Talla's Fallen Temple Ch. 20

"Just in time," Is'ka said as he looked out the window. "They look to clear the house tonight, I think."

Zhair'lo had to stand up on his toes to peek out the window over Is'ka's shoulder. He was certain he saw oranges and yellows but the scant few torches that dotted the laneway didn't cast enough light for his eyes to separate white cloth from yellow. Still, it looked like enough women.

The rest of the men were taking it in turns to quickly wash up in preparation.

"Good enough, boys, good enough," Is'ka waved them off. "Just let the dishes dry. Can't be hanging around in the kitchen when the women walk in the door, can we?"

There was some good natured laughing at this, of the sort Zhair'lo had always seen among men who knew they had company lined up for the night. The small crowd filtered into the common room just as a pounding came at the door.

It was the obligation of the women to push the door open. Since they were automatically welcome anywhere they went, there was no need for a man to "allow" them into any building.

The women began to casually fill the raised dais around the door while the men, a step down, waited around the fringes.

Oranges came first, followed by yellows and, squeaking in at the very last, was a gaunt girl whose white clothing was a only a shade lighter than her skin. Zhair'lo hoped the poor girl's complexion was a trick of the light - Deirdre really didn't look well.

He watched her carefully as the higher ranking women called out names. Deirdre never raised her eyes to meet his and the women around were discreetly keeping an eye on her, as if they expected her to ... to what? All Zhair'lo could see was an obvious aura of concern permeating the area around the white-clothed girl.

Eventually, however, her protectors had to call out the names of their own men and, with furtive backward glances, leave Deirdre and Zhair'lo alone in the common room.

The girl appeared to be panting a bit. Was she nervous? She stepped down from the raised entry and leaned against the back of the chair Zhair'lo had only recently vacated.

"Are you okay?" Zhair'lo asked.

She nodded, hesitated a bit, and finally shook her head.

"I think I didn't eat enough."

A reassuring wave of certainty came over Zhair'lo. Hunger, of all the problems that he might have faced this evening, was a situation he could remedy. Thinking back to everything he'd been told about being Served, he tried to remember if there was a rule against snacks.

"C'mon," he beckoned, and led her to the kitchen.

He looked around for something quick.

"Fresh bread with chutney," he announced, and pointed the girl to a stool.

"Thanks," she sighed, seeming to deflate as she sat down.

Eyeing the slice of bread on the small plate he gave her, she looked up with a bit of worry. "What's chutney?"

"It's like jam," Zhair'lo smiled. "It's good, really. I've been here with Is'ka so long, I've forgotten how many new foods he's shown me."

Brushing her short hair away from her face, she took a bite and quickly nodded her appreciation.

"Good, right?"

She mumbled an agreement and he watched as a bit of colour started to come into her face. From a carafe, he poured two cups of water - figuring she would be more comfortable if he wasn't just staring at her while she ate - and handed her one.

Zhair'lo pulled a chair out from the small kitchen table, set it at a conversational distance, and put his feet up.

"Bit nervous?"

"Yeah," Deirdre admitted between tiny mouthfuls. "I can't eat when I'm nervous."

He left unsaid that she must get nervous fairly often to look the way she did. What mattered, clearly, was that she was more relaxed for having actually met him.

"A lot of girls worry about their first time," he sympathized.

She swallowed carefully before speaking.

"Some of us worry almost every time."

"Oh."

"But you're the Seal Breaker," she asserted, as if that settled the matter.

"One of 'em, yeah."

"So I'm not your first virgin?"

"No," he reassured her.

Zhair'lo was working hard to keep his tone light and matter-of-fact. Whatever problems Deirdre might have, he wasn't going to solve them by putting any pressure on her.

She seemed to relax a little more as she swallowed little bites of bread.

"This is really good," Deirdre remarked.

"Told you the man's impressive in the kitchen."

There was another pause.

"V'shika said you were good to her."

"Tell her I said 'thank you'," he grinned.

"But V'shika's kind of odd."

Zhair'lo tilted his head in acknowledgement.

"I've found people only look normal until you get to know them."

"That's true," she said. "Are you normal?"

That hit a bit close to his heart. He dearly wanted to keep Deirdre from turning into one of the Admirer types.

"Except for the accident of being able to crack Sealed Virgins."

"Twelve thousand men in this town," she pointed out. "Only three of you who can break seals. That's not normal."

"I guess not."

