The Tree Within. Stephen Campana

back against the headboard, and patted the mattress, saying, “Well, aren’t you gonna join me?”

      Kanye did not know how to respond. For thirty years, he had kept his vows of celibacy. And now, on the eve of his intended departure from the church, comes this temptation. As if reading his mind, the woman said, “One drink isn’t going to hurt, is it?”

      “Well . . . I suppose not,” Kanye said, approaching the bed. He got on it next to her. “That’s better,” the woman said, smiling, then retrieved two wine glasses and a cork screw from her purse. “Would you like to do the honors?” she asked, handing him the bottle and the cork screw. He took them from her, his hands quivering slightly. He steadied himself and dug the cork screw into the cork, wrestled with it for a bit, then popped it. A little spilled onto the mattress.

      She took the bottle from him and poured some into one glass, which she handed to him, and some into another, which she kept for herself. She held her glass up and said, “To pleasure” and took a big sip. He did the same. Then she opened up her robe a little, revealing the inner outline of her breasts. She took another sip and moved closer to him. “Do you like it?” she asked, smiling coyly. He didn’t know if she meant the wine or her, although he suspected that she had both things in mind. “Yes,” he said weakly, feeling very much like a teenager during his first sexual tryst. “Good,” she said, sliding her free hand behind his head and pulling it toward her lips. Just inches before they touched she whispered, “I want you to enjoy yourself.”

      As he sat there frozen by a mixture of indecision and pleasure, she took his glass in her fingertips and placed it on the nightstand, along with her own. Then she pulled her robe off. She was naked underneath. Her breasts were like two perfectly round melons and her legs long and shapely. Looking at him and smiling, she licked two fingers and slid them slowly down her torso, beginning at her breasts, moving to her navel, and finally between her legs, where she began slowly rubbing, as a series of soft, sensual murmurs of pleasure escaped her full, moist lips. The whole time she kept her eyes locked on Kanye’s—a kind of warm, invisible embrace that he could feel almost as intensely as an actual physical touch.

      “Well,” she asked, “Aren’t you going to join me?” Quivering, he undressed and fell into her arms. Her embrace was like nothing he had ever experienced, or even imagined, before. Her lips, pressed against his, sent ripples of ecstasy shooting through him. Her breath, so soft against his skin, tickling his ears, making him shiver from head to toe. And her voice, when she did speak, was like the gentle strumming of a violin, lulling him into a dreamlike state of almost unbearable peace. For several hours, she took him to new and unimaginable heights of bliss, each one more incredible than the last.

      When it was over, she lay there beside him on the bed, her head propped up against his chest, and said “The pleasure you feel now; you can have it every day; would you like that?”

      He nodded helplessly. “Good,” she said, “then all you have to do is stay here and kill the boy. Do you think you can do that for me?” His exhilaration quickly turned to dread. He did want this woman, wanted her more than anything, but not at such a cost. “I can’t do that,” he said.

      “Oh, come on, now,” she said, running a finger through the hairs on his chest, “I’m sure you could.” Her finger was hot, like a coal. Plumes of smoke rose up from his chest as she pressed harder. “In fact,” she said, “I’m sure you will.”

      The pain was intense. He tried to move but couldn’t. “Please . . . let me go,” he pleaded in a barely audible voice.

      “First, you have to promise,” she said, placing her palm flat against his chest. It felt like an iron was searing his flesh. Smoke wafted up in thick plumes now, and he could smell his flesh burning. “Promise or you will feel this way all the time,” she said. He cried out in agony, but still he resisted giving his assent to her awful demand. She began moving her hand in circles, searing him deeper and deeper, until the pain became unbearable, and he cried out “Okay, okay; I will do it!”

      “Good boy,” she said, and removed her hand from his chest. The smoke subsided and, except for a slight residual burning sensation, he felt nothing. The woman put her robe back on and headed for the door. “Enjoy the wine,” she said, blowing him a kiss as she left the motel room.

      13

      For the second straight night, Diane made dinner for them. This time she kept it simple: steak and fries. And this time Jack was smart enough not to mix business with food; he made no mention of their mission. When dinner was finished Jack cleared off the table, did the dishes, and took out the trash. He lingered outside by the curb, thinking. What exactly should he do when he went back inside? He hardly knew this girl, and yet he was living with her. He had met her just two days ago, and yet he loved her. As he went back inside he knew only this: they had to talk. Yesterday was a start, but then they backed off. Tonight, they had to do some serious talking, no matter how uncomfortable it might get.