To an Absent Lover
By Helen Hunt Jackson
That so much change should come when thou dost go,
Is mystery that I cannot ravel quite.
The very house seems dark as when the light
Of lamps goes out. Each wonted thing doth grow
So altered, that I wander to and fro
Bewildered by the most familiar sight,
And feel like one who rouses in the night
From dream of ecstasy, and cannot know
At first if he be sleeping or awake.
My foolish heart so foolish for thy sake
Hath grown, dear one!
Teach me to be more wise.
I blush for all my foolishness doth lack;
I fear to seem a coward in thine eyes.
Teach me, dear one,--but first thou must come back!
Alex
Motel rooms, motel rooms, motel rooms. How much of my
life have I spent in fucking Motel 6 and Best Western,
or Holiday Inn when I'm flush? I examine the hair I
taped across the gap between the door and its frame
before I left this morning. Still intact. I'm not
here on any significant errand--nothing that would
matter to the Old Men or the ones they served, but
it's better to be careful.
In the room I quickly throw the deadbolt, not trusting
the automatic lock that the management has provided,
then kick a small wedge of wood under the door. Let's
see anyone get in without a SWAT battering ram.
Finally satisfied with the security precautions (can't
do a damn thing about that fucking window, but at
least it's small), I twitch the curtains shut a little
tighter. Drawing my gun from the holster that hangs
under my arm, I flick off the safety and give the room
a quick, but thorough check. I even look under the
low-slung bed (Mulder told me about that weird-ass
family of incestuous mutants who kept Mom on a scooter
board under the bed. Talk about a mental image.)
When I'm sure that the place is clear, I lay the gun
on the night stand, not bothering to put the safety
back on. After all, I'm the only one in this room,
and I'm not going to accidentally blow my foot off.
Anyway, in the event that someone else DOES get into
the room, and I have to use my gun, well... I don't
want the safety on then, do I?
Sighing, I start to undress. Let's see, it's nine
here, that means it's around midnight back in D.C.
Damn, I guess I'd better not call Fox, since he has to
go to work tomorrow. I wish I'd thought of it
earlier.
When I'm stripped to my dark blue jockeys, I flip the
spread down to the foot of the bed. Sitting on the
edge of the mattress, I debate showering now, or in
the morning. If I were back east, I'd see if I could
drag Mulder in with me. Damn, he's fun when he's wet.
I stretch, grunting as cartilage cracks, feeling the
tightness in my muscles. I better get to a gym pretty
soon. This gig isn't as vigorous as my old action
was, and I don't want to get out of shape. Not only
would it be dangerous, but now I have someone to stay
hard for.
The phone rings. I'm startled, and it takes me three
rings to answer it. It's either my contact in the
security company, or... "Hello?"
"Hey."
I smile, feeling the tension begin to ease from my
body. "Hey, yourself."
"I got the number off the answering machine. Where
have you been?"
"Remember, mother, it's later for you than it is for
me. I just got back from supper. What are you doing
up so late?" There's silence on the other end.
"Babe? C'mon, what are you doing?"
"Just feeling kind of lonely."
I settle back on the bed, propping myself on the
pillows. There's a wistfulness in his voice that I
know I need to deal with. Just hearing it makes me
feel lonely, and I don't need any help for that.
"You've been alone before."
"I know." He's silent again. When he speaks, his
voice is low, and almost puzzled. "It's different
now."
"Why is it different?"
"You know."
"Tell me."
There's a soft laugh. "That so much change should
come when thou dost go, is mystery that I cannot ravel
quite."
"Oh, and you're an expert mystery raveler, Mulder.
Mm, not Teasdale?"
"Helen Hunt Jackson. To An Absent Lover."
"You're so good at this, Mulder. Yes, I've heard that
one."
"The very house seems dark as when the light of lamps
goes out."
"You telling me that you're lying there in the dark?"
"Yes. All alone, in the dark."
"What are you wearing?"
Again he chuckles. "The checked boxers you gave me
for April Fools Day."
"Take them off." I hear his soft intake of breath.
"You missing me, Fox?"
"God, yes."
"Then take them off--slowly." I hear the rustle of
cloth, and I run my fingers lightly over the bulge
that is starting to rise inside my shorts. "Close
your eyes, and touch yourself." Quiet breathing.
"I'm touching you, Fox. Can you feel it? Can you
feel my hands on you?"
A quiet moan. "Yes."
I push my shorts down, freeing my prick. *Amazing.
I'm already half-hard. Oh, Fox, what you do to me.*
"Keep talking to me. I want to hear the rest of the
poem."
"Each wonted thing doth grow so altered, that I wander
to and fro bewildered by the most familiar sight.
That's what I did tonight--I just roamed around the
apartment. The couch wasn't right, because you
weren't sitting on it. The bed isn't right, because
you aren't lying here with me."
I stroke myself, eyes closed, as I imagine Fox in that
bed that we've shared so often. "Are you touching me,
Fox?"
"Yes, Alex. I'm holding your cock. You're so warm."
"I'm with you now. I can see you, and you're
beautiful. Your mouth is swollen from where I've been
kissing you. You make me crazy." I pull at myself
quickly and firmly, imagining his long-fingered hand
wrapped around me. "I feel like one who rouses in the
night from dream of ecstasy," my voice catches, and it
takes me a moment to continue. "and cannot know at
first if he be sleeping or awake." He moans, and I
grow harder. "Keep talking. You're slick now, aren't
you?"
"Yes."
"Your pre-come is delicious, Mulder. Let me taste
it." There's a soft, wet sound that makes me twitch.
I know that he has lifted his hand to his mouth and is
licking away the warm, salty fluid.
"My foolish heart so foolish for thy sake hath grown,
dear one!" he breathes, his voice husky, wavering.
I hear the quick, patting sounds of flesh-on-flesh as
he masturbates, and the thought of him touching
himself, imagining that it's me, almost brings me to
the edge myself.
His voice is strained, almost sobbing now. "Teach me
to be more wise. I blush for all my foolishness doth
lack." He gasps deeply, his voice a whimper. "I fear
to seem a coward in... in thine eyes."
"Now, Fox! Come for me now, sweetheart! Now, with
me."
I hear the choked cry that has become so dear and so
familiar. "Alex!" The sound of my name called with
such passion and longing does it. I answer him as I
come, my seed spilling on my belly.
For a few moments there is silence, except for the
sound of our breathing. Even though we are thousands
of miles apart, we are close enough now for it to
mingle. At last I say, "Better?"
I smile when I hear the purr. "You've got such a good
touch," Mulder sighs.
I laugh. "We ought to hang up. This is long
distance, and I know how much you make. It would've
been cheaper if you'd called a 900 line."
"Alex!" The tone isn't hurt (he knows I'm joking),
but it's mildly exasperated. "How much longer are you
going to be out there?"
"Two more days, maybe three." There's a pause. "I'll
call you tomorrow. I can put it on my expense
account."
"They won't give you grief over it?"
"They know I'm worth it. Are you going to be all
right now?"
"Yeah. But call, okay?"
"Sure, babe." Silence. We aren't good at saying
good-bye to each other, Fox and I.
At last I hear him whisper, "Teach me, dear one,--but
first thou must come back!" There's a click, then the
buzz of a dial tone.
I put the receiver back on the hook and reach for a
tissue from the box on the night stand. As I begin to
wipe myself down, I murmur, "That so much change
should come when thou dost go..."