Perhaps Its Love Strange Behavior Chapters 14 And 15

Writen by Dennis Siluk

A month had passed and Tasma was becoming like one of the household fixtures one might say. Everyone seemed to adjust to her, although she was as quiet as a field mouse, and there wasn't all that much to have to adjust to.

—Tasma had found out some secrets, although she didn't fully understand them about Mr. and Mrs. Belmont at first; one thing being, was that she had a miscarriage some years back, as Jill had told Tasma one night after work while intoxicated, that is why she was an only child, like her; thus adding to her hysterectomy; and ever since that, her moods changed, and she became more mysterious, and thereabouts, some kind of love triangle had developed around her life style. Tasma listened with wide open ears, and made no judgments, something that Jill admired of her, thinking she'd be quite the opposite at first. Jill even explained they'd go to the bar, and even though they proclaimed to be in love with one another, they'd end up with other folks for pleasure only.

Up to this point, Tasma had not said anything to Jill, nor intended to, but her mother [her being: Jill] had looked at her several times with provocative eyes, and possibly that was why Jill was telling Tasma; that is, it would be too hard sober to say such things, to give a warning, and she needed to protect Tasma for some reason, or felt she had to, and at the same time not destroy her relationship or integrity with her parents. It was all new for Tasma, she had heard of such things (as sexual shades), but didn't know how it worked; that sex could be used for highs and boredom, and stress release; for she was still caught into the romantic stage of love to be.

But she also understood, people were just not faces in the distance, they were a conglomeration of a multi-mixture of experiences and ills, and trials in life. Like Mr. Belmont had been to the WWII, and the Korean War, and had his problems with growing old, illnesses and so forth.

On another note, Tasma had noticed the crudeness of Mrs. Belmont on occasion, in her silent stares, and movements; an instinctive kind of humanity which she guessed released her sense of guilt for her vulgar lifestyle. But had Tasma known the full of it, she'd had never been able to stay on, for what it was worth, Jill knew, and what she knew was what her mother had asked: "I should imagine what a young virgin like Tasma would feel like."

Jill's reply was crude, but she felt a need to say it: "She's from quite a different class—(thus, she had in a way cut herself down along with her mother, at of course their expense; but her anxiety over the matter needed some resolve, and she felt forced to take such a course, and take care of Tasma).

—Tasma had gotten the job Jill was telling Tommy about at the bar, on call, for the most part, filling in for Tommy or Jill, or on Saturdays, and would normally not work when there was a big crowd, but mostly during the afternoons when food was being served and drinks.

—Johnny had written Jill 'I have left my wife, Sharon…' and she told Tasma in private this, and that he was heading out west. Tommy was working, it was in the evening she came out with the news, and she read it to her in Tasma's room: 'May stop by Seattle for a short visit, hope you don't mind.' For some reason, Tasma seemed more earnest to confide in than Tommy. "He has the address, took it off the envelope," said Jill.

Said Tasma in a solemn voice, "But I thought you'd like this, I mean I told him you were talking about him, and I told him about Tommy, and you kind of hinted it would be all right." She looked worried now.

"Oh, yes, yes, it's more than all right; I'm just not sure how to handle this with Tommy."

"Oh he'll understand, Tommy and Johnny, I mean he's just stopping by for old time's sake." Jill looked at Tasma as if to say: you just don't know.

15 Strange Meeting

At a café down by the pier—by the Pikes Market, overlooking the Puget-Sound, Tasma found a place to relax with a cup of coffee, a strong latte—second floor overlooking the busyness below: she had three shots in her latte, and a pastry (roll). The window she sat next to, with her legs crossed, allowed a cheerful sun to look in, she absorbed it as she continued for some moments. A light rain drizzled: sprinkled about the open marketplace—and it blurred her view somewhat looking out the window; her focus was soften a modest sum, yet she could still see all the colorful patterns life had to offer in the busy marketplace.

The remains of her roll [pastry] rested beside her hot latte, mostly uneaten, close by her left elbow. She was lost in the sun and rain, 'what a mixture,' she told herself. Had anyone seen her eyes, they were saying, 'leave me be… (leave me be)' for she had no other wish than to be alone at this moment, to regenerate. And this she felt as she sat by the window (removed from humanity), forlorn, untalkative. Although in general, her external countenance registered only a little minor discomfort with life.

'Reality,' she thought, 'why don't I think in retrospect? How are dad, and mom doing: but they are as they always are—fine!' she answered herself. 'Hence, what more could there be, it all comes to being, unsurprised.'

