Silk and Cashmere

by

Ivory
(ivorymoberg@hotmail.com)

The early autumn light cascaded through the street, giving a warm glow to all living and non-living things alike. The frost plays on the trees and cars lining the street of this picturesque day in a city which would soon be awaking. Not far in the distance a siren can be heard as the city that never sleeps begins to yawn and stretch her arms greeting a new day.

That picturesque street begins to bustle and flow with the onslaught of business and pleasure alike. On the far corner a short elderly gentleman, bundled like a dime store Santa Clause, sales his "hot and fresh" breakfast to eager early birds, who find it easier to buy the worm than to catch it. Tourists with a taste for exotic, hail taxis in search for more fanciful food than that of a street vendor, to bad they won't find much better.

In the center of the block rises a tall white mansion. Columns rise to the utmost facade and steel and wrought iron play across the accents of the face. Aged and beautiful, but not so different than most on the street. Inside the inhabitants stir with the early light that penetrates the now aged face of this permanent street side goddess.

Inside we see a glowing entry hall and a home filled with beautiful antiques of many different sorts. A long stair winds its way to the upper bedrooms and gives the home a certain brilliant elegance. We find no life here, but lets dare moving onward. A large warm kitchen greets us and a butler most would find most unassuming, is beginning his day before the rest the household awakens. He may not be the so called master of this house, but he is more family than most butlers would ever dream. A man with strong eyes, we see he has a very intent purpose to his morning.

To the left there is another staircase, although this one much more demure than its grand cousin in the hall is just as important. Our butler makes his way to the upper rooms where all is still quiet and the world has yet to begin. On the left and right bedrooms line the small hall, but none so grand as the masters bedroom elegantly displayed by its squarely molded archway.

Here is our butler once more. He is an expert at his craft and knows how to be as silent as the sliver of light peeking through his masters heavy curtains. He moves to open them, revealing in the glory of the autumn light, his master and an unexpected mistress. A smile and he closes the curtain, knowing his place and being all the happier to leave them in peace. A silent moment later and the door is closed, preserving this unplanned instant in time.

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Maxwell Sheffield was dimly aware of his surroundings. Too much cough medicine the night before had left him groggy and most beguiled into thinking he was never going to get better. Oddly, he did feel better but his chest still felt heavy. Perhaps he didn't feel as well as he thought. As he reached a hand to rub his itchy throat, his hand came to rest on a seemingly out of place ribbon of black silk. He stroked it for a moment and his medicine induced lucidity, wondered where it had come from. He mused that perhaps his pajamas had a silk belt he didn't know about.

Max's mind drifted, "No this was better than silk. This is cashmere and silk, so much more forgiving than silk, but soft and supple like cashmere. Wait, can those two be mixed? Whoa old boy, too much cough medicine. Was it honey or a shot of vodka Niles mixed in with my medicine? Honestly, I suppose it doesn’t matter. This is too pleasant a feeling. Perhaps I'll have Niles look into having a cashmere and silk bathrobe made for me."

It hadn't occurred to him yet to look at the ribbon, just to stroke and enjoy. He held his lovely ribbon to his cheek. "Mmm, almost smells like honey and almond, but yet so much better." Yes, he would certainly have Niles look into the bathrobe and some new almond and honey soaps. "So soft and supple, almost like Miss Fine." No sooner had the thought passed that he lay asleep and smiling, still clutching his newfound comfort.

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Fran slowly woke to the peace of her surroundings. Odd how her room never seemed this dark. What had she drank the night before? Blue rabbit? No. Orange raccoon? No. Pink Squirrel? Yeah, that’s what it was. Fran was mildly aware that her pillow had taken on a new firmness. Not that she minded. She was much too tired to move, let alone wonder when she changed her pillow. Her head seemed so very foggy. The last few days seemed like one upsetting moment after another. Mona had raised so many horrifying doubts in her mind.

"Perhaps she was right. Mr. Sheffield is never going to see me as anything other than his nanny. Just a mentor and surrogate mother to his children. Never a wife or lover. Whoa. Put the brakes on you old yenta! You're not dead yet. Hmm.. Just maybe I can change his mind. This pillow is wonderful. It smells almost like Max.. Like musk and sandalwood, mixed like silk and cashmere for your senses. Oy! You've got it bad girl. Just calm down and go back to sleep. Goodnight pillow, you're not Max, but close enough."

As she slipped back into sleep, she squeezed her new found comfort, smiling at the idea of Max as her bedfellow.

