Live Long and Prosper             by: Brandy Dewinter           © 2000, All rights reserved

 

Chapter 16 - "Still Ticklish After All These Years"

The wedding took place in a sunlit little glade behind Tirce’s cottage. The bride claimed to be a virgin, but she wore a scandalously brief red skirt with white flowers, and a courageous little red halter top that was clearly serving above and beyond the call of duty. The groom wore shorts and a polo shirt. It’s probably a good thing there weren’t any pictures. Attendees were the bride, groom, and the supervising magistrate.

Not that all that happened immediately, of course. We had a tantalizingly long engagement of, oh, at least an hour. Some portion of that time - who cares how long? - was spent melting into a puddle of fluid pleasure in Ethan’s arms as he kissed me. Even Tirce was fanning her face when he finally let me re-integrate at least to the quivering Jello stage. Not that I was complaining. Lordy but it seemed like my husband-to-be had decided it would be proper for him to act a little more . . . masterful, at least in matters of love, for which there were definitely no complaints from me. Of course, to complain I’d have had to catch up on about a week’s worth of missing breath. Maybe by that time my brain would reboot, too.

Whatever passed for my brain had gotten locked in a tight little loop, unable to consider anything but Tirce’s promise that my body really was complete, and that I really would be - already was - able to accommodate Ethan. As intriguing as the idea of bearing a child was, that topic had been pretty effectively banished somewhere during that kiss. Ethan claimed me with that kiss. It wasn’t the same as the others we had shared, where we were, um, exploring a little. This was different. Wonderfully, gloriously, spectacularly different, and my hot little buttons were clamoring for attention. I guess I believed Tirce, because I was so anxious to get somewhere private with Ethan that my previous fear might never have existed. Or maybe it was just that kiss.

"Ahem!" Tirce said, forcefully. I had this niggling little idea that it wasn’t the first time she had tried to get our attention. I was trying to engage the speech centers of my mind enough to respond, when Ethan saved me the trouble.

"Yes?"

She smirked, and said, "I think that answers the last question on paperwork, but there are a couple of other details to address."

"Details?" Ethan parroted, blinking slowly. Maybe that kiss had affected him a bit, too. Good.

Tirce pointed at our seat, and Ethan took his place. Since the only thing holding me up was his arm, I therefore sat as well. I suppose it was the feel of the springy wicker on my mostly-bare leg, but the change in position started me on a path to . . . cognition again and I managed to focus my eyes on Tirce. She was still smiling that smugly-satisfied generous aunt smile, ready to do something else nice for us.

"What I have done so far," she explained, "has been to change your DNA to a new pattern, then cause your bodies to adjust as though that DNA had always been your pattern - with an appropriate age modification at the same time."

That did raise a question that hadn’t really been bothering me, consciously, but I now realized seemed strange. "Why did our transformations take over a week, while Reyna’s was apparently instantaneous?"

She just smiled for a moment, as though the answer should be obvious. Then she seemed to take pity on me or something, recognizing that my thought processes were not as efficient as they might be. Anyway, she chuckled that elegant chuckle and said, "So that you could face the challenge of figuring out what was happening, and how to deal with it, of course. Reyna’s transformation was punishment, and her inability to understand it was part of that. Your transformation was intended to stimulate you; a set of clues for you to decipher, a test to see if you could overcome your reliance on rational science. I must say, at least in this case, Ethan seems to have done a better job."

"Um, yes. He’s . . . wonderful," I murmured.

Tirce lost her regal look for a second and giggled. "Oh, I do like to see young people in love." Regaining her temporarily surrendered dignity, she said, "Now, back to the topic at hand. As I was saying, the changes you’ve experienced so far have been limited to the biological. In matters of style or fashion, I left you the way you had chosen to be before. If you’d like, I can tweak things to achieve a more fashionable, integrated look for each of you."

Ethan asked, a note of concern in his voice, "Like what? Anya is just perfect the way she is."

"Calm down, children, and pay attention," Tirce ordered, a sharper tone in her voice that wasn’t at all supported by her kind smile. "Since you seem to be so distracted right now, I’ll offer a suggestion. Anya, most young women in America have pierced ears. Would you like me to do that for you? It would make wearing earrings much easier."

"Oh, that’s what you meant," I said, breathing a little easier. "Um, sure, that would be nice. Thank you." With that example, accompanied by the sudden sensation of tugging weight as elegant diamonds on small chains swung from my ears, I tried to think of anything else that might be nice to have, things that we could do on our own if we wanted, and therefore could more or less undo. It was actually Ethan that spoke first, though, and to me.

