Eternal
S. Wolf
Published by S. Wolf at Smashwords
Copyright 2010 S. Wolf
Discover other titles by S. Wolf at Smashwords.com:
Link to S.Wolf's SmashWords Page
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Note: This story contains sexually explicit material, and is intended only for persons over the age of 18. By downloading and opening this document, you are stating that you are of legal age to access and view this work of fiction.
# # #
He opened his eyes and looked around the tavern, desperately searching for her, needing to see her face to know that what he had just gone through had been worth it. He finally found her, and calm came over him. She was here.
She was at a table near the back, talking and laughing with a group of French soldiers, as she filled their mugs with refills of beer from a pitcher that she carried. He had seen her do this before, and as always, he enjoyed her smile.
She was beautiful even when she was pensive, but her smile made her even more so, her brown eyes sparkling and her teeth so white. She looked so alive. That thought reminded him of when he had last seen her, and felt an ache in his heart as he attempted to force that image from his memory. He replaced it with a better one; her looking up at him as she held him in the embrace of her arms and legs, her pleasure apparent on her face. That was much better.
He saw her notice him from across the room, and she began making her way over to his table. Her lovely brown hair was past her shoulders, and her skin was flawless. She wore a long dress that that covered her arms and was high at the neck. It cinched at the waist, flowed over her hips, and almost reached the floor. Looking at her this way, one would never guess about the sensual body she hid under there, nor about the profound sexual passion she had even deeper. Under her outer garments, she wore a simple bra and panties, neither of them fancy with lace. But he could think of nothing more erotic, not for what they were, but for what they covered.
Reaching him, she said, “Pardon me sir, I didn’t see you come in. Can I get you something?”
He looked at her eyes as she talked, watching for it. When she finished speaking, she stared at him intently, as if she was thinking. A look seemed to come to her. Almost a spark of recognition, but not quite.
“A malt ale please,” he answered. He shouldn’t have been drinking since he was officially on duty, and would be required to have his plane in the air within ten minutes if there was a German attack. But he knew there would be no attack tonight. Tomorrow morning would be a different story, but tonight they were safe.
“Be right back with that sir,” she said, giving him one last curious look before she walked away.
He loved the sound of her voice. Soft and sweet. Even more melodious when she was speaking her native French, which she used almost exclusively during sex. She hadn’t had much practice using those phrases in English.
She soon returned with his drink, setting it on the table in front of him. She took a moment to look at him again.
“Excuse me sir,” she said, but have we met before? You look very familiar to me.”
He smiled at her. “I guess it’s possible.”
She continued to look at him. “You’re a pilot, right?”
He was wearing his regulation uniform, with no markings that would indicate that. “Yes,” he replied.
“How long have you been here at Vaucouleurs?” she asked.
He thought about the question, which wasn’t as simple as it sounded. “Three months,” he replied. God, she was beautiful. Even now he couldn’t help staring at her.
She looked at him again and shook her head. “J'aurais juré,” she murmured as she walked away. He just smiled.
He thought about what he had just told her. Three months was what his official service record said. But the truth was nowhere near that. Not even close.
He had volunteered in 1916, even before America joined the war. Because of his flight experience on the farm, he was accepted into the French aeronautics school. Six months later, he saw his first combat action, and within a week he had shot down his first German plane. There were more after that, and he became known as one of the best, and soon became a squadron leader.
After America joined the effort, he was transferred over to the 94th, where he was based out of England. But recently, the Germans had developed a lethal bombing plane, the Gotha G.V., and squadrons of them were terrorizing all of Europe. The allies were particularly concerned about their Vaucouleurs base in France, and saw it as a prime target for the bombers. They assigned several of their top pilots to the duty of protecting the base, where they were on call 24 hours a day. Their job was to get in the air in advance of the bombers’ arrival, and shoot them down before they had a chance to release their payloads.
Three months had passed since his squadron had arrived, and although they had had various battles with German fighter planes, there had been no bombing attacks yet. But tomorrow morning, that would change.
She returned several times to his table to see if he needed a refill, but he explained that he was on duty and had to make this one last. “You don’t want any drunken pilots protecting you, do you?” He joked.
She laughed in response, but her eyes still watched him. She was still trying to figure out where she knew him from. She had done that the very first time he had been in here, and while he had figured out some things, that he had never quite understood.
The tavern was clearing out, and finally she led the only other patron to the door, helping him on his shaky legs, and sent him on his way. He just sat there waiting, sipping his long-warm ale.
She locked the door and turned to him, their eyes meeting. Walking over and sitting in the chair across his table, she continued to watch him.
“My name’s Eddie,” he said.
