Rapture's Rendezvous

“Which room, Alberto?” Maria asked, inching her way from the seat.

“When you go down those stairs over there, it's the first room to the right when you step into the hallway,” he answered. “And watch out for the rats. They're almost as big as dogs.”

Maria shuddered. “What?” she gasped. “Rats . . . ?”

Alberto laughed hoarsely once again, tying the reins to the seat, moving to stretch out onto the wagon's floor. “Sorry to have frightened you, Maria,” he said, placing his arms behind his head, resting on them. “No rats. Go on. Just tap lightly. I was supposed to tell you earlier that Michael had asked to see you. Just thought I'd play a little game with you by not telling.”

Maria's eyes flashed and her hands formed two tight fists. “How could you, Alberto,” she hissed, then flew from the seat and headed for the building, watching close around her, seeing no other travelers on the roads or sidewalks at this time of night. The large clock on the building that sat in the center of this square of the town began to strike and ended after striking twice. “Two in the morning,” Maria said, feeling a wickedness sweep over her.

Never in her life had she been so daring. But she was going to see Michael again. Another rendezvous of rapture. And Alberto had even okayed it this time. She felt that she had accomplished something this night. She and Alberto had become an alliance once again. She relished the thought. She idolized her brother. It was nice to have him on her side once again.

Glancing fleetingly from side to side, seeing nobody approaching, Maria rushed down the four narrow steps, then pushed open a door that led into a dark, smelly passageway. Swallowing back her fear, she inched her way to the door that Alberto had directed her to. With a doubled fist, she knocked, then stood, trembling, listening. When the door yanked open, flooding her face with light, enabling her to see the figure standing before her, she waited no longer, but fell into Michael's arms.

“Michael, my love,” she murmured, reaching up, caressing his face, his lips, then lifted her lips to his and let his swallow hers in total warmth, softness. She felt the hardness of his body and the urgency in which he was pressing her to him, realizing that this night held more than mere talk for her. She was going to let him guide her into another world that included only their united passions. The desire flooding her became almost painful when his hands reached beneath her cape and found the skimpiness of her attire.

“I'm so glad you came, darling,” he said, now kissing the hollow of her throat after having released the ties of her cape, letting the cape cascade to the floor, to settle around her feet. His free hand reached and closed and bolt-locked the door, then with both arms, lifted her up and carried her to a small bed that sat against a far wall.

“I need you, Michael,” Maria purred, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair, then seeking his lips once again.

“And I you,” he whispered, placing her on the bed.

Maria lifted her night robe, then her chemise over her head, all the while watching him unbuttoning his breeches, feeling anxiety m

aking her head begin to reel. Oh, if only he were her husband. What nights they would share! Every night they would explore one another's body, make their minds soar from within them.

“You don't mind the nastiness of the room?” Michael asked, lowering himself down beside her, stretching his legs next to hers, rubbing his toes up and down the inside of her thighs.

Maria looked swiftly around her and giggled. “It's not much worse than most houses I've lived in.” she said, seeing the stained, yellowed walls, and the uphol-stered chair that was losing its stuffing in wadded brown masses. One lone window looked back at her with tattered gray curtains. But all that mattered was that she was with Michael, and that Michael needed her as badly as she needed him. Talk would come later. Now she only wanted him to make love to her. Over and over again.

He took her face between his hands and searched it with his blue eyes. “You are all right, aren't you, darling?” he asked softly. “Nathan Hawkins hasn't hurt you in any way?”

She puckered her lips, inviting a kiss. “Hush. Please. No mention of that madman,” she whispered. “Later. Let's enjoy our moments of bliss first. Please, Michael?” She took his hand and guided it between her thighs, parting her legs, letting his fingers enter her. With her other hand, she guided his to a breast, squirming when he began to knead and caress. “I'm so hungry for you, my love,” she whispered.

“I don't wish to disappoint,” he laughed hoarsely, then moved atop her and replaced his fingers with the hardness of his manhood. He began to work in and out slowly, enjoying each and every moment. His lips trailed kisses over her face, then lower, to suckle on a nipple, making slow moans rise upward into Maria's throat. “Oh, how I love you, my love,” she sighed, trembling. “Oh, how I love you… .”

Michael's fingers moved behind her and lifted her hips to meet his more eager thrusts, groaning with each thrust of his own hips.

She clung to him, pressing her breasts to his own, pleasure sweeping through her like electrical currents, causing her body to move in quick jerks when he reached passion's peak. When his spasms had been quenched, she felt her own come to a halt, then clung even more tightly to him, not wanting this moment of bliss to end. It was always as before. He would make her mind leave her for a brief moment, to be replaced by different colors, melting, blending together. His mouth crushed down onto hers and left her lips as he moved from atop her, leaving her to lie panting, tracing his face with her fingertips.

“You must think me a whore to come in your room and give myself so quickly and easily to you,” she murmured, drawing her lips downward into a pout.

“Only my whore,” he laughed, running his hands over her silky curves. “As long as you don't act as wanton with anyone else, who am I to complain?”

Her expression grew serious as she set her jaw firmly. “Alberto told me what you have asked of him, Michael,” she said, moving to an upright position, trembling when his hand reached for her and touched her between the thighs, making a want for him sweep through her once again. But she had come for more reasons than making love. She had to find out about this thing she knew to be dangerous for both Alberto and Michael. Would it in the end be worth it? Could Michael guarantee these things he spoke of for all the Italians? Or was it just because Michael wanted things for his “union”?

Reaching down, she grabbed her chemise and pulled it over her head, then her night robe. She was glad to see that Michael also pulled his breeches back on, this alone helping her to forget her further passions for him.

Michael went to an ashtray and pulled a half-smoked cigar from it and lighted it. He drew deeply from it, inhaled slowly, then began to pace the floor. “Maria, I've been unsuccessful at being able to reach the mine workers,” he grumbled. “It seems most are still too afraid of Hawkins to open their mouths about any grievances they might have. And when I do find someone who is willing to listen, they listen, then saunter off, blank-faced. Now what Alberto can do for me is talk to the men while working. He can get them off alone, one at a time and explain the dangers they are working in at that damned coal mine of Hawkins's.”

Maria pulled her legs up to her chest, hugging them. “Is it truly as dangerous as you profess, Michael?” she asked. “And what can you and your union do about it if it is? Nathan owns the mines. No one can take it from him. Why, to do so isn't even American.”

Michael's thick brows furrowed as he continued to chew on his cigar. “Maria, we only wish to speak in behalf of the coal miners,” he grumbled. “We only wish to organize them so they can speak openly of their desires for better wages and safer working conditions. You speak of being American. In no way are any of your people living as true Americans. Can't you see that? That damn coal mine has a bad reputation for ‘bad top'. We need to get investigators in there and demand that Hawkins take care of such shortcomings in his mine.”

“What is ‘bad top,’ Michael?”

“Much of the rock over the men's heads is faulted and threatens to fall when the coal which supports it is cut out from under. But that is only one small danger. I know there is danger of explosion. Constantly. Now that I've talked with Alberto, I know that black powder is being stored in the mine in violation of the law and that ventilation is far below adequate safety levels. Damn it, Maria, I predict an explosion soon if something isn't done about all of these things.”

Maria rose and went to Michael to cling to his arm. “But, Michael, what can you and Alberto succeed at doing? You even say that you've been unsuccessful up to now. What can Alberto do to make our people listen?”