"Anya, darling, would you mind if I cut my hair?"

"What?"

He smiled, and said, "I guess this is another thing I’ve done for you more than for me. Having you brush my hair has been very pleasant, and I’ve enjoyed doing the same for you, but I have to admit I haven’t really enjoyed long hair on this trip, not overall anyway. And I’m even less of a fan of long hair on men. I respected your commitment to put up with the bother if I would, and I think you’ve come to enjoy the sensuality of it. Perhaps I was already jaded to that after 50 years of wearing it long when I was Elaine. In any event, in my mind’s eye the sort of man who gains respect the minute he enters a room has a more traditional haircut."

"Oh, um, sure," I said, then got an idea of my own. "Ah, that is, if you’ll match it with a neatly-trimmed beard at the same time. I could never grow one, but I’ve always thought they were sort of . . . fascinating."

"Meaning I can quit shaving? You’re on," he said quickly. Then he realized he couldn’t really make that promise himself, so he looked at Tirce.

She smiled and nodded, then waved her hand a little. Ethan’s blond hair seemed to retract into his head, then sprout on his chin and lip as the long ponytail he had worn became a nicely piratical beard. Or, um, in his case with blond hair and those spectacular blue eyes, he’d make a terrific Viking. It was entrancingly . . . masculine. Which helped me to think of some things of my own.

"Madame Tirce, you’ve been so generous, but could I trouble you for a few more things?"

At her nod, I said, "I’m not, um, very skilled in cosmetics, and we don’t have any on board that would work for my coloring anyway. I was wondering, could you do some sort of, ah, semi-permanent things to make me look like I was wearing, oh, you know, eyeshadow and things? Make them last until we finish our cruise so that I can be pretty for Ethan all the time?"

"You’re so gorgeous now I can hardly breathe," he protested.

"Hush, dear. I’m just getting started. That is, with a little help from Tirce," I said, patting his arm. I did look up at him and smile, though, saying, "But thank you."

"Ah, very good," Tirce said. "It’s been a long time since I helped Cinderella, but I like to think I still have a bit of a talent for it."

"Cinderella?" Ethan repeated, but we ignored him.

"Let go of his hand, dear, so I can get your nails, too," Tirce ordered.

I couldn’t see most of what she did, but with that warning I looked at my hands to see my nails grow quickly out to a most elegant length, turning a dark, frosty red that I knew matched the color of the lipstick I had found in Lainey’s things. My lashes felt suddenly heavy, longer as they tickled on my eyelids, and I had the impression - maybe the breeze whispered lightly across them - that my eyebrows must have thinned a little, too.

Ethan gasped, which certainly did nothing to assuage my own rampant curiosity, and I was rather desperately looking around for a mirror to see what she had done when Tirce waved her hand again and one formed apparently out of thin air.

"Oh, my," I breathed. lifting a hand slowly to my face as though I were afraid the image were an illusion that would shatter at any abrupt sound or motion. The strangest thing was that for just a second I couldn’t even tell what she had done. It all looked so . . . right that I wondered how much had been me before and how much was . . . well, I was going to say magic but it was all magical. Anyway, I had to look closely to see what was different. The only really distinct sign of makeup was the glossy dark red of my lips (and my nails, of course). The rest was subtle enough that it seemed just barely possible it was me. My lashes were long and full, the eyes made huge by accenting liner and shadow that started out cinnamon and blended seamlessly through paler colors. My cheeks glowed with a healthy rose that captured a permanent blush, truly something that might have been natural. Thanks to Tirce’s prior magic, my complexion had been flawless, tanned more darkly than a hothouse flower’s ivory, but vibrant with health. That remained, now given depth and contour in ways that, as I said, were almost hard to discern except in comparison with what I seemed to remember from just that morning when I had tried some of this on my own.

"I take it that meets your expectations?" Tirce said.

"No, ma’am," I whispered, still looking in the mirror. I sensed more than saw a bit of stiffness in Tirce’s posture, so I forced my attention away from . . . myself, to look at her directly. "No, ma’am," I repeated. "It’s ever so much more wonderful than I expected."

Her features relaxed once again from their regal elegance to smile with genuine pleasure. She nodded, then turned to Ethan. "And you? Is there anything else of fashion that you would like?"