She eyed him curiously as she chewed another mouthful.

"Would you rather be normal instead?" she asked.

Zhair'lo had to take a moment to think about that.

"Honestly, no," he told her. "I met a girl once - hers was the first Seal I broke. She told me what it was like to have to wait. I'm glad I can help and I couldn't do that if I were 'normal'. Whatever in the nine hells 'normal' is, anyway."

Deirdre drifted away for a bit, even as she thoughtfully chewed on her bread. Washing down the last of her snack, her attention came back with a sigh.

"It is pretty tough for us in there."

"I can only imagine."

As if for the purposes of experimentation, Deirdre hesitantly stood up. Her eyes still bore the slightly dark markers of several sleepless nights and her skin still seemed to be stretched too tightly across her cheekbones, but at least she seemed steady and there was colour in her face.

"Thanks for the food," she said, extending her hand. "I don't even know if we're allowed to do that."

"What? Feed you if you're hungry?"

"No," she chided. "Eat together. Men and women."

"Oh."

He'd been thinking of the rules for Service; about being indoors and staying in his bedroom; about second and third times around. But what she said was true. Men and women never took their meals together.

"Well," he said, grasping her hand. "I didn't eat and we weren't sitting around a table, really, so I'm sure it's fine."

He snuffed out the little torch in the kitchen and led her through the empty common room.

"Besides," he pointed out. "It's not like there's anyone left to catch us."

"You've been here a while?"

"A few weeks."

"Those men were pretty large," she said.

"Yeah, I'm the kid around here, that's for sure."

She paused a moment, stopping his forward progress.

"That's not what I meant."

"Huh?"

"I meant that you're new at this, like me."

"Oh, I guess I am."

Zhair'lo didn't think it was a good time to brag about bringing down a deer. Instead he quietly ushered her into his room and lit a candle on his dresser.

"What's that smell?"

"Lilac," he said. "There's a huge bush of it just under the windows."

She walked over to the window and stood up on her tip toes to look down into the darkness and inhale deeply. He could just make out the soles of her sandals under the length of her pure, white skirt. She cut a fine shape, with her back bare except for the laces that held her top together.

"I've never lived in a place this nice," she said wistfully. "You must want to stay here forever."

"I kinda do," Zhair'lo admitted.

She turned to face him and brushed her short bangs aside.

"There's nothing like this inside the Temple," Deirdre moved toward him. "It's almost like they want to make us even more eager to go out and Serve. It's the only way we'll ever see big, grassy fields ... or rivers ..."

Her eyes were downcast as she approached him. Part of Zhair'lo wanted to meet her halfway, but for some reason he just stayed where he was, just inside the door.

" ... valleys full of flowers ..."

She had worn some kind of perfume; a strong floral scent mixed with the chutney to form some intoxicating synergy. The power of it grew with proximity.

" ... or just a garden with fresh vegetables growing in it."

Deirdre was all but touching him now, her eyes on his chest.

Zhair'lo put a very tentative hand on her bare hip and waited for reciprocation. There was a very long, silent pause.

"I'm afraid," she said.

"Of me?"

"Sex, really; the whole thing."

"Oh."

Zhair'lo scratched his head.

"Let's sit down, then," he beckoned her over to the bed.

It took a bit of doing, but he managed to get a couple of pillows at her back so she could rest against the headboard while he propped himself up on his right elbow and faced her from the side. He hoped it wasn't too intimidating; she had the open side of the bed and he was against the wall.

Should he say something? Illya had been afraid of him, probably for reasons different from Deirdre's, but what had he said to her?

It didn't matter, for Deirdre spoke first.

"Sometimes I think it was my fault," she offered, staring over the footboard. "All those failed upgrades."

"You think you did something wrong?"

"Because I didn't want it," she turned to look at him. "I made it fail because I didn't want it."

"You didn't want to get upgraded at all?"

"I didn't want to have sex at all."

"Whoa."

She turned away again, twisting her lips helplessly.

"Yeah."

Zhair'lo had seen a lot of different attitudes in his short life as a Seal Breaker. Talla had tackled him. Natta had worshipped him. Nadine had shown up with demands. Illya had been afraid. V'shika had been turbulent.

But Deirdre ... she just didn't want to have sex?

That was a new one.

He harkened back, very suddenly, to that strange trial he'd been put through, chasing naked women around a track and being denied by them. What could he really do about this?

The answer came back very simply: nothing.

