Stricken

by Alan Delaney

Part 1 appears
in this issue.

conclusion

I was standing on the other side of the road, trying not to look too conspicuous, but I didn’t dare take my eyes off her as she approached — I didn’t want to lose her again. As she took a right at the up-market café on the corner, she looked over at me and smiled. I was too terrified to smile back and could do nothing more than stare back at her, dumbstruck.

All of a sudden I was a prepubescent teen with more hormones than I knew what to do with. My mouth went dry; my stomach did back-flips; my legs trembled uncontrollably. It was an experience I’d not had for quite a long time.

A bus came between us, breaking the magic. When it passed she had vanished. This time I didn’t bother trying to find her, there was no point. Instead, I knew what I needed to do, knew what she wanted me to do.

I turned to look at myself in a nearby shop window and was taken aback at what I saw. I’d been letting myself go. I had not shaved for, what was it? A week? More? My hair was unkempt and neglected; my shirt was creased and dirty; the stains on the cuffs and collar told me I’d been wearing the same one for some days; my eyes looked haggard, sleepless. I was not ready to meet her, not yet. There was work to be done.

I went straight home, resisting the urge to skip with delight. I immediately set about cleaning the place and throwing out everything that I knew she wouldn’t like. I’m not the messy kind and I take pride in keeping my space in order, but I suddenly saw so much wrong with the house, and so much that needed to be fixed that I felt ashamed. I was not ready to have her in my life and that was all that was important to me. I had a lot of work to do that day.

My housemate (or maybe she was my girlfriend, I don’t quite recall) came home from work that evening and asked me what I was up to. I told her I needed her to move out, that she wasn’t able to stay there any more.

She broke down and began pleading with me. She asked me if it was all over, where it had all gone wrong, why this was suddenly happening, and several other questions that I didn’t understand. The only thing I knew was that I needed her out, that was all that mattered.

She was gone half an hour later, taking all her bags with her. I must have packed them for her at some point during the day but I don’t remember doing so. I was pleased when she left because it meant there was less to clean. Still, I got little sleep that night. There was so much to do.

The next morning I was waiting for her by the café. My suit had been freshly dry-cleaned; my shirt had been scrubbed, bleached, and ironed until it almost glowed; my chin was smooth and unblemished; I was wearing the most expensive aftershave and deodorant I could find — I was dressed for the occasion.

I caught her eye from some distance away and went straight to her. I had no idea what I was going to say or how I was going to introduce myself but I didn’t care any more, nor had I any reason to be worried.

“Hi,” I said, when I was close enough to her.

“Hi,” she replied. Her voice was bright and enthusiastic, her accent indeterminable. When she smiled at me I was fourteen years old again. I would have bowed down and worshipped her right there if she had asked me to, but she didn’t. Instead she walked right on past me, leaving me floundering for something to say.

I tried to speak but my tongue could not find the words. For one horrid moment I thought I was going to lose her again, but I was saved. After she had walked a little way away she turned to look at me, and her eyes told me all that I needed to know.

I followed her, falling into step behind her, acting for all the world like a faithful puppy, which is I suppose exactly what I was.

She led me straight to my house and waited patiently while I fumbled like an old man with the key. My hands were trembling. What if she didn’t like it? What if she didn’t approve? What if I had forgotten something? What if my housemate had decided to come back and even now was sitting behind the door, waiting for me to walk in? Did she leave the key? I was so close and yet I knew I could have lost her so easily. I was close to tears as I swung the door open for her and stood back, fearing the worst.

There was no one home. The house was as spotless as I had left it that morning. My only worry was that there wasn’t enough time to do all that I needed to do: there were doors to be refitted; furniture to be replaced; walls to be repainted. There were a million and one things I would have done if only I had the time but I did not. I had to content myself with cleaning the place up as best I could and throwing away all the junk I could find. It would have to do.

I kneeled before her and bowed my head in shame as she entered the house, and I apologised for the meagre offerings I had to give. To my delight, she smiled sweetly back at me and placed a loving hand on my head. She knew I had done the best I could and was grateful for it — I could not have asked of anything more from her.

I followed her around as she inspected my house. I was not so rude as to offer her a tour, I merely followed her in silence, watching her face as much as I dared so that I could tell if she was pleased or not. Her smile did not fade once during her tour and when she finally turned to me and complimented me, I cried for joy. I was never so happy as at that moment.

Kneeling before her then, I offered her everything: my wallet, my car, my house, my credit cards, my PIN numbers, my clothes, my furniture, my DVD’s, my books, my body, everything, all my worldly possessions. Even my life, if she wished it. All I asked for in return was the chance to worship her, to serve her, to love her. Nothing mattered to me any more except that. All I wished for was to stay forever in her company, my one true love, my mistress, my queen.

She took my hands between hers, gently, lovingly, and kissed them. She started with the knuckles, then the fingers, then moved onto the palms, licking them and biting them gently as she did so. With each touch of her lips I thought I would explode with ecstasy. I closed my eyes tight and savoured every last kiss and every last nibble until I knew I could not take it any longer. I had done all I could do, there was nothing left except to make my offer.

“Please my lady,” I said while trying to retain my composure under her loving gaze. “My life is forfeit. All that I possess in this world is now yours. All that I live for is to service you. Please, take me as your own.”

She took me by the elbows and pulled me to my feet. Though I felt my head swim and my knees wobble, I was determined not to fall before her. I did not wish to lose face in her eyes.

“Child, don’t you wish to know who I am?”

I shook my head. It had never occurred to me to ask. It did not seem relevant somehow, but I was mistaken.

“"I am Ishtar.”

Despite myself, I fell to my knees and wept at my own foolishness. Of course. I should have known it from the very start. How could I have been so blind? My only hope now was that she would still be open to me, still be willing to forgive my stupidity.

“Forgive me, forgive me,” I sobbed, over and over. It was all I could think of to say.

“You shall have your wish.”

For a moment, I did not appreciate what she had just said and I stared at her blankly, stupidly. When it did sink in, I wept aloud then, so overcome was I by the joy and euphoria of her most gracious and merciful gift. There was nothing in the world I ever wanted more than to hear her say that, and there is nothing more I ever wish to hear again. At that moment my life was complete, it had meaning, it was fulfilled, and nothing that had happened before or will happen after will ever mean more to me than to hear those words from my beloved’s mouth.

That night, she lay with me, consummating her gift. In the morning when I awoke, it was to an empty bed. Her duties had taken her elsewhere but she would be back for me soon. She chose not to accept any of my offerings at that moment, preferring to leave them in my charge to care for them until such time as she chose to return.

The house has not changed since that day, all those years ago. I dare not replace so much as a wall hanging. It suited her then, and it will remain the same way until she says otherwise. Until that time, all that I can do is preserve her offerings exactly as they were presented to her and maintain my vigil to her. Whether it be on the street where I first saw her or in the house where she finally accepted me, I will wait for her.

I will wait as long as necessary.

to Challenge 329...