"No, thank you," he replied politely. "As Anya said, you’ve already been much more wonderful than we had any right, or even dream of expecting."

"Very well, then," Tirce said. "That seems to about cover the rest of your first wishes. Let’s have a bite to eat, then I just have to show you a little glade that will be the perfect place for the wedding."

And so we did, and so it was. I cried through most of the simple ceremony (not realizing for a very long time how lucky I was that Tirce’s makeup was magically durable). The old words seemed new and perfect. The breeze the drifted through the little glad sent a chorus of good wishes from the leaves of every tree. Then Ethan kissed me again and made it more perfect than possible, except when it happens for real.

We were Tirce’s guests that evening for dinner, too. She was a gracious host, witty and charming. I don’t suppose we held up our end of the conversation very well. I know that every time I looked at Ethan I lost whatever train of thought I might have been following in favor of thoughts that were decidedly improper for polite dinner talk.

" . . . so it might be a few days before I notice, but don’t worry.

I won’t forget," Tirce was saying.

"I’m sorry," I said, blushing even through the cosmetic glow. "I must have missed something."

Tirce’s face lit up with a self-satisfied smirk that seemed to have found a place on her regal features more and more often as the evening wore on. Well, she had the right. If anyone deserved to feel satisfied with a job well done, it was her. That started the echo of a thought that I couldn’t quite get my mental arms around, and I almost missed what she was saying again.

"I said," she repeated, "that when you want the cosmetic things to go away, you’ll have to tell me, and out loud, while you’re getting dressed in the morning. I’ll look in on you every few days after you finish your cruise until you tell me to remove the spell. Or, if you’d like to keep them for longer, just say so a few times in the morning and I’ll leave you alone for a while. In the meantime, you’ll find that your nails don’t break and that your mascara won’t run."

"Thank you, that would be just wonderful," I said, looking at my hands. "Though that means that Ethan will have to do most of the heavy lifting and line work on the Breeze from here on out."

"Fine with me," he said, laughing and flexing his biceps. I gasped at the muscle that popped up. So did he. Then we both laughed at ourselves and I tried to ignore the sudden dampness in my panties. God, he was a good-lookin’ hunk of man.

It was not easy to sit politely through the rest of the dinner, no matter how delicious all the dishes were. I knew that Tirce recognized our anxiety, but she teased us with proper and elegant manners - which means slow gracefulness - for an interminable meal. All the while she had a sparkle in her eyes and I could tell she truly enjoyed the company, even aside from the fun of teasing us.

"That’s it!" I blurted out loud. Hmm, I hoped that wouldn’t become a bad habit.

"Excuse me, dear?" Tirce said.

I smiled to let her know this was not intended to be as serious as the last time I had said the words, yet used the same language to let her know I was nonetheless serious. "Madame Tirce, is it your intention to grant us a wish, based on the work we have done to help you keep your island beautiful?"

"You want another one?" she asked in surprise.

"Please, Madame, I’m so very grateful for all that you have done, and if you say that we have consumed all our ‘wish credit’, then I won’t complain and I’ll still love you for it. But there is one more thing that I really, really want, and, well, you said the fashion things were really just completing the previous wish, and that, um, we didn’t need, ah, I didn’t need any more physical changes, so . . . "

"What is it you want, girl?" Tirce demanded, frowning.

"Madame Tirce, I wish that you would have companionship on a continuing basis, so that you would never be lonely again."

Ethan said, "Oh, yes, that’s an excellent idea. I wi . . . oops, let’s just say that I should have thought of it, too."

"What makes you think that I am lonely?" Tirce asked, but there were tears in her eyes and it seemed her breath was catching irregularly.

"Madame Tirce . . oh, that sounds so formal, could I call you Aunt Tirce? Anyway, you’ve been so charming at dinner that I just know you like to be with people, but you’re so isolated here. And though the island is beautiful, it must be lonely at times."

"Yes. At times," she said, eyes overfilling and spilling a tear down her cheek.

Ethan tried to help, and I think his insight was good. "But if you were to, um, reveal yourself to people generally, you’d be besieged by wishes and wouldn’t be able to, um, observe and see what really needed to be done."

She nodded, dabbing at her eyes with her napkin.

"Could I make a suggestion?" he asked.