Now having put those thoughts aside, the young woman went back to gazing out the window. She was not irresolute about if she should have parted ways in Minnesota with her family, but possibly looking to see if there was any guilt (or should there be some guilt) and found none in the process; none that was crushing, only a speck of: I hope I didn't cause you much worry. But she was unwilling to say it herself, to them. But she was glad in an awkward way, Jill had taken it upon herself to phone them: thinking, one can grow old fast with worry.

As she blinked her eyes back into focus, the sun was well up; it was turning out to be a humid day.

She had on a pretty red dress with a white blouse, Jill was lending her some of her cloths recently, until she had enough money to buy some, they seemed to fit, even though Tasma was an inch or so taller than her, a few pounds heavier perhaps. As she continued to sip her coffee, she kind of mulled over other thoughts as well: thoughts of where she was going, wanted to go and the miracle of actually doing what she did: it was becoming reality for her, she was in Seattle, working, at Jill's house, and she was liking Tommy; not as a boyfriend (she convinced herself), but as a good person to talk to, a friend that was a boy. It wasn't normal for her to have such a good relationship with boys without expecting them to bother her forever thereafter: wanting something in return: so she'd say what she'd have to say (sometimes whatever they wanted to hear), and look elsewhere, often pretending to be in outer space, not interested (and she wasn't), save for the fact, if she needed information in school, and now at the bar.

Mr. Belmont, George, and his wife Ann both seemed to be taking a closer look at her recently, or so she concluded in her forenoon thoughts; hopefully with no wrong intentions, but they were taking a livelier interest in her nonetheless, it was obvious, and something to think about, she concluded and tucked it away in another department in her mind.

In addition, she applauded herself for helping around the house, and buying some groceries, adding them to the refrigerator so others in the household could have them. She simply looked at what she could afford, and saw what was missing and added the same amount that was previously there: and whispered to Jill, she had contributed.

Tasma had a more encircling built than Jill, not too thin, but healthy, and was wearing a light casual coat of Jill's today. She had fixed her small purse with the long strap and held it tightly in front of her as if she had got used to it long ago, but added a second hand to harness it more securely, wherever she'd go now.

As she continued to drink her latte, and look out the window, it was starting to be a drably day.

—Came a princely looking lady, mostly in black, as if she was a business person, wearing a sharp looking hat, and black skirt, a white blouse, with a ash-black stripped suit coat to match the skirt; she had dark short hair, looked to be at least twenty-nine, thought Tasma. There was a womanly beauty about her, well traveled she presupposed, but also she had a strangeness she couldn't put her finger on. Her eyes caught hers, and they seemed to be hypnotic. She looked quite polished and content with herself, too much so for her liking. "Hullo," she said with a cigarette in her hand; then added with an out going smile, "Aren't you just the cattiest little thing in Seattle?" Tasma was star-struck; her eyes were as big as owl's. The lady in black stood in front of her table against the window like a melting pillar. "I'm all alone sweetheart, can I sit and talk to you a moment, I'm just plain bored."

—There was a significant pause: the women in black spoke, with marked reserve to her insides (inside her mind and her body). She was right in believing (in her thinking) that this young female to be a young heart lost in the rain; she looked as if she was softly falling with the rain, as pretty as a sparrow, yet lost, so she told her cramping bowels. On the other hand, her heart was on the opposite side of the rainbow from hers in that she was seeking to make a web, for she had seen herself as the spider, and the young lady as the fly and her intestinal, emotional craving, were becoming over-stimulated. At this point, she had seen enough to sense the young woman had womanly needs—unmet, and was naïve on where they would come from. Yet the lady in black would not allow any misgivings, and went softly about weaving her web.

(Tasma's surmises were based on her Christian belief, not to believe the worse in people.) As the lady gazed into Tasma's eyes deeper, she produced a strangled silence in Tasma; almost a paranoia crossed her mind's eye, then cramps in her stomach appeared, then a peaceful passing came about between the two women (yet she kept her mind thinking on the young lady: perfect tact is required, her own loneliness shows proof to me ((she said)) that discrimination to which: only the best is tolerable.) She felt Tasma was at present an open window, an enchanted land to be discovered.

Before she could say a word, she swallowed, as she continued sitting at her table with her pastry and latte in front of her. The Lady in Black seemed to lean forward a little, her breast slowly emerged out of her blouse, and a loose bra allowed a better focus to their fullness, all in Tasma's direction. Tasma had never really seen another woman's breasts so perniciously; she kind of wiped her brow after witnessing the curvature of her upper form, wiped her brow as if it was releasing sweat—but it wasn't, it was just an automatic reaction: although she was feeling warm in the cafe, it was really cool; her body functions were out of control. You could see the lady was watching Tasma's breasts go in and out as she breathed, she knew they were high mounted breasts, firm and so she kept her posture to their level.