"Well, you shouldn't leave too soon," he advised, sitting up. "Otherwise they'll know."

Deirdre turned to look at him with a puzzled expression, a very strange effect with her cheeks so sunken.

"But you'll have to talk to someone in the Temple," he rubbed his chin. "I've never heard of anything like this, so I don't know if they'll let you just ..."

"Zhair'lo."

"Huh?"

She blinked at him and sat up so they were face to face.

"I didn't want to Serve anyone until you came along."

Before he could completely take that on board, she rushed forward to plant a quick kiss on his lips and backed away thoughtfully.

"Oh."

She hummed acknowledgement.

"Maybe I'll just let you finish talking," he concluded.

"Yeah, you should."

"Okay."

"I mean, really," Deirdre rolled her eyes. "To be here tonight, I had to specifically choose you, and pick the first possible night allowed ..."

"Should have figured that out."

Zhair'lo noticed, even through his mild embarrassment, that she had relaxed. Once again, they reclined in his bed. Deirdre went on speaking.

"I didn't want to have sex. And I kinda felt like I was pushing back against the upgrade. Every guy they tried on me just seemed so ... so ... uncaring. Or maybe just unaware."

Zhair'lo kept his mouth shut this time, letting only a slight murmur escape his throat.

"Then you came along. You seemed different. You actually noticed me as a person, instead of ... of ... I can't help but say this ... instead of target practice."

He felt his throat lurch at this, but kept his silence.

"Yeah, I know," she rolled her eyes again. "This is a hunting lodge, isn't it? You're an archer?"

Zhair'lo held back his mirth as best he could.

"Yes."

Deirdre seemed ready to laugh, but the moment faded and she was staring off at the wall again, her fingers steepled over her bare belly. She pressed her fingertips together, then bent her hands inward so the entire lengths of her fingers were touching, but her palms weren't.

Zhair'lo watched with concern as she forced the blood away from the already pale flesh of those fingers. He found himself unable to sit idly by and reached out with his free hand to touch her fragile digits.

"Easy," he whispered.

Deirdre closed her eyes and sighed. He felt her fingers relax.

"I still don't know that I want to be part of ... this," she jerked her chin up in the air. "Going out; Serving all those men."

There wasn't a lot Zhair'lo could say at this point.

Certainly, if there was ever a fruit ripe for the plucking, it was Deirdre. She wasn't happy with Temple rules, with protocols, or with the official doctrine for sexuality. She would make an excellent member of Talla's team. On top of that, this would be the perfect moment to make that push.

And yet ...

'And yet, I'm going to leave you be.'

It wasn't a difficult decision. Pulling her into the conspiracy would be shameless manipulation. Deirdre was weak right now and he would be doing nothing but using her if he dragged her along. Her problem wasn't with the Temple - it was with her own body, her own very fragile body.

On the one hand, taking the decision away from her seemed wrong, too. She was an adult and ought to be given the opportunity.

But he also looked at the way her body trembled, the pallor of her skin and the obvious fact that anxiety had driven her to near starvation. Those factors told him that he had no business even making the offer.

'I'm calling this one for you, Deirdre. There's way too much between you and your own health before you can start worrying about the rest of us.'

With that settled, Zhair'lo moved on to more immediate matters.

"Sometimes," he braved. "Sometimes you just have to take things one night at a time. One moment - one breath, even."

Deirdre turned to look at him with an expression that was somehow both stunned and expectant.

"Just forget about the future?"

"Just take the moment you're in," he agreed. "If you don't know what you want from tomorrow, then just live right where you are."

A blank look overcame Deirdre's face.

"So tell me," he went on. "What is it you want out of right now?"

"I -"

There was a long moment of silence in which Deirdre did nothing but blink, her mouth working as if she meant to start speaking but couldn't get the first word out.

"Here?" she finally stammered

"Yes."

"Right now?"

"Yes."

"You."

Zhair'lo raised an eyebrow

"What about me?"

"That's what I want."

"You're sure," he checked.

"I don't know what I'll want tomorrow," she whispered not at him, but at the darkness. "I can't see past right now."

Zhair'lo realized that this was honest. Deirdre was a girl living in constant fear of the future. She never knew where she was going and was afraid to want anything lest it be the wrong thing. Trust, not just in others, but in herself, was not an emotion she had ever mastered.

"We'd better do it right, then," he told her.

"Yeah."

