My Travels with Clytemnestra Ch. 05

"They... Well, um... One of them, I mean... One is dead and I don't know where the other is," I rush out in a mostly not-fake timid voice.

Lady Kanna leaps to her feet and in the same moment I throw myself forward in a wild rugby tackle, sliding over the desk and seizing her about the middle even as I void her body of all heat! She shatters instantly and I land crumpled and bruised amid splinters of her chair and shards of her body!

I'm shaking all over and hurting quite badly from where I hit the chair, and the floor and wall too in my wild lunge, but I cannot stop. I haul the sash window open and spring out, dialling my mass way down until air resistance is sufficient to let me float gently to the ground two stories below. The moment my feet hit the ground I'm haring into the park and the little woody thicket where Clytemnestra awaits.

It's less than two minutes from when I saw Lady Kanna to when I see Clytemnestra, but it feels like an hour, or a second, I don't know. The moment she catches sight of me she seizes me bodily and is galloping the length of the park until, very soon, she puts me down and we emerge again into the streets, a quarter-mile or so from Lady Kanna's house and heading swiftly east, toward the city gates.

Once outside Pyre Silver we leave the road almost immediately. It runs east toward Pyre Huntingbird and is the obvious route for any fugitives. Clytemnestra and I resolve to stay off the road for a day or two. Of course, the chance that anyone might follow is is slim, but even a slim chance is a chance. We head north-east amongst the rolling foothills of the mountains, and avoiding the farmed land around the road.

"Do you think we did the right thing, Clytemnestra?"

To put it mildly, it's been a rough day and my mind is barely catching up. The last hour feels like a second. Yesterday is a lifetime ago.

"Yes. And for more than one reason. We should not have stayed in the city much longer than we did. I meant what I said, we cannot see the whole world through the window of one ordinary, no matter how shapely the proprietors."

"But just... Just running off like this."

"They're grown girls, they'll manage. Do you not feel good to be abroad again?"

I say nothing for a good long while, pondering that question. I do feel bad about betraying the sisters' trust. Alright, I accept that. Now, compartmentalise that and ask myself, how do I feel about the present, and future?

The air is warm and calm, lush green grass grows on the gentle hills that mark the boundary between the farmed plains and the true foothills of the mountain range to our west. Clytemnestra is beautiful and holding my hand in her own. The mountains are just far enough away to be picturesque, rather than imposing. My lady and I have a whole world to explore, and Pyre Silver is one small city.

"I suppose I do," and I mean it, "And you're right, any longer and I'd have been as desperate to get moving as you."

"Ah... You almost understand, I see."

"Go on? What do I understand?"

"Almost. I say you almost understand. We trust the future to provide for us."

"Well... I suppose. I'm not quite as comfortable as you about it, but yes, it seems to be working so far."

And it is. Clytemnestra's fairly passive philosophy does seem to work for her, and for me so far, in this world.

"We trust the future," she goes on, "But this is half only. The past must be able to trust us to pass on our bounties."

"What does that mean?"

"We trust the future to provide what we need, and it does. In turn we must not hold on to anything given us overlong. All things that the future once provided us, wealth, comfort, shelter, love, we must be ready to give to the past, when the time comes."

I consider this for a moment.

"What about us? Will you just... Just 'give us to the past'?"

Clytemnestra squeezes my hand in hers, "When the time comes, we will both know it. We will both be richer for the love we shared, and ready for the future. Until that time, and I think it will be a long time coming, until that time drink your wine, love your woman and trust time to provide tomorrow."

We walk silently for maybe half a mile while I consider that. Clytemnestra does not disturb me. She knows me well enough to know I need time to think. I cannot imagine a time when I'll think it right to leave her. I'm not sure I could do it even if I did think so. Impulsively I squeeze her hand tighter and try to think of what the future might provide, not what I might loose.

"You know... I do love you. You know that, right?"

"I know it well, Lady. As well as you know I love you," she smiles down at me, oh, that smile.

"I love you so, so much. I always will"

"Then we are of a common heart."

"We'll cross the mountains," I say, as decisively as I know how, "You spoke of passes to the west. That is the way we'll go."

I've no reason to choose one way over another, I am placing all my trust in the idea that the future will provide..

"So be it, Lady."

