The Good Samaritan Maneuver
The buzz of his alarm clock woke Logan with a start. He reached for the night table behind him to roughly tap the off button. Then repositioning himself to his right side, the sleepy lad snuggled tightly against the back of the soft, bare body of Morgan. A sudden passion overwhelmed him. His senses knew nothing but the warm woman lying beside him. He lay there, relishing in touching every inch of her body with his as she lay on her right side with her back against him. Logan softly and slowly stroked the length of her body with his left hand. Starting with her left knee, he gently followed the contour of his lover's muscular, sexy thigh, continued across the side of her firm and shapely hip, then plunged down the side of her narrow curvaceous waist, all the way up to her magnificent shoulder. She gave a sexy little squirm and took his hand with hers, placing it on her full, firm left breast. "What a wondrous woman," was all Logan could think.
"Start my day out right and make love to me," the sensuous redhead whispered with a voice that couldn't be refused. She rolled onto her back, pulled him tightly against her and kissed him passionately.
Logan's senses became totally alive, exploding beyond the reaches of conscious awareness. The separation of their two beings evaporated, melding their bodies into some sort of cosmic unison where he couldn't tell where she stopped and he started. Inextricably linked, they were one, sharing the sensual vestiges of an unseen realm.
Softly touching his lover again, he could almost see a current of energy dancing between their impassioned bodies. His whole being then came alive with a feel, where sight was no longer important. Inexplicably, Logan just knew everything at once. The immense pleasure of the sensation was indescribable, unimaginable. There was no separation between him and Morgan, between him and the room; hell, between him and the whole world! Once again they stood on the brink of eternity.
Morgan shifted her body slightly beneath him and whispered tantalizingly into his ear, "I want you now." It was a command far beyond mere mortal refusal.
Logan was electric. Taking Morgan's head into his hands the impassioned lover kissed her again, deeply, passionately. He stopped only long enough to whisper, "I love you. God, I love you."
Smoothly and tenderly, Logan slipped between Morgan's soft, strong thighs and entered her. Rivers of current coursed up his spine. He couldn't think. All that the enraptured man could do is feel, feel the passion, the energy, the sublime exquisiteness of Divine Unison. Their bodies moved as one, sparkling, lighting up the room with the power of sheer ecstasy.
They climaxed together in an explosion of rapturous delight. His body was on fire in the throes of ecstasy. Logan fought for breath as he relaxed his body fully against hers. If he had his way, they would stay for a week in that very spot.
Slowly and reluctantly, her lover slid onto his right side, still holding Morgan firmly in his arms. His sensation of total connectedness would only keep growing, dazzling his heart with the fires of heaven. Logan wanted to ask her if she felt the same way, the words just wouldn't form in his mouth. Somehow he could feel she did.
"My God," Morgan finally exclaimed weakly after several minutes of total silence. Those simple words were all she could mutter. Instead, she brought Logan to her lips, kissing her true love like there was no tomorrow. "I love you," she whispered, "Remember, we'll always be together!"
"I promise you, love," Logan replied softly, his body still shaking slightly as an after effect of the sheer pleasure he'd just experienced. "The gods themselves couldn't keep me from you now!"
Another ten minutes of total silence passed before Logan could gain enough composure to kiss Morgan gently on her cheek and slide out of the warm bed. His legs could barely support his walk to the shower. It felt as if a part of him stretched out all the way to the bed and still lay against his mesmerized lover. It was the strangest feeling the stupefied lad had ever experienced.
The shower helped him to regain his senses, although Logan wasn't really sure he wanted to regain them. However, the peacefulness and fulfillment felt right then, he knew, would continue with him forever. His soul had been joined with another at a level of existence far beyond the limits of time and place. Looking out of the bathroom door, the loving lad smiled at Morgan, gently sleeping with an angelic glow about her face. Yeah, he could love this woman forever. After discovering the bond that they had just experienced, Logan was certain of it. After all, she was beautiful, sweet, kind and all of those good things. He just wished for a better record at keeping relationships. Then again, he had never known anyone even close to Morgan before. With his newly-found view of love, a change must be in the making.
