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For the Moment copyright 2001, by Sacara
Blue
eyes searching around –– she was in an elevator. It
was four foot square, a plush carpet, underneath elegant Gucci shoes,
stained and worn by hundreds of feet coming in from anywhere, trailing
muddy suitcases after them. The
walls were covered in the ruddy soft carpet and a dim lamp was the only
light source in the tiny roof. One wall was mirrored. Why that –– do
they try to make the place seem bigger? If so, they never succeeded. A
soft creaking noise –– the lift suddenly came to a standstill. Not
again. She
strained her ears to hear any sound of the elevator moving, but in vain.
This elevator was dead, as dead as her early childhood belief in an
honest government. Stuck again in a minute elevator in the back of her
former place of work, the FBI building. Dizziness
seized her like a huge wave and in her head the recurring images of her
past: the cellar in Gumb’s house, all those disgusting moths ––
multiple Miggs cracking up in his dark cell, then Ivelda falling again
and again in slow motion the baby pressed to her body after the deadly
shot ...dizzy so dizzy ... Krendler, with his brain uncovered gleaming
in candlelight –– then the most painful piece of the jigsaw puzzle:
Brigham, lying there on the street, dead. Her ally, her friend. No, no
please not again. She couldn’t go through that all over again. ‘I
can’t breathe, I can’t breathe in here! Please, please, please,
GET THIS DAMN ELEVATOR RUNNING!’
She
bit her lower lip bloody, tasting the sweet tang of iron, the salt... Her
nails dug deeper into the callused spots of her petite hands. The
tiny room began to spin around. She was thrown against the four walls,
her pale horrified face flashing at her in the mirrored wall. Faster
and faster. Terrible details of her eventful life swept into her abused
mind.... stop, please stop.... With
a scream former Special Agent Clarice Starling, FBI, awoke from a
nightmare, a nightmare which has haunted her for a long time. It haunted
her like the unceasing screams of the lambs. Clarice
sat upright in her bed. Darkness surrounded her. Her eyes adjusted to
the darkness, outlines of her bedroom becoming apparent by the minimal
light of the moon. She
unclenched her fists the panic dissolved slowly. Clarice felt the sweat
beads on her forehead and wiped the now cool liquid off her face. Her
nightgown also wet from perspiration was stuck to the features of her
slender body. She
was so tired, tired of waking in the middle of the night, alone, waiting
to fall asleep again. This dream came to her out of the depth of her
consciousness like a dreadful monster that had crept out of the moor to
frighten people. Why
an elevator? Clarice couldn’t remember being afraid of confined
spaces, claustrophobia was never an issue. Then why this dream? Clarice
shook her head with resignation. With both hands she rubbed her tired
eyes. Maybe she really should ask him, but she was afraid. She
didn’t want him to see her as his patient. She had tried to tell him
lots of times and always backed out, because she wanted him as a man not
a doctor - if she needed treatment she could go to a psychiatrist.
Clarice scoffed, that was a lie of course, she would never in her life
make an appointment. Clarice
was certain that he would find a solution to her problem, but .... she
sighed deeply ... we’ll see! A
quick glance over her right shoulder at the watch on her nightstand made
her realize that sunrise was due in more than three hours. It was no use
trying to sleep now. The last times she had awaked out of this nightmare
it turned out to be a tossing and turning while brooding about the most
unconceivable things. Clarice stood up thinking that she could reflect
on the meaning of life another night. She
put on a dressing gown and went to the living room. She switched on the
lights to prevent from falling over one the boxes that were still
scattered about the room. Warm
light filled the huge room. Its high ceilings and big windows increasing
the effect. The room looked like an antique shop, the most beautiful
things were distributed over the space. Clarice
walked over to her favorite. It was the first precious gift she had
received from him. An antique bureau made from rosewood, she stroked the
smooth varnish of the piece. She just loved all the little drawers and
secret spaces the bureau provided. She
turned slowly around the room smiling to herself, everything reminded
her of him. Clarice
went into the kitchen to fetch herself a drink. She came back out with a
campari orange and sat down on the pompous maroon leather suite.
Goosebumps covered her delicate skin and she covered herself with a
blanket, feeling chilly all of a sudden. She
slid down just a few inches to lean her head against the soft material.
