The light of the sun flashed bright into her face and she groaned, trying to turn her head away. With a sigh, she slowly forced herself up into a sit. It was quiet, the peace of pale light and silence, birds singing early morning odes. Lifting her hands to rub her eyes, she yawned. A sleepy gaze found him sitting at the table. He’d removed his prosthesis. His uniform shirt and his pants. The sight of him in a sleeveless tank and briefs woke her up and she took her time getting out of bed. Watching as he reached into a bowl, her hands lifted across his shoulders, causing him to grow still. 

    “Morning, sugar.” She spoke drowsily, leaning down to hug him. 

    “Good morning,” His voice was even raspier and husky from the morning and she smiled against him, her lips pressing against his neck. 

    “You hungry?”

    “Partially.” Pulling away from him, she observed as he lifted the rag and wrung out most of the water, slathered with suds. 

    “I’ll order some breakfast for us.”

    “That won’t be necessary.” He said, starting to clean his skin. 

    “And why won’t it?”

    “I’ll eat while I’m out.” Swallowing, she lifted her arms above her head to stretch. 

    “And where is it you think you’re gonna go?”

    “I’ll find somewhere.” Pursing her lips, she rolled her eyes. 

    “It’s too early in the morning for your shenanigans.” Swiping the rag from his hand she let it plop back into the bowl and removed it from the table. Wordless, he watched her refill the bowl with water at the appropriate temperature and amount of soap. 

    “If you gon clean it, clean it right.” Returning to the table, she placed the bowl back down with a slight huff. 

    “Beatrice..”

    “Hush.” She said, wringing out the rag. Nice and soapy, she knelt below him, propped up on her knees. He seemed stunned as she began to gently wash the residual limb. At the contact, he jerked, the limb lifting away from her. 

    “I…I can do it on my own. I don’t need your help.” 

    “I know you can,” She said, ignoring the stutter and embarrassment in his voice. Laying a warm palm against him, she softly brought his leg back towards her. 

    “You haven’t been cleaning it as good as you should be.”

    “Bea…” 

    “Don’t complain. A man lets his woman care for him.” At that, his cheeks grew warm and rosy. 

    “I am your woman aren’t I?” He couldn’t answer and she chose the moment to lift up, going to get a towel. Turning, she felt her heart slam into her chest. He was a vision of temptation sitting there and it made her shudder with delight. One of his arms rested on the table, hand closed tightly in a fist. The other hung down loosely, that hand also in a fist. He sat up straight, leaned against the back of the chair. His legs were somewhat close together and stiff with tension. The most obvious thing gaining her attention was the aroused shape of his manhood.

     Like a gift in pretty wrapping, the well-shaped form laid perfectly against his adjacent thigh. At her eyes on him, on his evidence, the blush from his cheeks grew down into his neck and the tips of his ears. Without waiting for an answer, she resumed her position on the floor. Grabbing the rag again, still warm and pleasant, she scrubbed the healed scar tissue. 

    “What are we doing?” He’d started to breathe heavier, his eyes intent and dark as they watched her every move. Taking the rag, she gently pat the skin dry, now clean and free of the slight crust that had formed. 

    “I don’t understand your question.” He said, voice hushed as she eyed her handiwork. Satisfied, she let her gaze drift up his large masculine body. Starting with the thick outline that attracted her attention. There was no mistaking it, the curve and flare of the head clearly defined. Her triangle tingled just looking at it and her thoughts grew muddled. Up solid muscular thighs and to his shirt… it couldn’t hide the well-developed muscles on his abdomen and pectorals. And then, there were his shoulders, broad, powerful, and well-knit. 

    “You’ve made clear that you want to fuck me.” Plush pouty lips formed the words and narrowed monolid eyes cut into her. Before he could respond, she reached up to grab the bandages. Laying it against his dry skin, she began to wrap the stump. 

    “We’re not back at Mukden. We’re free now. I want to hear you say what we are to each other.” Those lips now frowning, he relaxed with a sigh, his legs spreading wider. The room was quiet as she finished wrapping and she swallowed tightly. Inhaling through his nostrils, he opened and flattened his palms. Lifting his hand he laid it gently upon her hair. Heart pounding, her eyes closed as he caressed the strands with light fingers. 