Logan finished getting dressed and quietly slipped out of the bedroom, into the kitchen. He found a pad of paper and quickly jotted down a note to Morgan:Well, the fireman wasn't a poet and he was still a little shaky about Morgan moving her stuff in right away. But, that was something he was sure would come in time. After all, Dublin wasn't built in a day.Wow, what can I say! I've fallen madly in love with you. You are wonderful and beautiful to boot. And making love to you is like shaking the world. I'll call you later.
P.S. I'll see you again soon!
A sudden pensive feeling sent Logan reeling. Death takes a person from the things he loves, a tiny, unexpected voice whispered in the back of his mind. An ominous gloom crept over him momentarily, leaving a smell of musty stone in his nostrils. Whoa, what was that? The confused Irishman shuttered involuntarily, intentionally shifting his thoughts back onto the things at hand. This wasn't any way to leave his lover for his second day at work.
Silently easing his way back into the bedroom, Logan gently sat on the edge of the bed beside Morgan. His sweetheart rustled lightly under the covers and brought out a hand to pull him to her. Softly she kissed him with a warmth that could melt the heart of an iceberg. He felt waves of radiant warmness rush all the way to his toes, washing away the final remnants of gloom.
"Call in sick today," the loving temptress pleaded sleepily. "We can lie right here in bed all day, maybe even all week.
"Honey, I would love to but this is only my second day back to work after being off for over a month. I think the department would frown on me if I didn't show up."
"But, I. . . I really want you," she tantalized. "It's an emergency. And I guess I'm still feeling a little afraid of something, I'm just not sure what it is. I just don't want you to go!"
"You don't know how hard it is to leave right now," the hesitant firefighter responded truthfully, relating with her desires and fears. "Stay here as long as you like. I'll call you after while. I'd better get going or I'll be late."
"Okay. I love you," she answered, dragging him to her for one last passionate kiss. "Please be careful."
"I promise. I'm still just going to be on ambulance duty. I won't be going into any fires. I'll talk to you later," Logan responded giddily as he tore himself away, slowly walking to the door of the bedroom.
His mind was a whirl of thoughts, sensations and colors as he locked his apartment and walked briskly toward the parking lot. He could still feel the heat of that last impassioned kiss on his lips, stepping up into his truck. Absently, the fireman closed the door with a slam. The quickness that this relationship was progressing was going to take some thinking. He had never felt this way before; at once rapturous and lost, serene and turbulent, assured and completely mixed up. Logan was afraid he was losing his mind. The chill of the early autumn morning sent a shiver through him, bringing him back into present reality, refocusing his actions. He turned the rubber-coated key, cranking the vehicle and drove slowly out of the parking lot.
Logan was oblivious to his surroundings. Speeding seventy miles per hour down the freeway, he didn't even notice that there were almost no cars on the road with him. Suddenly, his consciousness snapped into coherency and realized what he was doing.
"This is Sunday!" he scolded himself loudly. "Jesus H. Christ! I'm in such a hurry and I'll be at work in fifteen minutes! I could still be at home with Morgan." Logan looked down at his watch, slowly shaking his head; twenty minutes until six. He had forgotten to reset his alarm for weekend travel. His usual weekday trip to the station took him forty-five minutes because of the heavy traffic. The weekends, especially Sundays, were totally different. The fireman could sail into work in about fifteen minutes. Normally he arrived at work at six-fifteen or so. Relief time for shift change wasn't officially until six-thirty, however, what goes around comes around! Getting off that extra few minutes was nice. It had saved him several times from being sent on a call that wouldn't get him back to the station until late.
Logan slowed to the speed limit and, for the first time, noticed that he was now the only car on the road. For a moment the astonished driver reveled in the sight. It was a rare one on a Houston freeway. "Not many people with a place to go at five thirty on a Sunday morning," he surmised, looking over the lights of the still city.
Logan switched on his radio and searched in vain for a station that was playing his favorite music, rock and roll. Maybe it would help him take his mind off of the still present nervousness of returning to work. "I wonder why all radio stations have talk shows on Sunday mornings?" he queried himself to refocus his thoughts. "I want to hear some tunes this morning."
