The Samurai's Dream

The old samurai had been traveling north for so long he'd lost track of the days. A lifetime of loyal service had ended with the old Emperor's death and now he was free to do as he chose. Lacking any commitments or connections he had chosen solitude and a half-formed desire to find something lost long ago. As he rode his mind wandered, reaching back to the days of his youth and to the woman he had loved.

He had been a brash young man when he first arrived at the Emperor's palace, headstrong and fearless in the face of an armed enemy. But he found life at the palace more intimidating than the battlefield, especially the flock of young and exquisite ladies who fluttered around the Empress like brilliant little birds, tittering and gossiping. However, he soon found himself captivated by one particular pair of mischievous eyes and a teasing smile. She was not the most beautiful lady of the court, but her liveliness and animation lingered with him long after she had vanished in a swirl of silk, like the scent of the gardenia she always wore in her long hair. He was helpless to resist when she finally lured him behind the painted screen in her room and they began to share long nights of sexual exploration and discovery.

As a lover, she never stopped surprising and delighting him with her lively imagination. He recalled the time she invited him to a special private supper in her room. When he slid the door open and stepped inside he was greeted by a most delectable sight. She was lying nude on colorful silk robes surrounded by small, flickering lanterns and she had made a serving platter of her own lovely body, thin slices of the freshest and rarest raw fish strategically arranged on her pale flesh. It was a slow and sensuous meal as he nibbled his way down, starting with the first piece at the base of her delicate throat. He consumed his meal slowly as he inflamed her with his lips and tongue, occasionally sharing a piece with her – a small gift from his lips that turned into a soft and yielding kiss. By the time he plucked the last translucent slice from between her nether lips she was trembling on the brink of orgasm. The fish was infused with her own fragrant juices and the heady combination compelled him to continue feasting there. When his lips sucked in the succulent morsel of her clitoris, her hips rose to meet his mouth and she moaned and quaked as her climax consumed her.

When she recovered she playfully pushed him onto his back and announced it was time for her own feast, seeing as how he had already eaten. She took a drink of warm sake and fed it to him from her own mouth. She dribbled trails of the wine over his skin and followed them with her tongue, tracing the white lines of battle scars as well as sensitive untouched places that fed his arousal like lines of fire. When she finally reached his straining erection he raised his head to watch. She met his eyes with her pointed tongue poised just at the tip of his penis. Then with a sly wink she hid the scene from his view behind a curtain of glossy black hair, forcing his attention on the sense of touch alone, with no way to anticipate or predict what she would do next. Butterfly flicks of her tongue were followed by long slithering strokes along the shaft. Delicate nibbling was followed by the sudden heat and wet of her mouth enveloping his length. When her slim fingers joined this intricate dance it was too much for him and he arched up, sending streams of hot seed into her waiting throat.

As he swam slowly from his reverie into the present, it took a few minutes to recall that she was long gone and now he was old and alone, traveling north as if that would somehow bring her back to him across all those years. The rocky terrain was rising through dense pine forest, the upper branches shredding the cold mist. It had started to snow lightly and the small, fluttering white flakes reminded him of the falling petals from the cherry trees that graced the Emperor's gardens. It had been springtime when he returned from a long, bitter campaign on a day that changed his life forever. Although he was battle-weary and sore, he rushed to see her as he always did, wanting to lose the memories of violence in the soft, peaceful circle of her embrace. But this time, he found her room empty, her belongings gone. When he tried to find out what had happened, he learned that she had been married off to a powerful warlord in the north. She had done something to displease the Empress, but he never learned what it was. In the end it didn't matter; she was still alive somewhere, but as lost to him as if she were dead. Something died in him that day. He went on to become a fierce and relentless general in the Emperor's army, feared by his enemies, trusted by his men. But he never loved again and he never married.

Now he had no one but himself and no purpose except to put one foot in front of the other in hopes of finding... what? Her? Peace? Release? He had no idea.

It was snowing harder now and the forest was beginning to darken with the approach of night. He would need to find shelter soon. As he trudged up the narrow trail he came to the opening of a cave and peered in. It was dry and unoccupied. It would do. He built a small fire and boiled water for rice while he watched the snow fall outside the entrance of the cave. Afterwards, he slept.

He awoke sometime later, sensing he was not alone. He was instantly on guard, old soldier's instincts taking over. It had stopped snowing and bright moonlight streamed into the cave. A figure was kneeling by his side and his heart stopped in a rush of recognition. It was her, unchanged and beautiful, long black hair hanging loose. Her heavy silk robes rustled softly as she leaned toward him and the scent of the impossible gardenia tucked behind her ear filled his senses. He stared in wonder. Where had she come from? How had she found him? She silenced his unspoken questions with a touch of her fingers on his lips.

When she opened her robe her skin was like a white flame in the moonlight. He reached out a hand and his fingers instantly recalled that familiar yielding softness. She was so responsive, her body arching toward his fingers as if pulled by an invisible thread. She untied his robe and spread it open. Everywhere her fingers trailed she left a trail of fire that banished the cold and peeled away the years, bringing back the hot stirrings of youth. She bent down to him as he cupped her small breasts and kissed him beneath the tent of her hair while he stroked her hard nipples with his thumbs. His fingers slid from her breasts, slipping under the silk robe, stroking the smooth skin of her back and clasping her to him, tentatively at first and then more fervently when she didn't vanish in a puff of smoke. Her body was solid and warm as she lay against him. He rolled her onto her back and gazed down into her dark eyes. She murmured his name and pulled him into a more passionate kiss, burying her hands in his long, tangled hair. When at last he entered her, her warm, soft wetness enveloped him like a glad welcome home after a long, weary journey. He wept at the sweetness of it and she tasted the tears on his face as she had the droplets of sake all those years before.

They began a slow, unhurried rocking together. The act of lovemaking became a meditation that took on an existence of its own, apart from any sense of themselves as man or woman. Their bodies, their movements, their breathing were perfectly matched. They lost themselves in that motion, not striving for any goal but simply allowing themselves to be carried along a slowly rising spiral ecstasy. He could feel her arousal as if it were his own, growing in her as his own arousal grew within him. He felt as if they were rising up into the sky, expanding into space. Their climax, when it found them, was an effortless and inevitable release – an outpouring of their essences into each other and letting go at last...

Two figures struggled up the steep trail looking for shelter from a sudden heavy downpour. They spied a cave entrance and they headed for it. Inside, they stomped the chill away and wrung out their wet clothes. One began to explore the cave and soon called out to the other who hurried to see what he had found. Before them, on the floor of the cave was the body of a man from another age. Not much remained but bones, hair and the tattered remnants of ancient samurai armor. Their attention was drawn to a white object cradled in the curl of bones that had been his hand.

It was a gardenia, as fresh as if it had just been picked.