Underground Hope

photo credit: gorilla-ink.deviantart.com

They had prepared well.  Jack was a Plan C man and he had paid attention to the changes in the government. He knew it would only be a matter of time before they came for his wife and made her into one of their breeding vessels. The Restitution Party had slowly taken over the country. In  its quest for power and plan for adherence to the strict rules of  Spiritual Law, they had “disappeared”  the “undesirable” elements of the population.

There had been armed revolts with loss of life on both sides. During a lull, Jack had built a bunker for his family and friends. His engineering skills provided them with a state of the art shelter. Over time, they had stocked it with arms, food, clothes, books and seeds for planting. It would keep his family safe for years.  He gathered friends from the “undesirable” elements of the population and aided them in their protection efforts. Each person brought special skills to the group that would help them rebuild their nation.
Soon they were ready for what was to come.  When the violence commenced, they dropped into blackness. And waited.  And then it happened.  Jack and the leaders in the other bunkers flipped the switch.  One explosion after another lit the sky above them. What followed was an eerie quiet. Then the sound of birds.

Slowly, the bunker doors opened. Before them lay destruction. In the distance a white flag.  It was time for The Renewal. A place where all were free.

 

Kellie Elmore’s Free Write Friday Prompt for July 19th, 2013. Check out what others have written @ http://kellieelmore.com/2013/07/19/fwf-free-write-friday-time-place-scenario-6/

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Geographical Escape 3.1: High Summit

photo credit: iappsofts.com

He was at the whim of gravity both on and off the slopes. One afternoon, after finishing work early they hiked up a ravine and skied “The Bowl” until sunset. He had never experienced skiing through the air. He wondered if he would land in one piece. At these heights, he could touch the sky. Fly into blinding beams of light. Escape his demons.

After one particularly long day spent working in Billingsworth, Tom hit the slopes alone. Accelerating into the blackness washed away the detritus of the day. When he approached the parking lot after his runs were done, he noticed a piece of paper on his windshield. “T-join me at the cabin when you’ve finished-G.”

Although he still kept a room at the hotel, he ended up spent many nights at her place. He wanted to keep up appearances. He often left the cabin in the early hours of the morning and used his card key to sneak in the back doors of the hotel.

A visit with Georgia would be the perfect end to his last night before heading home in the morning. He had come to a different level of enjoyment with their assignations. There was a raw coldness to them; nothing tender but still exhilarating.

So it was with surprise and disappointment when he saw another vehicle parked next to hers in the driveway. He didn’t know what to expect when he walked through the door.

The living area was awash in candlelight. And there, at the kitchen island, stood Georgia and another woman. They were sipping wine as he walked in.

“Tom, this is Jenna”, Georgia said. “We met through my husband.”  Both Georgia and her husband, Ian, were professors at the nearby college. She, an instructor in English and American Literature and he, an anthropologist. Georgia had explained to Tom that her husband hated the long winters and would often head to the Amazon River to conduct field research for the season. “We take a bit of a marriage sabbatical and enjoy the company of others during this time.” she told him. Keeps the relationship fresh.”

Jenna had been one of her husband’s field assistants. “Ian introduced me to Jenna because he thought that I would enjoy her as much as he once did. She is a delight”, said Georgia softly as she caressed Jenna’s face. “Take off your clothes and come watch us.”

Tom’s clothes fell to the floor. Georgia led Jenna to the soft rug in front of the roaring fire. There they stood taking taking turns peeling off  each others dresses and jewels. Jenna was the polar opposite of Georgia in physical appearance. Petite, with shoulder length blonde hair. Perky breasts. Slim waist. Delicate, nubile. A nymph.

He sat on the couch, feeling slightly drugged as he watched them pleasure one another in ways that he never imagined women could. He was captivated by what he was witnessing.

Without a word, Georgia stood and brought him to the floor next to Jenna. “See if you can top that.”  He worked his way all over Jenna’s dainty frame. He sampled her as if she were a delicacy. Her responses only furthered his will to please her.