It was an uncommon practice for him to drive in silence. His first rule of driving was: the radio comes on when the engine comes on and at a volume where you can feel the music! "I must be a holdover from the seventies," he laughed, chiding himself loudly.
"Find some tunes to clear my mind," Logan mimicked loudly in his 'Wolfman Jack' voice. He reached for his box of cassettes. "I need one of those automatic CD players. Next on the shopping list." The driver switched on the overhead light of his Explorer, looking through his musical stash.
He then searched the tape titles for one that seemed fitting. "Yeah," he assured himself, making his selection. "And whatever happened to the Wolfman anyway?"
Just as he was inserting the cassette, Logan caught sight of a figure standing in the middle of the roadway. A hundred yards ahead was a man waving his arms over his head, obviously trying to catch his attention. His strained eyesight still couldn't make out many details under the yellowish glow of the streetlights, but he did see a van parked on the inside shoulder of the road against the guardrail.
"Hell of a time to be broken down." He changed to the lane next to the van. Logan looked at his watch again, only five minutes from work and it was still early. "What the heck, I'm a public servant sworn to save lives and property," the firefighter teased himself, pulling to a stop in front of the van.
Logan rolled down the window of his truck and watched as a grizzled looking fellow hurried over to him. "Looks like you could use a hand," he retorted. "What can I do for you?"
The man looked into the window and took a quick step backwards. "A cop are ya'?" the old man asked in a heavy Cajun accent.
"No, I'm a firefighter. You caught me on my way to work."
"Ah, dat's good," the fellow answered, again stepping to the side of Logan's truck. "I gots me a real emergency. I gots a flat tire an' no spare ta' fix it with."
Logan could hardly understand what the man was saying. He thought for a second, finally getting the geste of the words, then offered his best solution. "I think I have a can of fix-a-flat in back. Let me check, I'll give it to you." The helpful firefighter opened his door, stepping out of the vehicle. "By yourself are you?" He hadn't noticed anyone else in the van behind him.
"Almos'," the stranger stated rather belligerently.
The answer struck Logan as being a little odd. "Must have a dog or something," he surmised. The rear hatch of his truck popped open at the quick twist of his key and he stuck his head inside.
"Ya' just crawl yer way on in there an' keep it quiet, ya hear!" the raspy, accented voice ordered. Logan suddenly felt a hard, round object being poked into his ribs, under his jacket. Even though he had never felt one before, it didn't take much of an imagination to recognize the barrel of a handgun being pressed against him. "Make it good an' slow an' don't ya' dare take a peek back here."
The sudden captive followed his orders to the letter. Slowly sliding his way into the back entrance of the truck, Logan suddenly felt a sharp pain in the back of his head. That's it, now I'm dead. was the last thing he remembered thinking before losing consciousness.
Groggily, Logan came back to his senses. He couldn't move. It scared the daylights out of him at first. Had he been shot and paralyzed? Eventually enough feeling returned for him to recognize that his hands were bound behind him and somehow attached to the bindings on his feet.
Logan was in a fetal position in the back of his truck. Lying there on his right side, he felt like his nose was pressed against the rear seat. His mouth was gagged, bound and something was over his head, like a bag or a hood. A blanket or some other covering was thrown completely over him with something heavy piled on top of that. He was totally immobilized, restricted. He hated it. Behind and pressing against him was another bundle. It felt warm against his back. Logan twisted in his bindings enough to grab the bundle, it tried to jerk away. Quickly he released it. He had company. Logan felt the truck surge forward. He must not have been unconscious very long since they were just getting underway. All at once a rush of anxiety fell over him. The desperate fireman struggled against his bindings to no avail. He couldn't move an inch and his head felt as if it was about to explode.
"Here, here. Yo' be settlin' yourself down back there now. We jus' takin' a little ride in the country," the distant voice of the stranger sneered. Yo' might as well get yourself comfortable. We be takin' a ride for a while."
Frustrated, Logan settled down, relaxing the best he could. It didn't help that his head was lying directly on something hard that vibrated with every crack in the road. Especially since his skull was already pounding. He felt the bundle behind him try to inch away. Logan wanted to tell the person to just chill out. He wasn't in much of a position to try anything at all.