The drink tasted wonderful and fresh and for a moment Clarice just
closed her eyes. Former
agent Starling thought about the serious changes in her life. She
was free now. No longer did she have to tolerate the macho-like behavior
of her superiors that treated her like a nuisance from time to time. She
was her own boss now, what a satisfying feeling! And
even if she hadn’t her best friend Ardelia anymore, who she missed
sadly, the mere thought of him set her in a state of euphoria. Him of
course was Doctor Hannibal Lecter, her ... well .. what exactly should
she call him. She was with him now for almost 16 months
and that was all. Hannibal came and went whenever he liked, not saying
where he would go or where he had been, not even telling her how long he
intended to stay. He treated her with utmost generosity and of course
provided her with the most unimaginable gifts and all other needful
things, but there was not one single thing that he had revealed about
himself. When he was there, there was her apartment, or
when they went on a trip together to somewhere all over the world, they
surely held never-ending thoroughly intellectual discussions about
anything, but they never really talked. She had tried to but he
wouldn’t give her an inch. She
certainly loved him with all her heart, how else could she have stayed
with him, after what he had done, but she wanted more of him. She needed
him, especially in nights like tonight when she has waked up bathed in
sweat. Clarice
also knew that she feared to tell him about these thoughts, because she
didn’t know how he would react. He needed his newly gained freedom
more than the air he breathed and she was afraid that he needed it more
than her. If she challenged him to decide maybe he would leave her. And
that she wouldn’t be able to bear.
Her
glass was empty but Clarice was too exhausted to get another drink. She
put it on the table in front of her and leaned back again. “Where
are you now, Hannibal? Please if you can hear me, I need you tonight
more than ever!” all of a sudden she sensed that he would come
tonight. She just said it aloud to assure herself.
She
lay down on the broad couch and minutes later she fell asleep. A
key was turned in the lock and the door to her apartment opened.
Hannibal Lecter entered the room. He smelled the air and smiled. It
smelled like Clarice, his Clarice. It
was 6 days ago that he had done the same and he longed to hold her in
his arms again, touch her soft skin and breath in her unique scent. Hannibal
put his elegant long dark coat on a hanger and into the closet, then
walked through the hall to the living room. He noticed the lights there,
deep wrinkles appeared on his forehead. After
a quick look into the bedroom he noticed that she wasn’t in bed. He
was getting worried, why wasn’t she sound asleep in her warm bed at
2.30 a.m.? Lecter
found her on the couch in the living room, sleeping. He propped himself
on the back rest and just admired the sleeping beauty. She lay there
calmly, totally relaxed. ‘She’s all mine’ he thought and still not
quite believed it. With
the very tips of her fingers he stroked her cheek, it wasn’t more than
a feathery touch, because he didn’t want to wake her. Despite his
caution Clarice woke and opened her eyes.
Their
eyes met and if was like a firework. Nothing had changed since the first
time. A broad smile appeared on her beautiful face and she held out both
hands. “Come
here Hannibal!” it wasn’t a request.
Hannibal
went around the couch to lie down beside her. They just held each other,
for a while they enjoyed the company of one another, but after some time
that wasn’t enough. Hannibal threw away the blanket not caring where
it landed. His hands roamed over her slender body. Dozens of images for
his memory palace, he couldn’t get enough of those. His fingers and
his mouth were everywhere. Clarice had stopped thinking, she just
enjoyed the things he did to her body, one shiver after another ran down
her spine. Hannibal
longed to taste her - all of her, he pulled up her gown and tore the
panties off her body. He teased her with his lips and tongue his fingers
sank deep into her sweetness. Several times he brought her to the outer
edge to hold back again, then she finally climaxed with a scream that
was hastily muffled with his mouth on hers. In his kiss she tasted
herself and Hannibal’s unique flavor. Clarice
thought they would make love now, but he just pulled down the fabric of
her gown again and lied down beside her, one arm around her body. She
didn’t know what to do. Should she ask him, but what if he got angry.
She didn’t want to disturb the atmosphere. How long will he stay, this
time she wondered. Again
they enjoyed just being with one another. Hannibal dozed off feeling
completely safe in her arms. Only some forty minutes later he stirred
and sat up. “Hannibal
what is it?” “I
have to go, my love!” “But
you’ve just come home!” tears filled her lovely eyes. “I
know, I’ll be back in two days, there’s some business I have to
pursue!” he stroked her cheeks and wiped away the tears.
Clarice
just shook her head sadly. “I
can’t go on like this!” she said sulkily.
“I
know my little Clarice and things will change, believe me! The next time
I am home I’ll stay longer!”
“Said
that before!” Lecter
stood up, his face a wooden mask. He looked at her for some time and
eventually smiled. Clarice
smiled back. He turned and went into the hall. Then she heard the
knocking of the closet door, his coat, finally the entrance door was
closed quietly with a clicking sound. It
wasn’t enough, not nearly, but it was enough for the moment.... FIN copyright 2001, by Sacara |