Rosa: A Wangxian Reincarnation Story

Readjustment

Alain holds my hand and in the other, carries the hamper. We enter the gates and walk quietly, respectfully onto the grounds. When one has lived long enough in Charlottesville, you learn to treat TJ with a reverence reserved for geniuses and minor gods. It is so serene here at night, all city sounds left behind. An owl hoots as it hunts for the game and to locate its mate. The occasional bark from a fox. A coyote, migrating from more northern states, howls across a valley below. We settle under a magnolia tree and the scent of the waxy blooms in the air. I always feel safe under a magnolia, the broad, glossy leaves shelter me and you feel peace like it is meant to be felt. I am finally getting a wish answered, to share it with the man I love. That love is still a secret from him. It may be one that stays locked in my heart for a bit longer. However, Alain seems to be enjoying the date and that makes me happy. Melancholic but happy as well. I am still sipping my first glass of Pinot Noir and feeling and fighting the urge, deep within my bones, to get closer to him. The need is primal and spiritual, emotions I sense he is not experiencing. He cannot because he has chosen to leave that part behind him. But his core? Does it feel anything yet? That strong resilient force. Can it be reawakened? Or should it be? Alain looks at me with curiosity behind his topaz eyes. "You seem nervous. There is no reason. We do not know one another well yet. I have no real expectations for tonight, except to get to know you better." I sigh in relief. "Thank you. I have not dated in a while. I am out of practice." "Divorced?" "No. I am...widowed." "I am sorry." "Thank you. But no need to say sorry. I am recovering." "There is no need for thanks." 'No need for thanks, no need for sorry between us...' The memory suddenly emerges and hangs in the air for me. The original voice, differently accented, is almost a living entity. I gulp wine to fortify my reserves and rise and this time offer my hand. They fit together nicely. I have missed that. "Let's walk together, before we overstay our welcome. This is such a wonderful place to have to ourselves." He smiles and I notice that this man has dimples on both cheeks. Of course, he would have. He is becoming more and more irresistible. Dimples. Oh, brother! We stop by a low wall and he removes the wine glass from my hand. He looks at me, decisive and desiring. "I want to kiss you. I think we are both wondering what it would be like. Let's get it out of the way, and satisfy our curiosity. What would you think of that?" No one had ever asked such a straightforward thing of me before. I nod, shyly. Alain bends down and slips his large hand firmly to the base of my spine. Then he lifts my chin and his warm lips cover mine. Once carefully and tentatively, then once again, with more force, more seeking, more passion. I cannot help it. I move in closer, my hands sliding up his muscular back, holding on like a drowning victim, gasping for air, for more, Familiar, yet different. Not quite home but the next best thing. I want all, I want both. But mostly, I want a sign of recognition. And it isn't there. So, I pull away momentarily as he looks at me in confusion. Then I try again. Get to know him. Let him know you. This is unwalked territory. Two men, one core. Two sides of the same coin. And suddenly, it becomes clearer. This is why I am here in this odd and difficult situation. To accept my Lan Zhan, in whatever form he chooses to manifest himself. Why should this be about my comfort zone this time? I love him. Period. And wherever this relationship with Alain takes me, it is part of the same rollercoaster ride. It is about time that it is all about him. I kiss him more passionately, slipping my tongue into his accepting mouth and twist it around his. We explore for a while, tasting one another and liking what we find. I smile at him and it is his turn to look a little dazed so I pull him closer. I lean against his chest, this golden boy that wants to know me. I listen to this strong heart that reminds me of our first time together. How lucky I am. I will get to court him again. I will woo him once more. I will get to be a virgin with him again. And maybe, if I am lucky, if I am worthy, I can gain him back again. It is a slow and happy walk back to the limo. I sit closer to Alain now, initial shyness gone. He whispers, "Are you hungry?" I shake my head no. "Not for food. " I hear his deep chuckle. It is a free and more spontaneous one than I ever heard from my Lan Zhan. Unrestrained. That makes me laugh in turn. "Let's go to my place." I suggest. "Before I met you, I had a late-night date with Yojimbo." "Toshiro Mifume. Sublime." "I KNOW! Prior to that man, I had never seen someone act with just their back before. I have finally met someone who understands." We laugh together. "Let's go. We can finish the bottle and bring the second one in case. And the hamper. There are still a lot of goodies to be discovered." He looks around my place with a discerning eye, studying every angle with approval, as any good director would I suppose. I must get used to this tendency of his. He assesses his surroundings but sees everything as if through a camera lens instead of the eye of a battle-savvy warrior. He wanders, looking at my Chinese porcelain collection, small, but each piece is carefully chosen and very special. Two swords hang over the mantle. One a plain brown serviceable weapon, one kept covered in pale blue silk. Until he returns as himself, I keep it wrapped. It is still too personal and painful. He looks at it but honors my unspoken wish for privacy. I watch his progress around the place as I set out food from his hamper and pour two more glasses of wine. Then he joins me on the sofa to watch a master enter a small Japanese town and begin to work his will. I snuggle close, and his arm goes around me. We fit together in an old and natural way. And somehow, we lose track of ancient Japan and we begin to explore one another again. I learn that this man does not bite. He prefers flickers of the tongue and light nibbles. He loves to snuggle and caress. The foreplay before we give up and head for my bed is delicate, enticing, and lingering. We embrace the soft sweetness organically, the newness, and the familiarity quickly breaks down my promises to me to take it slowly and there is no longer any desire to step back and use reason. We begin to pick up the pace. We begin to remove each other's clothes. Piece by piece, they drift into small piles to the floor. I can barely take my eyes off of him. He is beautiful in whatever form I encounter, but this one is exceptional. Next to his original, it may be my favorite. I pull him down and he falls on me, and his hands begin to dance lightly over my skin, suddenly so sensitive to every one of his strokes and caresses. I harden instantly, pleased to see his immediate response. I fumble for a small bottle of sandalwood oil from the nightstand and he raises an eyebrow. "We will need this. I have never gotten this far before." "You are a virgin?" "Yes." "I thought you were widowed." "Last lifetime. He was difficult to get over." "This past-life stuff. I must research it more." "You must. And you? Have you done this before?" He grinned impishly. "Like you, not in this life. A trip to a brothel at sixteen. A woman. Not a comfortable experience. So, technically, still a virgin." "Then we shall learn together, won't we?" We were suddenly wild. Grasping, kissing, Fingers finding places never explored by another before, I lay on my back as he kissed his way down, down, and further down, licking, drawing me in until I was rock hard and then he went lower. He grabbed the small bottle and pour a liberal amount of oil on his large hands and gently, slowly, worked a finger inside. I gasped, I could not stop twisting and writhing beneath him as he turned me over to my hands and knees and positioned himself above me. I screamed in delight as he entered and his hand, slick and smooth ran lightly around my rear and came to my front, stroking me and sending me into a delirium of pleasure. It seemed to last forever and yet ended too soon. Our release is mutual and we scream out loud. Then sink into the soft mattress. Panting for air. Looking up at the skylight. Mute, dazed. Euphoric. Then we look deeply into one another's eyes and burst into laughter as my upstairs neighbor begins to bang on the floor.