We turn more northwards until we are walking in line with the mountains to our left. They march north until the horizon takes them. Muscular, rounded mountains capped with snow. We are walking along the crest of one of innumerable gentle whalebacked hills and here and there before us we can see silver thread streams of glacier water flowing from the mountains and out into the plains to our east. Somewhere out there is the route west through the high pass.

"Though you may regret your choice when we are nearer," she goes on, "I don't doubt it is quite cold in the high passes, and neither of us has suitable clothing."

"I thought centaurs don't wear clothes."

"I think everyone does when it's cold enough."

Clytemnestra only wears her tight leather halter top to keep her breasts still, but I suppose she's right, cold enough and even people as large as centaurs will feel the chill.

"Don't worry about it, I can keep us warm. I'm not the most powerful sorceress who ever lived.. Not yet, anyway, but even I can stave off the cold."

"And there are always other ways to keep warm.," she laughs saucily.

"Oh, hush you," I let go her hand and fall back to give her a swift slap on the bottom, "We should try and put as much space between us and the city as possible tonight before getting... Distracted."

"Right!" She exclaims, putting on a stern, serious face and crossing her arms, "No distractions. I am the perfect model of concentration."

She's mocking me and I know it.

"Hey, Clytemnestra?"

"What?"

I say nothing.

"What is it, lady?"

She looks down at me, puzzled for a moment before she sees the dark patch spreading over the front of my red skirt and laughs happily. Pee runs down my legs, and soaks into my skirt. It makes my thighs catch and rub excitingly together as we walk.

Clytemnestra reaches down and rubs the wet fabric just over my pissing cunt and I let her for only a moment before pushing her hand away.

"No. you are the model of concentration, remember."

She puts on a sulky face and licks the fingers that'd touched my wet patch.

"You have a cruel streak, you know that, lady?"

"Anticipation, my love. Better than the moment, or the memory. Savour it, and think of what you might do with me tonight."

"Oh, I can think of plenty, just you wait."

So can I, but for now I am actually quite content just to walk with Clytemnestra, and enjoy her company and my wet pants. It's been entirely too long since I enjoyed the simple pleasure of wetting myself. Any wonder I don't like cities, where one cannot have a moment's privacy to go for a walk with piss soaked knickers?

We walk on. Clytemnestra often glances down at my wet skirt, so do I, for that matter. Sometimes we talk, more often we don't, just content to be with one another, no words are necessary.

I don't know exactly what time we left Pyre Silver, early afternoon or so. We walk for a good three hours before our first break. Clytemnestra has a little snooze and I just have a sit down for a little while. I won't let us tarry any longer, though and we press on for another good while until the sun is close to setting and I for one really don't much feel like walking any farther.

We're in a small valley by the side of one of the little mountain streams where the water flows cold and clear and is rather wonderful for weary feet. It's a pleasure just to sit on the lush grass with my back leaning against Clytemnestra's equine chest and my feet in the cool water and watch the sky slowly purpling. The sense of many miles covered, the smell of wood smoke and the feel of dinner settling in my stomach is just perfect.

I remark on the fact to Clytemnestra and she says she has something that might make things even better. With the air of a conjurer performing a particularly special trick she produces a bottle of white wine from one of her bags.

"One last taste of civilisation?" she asks.

She pulls the stopper from the bottle and takes a long draught before handing it to me. The wine is slightly tart and, I think, very strong, but not at all unpleasant and I drink deeply before handing it back.

"Clytemnestra... What is it you look for in a woman?"

She drinks before answering, "What I look for? What makes you think I look. It's not how I choose to live. So many wonderful women out there, I'll not bind myself to specifics."

"But still, even if you don't... Don't bind yourself..." she passes the bottle back and I have a little more wine, "Even then, there must be some qualities that you find more attractive than others?"

"That's a different question. I confess a soft spot for the scholar," she absolutely ruffles my hair, "Someone who laughs at my jokes and isn't afraid to get her hands dirty. And someone who can be romantic too. Can't forget that."

I'm not sure how fully I fit any of those those requirements, but it's something to work on. Funny thing, I've always had a weakness for romance, but never been really able to pull it off myself.

"What about physically?" I wonder, "What' does a really sexy woman look like to your mind?"

"Ah, but there are so many choices."