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As morning burns the night into day, none outside would want to disturb this beautiful scene. Dust settles in the late morning light and the world outside knows nothing of the two star-crossed kindred souls, willing life not to move onward. Perhaps if life had been kinder this moment would have lent itself to different circumstances. Yet morning's unkind tendrils reach onward.

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Max awoke, still clutching his ribbon to his cheek. A tightening in his chest woke him from his dream. He relaxed, closing his eyes to replay the dreamscape.

~~Fran had laid next to him and he awoke holding her in the golden morning light. Her soft smile tugged at the corners of her sweet mouth. Her eyes had sparkled with the after glow of a secret lover. He had pulled her into the strength of arms, not willing to let go of this woman he had discovered. He had tilted her face upward and leaned to taste her sweet lips. A tendril of dark hair fell to her face. He tenderly took the lock of hair between his fingers, stoking and memorizing the scent and feel. Like silk and cashmere and the scent of honey and almonds.....~~

As the thought passed, he came to realize the similarities between his ribbon and Miss Fine's hair. His mind became aware once again of the tightening of his chest, but now he was acutely aware of what was causing the strain. His mind went a million ways at once as he stared down and the mass of silken hair that belonged to the object of his affection.

" How was this possible? Am I still dreaming? What had happened last night? Fran? God she smells good.. Snap out of it! Wait! Don't move!.. Calm down.. Its alright.. Nothing happened. You were too near comatose for anything to happen... Right?!? Yeah.. Wait...Is she dressed? Yes.. Damn! No.. Not damn.. Good.. Composure. Come on old boy.. Lets see that British control. Yes.. well done.. God my head hurts.. She's so beautiful in the morning light, her skin looks like alabaster.. Bloody hell what am I thinking? Oh God she moved.. Wait.. Where are her hands?"

His thought were still laced with cough syrup and he was considerably concerned about the placement of Miss Fine's hands. One lay tucked neatly under the waste band of his pajamas on the juncture of his leg and his now considerably sensitive hip. The other nuzzled underneath his now tense tush.

"Christ this is uncomfortable.. sort of.. Ahh!! She squeezed!.. Whoa.. Now its somewhat pleasurable....Relax.. Don't panic.. God I'm tired. Why is everything so difficult with Miss Fine. "

Max was unmoving, completely enwrapped in his situation. Not knowing whether run or simply stay and enjoy what he could while it lasted. He was aroused, but still unable to completely form his thoughts into action. Perhaps it was the cough medicine or maybe he honestly was at ease. In his hazy thoughts he simply relented. He stroked her cheek with all the silent tenderness he could muster. The autonomy of this moment comforted his soul. He was at rest and was soon asleep again with his arm wrapped lazily around this Venus, this earthbound heavenly beauty.

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Fran woke with a feeling of hatred for the sun. Its rays pierced her serenity, but worst of all woke her up as they shown on her face. She felt as though "pink squirrel" had just been an synonym for "Speeding semi-truck in a glass". Her head ached and she noticed that her pillow had become firmer. Shifting, she noticed her hand seemed like it was held by a rubber band and her other was.. Where was her other? She looked up to see perhaps if her hand had simply gotten up and ran away, seeing as it was the home of her very lonely left ring finger. Perhaps it couldn't take anymore rejection. Pulling herself out of her reverie, she truly saw where she was for the first time that morning. There he lay, innocent, unwaking, and gentle. The focus of her amore and the cause of her heartache. She lay her head back on his chest.

"Oh what a wonderful dream. I love this dream. He's so serene. No yelling, no looks, no flirting, no pain. He smells wonderful. I love the way he feels in this dream. So perfect...Oy, and that tush. Hmm.. Just a squeeze.. wow.. That’s so much better than usual. He almost seems real. Wait...Real?"

She looked up again, fully coming to terms with her surroundings. This was real. If shock could even compete with what she was feeling, then absolute ecstasy was what was evident on her face. Her smile reached from one ear to the other, an act that would have made even a Cheshire cat green with envy. As she took in her situation, a moment of panic burst forward. She was in Mr. Sheffield’s bed and her hands were in close proximity to very unusual explanation. "God.. What if he wakes up. What would I do? Wait! What did I do? Am I dressed? Yes.. Damn it...Is he dressed? Yes.. Damn again. God his skin feels good.. No! Think.. Perhaps this isn't so bad.. Calm down and just relax. There has got to be a reason why I'm here.. Sleep walking! Yes, that’s it. Well.. Then its not my fault. I have a perfectly reasonable, somewhat flimsy reason for being here. God I want to enjoy being here, in his arms. If only for a moment longer... He's so warm.."

Fran stifled a yawn and no sooner relaxed than she was fast asleep, basking in the scent of sandalwood and musk.

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