    “You are an impossible woman.” His voice wasn’t angry or irritated. Rather it was slow and smooth, matching thumbs as they glided across her forehead, down the bridge of her nose and pressed against her lips. 

    “You’re so needy.” He observed, his lips smirking deeply. Her cheeks grew warm and she opened her eyes to look up at him. Parting her lips, his fingers joined his thumbs as they came to close around her neck. Her breath caught in her throat and she lifted her hands to wrap around his wrists.  Grip light, he pulled her up, forcing her to get up onto her knees. Closer he brought her still. 

    “I do want to take you into my hands and fuck the breath from your lungs. I want to make you cry. Beg. Plead.” His voice rushed across her as burlap against skin, rough and throaty.

    “I want to satisfy the burning privation in you…” Lips now a hair’s length away, his warm breath, still tinged with last night’s alcohol fluttered pleasantly against her mouth. 

    “I want to fill you with so much pleasure that you’ll never want to find it with anyone else. I want to be the only one to crush, crumble and make you whole again.” His lips finally kissed hers and she moaned softly at the forceful entry of his tongue into her mouth. Separating, she opened her blurry eyes to see those seductive lips of his smirking, a smile soon appearing. Rare and captivating, he chuckled slightly. 

    “I have many wants that I intend to fulfill so I won’t get rid of you. I have no choice but to keep you.” Letting go of her throat, he watched her lift herself up to stand, completely breathless… void of words. 

    “Consider that a confirmation of what we are.” She lifted a hand to her neck and pulled away from him, going to the phone. 

    “H-Hi…u-um… I’d like two breakfast specials, please. Yes… yes, thank you.”

*** 

    I wasn’t much good with articulation. At first. That came with time and even then it was average at best. I wasn’t a man of words. I preferred to show instead of talk. I couldn’t tell her that she made my heart beat so fast that I felt it would come out of my chest. I didn’t know how to tell her that I envisioned a life together, as silly as it sounded. A war veteran and the prisoner of war he’d once held captive. Fate seemed to will it, the seed blossoming in 1943. I couldn’t be a fool and deny it. I, in my selfish irrational want, called her mine mentally, emotionally…I even claimed hold of her intellect. I was, by nature, possessive and I refused to share her with anyone. 

    I knew that I was breaking her down, chipping away little by little at her resolve. With every kiss and touch, I tried to devour the fear that lay inside her and empty it. I wanted to prepare the place where I would eventually dwell. She wasn’t quite ready yet but…I could see it in her eyes. Growing every day like unripened fruit turning with the season, it was encouraged with care. Soon, it would be ready to be picked, eaten, and enjoyed. I, also by nature, was an extremely patient man and was determined to enjoy the harvest of my efforts. 

    Breakfast came and it was strange. I’d never before seen anything like it and truth be told, was hesitant to eat it. Seeing her eat so heartily made my chest flutter. Memories of her emaciated frail body sometimes haunted me in nightmares. I decided that I would try…this new thing called the American lifestyle. 

***

    “How can you eat this?” Cheeks full of what she called ‘pancakes’, she chewed and swallowed before glancing over at his plate, untouched. 

    “What do you mean how can I eat this? What’s wrong with it?” 

    “It’s all bread.” Offended now, she licked the syrup from the corner of her mouth and sat back, arms crossed. 

    “It is not.” 

    “This flat cake is bread. The circular dough is bread. The-is this a fried potato?” At his confused and disgusted face, she burst out laughing, tears collecting in the corners of her eyes. 

    “I find nothing funny about this. How the fuck am I supposed to eat this, Bea?” Grinning, she wiped the tears away. 

    “You telling me you don’t have pork, bread and potatoes in Japan?” 

    “Sure we do.”

    “Right. So see, it ain’t much different…” Taking her fork, she pointed to the items on the plate. 

    “These are eggs, same as what y’all have back home. I ordered yours over easy cause that always seems a popular choice.” Frowning, he sat back in his chair, delighting her with, dare she say, what looked like a tiny pout. 