Tirce nodded and he continued, "Perhaps it would be a way to resolve two issues at once if we brought Reyna here to live with you. I think the bad boy who had demanded a wish from you is long gone, and the girl child he has become could provide your own challenge if you let her grow into a woman on your island, yet you could be comfortable that she would not revert to her old ways somehow."

"We’ll go get her," I offered. "Ethan’s idea is just perfect. One person, who already knows of you but also knows the risks of crossing you, would be an excellent way to keep from being lonely. Besides, I particularly like the idea that you will face the challenge of teaching a girl how to be a woman as I am learning the same thing."

Tirce looked up sharply at me, to see if I was challenging her - with my attitude that is - but when she saw the happy smile I knew my pretty new face was displaying, she could see I truly wanted her to be happy.

"Thank you, thank you both," she said softly. "I don’t think I had even realized myself how much truth there is in what you said. I will consider it, carefully."

That seemed to bring the meal to a conclusion. Tirce was distracted as we said our good-byes, though it was nothing like the distraction that I was feeling.

I think wedding nights should be memories to be treasured in the hearts of the participants, so I won’t describe how Ethan made a woman of me. I know now that I was not skilled at all, but I still take pride in going to my wedding bed a virgin - even if my claim to that state was very . . . convoluted. For the rest, suffice it to say that Tirce was correct. With a little patience and a bit of, um, proper attention to the right, um, controls, my body opened up to my husband like a flower unfolding in the sunlight. He was actually more patient than I was - much more patient - and when he finally rocked my world the waves were detectable as far away as Sydney (though they didn’t know what caused it, of course, so they never gave proper credit to my hero-husband).

Oh, one other thing. Ethan’s beard, especially the moustache part, tickles. Not that I’m complaining.

We rose late the next morning. No, actually that’s not true. I rose late, but Ethan rose early, middle, late, and more besides. In any event, when we finally got dressed and were ready to leave the Breeze to see what Tirce had decided, we came on deck to find her standing on the dock.

"Good morning, Aunt Tirce," I said, carefully. She had never really agreed that I could address her that informally.

"Good morning," she replied cheerfully. "At least, for a little while longer it’s still morning."

I blushed, but I swear Ethan preened like a peacock. Well, he had certainly earned the right.

"I came down to see you on your way," Tirce said. "I have decided to let Reyna come here for a while. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll find some other situation for her."

Ethan nodded, and said, "So, do you want us to go get her? It should take about a week for the round trip, if there’s no weather problem."

"No, that will not be necessary. I just wanted you to know. But I also think it would be a good idea for me to get to know Reyna on my own, so . . ."

"So we’ve worn out our welcome already," I said, laughing, then jumped down to give her a big hug. "It’s okay, Aunt Tirce. We love you anyway. Besides, we’ve only got a year to get home, and we might find some other distractions along the way."

"If you ever come out of your cabin," she replied, smirking. But her arms were as tightly around me as mine were around her.

Ethan jumped to the dock as well and wrapped her up in his arms after I let her go. He leaned down to kiss her forehead and said, "Thank you, Aunt Tirce, for more things and in more ways than we could ever count, let alone repay."

Tirce was misting again. At least, I think so. Lord knows I was having enough trouble seeing. There was an awkward moment, none of us quite ready to take the next step to leave, yet none of us ready to start something other than leaving. Finally Tirce herself broke the long moment of silence.

"Would you like to see Reyna before you go?"

"She doesn’t need to know we had anything to do with the changes in her life," I said.

"Well, she would anyway, because I will be sure to tell her," Tirce replied. "But there is actually a reason for letting her see you before you go."

"A reason?" I repeated.

Tirce nodded, then motioned for us to step back. When there was a clear space, she made the obligatory mystic motions and chanted in some arcane language - don’t ask me how it worked - then there was a pop (no smoke) and Reyna was standing on the dock between us.

"Hello, Reyna," Tirce said.

"Where am I?" asked the thin little girl.

"Tirce’s Island," said Ethan.

"Oh, God, no! Help me!" she wailed.

I caught her in my arms and said, "Take it easy. This is good news."

"But she did, I mean, she said . . . she will . . ."

"Calm down, child. I won’t hurt you?" Tirce said.

"Who are you?"

"I’m Tirce."

"You? But you’re . . . beautiful," Reyna said in wonder.

"Thank you, dear," Tirce said. "I have decided to give you another chance. I won’t let you be hurt any more."

"Are you going to make me be Reynaud again?" the girl asked, shying away from Tirce.