"And nothing jumps out? Nothing floats into view when you close your eyes?"

After a while, and a drink Clytemnestra does come up with something, "There's a great deal to be said for a really nice bum."

"I'd have to agree with that," I add thoughtfully.

"Mm, yes. A well toned bum. Plump and glossy with a long tail and a big wet honeypot in the middle."

I suppose that shouldn't surprise me, but we were imagining two different things, there. Not that I can disagree with Clytemnestra at all, that does sound nice.

It must be very strong wine because by the time we've drunk half the bottle between us I have a distinct buzz in my head and I'm ready for a little devilment. Clytemnestra hands the half empty bottle back to me for my turn at drinking and I stand, shaking water from my feet.

"Where're you going?" she asks, puzzled.

"To top up the bottle."

I wander 'round behind her and move her tail out of the way. I enjoyed red wine mixed with Kyani's pee and I see no reason my white mixed with Clytemnestra's could be any less fun.

"Now top it up, there's a good girl," I add, kneeling down behind the sexy centaur's rump.

Clytemnestra flinches slightly as the mouth of the bottle touches her secret place and I can't resist the temptation to stroke it up and down along her lips a couple of times until the trickle starts. All of a sudden the trickle is a stream and I work to catch as much as I can in the narrow mouth of the bottle.

There's far too much of course and the bottle is almost instantly full! I'm almost instantly soaked too, of course. The powerful stream striking my chest square on and then gradually moving down my tummy and playing over my lap as the pressure drops. I hang around until the last drips are running down her lips and then carry the hot bottle back to her.

It is hot, so hot in my hands, and wet all over, just like me. I sit down again, leaning against her and letting my wet clothes stick to my body. Her arms fold around me as I raise the bottle to my lips and drink. It is good. Clytemnestra's flavour is stronger than Kyani's, lending the hot watery wine a subtle, exotic savour. I pass the bottle up to her.

"Mm, warm," she purrs, taking it.

I watch her drink of it. I watch her lips touch the bottle in the fading light, her throat moves as she swallows. It's an experience made intensely erotic not by the sight itself, but by the knowledge of what she is doing.

What we do, for our pleasure, between ourselves is harmless and objectively, even a little silly. But objectivity has no place in it. My mind, every instinct of my culture and the social norms imprinted on me throughout my whole life tell me that it is wrong, but it is sexy.

I've wondered at it before, but I do not argue with it.

Our special wine vanishes fast, both of us greedy for our turn to drink. When there's but a mouthful left I stand and make to tip it into Clytemnestra's waiting mouth. She gasps when, at the last moment, I instead pour it over her bare breasts and lick it all up. Her fingers fumble over my clothes, undoing fastenings and ridding me of the wet fabric until only my lacy red knickers remain.

"Eek!" I squeal in surprise as her strong hands seize me about the middle and effortlessly lift me high above the ground so she can lick my wet pants.

As though I weigh nothing she holds me there, my legs kicking at empty space and sucks noisily at my crotch until I apologise for my trickery with the wine, whereupon she consents to put me down. Clytemnestra laughs merrily, white teeth flashing in the dim light.

"Not funny."

"Oh, lady, I think it is."

She leans forward and licks me from navel to chin, licking up her pee which had soaked through my clothes.

"Ah, but maybe I should apologise?" So saying she kisses me gently on the lips.

Now her hands are on my shoulders, a gentle, irresistible pressure which forces me down, she has me lay back in the long, lush grass and her body follows mine. Her hands flow down my body, across my breasts, encircling my waist and the slowly drawing my knickers down and off.

"Clytemnestra..." I whisper her name as I feel her breath against my centre.

Cool night air caresses my damp body, heightening every sensation. The soft grass and rich dark earth mould to my body, supporting me all over. Clytemnestra's hands massage my thighs, spread my legs until I am utterly open before her. Defenceless.

My hands take hers a moment before I feel her lips kiss my tenderness. She holds my small hands in hers as she licks gently through my spread, waiting flower. I cannot help but sigh.

One by one the stars are coming out above me and Clytemnestra's tongue strokes my sex. Long, slow loving licks drawing such pleasure through me to a gathering place at apex of my womanhood.