Logan decided to try and feel each turn that was made. Maybe when they stopped he'd have some idea of where they were. At least it gave him something to do besides worry about getting murdered. He figured that they must already be past the fire station and he tried to envision which roads and exits would be coming up. They never seemed to make a turn. All he could feel was the vibration of the truck, accentuated by the potholes in the road. Occasionally the fireman felt the bundle behind him shift slightly. Logan, too, tried to reposition himself, especially when he started losing the feeling in his arms and legs. "Aren't we ever going to stop?" the forlorn captive wondered.
He was starting to feel desperation again and tears began welling up in his eyes. "No one's going to let me live after this," he reasoned. "I'm probably being taken out into the country to be shot and left in the forest for the animals to eat." The idea of being ungraciously devoured suddenly, completely revolted him. The bulky fireman struggled again with all his might against the bindings. The bundle next to him squirmed and he could hear a very muffled scream come from it. It definitely sounded female.
Don't get your panties all in a knot, Logan screamed a thought at her. I'm not trying to molest you. My God, I've got to get out of here! His mind raced with every horrifying scenario he could come up with and his body felt like one big tense knot. Then a vision, clearer than the rest, exploded into his mind. The horrified Irishman could almost see himself being run through with a spear. Logan could feel the splintering wooden handle ripping through his abdomen. The fearful realization that he was dying and would never see his lover again consumed him. He wanted to vomit, but wasn't in much of a position to do that. Managing to keep it down, Logan allowed the vision to play itself out. A little voice in the back of his head whispered through the din, "I'm still alive! And I intend to stay that way!"
Still they kept driving. He felt like they'd been cooped up for days. Sooner or later we'll have to stop for gas, Logan thought. Oh God, he had just filled both fuel tanks on his way home the night before. We can go a long way on that, he groaned to himself. I know we can go at least six hundred miles before we have to get fuel again.
Morgan woke with a start to the sound of the ringing telephone. Should she answer it? Yeah, Logan might be calling to say good morning.
"Hello," she answered sleepily.
"Hi, uh, can I speak to Logan Keohane please?" an unrecognized man's voice responded.
"I'm sorry but he left for work already. You can probably reach him at the fire station."
"This is Captain Riley, Logan's station Captain. He hasn't made it in to work yet. We just wanted to make sure that he was awake. I know he's probably still adjusting to having to come to work, so I wanted to be sure he didn't forget that he was supposed to be here today. Can you tell me about what time he left? We can't let his relief man off until he shows up."
"Jeez, he should have been there a long time ago," the suddenly worried lass informed the Captain. She sat up in the bed. "Logan left here a little after five thirty. I hope he's all right." "Five thirty, huh? How far away do you live from here?"
"I don't live. . . I mean we only live twenty or thirty minutes away. What time is it?" she quickly glanced at the clock. "It's almost seven. He should've been there long ago." She pulled her knees up to her chest and felt all of the muscles in her body go tense.
"Maybe he just had car trouble or something. What route does he normally take to work?"
"Ah. . . I think he. . . I think he just comes straight down I-45 south to the exit where the station is." Morgan's mind was suddenly rampant with possibilities.
"I'll do some checking around to see if we can find him. He's probably just stalled out or something. Thanks for the information. I'm sorry I had to wake you so early on Sunday morning."
"Captain, please have him call me as soon as you hear from him. Please. It's not like him to. . ." she cut herself short.
"Don't worry, I'll have him call."
"Bye," Morgan answered worriedly, hanging up the phone. She stared blankly around the brightening room. Suddenly, an intriguing idea crossed her mind, "Maybe he sat down in the living room and fell asleep on the couch."
Morgan slipped out of the warm bed, quickly pulling the T-shirt over her head that Logan had given her to sleep in. A slight hope of finding him asleep on the couch kindled inside her. She'd sneak in and attack him. Maybe even tease him about falling asleep on his way to work.
But, what if he wasn't? The uneasy redhead hesitated before walking through the bedroom door. Mustering all her courage, she stepped through the dimly lit opening.
Holding her breath, Morgan walked into the living room. Disappointment swept through her like a cold wind. What little hope she had held on to felt like it ran out of her toes into the sparsely furnished room. Her knees weakened and she sank to the floor. A dark panic set in, numbing her senses. The grief stricken woman rocked back and forth with her knees to her chest, wishing her tears would come. They would help wash away her heartache. Instead she felt an empty, almost descriptionless shock.
