broken bits of the house that once stood there and into the area that would have been the yard.
“What kind of trees are those, Martin?” Chloe asked, pointing at a small pair in the far corner.
“Ah, they are why we’re here, my dear,” he said.
They drew closer and he reached in and brought out a green fruit that looked like a cross between a lime and an avocado. Chloe was sure she’d never seen such a thing before.
“What is it?”
“It’s a feijoa. Some people call them pineapple guavas.”
“What do they taste like?” she asked.
Martin bent down close to her ear and spoke very softly, caressing her hair as he explained.
“They have pale, creamy flesh, much like yours, my sweet. And some say they taste like a combination of strawberry, pineapple, and lemon — exotic and sweet. Yet another thing they have in common with you.”
He kissed her cheek once and then again, taking his time getting to her lips. When he did, he teased them with little nips and nibbles. Chloe laughed and then sighed. When Martin could feel her breathing faster against his chest, he lifted her chin and kissed her slowly and deeply, letting his tongue explore her sweetness. Gentle flicking, caressing waves, and deep probing all combined to make them both hungry for more.
“I think it’s time for us to head to our final destination,” he murmured. “I have a delicious menu of delights prepared just for you.”
Still in his arms, Chloe nearly purred her response.
“Well, after that little amuse bouche I can hardly wait for the next course.”
He held her hand tightly as they made their way back to the car. He opened her door and closed it behind her once she was seated. On the driver’s side, he opened the rear door and put the bag of fruit on the seat. Sliding behind the wheel, he took Chloe’s hand again. She turned and smiled at him, and he could feel the heat of her skin and see the fire in her eyes. He started the car and pulled out onto the empty street.
Five minutes later, they pulled into the driveway of a home whose only remaining features were its brick rear wall and two smaller interior walls. Chloe could make out a dresser, an old wooden chair, and some broken pieces of a side table scattered in among the dirt and rocks.
Martin stopped the car where the brick wall stood, came around and opened Chloe’s door for her, and handed her the bag of fruit. She took it and stood watching as he walked to the rear of the car, opened the trunk, and took out a large black duffel bag.
“So prepared,” she cooed as he took her arm and led her behind the standing wall.
“Oh, yes, I am,” he said quietly, stopping as they cleared the wall and gazed across the open yard.
Chloe beheld a large, apparently undamaged, garden shed, perhaps ten feet on a side. It looked almost as if a delivery crane had dropped it there sometime after the quakes had done their worst. In front of it, sat a small outdoor dining table and two garden chairs. Though almost stereotypically suburban, the scene was completely out of place in the ruins of the Red Zone.
“I don’t know what to say, Martin.”
“Wait right there for a moment,” he said, moving toward the shed, duffel bag in hand.
She watched him step through the doorway of the shed and a moment later, it was outlined with little twinkling lights. He stuck his head out and motioned for her to join him.
“How ever did you manage this?” Chloe asked, clearly pleased.
“Oh, just a small generator. When I found this place, I thought it might make a good hideaway. As I rummaged around, I found a generator, gave it a bit of a fixing, and voila. Same for the table and chairs.”
He walked over and pulled out one of the chairs.
“Please, Madame, have a seat,” he invited.
“Thank you, kind sir,” Chloe replied.
Martin bowed and disappeared into the shed. Momentarily, he returned with two placemats, two glasses, and a bottle of wine. Quickly uncorking the bottle, he poured the pale liquid and handed her a glass.
“Please enjoy,” he said, returning to the shed once more.
Chloe laughed and sipped her wine, wondering what was next.
Martin emerged after a brief interval, bearing a selection of cheese and bread and grapes, which he set before her.
“Oh, this is just lovely! Come and sit so we can enjoy this together,” she said, taking his hand.
“I will,” he told her. “Just one more thing to do.”
Before returning to the shed, he took the bag of fruit they had collected from its resting place on the other chair. She could hear him moving around and rummaging a bit and wondered what he was doing. Before she could call out to him, though, he came through the doorway and picked up the other wineglass.
Standing before her, he raised it and offered a toast.
“To love among the ruins, and the girl with yellow hair.”
He clinked her glass, picked up a piece of cheese and popped it into his mouth.
“Love among the ruins…why do I know that phrase?” Chloe asked.
Martin smiled, sat, and beckoned her to his lap. She rose and gently rested on his knee.
“It’s Browning, my love.”
He gazed into her eyes and recited.
And I know, while thus the quiet-coloured eve
Smiles to leave
To their folding, all our many-tinkling fleece
In such peace,
And the slopes and rills in undistinguished grey
Melt away —
That a girl with eager eyes and yellow hair
Waits me there
In the turret whence the charioteers caught soul
For the goal,
When the king looked, where she looks now, breathless, dumb
Till I come.
But he looked upon the city, every side,
Far and wide,
All the mountains topped with temples, all the glades’
Colonnades,
All the causeys, bridges, aqueducts — and then
All the men!