She looked at him. “Why do I feel I already knew that?”
He smiled. It was coming to her. She would eventually understand.
“I’m Lissette,” she said.
“That’s a beautiful name,” he replied. “Fits you perfectly.”
She blushed. She heard pickup lines all day, but the way he said it seemed so earnest, so matter-of-fact. She had never met anyone like him. His handsome rugged features and his deep blue eyes drew her towards him, but it was the way he looked at her that set him apart. His look was not one of first appreciation – she was very experienced in getting that look from the many soldiers who came here. There was no appraisal of her in his eyes; no sizing her up with obvious thoughts of what might come later. There was only a look of deep affection, the kind only shared between long-time lovers. She had never been looked at that way before, because although she had had a few lovers in her twenty-two years, none of them were with her very long, nor did they mean anything to her.
Coup de foudre. She had always scoffed at those who believed in it. Love does not come at first sight. Love is something that is grown between two people, over time. You must know the person before you can love them, and anything else is just childish fantasies. But as she looked at him, she doubted her convictions. Could she love this man? Then the strange thought occurred to her that she may have loved him before he even walked into her tavern. Love before first sight? Is that even possible?
“Tell me about yourself Eddie,” she said, “How did you end up here in France?”
“Not much to tell,” he replied. “Grew up on a farm in America, in Kansas, and my dad was one of the first to buy a plane for crop dusting. Began flying it when I was fifteen, so I already had five years of flight experience when I came over two years ago to join the war. Served with the Lafayette Escadrille until the rest of America decided to join in, and then moved to the 94th Aero Squadron. A small group of us were assigned here to Vaucouleurs three months ago.”
“The Tornados?” she asked.
He smiled. That was the nickname his squadron had adopted. It was his idea, after having seen the deadly destruction of the real things up close while growing up on the farm. Their planes still carried the famous Hat-in-the-Ring logo of the 94th, but each one of them had an additional logo – a black twister with eyes. Their reputation was getting out, and people were beginning to talk about them. He imagined the Germans were aware of them too. Because just like their real-life namesakes, his Tornados were tearing through anything they met in the skies, with an ease never seen before. All without a single casualty in the three months they’d been here. That would change tomorrow, of course, but he brushed aside those thoughts and concentrated on her.
“I can neither confirm nor deny that,” he replied, giving her a wink. Some pilots wore their squadron emblems on their jackets, but he refused to allow his men to do so. Not a smart idea, especially when half of the country you’re in is occupied by the enemy. The Germans may decide it’s much easier to kill a Tornado on the ground, than attempt to do so in the air.
She laughed. He watched her as she did, taking all of her in.
“And your story?” he asked.
“Born and raised here in Vaucouleurs, where my family owns a vineyard,” she said, “Trying to do my part for the war cause by assisting the soldiers in forgetting their troubles.”
“And I’m sure it’s appreciated,” he said. “By the way, your English is very proficient.”
“Only when it comes to tavern conversation. I tend to use French away from here.”
This brought back a memory of her embracing him, whispering in his ear.
“How’s your French?” she added.
“It was horrible when I first arrived, but I’ve picked it up.”
“Je ne peux pas vous comprendre Eddie,” she said, “Je pense que j'ai pris soin de vous pendant une longue période.”
He smiled. She just told him that she couldn’t figure him out, and that she feels she has cared about him for a long time.
“Peut-être que l'amour se trouve en attente de deux à le découvrir?” he replied in perfect French.
She looked surprised. “You’ve picked it up very well. And that was in two years?”
“I had a very good teacher,” he replied with a smile, looking at her.
“Do you really believe what you said?” she asked, “That love lays waiting for two to discover it?”
“If you had asked me that yesterday,” he said, “I would have told you that such an idea is silly. But now, I believe it beyond a doubt.”
“And why is that?” she asked, watching him.
“Because yesterday,” he said, his eyes never leaving hers, “I hadn’t met you yet.”
She looked at him for a long moment before speaking. She wanted to tell him that she was feeling the same way about him, but she couldn’t do it. Part of her reminded herself that this was a stranger she had just met, and love doesn’t work like that.
“I have to be going.” she said, “My landlady becomes worried if I get home too late.”
She stood and he stood with her. “Can I walk you there Lissette?”
She had been asked that many times by soldiers, and had always refused. She had seen other girls fall in love with these men, only to have their hearts broken when the men were reassigned, or even worse, killed.
But to her own surprise, she found herself agreeing. “Yes Eddie. I would like that very much.”
She retrieved her coat and he helped her put it on. Turning out the lights, she held the door open for him, and then locked it behind them. He allowed her to lead them in the direction of her apartment. They walked in silence for a while, and then she spoke.
