The Tunnel

At the bottom of the hill was the top of a high stone wall, built into the soil. From his perch halfway up the slope, Roger caught the scent of cigarette smoke and narrowed his eyes against the glare of the sun, trying to see. A thin wisp of smoke curled up into the air beyond the wall, accompanied by the occasional billowing cloud. Someone was down there.

Hoisting himself off the wet grass, he wondered who would be smoking all the way out here. There were no other houses for miles. Slipping occasionally but too well balanced to let himself fall, he padded down the hill and peered over the wall. When he saw her, a sudden mix of anxiety and excitement wrenched his stomach. She had come all the way here just to see him! Had he even told her where he lived? Grinning, he spoke as if he had been there all the while.

"You smoke?"

She jumped and gave a little yelp, nearly dropping her cigarette. God, she was beautiful. Long dark hair, those smokey eyes, her short leather jacket, her even shorter skirt, those long, luscious, nylon covered legs - and the heels! She glared up at him.

"Shit, Roger. What the hell are you doing up there, you creep? Stalking me?"

"Stalking you? You're the one having a cigarette outside my house." He couldn't keep his grin in check. He had thought about little else but her for the past two weeks. A frown creased her brow and she gave him an incredulous look.

"So you live in the alley behind my office."

"What?" He peered down the walkway, which disappeared into a dark tunnel. "You... work in there?"

"Yeah, other side of this alley. When the hell did it stop raining?" She flicked the butt to the ground and crushed it under her two-inch heel. The sun burned the clouds away, making the pavement bright as glass.

"You don't look out the window much, do you? It's been sunny all afternoon, darling. The rain’s only just drying up." He was glad for that. He loved the roads after a rainstorm, the way the slick stone glistened in the light. It was one of the reasons he never wore shades unless he was driving. Just in case.

She shrugged and turned to go, and his heart sank, but then she stopped, a small smile touching her pouty lips. "You really live around here," she asked, deciding to have a little fun with this lover boy.

"Uh, yeah. Yes. I do." Nice. Way to sound confident. Now she'll really think you're a stalker.

"Well?" She was standing with her hand reaching up, waiting for him to help her over the wall.

"Oh, sure." It took all of his effort to keep his excitement in check. She wanted to see his place? Did that mean what he thought it meant?

He lifted her over the top with ease, using the opportunity to wrap his arms around her waist. She laughed but pushed him away.

"Hey, now!"

He grinned. He hadn't kissed her yet. He stared at her lips now, fantasizing. Then she was falling.

"Whoa, Nadia!" His movements were quick, and in a flash she was in his arms. "You okay?"

"What the fuck," she groaned, panic lacing her voice.

"What? Nadia? What?!"

"It's not... this isn't the city. I work on thirty-fourth street, this is... This is nowhere." She clutched at his shirt. He could feel her nails digging into his chest, but he didn't care. He was just glad she was touching him.

"What? I don't understand, we're miles from any city."

"I... I..." Tears began to roll down her cheeks. He lowered them both to the grass.

"Hey, hey - it's okay. We'll figure this out." He damned well hoped so. It was starting look like the woman of his dreams might be a little crazy. If his hands were free, he would have been pulling at his own wavy brown locks. She sobbed for a bit and then tried to compose herself, though she kept her head in his lap. She stared up at him with fearful, bright green eyes.

"I went to work today, just like every day. I always go into that alley for a cigarette, every, every day, after lunch. The walls are too high to see over, I thought - " Her voice trembled but she continued. "I thought it was a garden or some private parking lot. Not... Whatever this is."

Her chest rose and fell in quick little bursts, like a frightened bird. For a moment they just stared at each other. There was an easy way to solve this mystery, Roger realized.

"How about we just go back through the tunnel and see where we end up?" He used a gentle voice, tried to be encouraging without giving himself away. There was no way that tunnel went to any city. She nodded and he helped her up.

"Jack be nimble," he said, and vanished over the edge of the wall. He landed on his feet with a soft clack. Nadia stepped toward the edge and glanced down. Roger was smiling up at her, his hair caught in a crosswind. "Come on, I'll catch you."

After a few hesitant seconds, she closed her eyes and jumped.

"What the - don't close - oof!" They sprawled on the pavement, both laughing hard, their problem forgotten for the moment. This time she helped him up.

"Sorry, old diving board habit."

"You were going to dive on me?"

"I thought about it."

They stopped at the rounded arch that was the tunnel's entrance. Roger hadn't actually been down here. He'd bought the house only a few weeks ago and hadn't fully explored the property yet. The opening was made of cobbled stone, now covered in a thick green moss. It looked quite old. And quite romantic, he noted. A guy could dream.

As they moved into the tunnel, he felt an elegant hand take his own. Nadia gave him an embarrassed look and a nervous giggle escaped her chest. What was it about girls and the dark? Oh well, he wasn't complaining.

"I left my umbrella leaning around here somewhere," she whispered.

"Okay." He did a perfect mock of her whisper. A hand that was not only elegant but also bony jabbed him in the ribs.

It was pitch black in the tunnel. Roger couldn't see a thing. "You walk through here every day? Do you have a light or something?"

He felt, rather than saw, her shake her head. A long pause. "I... get excited in the dark."

So, she had taken his hand simply because she had wanted to. A wave of joy flooded his body and he allowed himself a small grin. She couldn't see him anyway, he reasoned.

And then she kissed him.

It was a kiss among kisses, a perfect melding of lips. It started out with a long, delicate press from her, and then she pulled back, letting her mouth hover a fraction from his, her breath hot against his face. Then back, brushing along his lower, exploring with slow, deliberate motions. He felt her hands run along his chest and he forgot his own name. She kissed him hard and pulled her lips away so slow it was maddening, savoring every second. Then she slid her face beside his and kissed his cheek. A sudden explosion of sound nearly did it for him.

"Found my umbrella," she breathed, a dark round shape now hovering over her head.

"Good," he whispered. It was the best he could do. She took his hand and pulled him along. After a few more minutes, his name came back to him. Roger, that's what they call me. Well done, Roger.

At the end of the tunnel, a glowing light began to materialize. People were right when they said, "Don't follow the light." He wanted to stay in this tunnel, with her, forever. As if reading his thoughts, she stroked his hand with her thumb and they began to play with each other's fingers.

When they stepped out into the light, Roger was glad Nadia had the umbrella. Heavy raindrops hammered the nylon. The world was grey. He couldn't see past the thick black fabric, and so he stared at her feet instead as they walked along. Nadia let out a huge sigh of relief.

"Back in America. Thank fuck. Must have been some private farm or something in the heart of the city. Nice place for a house, anyway."

Roger wasn't listening. He was staring wide eyed up at the massive buildings that seemed to scrape the sky, at the towers of glass, the steel carriages, the flying metal birds. He nearly pissed himself.

"Roger?" Nadia laughed as if he were making a funny joke. "Hello, America?"

He turned to look at her, all colour gone from his face. "What's America?"