"Is that what you want?" asked Tirce.

"No! He was . . . evil. What he did, before you . . . before was evil. I hate him. Don’t make me be him again, please?"

"You won’t have to be Reynaud again," Tirce promised. "In fact, if you’d like, you can live here with me on the island. No one will harm you here."

"Really?" Reyna asked, eyes growing impossibly in that thin face.

"Would you like that?" asked Tirce.

Reyna just nodded, tears erupting from her huge eyes as she flung herself into Tirce’s arms. Well, she wasn’t the only one. Even Ethan was blinking pretty quickly for a while. Blinking wasn’t enough for me. I was way past overfull and flooding freely.

"Reyna, I want you to thank these two," Tirce instructed the waif.

"It is because of their intervention that I have decided to help you."

"You?" Reyna said, turning to look at us. "Do I know you?"

"We met on the dock in Taiohae," Ethan explained.

"I, um, I’m not sure . . ," Reyna said, then she looked at the Twilight Breeze. "I think I remember the boat, but, you were. . . different then."

"A bit," I agreed, smiling.

"You’re so . . . pretty," she said hesitantly. "I think I would have remembered."

"Aunt Tirce has helped with that," I explained. "She can help you, too."

"I could never be as beautiful as you," Reyna said sadly.

"Wanna bet?" I challenged, but my eyes went to Tirce with the real challenge.

"I promise you, Reyna, that you will grow up to be just as pretty," Tirce said, making that promise to us as much as to her, then she added a warning that was fair. "But only if you mind me while you are on my island. Is that clear?"

"Yes, ma’am," Reyna said quickly.

"Oh, bother. I have never liked being called ‘ma’am’," Tirce said. "I suppose since everyone else seems to be doing it, you can call me ‘Aunt Tirce’ if you want."

"Thank you, Tante Tirce," Reyna said hesitantly.

"Did you know that tears are almost exactly the same composition as sea water?" Ethan asked in a dramatic non sequitur. Then he explained, "I bring that up because if the three of you start trying to flood the Ocean again, you should know it won’t really do any good. No one will be able to tell the difference."

"The three of us?" I said, slapping his arm. "We’re not the only ones, Mister Macho."

He flinched as though I had really hit him, but it served his purpose. The incipient round of bawling was transformed into giggles, though there was still a whole lot of blinking going on.

"We really should be going," I said, moving once more to hug Tirce. Well, so much for staving off the tears. But the momentum had been started, and somehow we managed to cast off and motor from the little bay.

"Live long, and prosper," Tirce called to us. And who were we to argue with a witch?

 

EPILOG

We made it to the United States in only another two weeks, but that was in Hawaii. We were indeed distracted there for a while. As a result, we had spent 7 of our allotted 12 months before we were once again on the mainland. That still gave me plenty of time to make other arrangements so the decision on having a baby is still an option one way or the other.

I have to admit, I had gotten quite spoiled by the luxury of not having to do makeup every day - I even came to like the long nails - so for several weeks after we got home I said a little prayer of sorts and asked Tirce not to take away that addition to her gifts to us. It seems to have worked, because I’ve looked the same for almost ten years now.

In fact, I look just about exactly the same. Ethan tells me that all the time, but I would have put that down to shameless flattery (which he also does all the time), except he looks the same to me, too. I don’t know just how ‘long’ the ‘long, happy, healthy life’ will be that Tirce has given us, but it seems we’re not going to hurry to the geriatric ward.

I’ve often wished . . oops, I’ve gotten a lot more careful about that in the last few years - you never know who might be listening. Anyway, I’ve often thought it would be interesting to have Tirce’s second sight. I’d like to look in on her and see how she’s doing. Perhaps one of these days we’ll take the Breeze back to sea and see if we can find that particular corner of paradise again.

Maybe this time, I’ll wish that Ethan’s moustache wouldn’t tickle so much. On the other hand . . . ooh, damn, now I’m going to have to change panties again. Ah, well, maybe I can get Ethan to help me. I’ll make it worth his while. He can always get back to his latest adventure novel some other time. I may even help him with, um, acting out some of the scenes. Hmm . . . I wonder where I put that old blue bikini, the one that’s still way too small for me. For some reason, he seems to really like the way I look in that one - and like even more the way I look out of it. A woman notices these things, when she’s as lucky as I am.

 

Finis

 

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Live Long and Prosper © 2000 by Brandy Dewinter. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.