Regaining her composure, Morgan tried to reassure herself that nothing was really amiss. "Logan just had car trouble," she kept telling herself. "This is all silly. I'm just a needless worry wart," the hopeful lass forced a hollow laugh that stuck in her throat. Scanning the small living room, she looked over the odd pieces of furniture scattered throughout the room. A measure of warmth returned to her as images of love and beauty that were once played out in that very space crossed her memory. A sacred bond created by the ritual event they had performed there left unmistakable traces of love and beauty permeating everything. "Come back to me, Logan."
After several minutes, she stood up and made her way into the kitchen. The aroma of brewed coffee drifted through the small apartment. "Logan must have made it for me before he left," she whispered to herself. "When he left. . . ." her eyes moistened involuntarily.
Morgan reached for a coffee cup through misty eyes. Her actions were pretty much on automatic, pouring herself a cup of the hot brew. When she replaced the pot in the machine, there was a little slip of paper sitting on the counter beside it. Trembling, the anticipatory girl opened Logan's note. Her tears began flowing freely.
She sank to the kitchen floor, holding the note up to her breast like her last spark of life. Thinking wasn't even possible right now. Everything was feeling, total emotion. "He'll be back for me," the lass repeated over and over.
Morgan was really learning what love was about. It wasn't a fixation on someone, needing to spend every second in their presence. Neither was it an insatiable desire to be another's whole life, asking that either of them give up friends, family or dreams as a proof of their devotion. Love was simply a knowing of what was right and good for her. An assuredness that the partner she had chosen was in alignment with her hopes and dreams, as she was with his. Together they could live life, committed and true to each other. True love was a purity of feeling, needing no explanation nor the approval of anyone. Real love defied logic. She knew Logan far exceeded this description. They would be together for a lifetime. There was no room for doubt. He would always be back for her.
Morgan's tears ceased, bringing about a calmness she didn't completely understand. Inexplicably, the faithful redhead just knew that everything would be all right. No matter what the situation looked like at this moment, all was well. Logan would be back, he wouldn't leave her love. His devotion was a feeling that she could rely on. One that could brighten up even the darkest of moments. Carefully Morgan folded the note, picked up the cup of coffee and moved to the small couch in the living room. Nothing could take her love away, a small voice echoed deep in the calming young woman's mind. She began to feel at peace, a smile tracing softly across her tear stained face.
Logan was once again entrenched in deep despair. He envisioned all kinds of horrible ways of dying alone. The worst was still having his body left to be eaten by the wild animals of the forest. He could almost feel the rodents knawing on his rotting bones.
God, I'm morbid. the fireman chastised himself. I've got to think positive thoughts. He forced the memory of his recent life with Morgan. Now she was someone to live for! He could overcome unthinkable odds to return to the side of his love.
Slowly his mind progressed through the events of the day bringing to mind the miracles of the past two weeks. All the way from the most wondrous experience of my life to the most horrid in a matter of hours, he thought sullenly. A vivid vision of the note he had left for Morgan filled his vision, flooding his memory with his solemn commitment and promise- I won't ever leave you, Morgan. I'm coming back for you, Morgan. I swear, somehow I'll be back at your side. I really do love you. Nothing will keep us apart, erupted through his whole being with a faith that felt as true in that moment as anything ever had.
He could almost hear Morgan whisper in his ear; "I love you, Logan. I know you'll be back for me!" Peace filled his senses. Irrational peace. His mind followed by his entire body relaxed to the point where his numb extremities eased their torture. The spinning captive found comfort in the fact of still being alive and breathing. He drifted into a quiet slumber.
Morgan rubbed her eyes and stretched. Gingerly, she reopened the note that had been sitting on the arm of the couch next to her. It was rapidly becoming her most treasured gift. The warmth and passion of her early morning love making with Logan played wantonly through her mind. She could somehow still feel the closeness, the sensation of being totally alive and one with him. It was something totally new to her. Morgan had felt connection with other men in the past but never even close to the oneness, the integration of spirits that she had with Logan.