    “That’s called bacon. It’s nothin’ but pork strips that are fried. That’s the potatoes or home fries as we call em’.”

    “Home…fries?”

    “Yes, home fries. Now, those are biscuits and they taste real good with butter, honey or gravy drizzled on em’…even syrup or jam.”

    “Jam?” Lifting the small jar of preserves, his eyebrows lifted in understanding. 

    “It’s down home-cookin’ like we are used to.” 

    “It’s greasy.” Getting up, she took her fork and picked up some potatoes and a tiny bit of the eggs. 

    “It’s good. Gon’ try some.” 

    “No.”

    “Ichiro,”

    “I said no.”

    “You are acting like a child.” That pout on his face grew deeper and God in Heaven he looked so darn cute right then. Softening her voice, she tried it another way. 

    “Just try a teeeeeeeny little bit for me, daddy. Please?” Hook, line, and sinker. HOME RUN! He scrunched up his nose for a moment before giving in with a defeated little sigh. Leaning forward, he slowly took the food offered and chewed it, moving it all around in his mouth.     

    “Well? How’s it taste?” 

    “It’s… all right.” 

    “See, there you go! Just step out on a little faith.” Picking up his own fork, he slowly picked some more potatoes. With a pretty smile, she sat back in her chair and breakfast resumed on schedule. 

    When they were finished and he ate all he could tolerate, they proceeded to get dressed. She’d gone into the bathroom and washed her face and brushed her teeth. Slipping into her dress, she opened the door. 

    He sat on the side of the bed and began to put his artificial limb on, lifting the straps to tie them around his hips. With his undershirt on, he put his legs into his pants and stood to put them on.  Reaching for his uniform shirt he put it on and tucked it nice, neat and taunt. Buckling his belt, he glanced up to see her watching him. With a flirty smile, he brushed past her to enter the bathroom. When it was all said and done, he reappeared, hair once messy now smoothed back from his face, wet with water. Going for his cap, he placed it onto his head

    “What time is your car arriving?”

    “Less than fifteen minutes.” He answered, pulling on the outer uniform jacket. 

    “Are you going back?” 

    “Japan?”

    “Yeah.”

    “No. Not yet.”

    “What do you mean not yet?”

    “I’ve been sent as the Emperor’s ambassador. I must stay on assignment for a remaining six months.” Her lips formed a small ‘O’. 

    “Where will you be staying? Somewhere I can write?” 

    “A place called Los Angeles.” Nodding, she went to grab a piece of paper and a pen. Writing her address, she handed it to him. 

    “When you get settled, write me. I put my Momma’s house phone number too in case you wanna call. But, it’s best to probably write so it won’t annoy her too much.” Staring at the paper, he acknowledged it with a brief nod and into his pocket it went. Fifteen minutes went by quick because the honk of the horn sounded outside. Almost immediately, her heart began to sink in her chest. 

    “Walk with me.” He said, outstretching his hand. They took the stairs slow, one at a time and on her way down, she’d pressed her head against his arm. 

    “I don’t want you to leave.” 

    “I don’t want to either.” Step. 

    “I just…got you back.” Step. 

    “We’ll see each other again.” Step. 

    “Promise?” 

    “I promise, Bea.” Step. Step. Step. Her back smashed back against the wall suddenly and his lips took possession of hers. The contact set her ablaze and she gripped his uniform tightly in her hands. She offered up a sweet little hum and he swallowed it with one last kiss.

    “I’ll write as soon as I can.” Breath uneven, she unclenched her fingers and straightened his uniform. 

    “Okay…I believe you.” Fingers entwined and they continued down the flight of stairs. She didn’t want to, but she let his fingers slip out of her grasp and watched as he slid into the backseat Throat tight now and eyes watery with tears, she wrapped her arms around herself, hearing the rev of the engine. As the car began to drive off, she opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. He gave her one last parting, a wink, that made butterflies flutter in her stomach. Closing her mouth, she smiled softly and gave a nod as finally it pulled away.