Fri, May 18 2012
Sam places a gentle arm around Emma's shoulder and gives a light-reassuring squeeze.
"It seems we have something in common, Mr. Clemens." Emma states softly, "We have both lost our loves to the devotion of Phileas Fogg. I wonder if he realizes how truly lucky he is."
"You are very right Miss Emmeline. But, Mr. Fogg has only Passepartout's loyalty, respect and friendship. You have his heart." Sam soothes.
She stops still suddenly, and grasps a hand full of sand and blows it swirling to the wind.
Someday perhaps, the wind will carry it back to me..." a tear trickles down her cheek.
Jules and Passepartout enter the hospital room. Phileas is asleep. Rebecca has also collapsed into slumber; his hand still wrapped in hers. Passepartout casually opens the bag he has brought with him, and lays out a change of garments for them both. He turns to Verne, bringing an index finger to his lips and motions him to the hallway.
"We best be letting them sleep" Passepartout says, " Miss Rebecca is suffering from exhaustiveness."
"I quite agree with you." Jules replies, " I saw a small waiting area where we first came in."
As, they turn to head to the waiting room they are stopped by a physician who is heading back into Phileas' room.
"Are you gentlemen friends of Mr. Fogg and his fine lady?" the doctor asks.
Yes" Verne and Passepartout resound in unison. Before they can utter another word. The doctor continues.
He is going to be right as rain. A bull elephant would envy the constitution of this man." He interjects." The lady however, is extremely dehydrated and was near to total collapse."
"I will see that Miss Rebecca gets fluidities and rest." Passepartout assures, "Even if I must be sittings on her and make it pour down her throat."
"I don't see how she can rest with someone sitting on her." The doctor puzzles.
He is only jesting." Verne answers. " But, with Rebecca's stubborn streak he may not be far off."
"Please, follow me. I was just about to check in on him."
The doctor reaches for Phileas' wrist to check his pulse. Fogg jerks suddenly, and without thinking makes a swing towards the physician. The commotion awakens Rebecca; she blocks the throw before it connects.
"Really Phileas, that is no way to treat an attending physician." She scolds gently.
Well, I shall be releasing you today, Mr. Fogg. But, only because these good gentlemen have assured me that you and your fine lady will have the best of care."
Clemens brings a handkerchief to Emma's cheek and wipes away the tears. He turns quickly so she will not notice that he has tears of his own to wipe. He instinctively holds her, but she pulls away.
"Go to the ship if you must. But, I am going back to the Aurora. He is not lost to me, not yet." Emma resounds.
She grabs the edges of her skirt and runs, compelled to see him once more. Clemens starts to give chase but realizes his battle is already lost and his heart too heavy to deny her any chance for a moment's happiness.
Phileas Fogg sits on the edge of the hospital bed examining the clothes lying there. He looks towards Passepartout. The valet quickly ushers Jules and Rebecca out of the room, so that he can attend to his Master's needs. He brings the wash basin and toiletries. Once his master is clean and shaven, he can help him on with his clothes.
Jules and Rebecca are astounded to see Phileas emerge looking completely unscathed from his experience. He gingerly pats his side, acknowledging only discomfort where everyone knows there is pain.
"Passepartout, see that someone fetches a fresh basin of hot water." Fogg issues.
Right away, Miss Rebecca she be needing to freshens up herself." Answers Passepartout. He rushes to find a member of the nursing staff.
Rebecca follows the attendant into the room. He leaves the basin on the desk and excuses himself. She begins to unwrap the layers of sand encrusted gauze, noting the dry rough texture of the hands in of front of her. She unwinds the bodice and works down to the skirt-like pantaloons. A paper cigar band floats down in a swirling motion, mimicking a dandelion seed caught in the wind. Her hand catches it before it hits the floor. In its golden reflection, she sees the strength and passion of a man.
"Sam, what have I done? " she intones as she buries her face in her hands.
Sam Clemens stops suddenly on the deck of "The Quaker City." He stares out across the harbour and shakes his head. A young man about eighteen years old greets him, and invites him inside. He slaps the lad on the shoulder and follows him in. Something drops from the youth's pocket. Sam scoops it up. It is an ivory miniature with a portrait so heavenly it takes his breath way.
"Charles, surely this isn't your sister Livy? " He inquires as they disappear aboard ship.
Emma boards the Aurora and patiently waits in the workshop for Jean's return.
"That's more like it." Phileas smiles, as Rebecca opens the door. Her beauty masks the beleaguered worn feeling that so completely fills her frame. Her hair tumbles down about her shoulders. It is combed but not dressed. Passepartout notices her blank stare, and the way she holds herself.
