Page 23 of The Reaper

He got some tissue paper, wiping himself. She got a flannel, running it under the water. She wiped his thigh clean. He tookthe flannel and gently pressed it between her legs. It felt cold and hot at the same time. She liked them cleaning each other off. She liked standing with him in the bathroom. He was tall, she was more aware of his height, his body, his presence.

They kissed wordlessly, then washed their hands together, he massaged soap into her hands, her into his, their hands merged in a soapy tangle under the stream of water.

They came out of the bathroom, he reached for his gown, which was screwed up on his pillow, and slipped that on. He settled back into his bed, sleepily. Like a toddler who’d had a busy day. He closed his eyes and immediately was breathing deeply. She lay next to him. She stroked his forehead, his neck. She breathed deeply, too. They didn’t say anything more, he stirred, woke up, looked up at her, his eyes open, seeing her. He stroked her forehead, too. Then he’d settle back. We were just two people, two lovers, not a liar and an amnesiac, not the complications of the situation, just two people who had acted on the feelings they had had.

“I admit I quite liked being kept here, in nothing but a gown, that you could slip off easily… like your sex slave, Hannah.”

She burst out laughing at that. He cocked an eyebrow suggestively, teasing her.

“Yes, I’m kept here, prisoner just for the sole purpose of being able and willing to pleasure you, whenever you visit me, is that it, is that the secret?” he whispered now, pulling her forward, nibbling her ear.

She almost gave up in a whirl of arousal and fear. But why fear anymore? He was remembering, he did know something was up, but he wasn’t asking her outright, he wasn’t pressuringher to give up the game. Maybe he was enjoying himself too much. She certainly was. He seemed content to keep up the charade for now, of them both pretending. This intimacy though, this wasn’t a charade, this fire between them was very real and it burned and burned.

“It still feels like… we were strangers, really.”

“Come on, you know that’s not true. When we touch-”

“Yes, yes, my skin knows your skin, I know it feels incredible, I know that’s not the kind of everyday chemistry most other couples have, I know that’s not the kind of chemistry I’ve felt before…”

“Then we weren’t strangers, were we? Just because I didn’t know where you worked or what your favourite book was, doesn’t mean I didn’t know you. I felt I knew you very well, in fact.”

“There is so much about me you don’t know, though, isn’t there?” he said. “And I think there are things about you that I don’t know, am I right, Hannah?” he asked, his voice suddenly steel.

This was the first time he was facing it head on, facing the fact that there was this wall of a secret between them, the first time he was calling it out. She didn’t know what to do, where to turn, how to react.

“For just one moment, let's just pretend that this is who we really are,” he growled into her ear. “Let's allow ourselves to believe that this is real and that we are who we say we are.”

“What? Do you know-” she stammered at his open revelation.

“Shhh,” he breathed.

KISS.

“Back out there, we talk as we normally do, we pretend we are Jack and Hannah, but I know we aren’t, I know there issomething more to this. We carry on, otherwise we’ll both end up dead, do you hear me?” he murmured.

She looked at him, and he looked back at her. He met hers with the empty stare of a stranger.

She felt sick.

She blinked, and it was gone. His usual hovering smile was there again. But she knew, he had remembered, he knew a lot more than he was letting on. What could she do, what could she say?

“You should probably head home early tonight,” he said, with no trace of emotion. She thought her heart dropped out of her chest right there.

“Really?” she squeaked, her voice tight and high pitched. “I could stay-”

“No honestly,” he interjected, firmly. “I’ve got a splitting headache,” he said, he did look pale. But she couldn't shake the feeling that it was more than that, something was wrong.

“Yes, sure, okay, as long as you are sure,” her voice sounded small.

“I’m sure,” he said, and turned back, his eyes on the ground, that closed look came over him. She could see tension in his shoulders, his brow slightly creased.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, normal time? I’ve got to catch up on my reading, Hannah, anyway. I’m nearly at the end of the South African police novel you got me.”

“Oh?” she squeaked.

“I’ve got to the bit where the police are closing in on the suspect, there is no way out for him-”

“Well, if that’s what you think?”

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