“Do you get scared? Up there?”
“I used to,” he replied, “but not anymore. I haven’t been afraid in a long time.”
This seemed to upset her. “How is that possible?”
He couldn’t explain it to her, and she wouldn’t believe him if he tried. He knew that because he had tried.
“It just is,” he said.
But she wanted to understand. No, she needed to understand before she accepted him into her life.
“Is it because you no longer care about living?”
He stopped and took her hand, pulling her closer to him.
“Never think that Lissette,” he said, “No one cares more about living than I do. Especially now.”
But she just looked at him, still wanting an answer.
Finally he relented. “I don’t fear death because some things are worth dying for. I wouldn’t get in that plane I didn’t believe that.”
She watched his face as he spoke, and she could see the passion in it. As he talked his hands had moved to her waist, holding her, and they felt so natural there. She was sure he was going to pull her into him and kiss her, and she knew that she would welcome his embrace. Instead, he pulled away, and they continued on their way, her hand in his as they walked.
He was the next to speak. “What would make you happy in life?”
“Qu'est-ce?”
“When you think about your life ahead, what do you imagine yourself doing that would make you happy?”
She thought for a moment. “I’m from a large family – three brothers and four sisters – and I’ve always imagined myself with a large family of my own. I think I would be a good mother.”
He smiled at her. “I think so too.”
“Do you want children?” she asked.
“With the war going on, I used to think it wouldn’t be fair to them,” he replied, “But the war will end one day, and when it does, I can think of nothing I’d rather do than return to farming and have a family.” He then added, “Of course, I’ll have to find a good mother first.”
She smiled. “That’s what would make you happy in life?”
“More than you could possibly imagine,” he said. They had arrived at her place, and they both stopped and turned towards each other. They were quiet again, just standing there holding hands.
She knew what he wanted. No, that was the wrong word. She had stood here with other men, and had seen want in their eyes. This man was not looking at her with lust. Again, she realized he was looking at her as if she already belonged to him, and he was just waiting for her to understand that.
“Who are you Eddie?” she said, “La vérité.”
“The truth? I would never lie to you Lissette.”
She waited.
He paused before responding. “I am your eternal love,” he said softly. When she just looked at him, he added, “I am the one who loved you before we met, just as you are the one who loved me. But I don’t have to tell you that, because you already know.”
It was her turn to pause. “I do know. I don’t know how I know, but I do. I think I knew it when I saw you for the first time tonight.”
He stepped close to her, his hands holding her waist again. He looked down into her eyes, and said, “Tell me.”
“Tell you what?” she asked, and she could feel her heartbeat racing.
“Tell me what you already knew.” He was leaning down to her now, and their lips were close.
She closed her eyes and breathed in his scent. She could feel his warm breath on her face.
“I don’t–” she whispered.
“Tell me.”
She looked at him. “Je t'aime,” she whispered. She couldn’t believe she said it. But she knew it was true. Somehow, however impossible it might be, she loved this man.
He looked at her, and said, “I know. I love you too.” His hands pulled her to him and his lips met hers. Her body arched against him, and her arms came up to hold his shoulders, pulling herself tighter to him.
The kiss was new and familiar to her at the same time. She understood somehow that she had been waiting all her life for this very moment; to be in his arms where she belonged.
She didn’t ask him to come upstairs to her place, nor did he ask for her permission. She was his and he was hers, and they both understood they would be together tonight.
He was sitting on the bed when she came out of the bathroom, and she walked slowly towards him, still wearing the dress. He stood up and took her in his arms, kissing her deeply. She felt the world spin and clung to him, feeling safe in his strong embrace.
He pulled back slightly, and turned her in his arms, so that her back was to him. He undid the top button of her dress, and a shiver went through her. Softly kissing the nape of her neck, he worked his way down through the rest of the buttons. After the last, his hands moved to her shoulders, pushing the dress off of them and then down. Her arms came out of the sleeves, and then he pushed it over her hips, allowing it to drop to the floor.
His arms encircled her stomach and pulled her back against him. He kissed the side of her neck, moving upwards to her ear, where he whispered, “You are so beautiful.”
She relaxed in his arms, leaning her head back and to the side against his shoulder, feeling his desire for her pressing against the small of her back.
His hands moved up and cupped her breasts through her plain white bra, and her breath caught in a small gasp. Her nipples pebbled against his palms, and he moved them in small circles, his fingertips tracing over her soft skin. One hand left her breast and moved to her back, undoing the clasp of her bra with practiced ease. The hand then rejoined the other, and both of them slid under the loose cotton material, cupping the weight of her full breasts, feeling the warmth of her skin.
