Are we nearly there yet?

Yes, dear Reader, we are. At long (very long) last, Anna has provided a continuation, of sorts; and although I had rather hoped that she would cover some of the awkward infill that is now necessary to explain Cleft’s transformation from feckless womanizer to self-made pallet-provider, at least it gets me to the point where I can start thinking about a climax.

PS: Blazing red letters? Can’t the girl read? I had it as ‘huge gold letters’.

Part 51 (by Anna)

Barely had Topaz digested the blazing red letters on the side of the vehicle, barely had her hand fumbled for the coiled brass banister up the cascade of marble stairs behind her, than daylight was obscured by a large shadow in the doorway. Large, and yet somehow diminished. Topaz could discern the change even as she struggled to focus through her long lacquered lashes. 

‘Wotcha!’ said Cleft, for it was he. The voice, the greeting, was at once familiar and imperceptibly altered. There was, in the deep, throbbing tones that sent an echo through her womanly core, a note of doubt. Or was it pleading?

‘Cleft!’ said Topaz. She could almost taste the name on her tongue.

As she turned to collect her thoughts, she caught the reflection of the man in the flank of the sculpted silver stag poised in the hallway. A tiny reflection, dwarfed by the contours of the beast’s metal sinews. It was in that moment that Topaz realised that her struggles had reached a climax. The flame, deep within parts of her that she had never before probed, still burned but, as she fixed her eyes on those sculpted hindquarters, she realised that her feelings no longer controlled her. This Thing between them was no longer bigger than she was. She loved, possibly she even forgave, but in forgiving she achieved dominion.

Coolly she raised her chin and her eyes finally met his. There was a beat in which a communion that was beyond words passed between them. Then, in a voice that startled her with its steadiness, she uttered it.

‘Hi!’