Until We Lose Sight of the Land

The open windows of the palace let in a flower perfumed night breeze from the garden. Nightbirds chirped softly outside and leaves rustled beneath the half swollen moon to create a rather storybook nightscape. It should have been more than enough to lull anyone to sleep, but sleep was the one thing that eluded Her Majesty Queen Ming Numara. Her eyes were closed but her mind was far away, somewhere out on the sea under the blazing sun. She could feel the deck beneath her bare feet, the salt wind in her hair, the roll of the waves….

Ming sighed heavily and heaved herself onto her side. From her bed, she could look out the window and see all the way to the flat mirror of the ocean. Somewhere out there was a ship, and a wild woman with eyes like the sea and adventure in her blood. How far away was Seth now? Had she docked somewhere for the night, or was she cradled in her ship's hull, lulled to sleep by the waves? Or did she, too, find herself left awake as the old day turned to the new?

She could have stayed in the palace. Ming had offered, gladly, but Seth had declined with a laugh and a promise to return. And then she had been gone.

Now Ming couldn't get the other woman out of her mind. It wasn't that Seth was another of her kind, an immortal, though that itself had been a shocking surprise. And it had been a shock as well to see how Seth threw herself into life and loved every moment of it. The adventure, the travel, the always-unfolding journey of life…Ming could barely understand. It had been almost seven hundred years since she had traveled the lands outside of Numara, or sailed to where she could no longer see the line of her coast. Her only 'journey' had led her to her queendom and her solitude, mantles she had taken up with pride and passion if not pleasure. Pleasure had not been a part of her decision to found Numara, though in truth her motivations had been selfishly forged. She had thought only of protection, a place where she would never need fear men coming for her in the night, the smell of burning wood, the sting of stones upon her skin…

Ming tossed and turned again on the bed, rucking the sheets and prodding at her pillows. She didn't want to lose sleep to the long-past, either. She had no need to dwell on her exile from the main continents now - she was the Queen of Numara, the most powerful woman in the world. She had nothing to fear from any mortal man and hadn't for centuries.

But wasn't she in exile still, even as sovereign ruler of the free ocean state? She did not leave Numara. She maintained isolationism for her sake and the sake of her people, and kept herself above the general populace with her station.

If you're in exile still, it's self-inflicted and you're well aware of that.

And she did. She isolated herself and kept herself walled away from others. It was her choice and she had her reasons, so she supposed she couldn't wax maudlin about it too much. It wasn't as though she had any logical reason to complain. She lived in luxury, she was worshipped and adored by her people, she maintained a country of unparalleled beauty and artistic advancement….

And still she couldn't sleep, and all because her thoughts refused to give up their grip on some wild woman!

Albeit some fascinating and entrancing wild woman, with storm swept eyes and hands as calloused and rough as a man's....

It was the stories, Ming told herself. She enjoyed reading of exotic places and adventures and romance and all of the things that her own life lacked. She had always enjoyed stories, and Seth had shared dozens with her. The pirate's words had painted a vivid and striking picture. In her mind's eye, Ming had seen those ancient eastern ruins, smelled the heavy jungle scent of far away islands, felt the kiss of mountain winds she had no hope to pronounce let alone experience.

What was it like, to have such freedom? To pick up and go wherever the wind took you, whenever the spirit moved you?

For gods' sake, Ming! Stop moaning like a teenage girl! Next you're going to start spouting out metaphors about gilded cages and birds with clipped wings.

On her back once more. She bent her legs, worrying at her sheets with her heels. She was restless. And still her mind clung to fancies of the high seas. Of Seth. How regal she had to look, at the wheel of her ship, with the wind tugging at her hem and the scent of salt on her darkened skin. And seaspray. It would wash against her legs as she leapt from ship to ship, or secured her vessel in the brawl of a storm. It would cling. Thin streams would trickle down the tight musculature of her calves, glittering droplets nestle in the crevices of her knees….