'What now,' Tasma thought. It would seem by the looks of this, she had found this overbearing and confusing. On one hand she wanted to be polite, but was torn on how to get rid of her, thus, on the other hand she could just get up and leave, and that was that, which was going through her mind also.

Tasma had on a green woolen sweater over her red dress. It was tight on her, from being worn-out, with some shrinkage: Leonora could tell it was not by design. It gave her a slight provocative look that didn't belong to her face. Leonora could plainly see the maturity of her developing form within her bosoms. (The café was playing music over it loud speakers: 'Light My Fire,' by the Doors and it seemed to be a help in arousing physical reactions from the two females.)

—They talked somewhere between five and ten minutes, not long, but long enough to acquire a bonding, when she said (after introducing herself as Ms Leonora London): "I have movies at my apartment, would you like to come over and watch them with me?" Tasma hesitated (looking at the gulls flying high outside the window over towards the sea; the winds breaking their patterns in flight); it actually sounded good, inviting, she was bored and maybe that was all to it. But there had to be more she thought, but she brushed that thought away as she had done on the train when she was half dreaming and someone had cut her strap on her purse (but that didn't occur to her ((the replay of such an incident)), it is I who it occurred to).

"You can leave anytime you want no big deal, just company, a drink and whatever."

Tasma thought: why not, she might help in interpreting Tommy and Jill for me. It could be a good afternoon; and so she nodded her head yes, "Sure," came out of her mouth almost as jarred as she looked "But I got to get back to my cousin's house before dark, or Tommy and the Belmont's will be worried about me." I think she added that in there because she wanted Ms London to know she was not alone in this worldly city, and should any harm come to her, there'd be a price to pay. But Leonora just smiled as if she won the Kentucky Derby, and within a moment's time they were at her apartment.

It was a lovely place thought Tasma, as she got a grand tour of Ms London's apartment; another lady was in the living room as she made the tour, and everything, and everywhere she looked was white, the sofa, the chairs, tables, a beautiful gold chess set that rested on a pedestal, that was also white along with the curtains, and the other woman, whom was not as handsome as Leonora, a little heavier formed, commented, after eyeing Tasma up, "I hate to go, but I got business to attended to, have fun girls…" and after an introduction she was gone.

—Ms London came in with tea, a small plate of crackers and cookies. She winked an eye at Tasma, with a fleeting concealment which had some conscience about it. She turned the movie on, in her private room, a screen a few feet away from where Tasma was sitting, 8mm-film going, and the movie started, it was a woman and a man making love, and slowly undressing (it was being used for stimulating the environment).

The chair was comfortable, not as soft as Jill's but comfortable and wide for movement of her legs. It was an odd room thought Tasma, and everything so clean and white. It looked similar to a movie star's apartment.

Tasma, she at present, smoothed the hem of her dress over her knees; she had opened her coat up, but not taken it off yet.

"Now I must hurry up," she commented at Tasma's palpable silence.

Tasma picked up her cup of tea, raised it to her lips, before becoming aware of Ms London's cool hands opening up her legs by moving her thighs to the corners of the chair. She now was kneeling on the floor in front of Tasma, whom seem to be in a moment of darkness, if not a helpless sense of mortification. The movie was going and she caught herself watching it, trying to concentrate at the same time, detached with what was happening. Her skirt was moved up to her waist and two of her buttons were opened showing her bra and the shape of her high breasts. She felt a cramp in her spine and female negativism; this was the first defensive person she had ever encountered. Yet a part of her was interested. She now looked at the strange lady she had come to meet; she had a deep tan to her face, and an accelerated look about the eyes.

As London looked up at Tasma, she looked so guarded that even she thought this was too personal an intrusion, but she continued aloud she said, "Open your legs, and open up wider!"

Tasma was only thinking with one part of her mind. Her flesh was open to Leonora's hands, she was lordly indifferent to her emotional state, she wanted pleasure, and wanted to produce it so she could watch Tasma quiver, if not get turned on herself. She pulled the secret of her imagination down to her knees.

-–Tasma spoke, unknowingly, something inaudibly; with a slight over-stressed courteous manner of hers, her inner nervousness of the moment was paralyzing in knots her stomach with a sexual drive she never knew she had, her hormones were jumping like crazy, she felt as if she needed to go to the bathroom, but it wasn't it, she was discovering instinctively her cramps were from the bowels of her sex.

Seized by a pubescent uneasiness, she stood up, uncertain, fixed her nylons, and pulling herself together, unhappily she hurried out of the room to the door which led out of the apartment. Ms London did not follow, nor did Tasma look back.

See Dennis' web site: http://dennissiluk.tripod.com