Banten

BANTEN

Richard Watkins

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2015 Richard Watkins

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading the book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents:

1. BANTEN

2. The Homecoming

3. Fred

4. Banten

5. Life

6. Stolen

7. Gone

8. Watching

9. Blood

10. When the Shadows Dance

11. Curiosity

12. Lucy

13. Alone

14. Rangda

15. After the Fire

BANTEN

Deep black eyes held her gaze. How could she ever have thought they were lifeless? As she stared into them, through the reflection of the window beside her, she could feel herself losing awareness of the world around her as the enamelled orbs seemed to grow and fill her vision until they were all that she could see.

The flaming features of the small wooden face were just a vague frame for the jet black pools, infinitely deep, openings into another dimension; a dimension she would soon come to understand, though she knew now that there was nothing in this world that she could do. It was far too late for that.

Her clothes folded neatly on the bed upstairs, she sat naked, cross legged in front of the statue so that their eyes were level; her actions governed not by her. There was a slight chill in the air which pursed her nipples, though she was barely aware of this, as she was unaware of the trickles of sweat that ran down her back from time to time.

Though in her thirties now her body was still young, benefited by good skin care and a relatively careful diet; breasts that were still round and full, having never been too large, though they carried a few small stretch marks from both her pregnancies. Pregnancy had left her with a bit of a belly too, but Robert had always said it made her more attractive and used to lay his hands on her there in a gesture that was almost pure love. Oh, how she missed him.

There was none of the flabbiness in her upper arms that some women acquire as they cross into middle age and she sat naturally upright, rather than slouched, which made her look elegantly posed.

That was probably the best way to describe her, elegant. When she walked she had an easy glide, with her shoulders and back straight and chin raised. It wasn’t a conscious thing, just the way she was and let her height make its full impact. Long fingernails, her own of course, finished off long, strong fingers and hands; purposeful, work-like hands that were nonetheless utterly feminine.

These hands lay loosely on her thighs, framing her pubic hair, and further framed themselves by her long crossed legs. A thin film of moisture developed between her palms and the skin of her thighs, the rest of her skin becoming cold as her perspiration evaporated.

Shivering briefly, soft, downy hairs raised themselves as her breathing became heavier and faster; her chest and abdomen increasing their activity as the rest of her body relaxed, to the point where any movement seemed impossible. Her head fell forward slightly, but her eyes were still transfixed by the little windows into eternity. They were almost opposite, her bright grey eyes and the brilliant black that held her entranced, like Yin and Yang.

Some of her hair, which too usually had an easy, but undefined style, fell down over her face; she did not notice this, but she did feel the hair at the back of her head try to stand on end as she felt another presence appear behind her; something terrible she knew.

She was vaguely aware of the urine escaping from her as her right hand, not her dominant, moved from her thigh and grasped the handle of the cooks knife that had until now been resting with its handle on her calves and the end of its blade touching her labia. As she picked it up a drop of her urine fell from its tip.

With her eyes never wavering from their gaze she held the knife up, blade toward her. She held it there for a few seconds as she stopped breathing.

Then plunged the knife inwards...

The Homecoming

Here he came, the man of her dreams.

Not some bronzed Adonis, but an average height, more than average weight, slightly balding man who had once had a very handsome face that now always looked like it wore its age. He appeared somewhat flustered as he made his way towards them; he hadn’t seen them yet, and she knew this would be why.

When they had first met she wasn’t very sure of him and for the life of her she could not understand why now, possibly just that he was a man; she had been hurt before and was dubious about going down that road again. They had met three times at various gatherings, through a mutual friend, before she had reluctantly agreed to go out with him. Now she could not imagine being with anyone else.

It wasn’t often that she had the opportunity to properly look at him from a distance and so hesitated now before letting him know where they were. She regarded him now with a clarity of vision born by their separation.

Robert Maitland stood around five feet ten and had a strong presence. When he had been younger he would have been described as athletic, though this was not really true, he was blessed with a reasonable frame and did not carry too much weight. Now it was his increasing girth coupled with his broad shoulders that gave him an air of command, though again he did not appear fat. He had a naturally stern face when it was passive, though it always surprised her how this disappeared as soon as his eyes became animated. Above this was his still black hair which he wore combed back from his face, adding to his appearance when seen from the front, but if viewed from behind was thinning considerably around the crown. He kept it long enough to partially cover this and thought himself lucky he still had enough at the front to pull it off without looking stupid.

He had caught the sun whilst he had been away, a conference in Bali of all places, but it was hotter back home in England and as well as the sunburn his face looked flushed with the heat, his loose shirt sticking to his chest. The fact that he was overburdened didn’t seem to be helping either, he was dragging his new Samsonite case (especially useful for sledging down mountains apparently) on its wheels and had his, also new, non-crease suit carrier slung over his shoulder. This would not have been so bad if he hadn’t been trying to hold onto a small brown parcel tucked under his arm.

There he is! shouted Lucy.

She started to wave frantically, closely followed by Michael, the younger of the two, as he saw his daddy coming towards them.

Her shout caught his attention and Robert’s face suddenly became happy again as he saw them. He gave a feeble sort of wave with the few digits he had free and quickened his pace.

The rest of the crowd in the arrivals area of Manchester airport seemed to vanish as he came up to them. Nothing in the world, except the children of course, meant anywhere near as much to her as this man, who, despite his faults, was perfect to her eyes which saw through the skin to the man inside.

As he reached them, he put both cases down and the parcel on top before kneeling down and hugging the children both together. She couldn’t understand why, but something seemed odd about that action. Her expectation was that he would give it to one of them, but instead it was as if it was private. The thought was only in her head for a fraction of a second, then it was gone and he was turning to her.

Oh God I’ve missed you so much! she whispered as they embraced. She suddenly felt as if he had been away forever, but it had only been a week. Tears started to well up in her eyes and she held him as tightly as she could, inhaling deeply, taking in his scent – a familiar combination of pheromones, Paco Rabanne aftershave and faint fresh tobacco. He still rubbed his own for his pipe. He always smelled clean, even when he was sweating, like he was now, it wasn’t that awful smell that men who weren’t as attentive to their hygiene as he was had.

She felt the stirring within herself as her heart rate quickened and her cheeks flushed the first signals of her desire.

They kissed, her lips parted so that their tongues met briefly. She wanted to plunge her tongue into his mouth, but neither of them approved of such behaviour in front of the children, or in public for that matter. They released their embrace and looked at each other, she feeling almost breathless, the bonds between them obviously as strong as ever they were and then the moment was gone. There would be other times like this to come, but eventually it would be this time that she remembered with the most clarity.

They left arrivals and headed for the car park arm in arm.

There she was, Evelyn Maitland, by any standard a