Ming's hand had found its way to her thigh. Her fingers flexed and curled gently against her bare skin. Seth's thighs were far leaner. She was built like a swimmer or a runner, all narrow muscle and length. How hard would her thigh be beneath Ming's hand? Would the skin there be rough or smooth? Ming's fingers moved across her own skin but in her mind it was the pirate's leg she caressed.

The fantasy unwound behind her eyes. The deck of a ship in the darkness of night. Seth, barefoot, leaning back, arms hooked casually over the railing, her legs parted as though to brace herself. Ming on her knees, hair down and teased by the elements, her hands cupping the firm swells of the other woman's calves. The night on the ocean was cold but Seth's skin was warm to her touch. Over her calves, tracing the slight dips behind her knees, slender fingers striving upwards as they disappeared beneath gold cloth to grasp hard muscled thighs. Gently massaging firm flesh, teasing, paying worship to the sculpted marvel that was this woman's body. Ming's hands traced the lines of Seth thighs, to the tight curve of her buttocks.

Seth's hand was in her hair. Ming looked up, meeting the captain's smokey gaze. Gods, those eyes. Deep and clear and now bright with lust and lightning flashes of want . Seth's lips were a playful smile as she pulled Ming to her feet, crushing their bodies together. Seth's mouth on her neck. Seth's hands over her body. Seth's thigh between hers, pressing between her legs. Fingers plucked and tugged at drawstrings and buckles, clothes pulled off and tossed aside with reckless abandon. Seth's tunic came off, leaving her bare. Ming trembled at the sight of her, naked and damp on the ship's deck, drops of water glinting like diamonds in her hair. The arch of her neck, the slight rounds of her shoulders, the rise and fall of her high, proud breasts, the detailing of her hard abdomen, the flare of her hips, the inviting darkness between her legs…

The queen's mind skipped ahead. In her own bed, far away from her fantasy, her hand had found its way between her thighs. Her bedclothes were pushed aside and her nightdress tossed to the floor. The sheets beneath her were already damp and her legs flexed and twitched. She worked herself with her fingers, imagining it was Seth who touched her so intimately and so expertly.

On the deck of the dream-ship, Ming was bent over the railing. She, too, was denuded. The edge of the rail bit into her stomach, the spray of foam from breaking waves bathed her breasts, her red gold hair tangled and blew about her face. And Seth behind her, gripping her hips, thumbs rubbing with tantalizing slowness over Ming's buttocks. Seth's fingers were calloused and the rough knots of skin drew shivers from the bent queen. The other woman's fingertips made small circles and figure eights, and Ming could hear Seth chuckling behind her. She whimpered and dipped her back, her hips thrusting up and out against Seth's hands. Hands that worked their way up her body, brushing at her sides and back. Seth leaned over her, firm breasts pressed snugly to Ming's back. Hands gripped her breasts, pulling her backwards, bringing her flush against the joining of Seth's thighs. They moved together in a contrast of moonlight and shadow. Seth's tongue on her neck. Down her spine. Ming's body jerked and she clenched her teeth together and Seth's tongue rounded the crest of her hip and followed the curve of her inner thigh.

The pirate woman was no hesitant lover. Ming felt fingers spreading her, Seth's tongue running along her swollen folds. Her hands clenched the railing as her legs buckled and hitched and still Seth made love to her with mouth and tongue. Tight pleasure gripped her belly and she felt her orgasm building.

Ming cried out the other woman's name as she climaxed, both in her mind and in her bed. The fantasy faded as the sensations began to dull, and Ming lay in bed, sweating and breathing heavily, both hands between her legs and her hair plastered to her pillows. She hadn't anticipated the intensity of her fantasy, or the climax it had brought her to. She slipped from the bed on unsteady legs and ran herself a quick shower. Still she thought of Seth, though without frustration. Beautiful Seth with her wild ways and her long, lean legs. Seth whom she would see again, and who perhaps would then accept to stay for a time.

Perhaps.

Still smiling at the memories, both real and imagined, Ming climbed back into bed well prepared to sleep. And dream of a ship somewhere out on the sea, and the fearless woman who chased the horizon from its wheel…