It became, in Zhair'lo's mind, a very tenuous moment. For all that Deirdre had made a decision, she was still the most fragile creature the nine gods had ever deposited upon his bed. Some part of his hunting instinct told him that a move too sudden could frighten her off and make this experience into exactly the sort of thing she didn't need.

'It isn't about me, tonight,' he realized. 'I don't know if it ever has been ... but tonight it definitely isn't.'

His hand was still on hers. What was his next move? To touch her body? Probably not. He feared to break her with the least pressure, to send her bolting off into the forest like any other frightened doe.

Instead, Zhair'lo took her right hand and gently drew it to his face. It was an invitation, as plain and open as he could make it. Her fingertips touched his cheek, making him tingle. The pressure was so light, he scarcely imagined any human could create a lesser sensation.

Deirdre traced a line to push his hair back over his ear and continued to the back of his head.

From deep inside memories that weren't his own, there came the voice of an older woman, saying, "It's always best to start with kissing."

It must be that all women received the same training, for Deirdre closed her eyes and turned her head, reaching out for him with her pale, pink lips.

There had never been, in his short life, a kiss so gentle and so fragile, so frightened and so frightening. A butterfly might have landed on his lips and left a more formidable trace. Her tongue, frail and nervous, darted out to trace along his lips and went back into hiding. He returned the gesture, and though he attempted to use equal force, he knew he was doomed to fail in that regard.

"I'm not doing it right, am I?" she asked suddenly.

He opened his eyes and was surprised to find hers welling with tears.

"There's no wrong way."

"I just - I want this - I do. Maybe if you just put it in."

It was rash, that last offer, and he'd been around long enough to know better than to take her up on it. If the rest of her was as nervous, dry and dehydrated as that kiss implied, it wasn't going to work down there anyway. Nothing but pain lay along that path.

"Just try to relax," he said. "You don't have to hurry."

She seemed to shrink away from him, even as he wrapped her in his arms and pulled her in closer.

Something like a sob escaped her mouth.

"It's never going to work," she declared.

"Of course it will," he consoled her. "Look, there's a thing I can try."

Fearfully, she turned up to look into his eyes.

"Lips, right?"

She nodded.

"And you're sure you want this?"

Another nod.

"Alright. Just lie on your back, then."

Trembling slightly, Deirdre did as she was told, easing herself onto his pillows. Zhair'lo slid himself out from under her, gently letting her legs come to rest on his bed. He knew this was a tenuous undertaking, but he was counting on the sensitivity of the recently upgraded parts of her body to get her through.

Conveniently, the bed was the right width for her to lie across it, with her cheeks just on the edge. Deirdre watched nervously as he unlaced her long, white skirt and let it lie under her, draped down to the floor like a blanket.

When Zhair'lo placed his hands on her tightly closed thighs, he felt the trembling that the flickering dimness of the candlelight had failed to reveal. Gently, as if he were only suggesting it but not forcing the issue, he pushed her thighs apart.

Deirdre acquiesced, exposing her smooth genitals to his eyes. There was nothing obvious, from the outside, about her upgrade. Zhair'lo knew from experience that would be the case. If he wanted to see something from this vantage, it would be a Pussy girl he wanted.

There was no use rushing into things. He lowered his head and touched his lips to the inside of one thigh. His hands, still resting on her knees, felt Deirdre's body shiver at that first contact. Moving across, he kissed the inside of her other leg.

She watched every movement Zhair'lo made, crossing back and forth whilst slowly moving upward - slowly closing upon what, thanks to her, he could only think of as his "target".

When he ran out of room, he softly blew a breath of air across her quivering mound. Deirdre shuddered and clamped her legs around his head for a moment before relaxing again.

"Easy, now," he advised.

Still watching his every move, Deirdre nodded.

He reached forward and, using the same tiny amount of force she had used when she had kissed him, pushed his lips against the place where her flesh parted.

Despite his cautiousness, she let out a gasp.

'It would be easier,' Zhair'lo thought, 'to get a squirrel to feed out of my hand.'

Zhair'lo knew that the way forward was fraught with peril. Move too quickly and the squirrel would dart away into the forest, for a bell at least, perhaps forever. Still, he felt he had a duty to try. He let his tongue out of his mouth, just a bit, and slid it up her slit. Somewhere under there was her clitoris. If the upgrade had worked and if she was the least bit aroused, he ought to hit it - or at least put a bit of pressure on it - somewhere in his sweep.