"That's what's possible every day," the self-assured woman reminded herself. "That's the way life should be. Now I have someone to share my life and soul with."
Absently, she stroked the tweed covering of the couch as if pulling the very feel of Logan from the place he normally sat. Her hand moved slowly to the T-shirt that Logan had given her to wear. Morgan set the letter on the couch beside her and hugged the shirt as if he were the one inside it. Suddenly another wave of sadness swept over her.
"Oh, Logan. You will come back to me, won't you?" Doubts again began to intrude upon her serenity. Her active mind was serving up fantasies of unpleasant scenarios. Was she going crazy? She had felt so assured of the situation only moments before.
Morgan's mind played every scene possible, from Logan's truck being broken down, to him lying bloodied, mangled and dead somewhere on the side of the road. Suddenly the landscape changed. To her surprise and loathing, the same terrible scene that had surfaced at the end of their Hand fasting ritual streaked across her memory. Logan's face was again somehow changed, yet she knew that it was him. The outcome was the same, he was lying beside her, holding her. Men on horses charged them. Her lover fought bravely to protect her from their assailants, only to die in battle. She was left alone and heartbroken in the clutches of fear. She gasped for breath, feeling like a freight train had just run over her. Logan's face became superimposed on the dead bleeding body in her vision, leaving her in writhing agony.
If this was really a memory of Logan showing itself from some other existence, playing itself out once more at a different place in time, how could she avoid the inevitable? Did this mean he had to die again? Did all events like this have to play themselves out with the same results? Was her only course of action to make peace with his inevitable demise, to move on in life without regret or heartbreak? She couldn't even begin to believe that. Or, was this just another play on her imagination, an unconscious representation of a hidden fear being characterized in fairy tale symbolism? Whatever it was, it was true for her at that moment.
The determined redhead, however, was strong in her faith that he was coming back to her alive and well. Morgan could still feel the warmth of her lover's kiss, taste the love in it. She could smell the sweetness of flowers surrounding them. "Whatever is real about all of this," she told him aloud, "the outcome is still to be created. The choice is now mine to await your return, Logan Keohane! I take you at your word, you will not leave me here alone!" The heaviness of her doubt lifted, leaving her still a bit confused, but somehow rekindling a sense of peacefulness and reassurance.
A smile crossed her face and again she knew, inexplicably certain, that he was all right. She could feel it, Logan would be back for her. Morgan smiled again, remembering something she had heard once said by a wise old man: "We, as individuals, are only one small link in an eternal chain. When one can become enough aware of this possibility, overcome the self-doubt of human nature, expanding their awareness in large enough scale, they can learn to feel the entire chain as a part of themselves. From that expanded awareness, each link of the chain is accessible, adding the feel and the knowledge of it's individuality to the whole. If we connect, at a deep enough level, with another being, we can feel their presence in the chain, no matter where they are."
Logan and she had touched souls, linking themselves together at a level far beyond mere physical human touch. Morgan could feel his desire for her until the last moment they were together. His presence still seemed to linger in her mind as a permanent beacon of Logan's love and commitment. Peacefully, she stood up to get another cup of coffee.
The telephone rang as she started toward the kitchen. There he is, she thought. Hurriedly, the brightening redhead made her way into the small room, snatching up the receiver. She was expecting to hear Logan's voice apologizing for not calling her sooner and was getting prepared to pretend she was mad at him. Then she would lavish him with loving words. "Hello," she panted briskly. "Logan?"
"No, I'm sorry, this is Scott, Scott Turnbull, down at the fire station. I work with Logan. We wanted to call to see if you had heard from him yet."
It took Morgan several seconds to regroup. She felt as if her breath had just been sucked out of her once more. Her heart raced with a sudden shot of adrenaline. Slowly, she inhaled fully and deeply. "No...uh, no I still haven't heard anything from him either. Would you let me know as soon as you find out anything?"
"Yes ma'am. Soon as we hear something I'll call you right back," he informed her in a very serious voice.
"Thanks," Morgan hung up the phone despondently, feeling only her heartbeat returning to normal. After pouring herself another cup of hot coffee, she returned to the friendly couch.
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