She blows a gentle stream of cool air across my sensitive clit making me gasp and writhe. My heart pounds and my body tenses in anticipation of her touch there, but it doesn't come. Now her mouth traces the outline of my outer lips, up and down, up and down again and then a tiny, sharp pain as she gently pulls on a few hairs with her lips. Just enough to edge me back from the precipice of pleasure and start the whole slow process over again.

Soft sighs escape me and Clytemnestra's mouth makes little bolts of pleasure run through my overheated sex. The anticipation is overwhelming as she works closer and closer to my little clitty. So close now I can feel her lip almost there! My body is writhing in the grass, automatically trying to force my needy quim against Clytemnestra. Finally her tongue strokes my clit and I am at the very brink of ecstasy. Again and again she licks at my most sensitive spot and my hips respond without me, rising to her touch, forcing more contact, more pleasure.

"Oh, my! Oh, yes! I'm coming, Clytemnestra! Clytemnestra! Yes! Oh, oh, oh, yes! I'm coming for you, Clytemnestra! Clytemnestraaaa!" The final syllable is a long, pleasure-wrought cry of delirious overload.

My body arcs, my hips all the way off the ground, my every muscle tense, my mind lost to her wonderful mouth. One single instant stretching I don't know how long until with a thump my body goes limp and I can but lie whimpering in the grass, still holding on to her hands.

We make love long into the night. Slow and romantic by the light of the fire, our bodies each a wondrous gift to one another. Come morning I wake curled in my blanket hard against Clytemnestra, my head resting on her foreleg. I feel safe and so very at peace with the world while she holds me.

Unfortunately, when I try to snuggle deeper into her she realizes that I must be awake. She shakes me out of my blanket to sprawl naked on the ground and then stands with obvious relief. I suppose she didn't want to move for fear of disturbing me, which is sweet.

We walk all day, save brief rests, much as we travelled before coming to Pyre Silver. To my surprise I seem no less fit for five weeks fairly good living in the city and the long hours of walking still phase me less than I feel in my heart that they should. Clytemnestra's mood is ebullient and to be around her in her wanderlust is invigorating.

Her good humour lasts many days and mine, if anything grows. Free of the city I feel at home. Ironic since a home is what I absolutely do not have here. I raise the point with Clytemnestra and she says the world is home for both of us. That I simply had not realised it until now. Still, I love the peace, the quiet, the feeling of freedom that I can never feel amongst crowds.

Game and edible plants are surprisingly common. We see, and from time to time shoot deer, wild sheep and rabbit and never want for food or clear glacier water. These northern plains are every bit as hospitable as the forest in which I first arrived in this wonderful world. Perhaps moreso.

In the forest we should never have seen the stone circle which Clytemnestra points out to me.

"There, lady is our landmark. The pass is just a little beyond that circle."

I shade my eyes and squint into the distance. For the first time in a long time I'm conscious of not wearing glasses. My vision is perfect, but it's only at times like this that I suddenly recall it ought not be.

There, on the edge of vision the circle stands proud of the landscape. Unmissable, the only artificial shape we've seen since leaving the farmland days and days before.

"Once we pass the circle, we should see the route into the mountains and thence through the pass. It was built to guard the way."

"From what?" I ask, more curious than worried.

"I couldn't say. The merchant who told me of it said it is old beyond mortal counting," she laughs softly, "So anywhere between ten years ago and the dawn of time, I suppose."

"If we hurry we can be there by nightfall."

Excitement lends our feet speed. A little too much speed in Clytemnestra's case. She's not an impatient woman by any stretch, but she does just love to see what might be around the next bend in the road, metaphorically. She normally walks much slower than she otherwise would, just so I can keep up with her, but with so tempting a thing just ahead, she unthinkingly leaves me behind a few times during the day's march.

All day the circle grows and the closer we come to it, the less it looks like I had expected. True, it is composed of mighty grey sarsens arranged in a circle, but where I was expecting a tumbled down ruin overgrown with moss and grass it looks almost brand new.

It must be a good half mile in diameter, composed of four concentric rings of standing stones topped with contiguous lintels, every one looking almost fresh from the quarry. It stands guard by what can only be the path, following a small river into the mountains and up to the pass. Even the smallest outermost ring looms twice Clytemnestra's height and each ring is taller than the last.