When I do come, she will speak not, she will stand
Either hand
On my shoulder, give her eyes the first embrace
Of my face,
Ere we rush, ere we extinguish sight and speech
Each on each.
“Magical,” Chloe whispered.
“Yes, you are,” Martin replied.
He urged her to stand then stood as well, taking her by the hand and leading her into the shed. By the soft light of a lantern, she could see what he’d been up to — and she quivered.
He gathered her to him.
“I need you, my Chloe. I want you.”
“You know I am yours,” she whispered, her words sealing their bond as they had so many times before.
“No further need to speak then,” he said, carefully placing a soft gag in her mouth. “Nor to see,” he added, blindfolding her.
“I’ll undress you — just be still,” he instructed.
Her jacket, blouse, and skirt were soon gone, stored in the duffel bag for safekeeping. He left her bra and panties in place while he patiently bound her wrists and ankles in leather cuffs. Once done, he checked each one for proper fit, ran his hands slowly over her beautiful lingerie, and then removed it. He could hear her working to control her breath, and that made him want her even more.
He turned her around with great care, her naked back against his chest. His arms held her safe and close as he spoke quietly in her ear.
“Your sight and speech are extinguished, my girl…and I can feel your heart beating fast. I feel your body trembling like the earth beneath us did so many times…I feel how you are changing, and how you are the same…like those fruits we collected…”
He paused, knowing that his touch and his words were sending Chloe to her own Red Zone — a place of power and silence and transformation.
“We going to walk forward a few steps; I’ll guide you,” he told her.
When they neared the wall of the shed, he stopped and turned her to face him again, placing her back against the wall. He raised her left arm and connected the cuff to one of the large metal rings he had installed on the wall just a couple of weeks ago. He did the same for her other arm and both legs then stood back to admire the sight of her.
Approaching her, he removed her gag but cautioned her not to speak. Chloe nodded her head.
He picked up a piece of one of the figs they’d picked and slipped it into her mouth. As she chewed and savored the richness of it, he smeared another piece over her left nipple and began to tease and lick and suck at it. She gasped loudly in response, and his cock came to attention.
Reaching back, he picked up a juicy bit of pear and fed it to her. She smiled as some of the juice ran down her chin, and that made him smile, too. Grabbing another piece, he squeezed it just above her right breast and watched the juice run down. Moving his face close to her body, he caught the sweet nectar on his tongue and spread it over her petal-pink areola. Even without words, he knew she was begging for more, so he closed his teeth around her nipple and tugged until she moaned.
“My sweet and exotic one, my delicious girl. Such wanton moaning! It’s too bad you can’t speak and tell me what you want,” he teased. “Ah, perhaps you want a taste of the feijoa!”
Chloe stood, bound to the metal rings, burning with desire — but silent.
Martin scooped out the fruit of the feijoa with his fingers, then walked over and slid one into Chloe’s mouth.
“Show me what a naughty, needy girl you are, Chloe,” he murmured.
Hungrily, she sucked at his finger, using her tongue to clean every bit of the fruit from it. When he offered another, she accepted it willingly.
“Two can play at that game, my love,” Martin told her, stepping back.
Chloe went completely still, waiting.
Quietly, Martin scooped out the rest of the feijoa, dropped to his knees in front of her, and covered her beautiful pussy with the creamy fruit.
“Oh, I got some feijoa on you, Chloe. Shall I clean that up?”
She was breathing heavily and whimpering, and that drove Martin wild.
He leaned in and painstakingly began to tease her sensitive lips with his tongue. Tiny playful licks and laps eventually led to longer strokes and deeper exploration of her gloriously fleshy folds. He listened to her moans and other vocalizations grow more and more urgent — and then he leaned back.
“What? Did I miss some?” he asked innocently.
Chloe pressed her lips together tightly, but the shaking of her body gave her away.
Martin leaned in again, his tongue finding her clit effortlessly. The taste of the fruit mixed with her unique flavor was a delicacy to him — one that he savored fully. He kept his tongue swirling, licking, and probing, holding Chloe’s lips open with his thumbs so that he could enjoy each and every bit of her. His meal was accompanied by the music of her pleasure, which was quickly reaching its crescendo.
Bringing all his skills to bear, he heard her scream his name and felt the tremors break forth from her very core. He kept his attention focused as tremor after tremor broke over her, and began to ease her through the aftershocks.
When she was finally quiet, he rose and released her, bringing her down to a blanket on the floor with him. He held her tightly, being there in whatever way she needed.
Eventually, her eyes fluttered open and she looked up at him adoringly. He smiled down on her.
“At least you didn’t disturb any neighbors,” he said, as he hugged and petted her.
“Yes, I think I could get used to love among the ruins, Martin — as long as it’s you who ruins me.”
Their laughter echoed through the Red Zone.