She groaned softly, arching her back and pressing into his hands. Her rigid nipples invited his touch, and he brought his fingertips to them, teasing them by moving in circles, bumping them gently. She let out a long exhale and pressed back into him, rubbing against his stiff erection, teasing him back.
Removing the bra completely, she turned in his arms and began working on the buttons of his shirt. After she undid the top two, he kissed her again, momentarily interrupting her progress before pulling back and allowing her to continue. She found it hard to concentrate when he took her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, and gently squeezed and rolled them. Finally she finished, having to pull his shirt from his pants to get at the last button.
Her hands slipped into the unbuttoned gap, and rested lightly on his chest, feeling his muscles work below the skin. He had the body of a warrior, honed by countless hours of flight, controlling a machine with death-defying precision. As she spread the shirt wider and pushed it off his shoulders, she noticed he also had the scars of a warrior – a long jagged one above his right nipple, and a small round one on his left shoulder. She kissed the one above his nipple, and then let her tongue linger lower, flicking against the circle of darker skin, feeling him respond to her touch.
Emboldened, her hand moved down, tracing over the muscles of his stomach, and then resting on the hard bulge at the front of his pants. She squeezed him through the material, and heard him take a sharp intake of breath. He felt like an iron bar in her hand, and a twinge of wet pleasure quivered between her legs.
Her hand began to move on him, and he responded by pinching her nipples harder, causing her to moan. He pressed himself against her touch, urging her on.
Her hands went to his belt, quickly undoing it. As she worked on the buttons of his pants, her hands grazed against his erection, and he sighed in pleasure. Finally his pants were loose, and she pushed them down over his hips, taking his underwear along with them to the floor, exposing him fully to her.
Her warm hand curled around him, squeezing the soft skin surrounding the hardness, drawing a low groan from his throat. She was fascinated by it, and watched her hand slide up and down its length. When a drop of fluid appeared at the tip, she let her thumb slide over it, smearing it around the head. This brought another groan from his lips, and she suddenly found herself in his arms, being easily lifted and set onto the bed, with him following her down into her arms.
He kissed her hard and she felt his hands on her, moving over her body, touching her exactly where she needed to be touched, as if reading her mind. His fingernails traced lightly down her side, and her leg came up around him. His hand continued on, over the swell of her hip and then lower, sliding between her legs from the side, feeling her inner heat through the thin material of her panties.
She gasped from his touch, and clung tighter to him, their mouths locked in a kiss, tongues sliding against one another. She needed his touch on her skin, and she pressed her hips against his fingers, urging him further. Sensing her desire, he pulled the material to the side, and ran his fingers softly along her furrow, spreading her wetness as his fingers caressed her soft folds. She groaned into his mouth, and spread her legs further, wanting him inside of her.
He could feel the heat coming from her core, and he pressed his hard shaft against her stomach as his fingers prepared her. He found her stiff nub, and stroked it gently in wet circles, feeling her body respond to his touch by embracing him even tighter. His hands worked like a practiced musician playing a familiar instrument, drawing out her pleasure, until she cried out to him.
“l'intérieur de moi,” she groaned in his ear, “J'ai besoin de toi à l'intérieur de moi.”
He responded to her plea to have him inside of her by moving over her, kneeling between her spread legs and lifting her knees up and then pressing them back towards her shoulders. His fingers then hooked in the top of her panties, and drew them down over her hips and then up off her legs. When they were clear, her legs opened again, her knees bent around the muscles of his arms, her body spread in invitation.
He looked down at her in the dim light of the room, taking in her beauty before entering her. She was everything he wanted. Everything he desired. All the rest of it didn’t matter. She was his reason for existing. It was all worth it to be here with her like this.
Shifting his hips, he pressed the length of his erection along the cleft of her lips, feeling the slippery warm wetness begin to coat his skin. Pressing harder, he began a slight thrusting motion, the length of his shaft gliding slowly back and forth against her spread labia, becoming slicker with each stroke, feeling the heat coming from within her.
“Si bon,” she said softly, her eyes closed in pleasure. Her breathing was becoming more intense, along with his.
On one of his backstrokes, he shifted slightly, and when he pressed forward, he was at her entrance.
Her eyes opened and she looked up at him. “Oui mon amour, oui,” she whispered.
He watched her face as he flexed his hips, seeing her pleasure as he began to fill her. As her tight warm wetness slowly enveloped him, he had to close his eyes and focus on the ecstasy she was causing. He breathed out a groan as he slid into her, deeper and deeper, and he felt the muscles of her inner walls taking hold of him, gripping him possessively.