They parted and Tom found himself moving madly to the opening in Georgia’s hips.  Her athletic strength and grip increased his own ecstasy.

The night extended into the early hours of the next day as the three of them tangled and untangled themselves two, and sometimes three at a time. After a final arousal, they fell asleep wrapped in a threesome on Georgia’s bed.

Geographical Escape 3.0: Stranded

photo credit: www.lawnow.org

It all started innocently enough.  He was approached with an offer from his boss after the holidays. “Got a buddy up in the Billingsworth region who could use your expertise for a bit. You would be in a consulting position three days a week and you’d make  top money in addition to what you make here. If it works out, I get a cut of the profit and I’ll give you a hefty raise.”

He didn’t pass it up even though it meant being away from home Sunday afternoon to Wednesday night.  Perfect timing for ski season. The area had top-notch black diamond trails.  Just the kick he needed.

And the old feeling was rising up again. He thought that he had it under control. Lauren wasn’t even a distant memory; he had convinced himself that it never happened. But then Joe had to go say something that triggered that underground tremor in him again. The four of them were out at their annual couples holiday date and Joe had raised a toast to him. “Tom, he said in a booming voice, your mom would be so proud of you. Successful businessman, husband, father and friend. You have buried the legacy of your dad.”  Tom’s face became an icy mask. He had not seen his father since he was nine. Tom’s mom had died of cancer just before their daughter was born. They had named her Louisa after her grandmother.

The physical exertion of cycling and skiing that once helped to peel the layers of hurt ceased to work. Sexual diversion with a woman he barely knew had become his new method of deliverance.

Georgia was a mirror image of him. Short black hair. Black eyes.  A femme fatale who was just shy of 40 and had a body that knocked him out.  Powerful  thighs that were strong from years on the slopes. Muscular upper back.  A brawny woman who made it clear that she was proud of her sexuality.

When she called her mechanic, he let her know that he would not be able to get the new starter until Friday. Given the timing of the repair, Tom would not make it home at all since he was back at work in s the following  Monday.  He would remain in the area for another week.

And what a week it was. There was a certain tough competitiveness to their escapades. An edginess. Like skiing on icy slopes or off the trails. Georgia was an expert skier and he found it hard to keep up with her.  And she was equally energetic and agile in the  bedroom.

She brought out a hidden determination in him.  A hardened physical desire that broke down the act into tarnished carnal lust. She was serving a need and he was hooked.

Geographical Escape 2.9: A Change in Seasons

Photo credit: wallpoper.com

He was riding an avalanche. The rush was back. He had missed this feeling of spinning into the unknown. His spine was tingling. His hands twitching. Grabbing at her backside, he held on. The high had gotten higher.

When he released himself from her, she wrapped herself in a sheet and poured two shots of tequila. The burn in his throat was soothing.

“I am so glad that your truck didn’t start,” she said with a devilish grin.

They had met on the last run of the day, the only two left on the slopes. He had been lost in a mindless reverie when she suddenly appeared  at his side. They raced to the bottom together, both breathing heavily when they were done.

“Time for last call,” she said, leaving her skis in the lodge’s lobby. Well, a little night-cap wouldn’t hurt before he headed back.

The whiskey warmed them as they bantered comfortably at the bar. They left for the parking lot at closing time. Throwing his skis  in the bed of the truck, he hopped in quickly. It would be a long drive home and he would need to stop for gas and coffee. As he turned the key in the ignition, he was greeted with silence.

“Want me to jump you?”, she asked. Again, she seemed to appear out of nowhere. When that didn’t work, he concluded that it was the starter.

“You’ll never get a tow at this time. And the only repair shop in town is closed. I can call my guy in the morning and have him take care of it,” she said with a wink. “Meet me in my car.”

He placed a call his wife and his boss. No need to lie this time.

They rode in silence through icy mountainous and narrow roads. The night was deeply black.  There, at the end of a long driveway, stood a large cabin. He had arrived at a dark forested limbo and his body soared.

When his boots hit the snow, he knew there would be no turning back.

