Delilah

Chapter 8

As I picked up the rosebud, I pricked my finger on a thorn and a drop of blood fell into the center of the rose in full bloom. An empty bleakness filled my soul, and one tear followed the drop of blood into the heart of the rose. Carefully picking up the second flower, I placed the two into the pitcher of water I had brought for Samson. Setting the pitcher on the floor by the bed, I climbed onto the sleeping couch and pulled up the discarded cover, burying my face in its folds and breathing in the fragrance of the departed man.

I knew the roses were a message for me. Samson and I had spent time walking in the wooded area and fields behind my home. He had told me that the rosebud reminded him of the delicate Delilah. The flower was as yet unformed but had great promise. Thorns guarded the delicate bud just as I guarded the fragile Delilah, hiding her in the recesses of my heart.

The open bloom, however, represented the flirtatious Delilah. It flaunted beauty and intoxicating fragrance, drawing one to breathe in its heady perfume and tempting one to forget the thorns below. The thorns on this bloom were more offensive than defensive, gouging anyone taken in by its loveliness.

Samson had left my house while I slept, but he had left me a missive in the form of two flowers. Our relationship was haunted by a dichotomous personality. He knew the budding Delilah and the voluptuous temptress. The petals of the rose in full bloom scattered carelessly represented his attempts to peel away years of carefully built up defenses to find the cowering child inside. He was telling me he was leaving me to continue the quest to find myself, to decide whether I wanted to free the child within and remake the hardened woman in a new image.

I recognized the dare, but I was too afraid to accept the challenge. For me the drop of blood falling into the open bloom was an omen. The delicate Delilah would not survive; she would be swallowed up by the schemer.

As I breathed in the masculine smell of Samson, I vowed I would complete his seduction and gain security for my future. I knew my beauty and sex appeal would fade just as the petals of the rose would fade. I determined to bury the wishes of the childish Delilah. Hardening my heart I plotted the downfall of the mighty Israelite warrior. I would use my feminine wiles to ensnare him and deliver him into the hands of the Philistine Lords. I would quit playing this dangerous game that had almost lulled me into complacency and convinced me to risk my future for love. I knew Samson would return. If he had not planned to do so, he would not have left the roses as a goad to further self-exploration. What he hoped would lead to love frightened me into cementing my course. I could vacillate no longer.

I told my contact that Samson had gone but would return. I cautioned him to keep men away from my door as he had in the past few weeks. I feared Samson might be using this as a test to see if I would immediately return to my wanton ways. I assured the merchant that the seduction of Samson was nearing completion. When he returned, I was sure he would be glad to reveal the source of his strength as proof of his love for me. 

I had marked 12 days on a stick when Samson returned. Once again he came after dark and knocked on my front gate. My joyous greeting upon seeing him was not feigned. As soon as the gate was closed, I pulled him into my arms and raised my lips for a kiss. As the intoxicating warmth flooded my being, I shrugged out of my robe, pressing my thinly clad form against his hard body. Leaving his pack in the courtyard, I led him to my personal chamber. I removed his sandals and washed his feet just as I had on the night of our first encounter. This time neither of us tried to deny the desire we felt. That night our bodies merged and became one.

Our physical union was supposed to represent our shared love and respect for one another. Our unvoiced promise was that we would not mate simply to satisfy lust. Our understanding had been that we would consummate our relationship only when we were prepared to love one another. I knew Samson believed I would take him to my bed only if I had learned to love him. But Samson's abrupt departure had scared me. I was afraid he would one day abandon me and leave me once again at the mercies of the men of the valley. So, I was prepared to counterfeit love in order to get Samson to reveal his inner most secret.