"Miss Rebecca is everything being alright?" asks the valet.
The response comes slowly, as if she is lost in another place and time.
I am fine. Quite fine, Passepartout." She answers.
You see, nothing to worry about." Assures Fogg.
Jules and Passepartout exchange glances, and each take a position at Rebecca's side for the return journey. Phileas nonchalantly holds his side, as if checking on a pocket watch. Verne and Passepartout are keen to find transportation for Rebecca, but it does not seem likely. Luckily, the distance is short and the mid-day's heat has already passed. There is a warm breeze scented with rich aromas from the bazaar.
The sun dips behind the Aurora filling her with a warm iridescent glow of welcome. A shining beacon to all who enter. Verne sighs with relief, as they all safely board the ship.
Passepartout sees both Phileas and Rebecca to their quarters and hurries to the kitchen to bring each a pitcher and glass. His stern look, gives cause to accept and drink heartily. With everything and everyone settled he decides to rest in the workshop.
As Passepartout opens the door to workshop, he stops still. The glow of a lamp catches his attention. Cautiously he steps inside; knowing there has been an intruder who may still be inside. He finds Emma perched on the edge of the cot.
"No." Jean sighs. "You know I must be leaving from here." "That is why I am here." She answers. "To see you one last time.
She stands to face him.
But, it only be making difficulties for us both." He replies.
Nothing could be more difficult for me, Jean." She pleads. "I would sell the shipyards, the house, all that I own to be with you. But it wouldn't matter, you have all that you desire here." Her hand smacks the side of the Aurora's hull.
Not ALL..." He responds.
He takes her in his arms and kisses her deeply. His lips move down her neck tenderly kissing and licking. Her fingers begin to unfasten his tie, her other hand slips down inside the back of trousers caressing his warm firm cheeks. He unfastens her bodice and skirt. They fall to floor. His tongue darts and licks between her breasts as he releases her corset. She tugs at her pantalets; his hands pull them down effortlessly. His fingers gently play upon her hot moist folds, as she unbuttons his shirt and vest. Her lips trace down his chest, her tongue licking and tasting every inch. He undoes his trousers. She grasps the hard shaft and holds it tightly between her thighs. He rubs against her rhythmically; she pulls back and drops on her knees. Her slender fingers still grip the base of the shaft, circling it with rounded motions while she licks upwards. The other hand playfully cups and rubs the round warmth at the base. Her tongue reaches the summit, and circles the head of the shaft, flicking rapidly. Her moist full lips kiss first then part to engulf him. He moans deeply as she suckles him in waves of desire. Soon, the warm moisture fills her mouth and senses. She releases him.
Jean scoops her up and carries her to the cot. He straddles her willing body and begins to lick the erect nipples of her swollen breasts. He gingerly takes the nipples between his teeth then sucks slowly upon them. His fingers wander down between her thighs stroking gently and finding their way inside. She lets out a moan, as wetness trickles down his fingers. "Please, now." She begs.
He thrusts his engorged shaft inside her. She pushes tightly against him. Her legs wrap tightly his around waist. Her body convulses in a frenzy of movement. He pulses and gyrates switching from gentle rocking to deep slow thrusts. She arches her back, and spreads her legs outward inviting him deeper. A fury comes upon them the pace is quickened pumping faster and deeper. Her hips match his every move, their breathing syncs as they finish out a symphony of movement and climax.
Phileas hears soft sobbing sounds coming from Rebecca's room. He goes to her door and knocks.
"Who is there?" she calls out.
Just me." Fogg answers "Is everything alright?"
"Fine. Go back to sleep." She responds.
He opens the door, knowing all is not fine. Before she can utter a word. He is sitting beside her. He sees the cigar band she is clutching and knows what is wrong. He cradles her against his chest and rocks her tenderly. Her tears fall on his chest and her sobs are muffled against him.
"I think it best we leave Constantinople first thing in the morning." He whispers.
She nods in agreement.
"Emma, I must be taking you back." Jean pleads, "I do not want to. But it is not up to me to be wantings now."
"I know there is no place for me in your life now, Jean Passepartout" She answers. "I will go and hope someday to find that place. That place here...." she taps his heart.
Morning light streams into the Aurora finding Emma safely returned to "The Quaker City" Breakfast has been prepared, eaten and tidied up after. The handsome dark-eyed man stands ready at the controls. But, there is something different. A diamond hat pin centered as a guidepost.
End of Chapter Seven
Chapter 6 | Chapter 7