Geographical Escape 2.8: The Eye of the Storm

photo credit: www.atmos.washington.edu

Her earthy sensuality drew him to her like a magnet. He had not wanted to attend the art show opening but Joe had insisted he give it a try. Karen’s good friend, Ella, was showing her paintings and sculptures at a local but well-known gallery that night. Joe wanted another guy to join him.  He knew that Tom, his long-time friend since childhood, would not let him down.

He was surprised by the emotions her work evoked in him.  The images varied; landscapes, abstracts, etc. But it was the ones that displayed human relationships that grabbed his heart. He found himself not able to stand, so he took a seat by a window bench. From this vantage point he was able to observe the easy way she worked the room. She had a peaceful charisma about her and laughed easily. To Tom, she was the piece de resistance- a woman who possessed both an inner and outer beauty. Her auburn hair flowed onto her shoulders, her green eyes glimmered, her skin was neither porcelain nor olive toned. It exuded warmth- a place where he could softly land.

She found him there after the show was done.  “You look a bit out of your element,” she said.

“I want to buy one of your pieces,” he replied.

They had been inseparable ever since. Her calming self-assured nature provided him with a sense of peace that he had never known.  Together they created a life filled with children and solid friendships.

She still painted and sculpted in between raising the kids and creating a home. She had become active in the valley’s art community and it was there that she met the president of a nearby art college. He was impressed by her work and her leadership as well as  her promotion of the arts at the local level. He offered her a teaching position at the school and also wanted to commission her work.

As a result of this offer, Ella wanted to expand her studio space to the room above the garage. She had even gone as far as accepting a few bids for the job. Moreover, she had quickly said yes to the position. All three kids were in school full time and her schedule would easily fit in with theirs.

Tom completely supported her executive decision. His relief at not being caught helped make it easy for him. Summer ended. Fall began.  Work buzzed along smoothly. The studio went up quickly. When he had to work late, he would often find her there lost in her work. Many nights they made love on the floor amidst the spilled colors and clumps of clay. Her lips always offering words of love. Her hips like pearls of water.  Her skin once again giving him a soft place to land.

Summer Morning

photo credit: inspirationfeed.com

 The air is already thick with heat

 as I creep outside in my bare feet

The cool morning dew relieves

the daily ache in my feet and toes

The wet blades stick to my heels

and sneak in between my skin

      A delicious delight

   dancing with the sensation

                                                             

The day is still at rest

Only the voice of the train whistle bellows

 low and heavy

     through the wall of humid air

      sounding tired too soon

Geographical Escape 2.7: Breakwater

photo credit: www.searchlightphotography.com

A searing bile rose up in his throat. He ran to the bathroom and heaved noisily. His mind began to race. How could she have found out?  He thought that he covered his tracks. His world was about to implode.

Maybe Joe would have a clue. He inhaled deeply as he pressed the contact number on his phone. “Tom, buddy!  How’s it going out there?”  Joe answered in his usual hearty voice. “Karen and the kids and I thrilled that Ella and your brood will be coming down. And we are so excited to hear about Ella’s job offer and her ideas for the studio!”

Tom quickly shifted gears. He explained that Ella’s good news was the reason for his call. Without missing a beat, Tom told Joe that he was planning to catch the next flight home and surprise everyone down at the beach. He would probably be there tomorrow. Joe promised to keep it to himself.

With that decision, he bought himself some time. He took a long hot shower and scrubbed himself until his skin felt raw. Last night’s shenanigans, his abbreviated sleep on the sand, the strange  journey back to the motel and his recent emotional state had left him drained. He crawled to bed and fell into a deep sleep.

When he woke up the next morning, he was ready to go. He had enough clean clothes since he only had worn his cycling outfit for the past 48 hours. If his wife asked about the bike, he would just say that he stopped off at the office to get it after he landed.

He pulled into Joe and Karen’s place bursting with confidence. And there they were: his beautiful family: The boys with their jet black hair and his daughter an exact replica of her mother. Flowing auburn hair and those deep green eyes that you just lost yourself in.

He had returned to safer harbor. Or so he thought.