THE DREAM

White flowers in the moonlight etched shadows across the palecarved stone of an old park bench. Distant walls of light surroundedthe dark presence of Central Park. Traffic hummed along the busyavenues which bordered the immense park and far away voices could beheard as they rose in excitement and laughter. On Central Park Westsomeone shouted for a taxi and the fragrance of newly blooming shrubsand trees blended with the harsher odors of automobile fumes.

Clinging to the dark places which protected him, Vincent movedsilently through the shadows, driven by a restiveness he could notidentify. Usually, the living, breathing presence of the citysatisfied a primal need as he absorbed its complexities, but tonightit left him singularly unfulfilled.

Staying close to the trees, he descended a grassy slope. All hissenses were alert for the two-legged predators who roamed the park,stalking anyone rash enough to enter it after dark. Unless forced bycircumstance, Vincent preferred to avoid confrontations with thosepredators and so he exercised caution. For him, the danger was bothless and more; less because of his innate ability to protect himself;more because of the threat of being seen. The danger stimulated hissenses; the element of risk added spice to his outings.

His steps took him past an ornately wrought iron footbridge and hestopped for a moment to gaze at it, remembering other nights when hedid not wander alone. A trace of a smile crossed his face as hethought of his companion on those nights, and instinctively, his handreached out for hers...

He gave himself a mental shake and moved on, going past the bridgeand along a narrow path winding through a stand of trees. His cloaksnagged on a tangle of underbrush and he paused a moment to free itbefore continuing. This path, too, was familiar and, withoutthinking, he held aside a low branch for the companion who was notthere. Disquieted, he stared for a moment at his hand as it graspedthe supple limb with its newly sprouted, pale green leaves.

"Catherine." It was no more than a breath as he released thebough, letting it swish sharply back into place. Whispering her nameagain, his pace quickened as he turned toward the threshold toBelow.

Reaching it, he moved quickly through the tunnels which would takehim home, breaking at last into an easy run as he followed a familiarpath through the upper level of drainage pipes. He came to an ancientbrick passage and followed it for a few hundred yards, finallyturning into a short, narrow tunnel which had been painstakinglyhacked out of solid bedrock. This short passage ended in a smooth,blank cement wall.

Reaching up, Vincent noiselessly sprung the catch which releasedthe swinging section of wall separating his two worlds. He climbedthe narrow secret stair on soundless feet and opened a second hiddendoor at its top. Tossing his cloak onto a hook inside the stairway,he entered the room and slid the door shut behind him.

Moonlight filtered through the sheer drapes over the french doors,bathing the room with silver light, and suddenly, the peace he hadnot found in the park surrounded him, filling him with a deep senseof contentment.

Catherine was asleep, curled gracefully on her side, her faceilluminated by the soft glow from the french doors. She had pushedthe covers aside and one bare leg drew his gaze. Her delicate silkgown twisted around her in a way that left little to his imagination.He stood motionless, watching; she stirred, reaching out toward theempty side of the bed. His heart, which had been little affected byhis run through the tunnels, beat a little harder and faster as helooked at her.

Resisting the impulse to go to her, he went instead to theadjoining nursery. Charles slept peacefully, a miniature truck stillin the relaxed grasp of his fingers. Vincent gently removed the toyand straightened the light blanket which covered the boy beforeturning to the crib.

Jacob slept on his stomach, his knees drawn up beneath him and hisbottom in the air. Vincent drew a gentle finger along the child'scheek and bent to kiss him before returning to the bedroom, where hecarefully closed and locked the door.

Crossing to his own side of the bed, he began to disrobe slowly,his eyes never leaving his sleeping wife. She rolled onto her back,completely relaxed in an attitude of unconscious abandon.

Discarding the last vestiges of clothing, Vincent surveyed his ownnude body. For many years he had simply accepted his body as it was,only occasionally wishing to be... less different. More recently, hehad learned to view himself through Catherine's eyes. Because shefound him beautiful, he had begun to appreciate the way he looked.Catherine had told him, time and again, how she felt about hisbody... the wide shoulders tapering down to narrow hips, thedefinitive musculature of his chest, back, buttocks and thighs. Sheloved the soft golden down sprinkled across his shoulders, back,upper arms and legs, and the longer, thicker growth across his chest,spreading down to his stomach and groin. His lower legs and forearms,like his hands and feet, were densely furred, and she loved that,too.

Her own beauty as she slept in the moonlight drew him, andsuddenly his heart and body ached for her. As he slid into bed besideher, she turned toward him, an arm going across him and one legcreeping between his.

"Vincent?" Drugged by sleep, she could barely articulate theword.

"Yes," he whispered in reply, the fingers of one hand brushing astray wisp of hair back from her face. He kissed her lightly, movingfrom forehead to temple to cheek, his lips barely brushing her skin.She sighed when he reached her neck, moving closer as his hands beganto caress her gently, creeping under the soft folds of hernightgown.

She was completely relaxed, more acquiescent than responsive, andhe knew she still drifted somewhere between deep sleep and truewakefulness. "Catherine?" he whispered.

Eyes still closed, she turned her head and nuzzled the base of histhroat. "Don't stop."

Encouraged, he resumed his gentle, loving exploration of thefamiliar planes and curves of her body.

"Vincent?"

"Yes?"

"Am I awake?"

He smiled at the sleepy bewilderment in her voice. "'Dear love,for nothing less than thee would I have broke this happy dream...'"His mouth returned to her throat.

Her arms went around him. "'Thou waked'st me wisely; yet my dreamthou brok'st not, but continued'st it.'" Her lips brushed hisshoulder languorously.

His mouth moved to her ear and he whispered tenderly, "'Enterthese arms, for since thou thought'st it best not to dream all mydream, let's act the rest.'"

THE END