The Silken Web

The dream was particularly pleasant. Erik was there. But he wasn’t the angry, bitter man who had pinned her against the wall of the cabana. He was the old Erik, the one with laughter in his eyes, and lips prone to smiling.

In the dream, he leaned over her and, with his little finger, lifted a curl away from her cheek. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her face. Then his lips were on hers, moving over them with precision, urging them to open, encouraging her tongue to join his in an erotic adventure.

His hand was firm on her waist, but it began to move. Slowly, it crept over her ribs, so painstakingly he may have been counting them. She felt him cup the underside of her breast, cradling her in his palm.

The dream changed, the tempo increased as his mouth became more imperative. She could feel the pressure of his body as it covered hers. Through the thin knit of her Diane von Furstenberg dress, she could feel his exploratory fingers finding the budding center of her breast, caressing it with increased desire.

It was so real. His kisses were so warm. His hand was so accurate as he coaxed her into deeper passion. Round and round, his thumb circled her. His body was so heavy. So heavy…

Her eyes flew open and her subconscious fear was confirmed. It was no dream. Erik was lying beside her on the narrow sofa! She thrashed her arms and legs against him. “Let me up, Erik,” she commanded with venom. “Get away from me.”

Unexpectedly, he did as she asked. Rising from the sofa, he laughed with satanic glee. “I wondered when you were going to wake up. Or was that little pornographic dream you were having all an act?” His eyes slid to her breasts, which still evidenced his touch. “No, it was no act,” he sneered.

“Shut up. I don’t even want to be in the same room with you.” Kathleen shoved her feet into her shoes and made ineffectual attempts to straighten her hair.

“Why?” he asked casually as he sprawled into one of the deep easy chairs. “Are you afraid of losing control? Having a replay of the other night? I must say, you had a good time, though I was left high and dry. No pun intended.”

“You’re disgusting,” she said, jumping to her feet.

He laughed again. “I don’t think you were disgusted the other night. As I recall—”

“Will you stop talking about it!” she screamed, and covered her face with her hands. She drew several restorative breaths while she tried vainly to compose herself. “The repulsion I feel for you can in no way measure the disgust that I feel for myself for letting you touch me in the first place. Now, are you leaving or am I?”

The muscles in his jaw were working and she knew that she had struck a nerve, but she couldn’t afford to be merciful.

“I have an appointment with your husband,” he said tightly.

“Fine. I’ll see him at home.”

She managed to get to the door. She was even allowed to open it. That was as far as she got. Erik’s large, tanned hand came from around her, slapped against the door and slammed it with emphasis. At the same time, his body trapped her between him and the oak door, both equally impregnable.

“Not so fast, Mrs. Kirchoff. You have something of mine that I want.”

The blood in her veins froze and she closed her eyes against the vertigo that shook her. Wedged as she was between him and the door, she barely managed to turn and look up at him with imploring eyes. “Wh-What?” she asked tremulously.

“My son.”

She shook her head and mouthed words soundlessly. Finally, she croaked, “No. He’s my son.”

“I ought to wring your neck for having my child without notifying me. I would gladly kill you for that.”

Kathleen didn’t doubt what he said for one moment. “How would you have explained Theron to your wife?”

Erik stared down into her face. There was no guilt, no remorse that she had discovered his deception, only a stunned blankness. Slowly, he stepped away from her, still with that stupefied expression on his face. His arms dangled loosely at his sides.

She pushed past him, moved to the window, and opened the blinds, flooding the room with harsh, revealing light. The stereo components were switched off peremptorily. She immediately regretted having done that. The cessation of the music only made the silence more palpable.

She returned to the window and stared out, looking down at the traffic far below. His words, when they came at last, were hoarse and full of incredulity, dispelling any doubt of their veracity.

“Kathleen, I don’t have a wife. I’ve never been married.”

She spun around and looked at him with naked bewilderment. Between them stretched a gulf of misunderstanding. Her eyes scanned his face for signs of deceit, but there were none. His own shattered features reflected the hopelessness she felt.

Before either could move or speak, George opened the door and Seth wheeled through it. His good mood had been restored. His voice was cheerful when he saw them both, and he said, “What a nice reception. Had I known you were waiting for me, I would have cut lunch short. How are you, Erik?”

Still stunned, responding reflexively, Erik turned and shook Seth’s outstretched hand. “Fine.” He cleared his throat and said again, “Fine.”

“Good. Are you ready to start on our project? Have you found a place to live?” As usual, Seth’s face was open and guileless, ready to help, understand and… forgive.