The Last Nymph

The Long Night

As the wind from the storm blew heavily into Doc's house, the air became considerably cooler. It was indeed a northern weather front in full fury, capable of turning a summer night into brusque fall air. Doc got up to check on the boiling lobster and asked a pensive Maera if she felt cold, as he was beginning to feel.

"Like many things you humans feel," she said, "we Nereids cannot speak of them so much. I can tell when the winter sea feels different than the summer sea . . . but like the fish and our love, the dolphins, we're never uncomfortable there. Tonight, the rain and wind only feels more like my home, the sea."

Doc was intrigued to hear this, but not surprised. There was nothing ever in the literature about Nymphs—or any of the mythological personae, being motivated positively or negatively by the weather, as humans were.

"Well, if you don't mind, my sweet guest, I believe I'll make a fire tonight in the fireplace."

"Oh . . . well as long as it's not too powerful." She said this with a certain trepidation in her voice. "Your cooking fire is not frightful to me . . . but a larger fire might be, Doc."

He was puzzled by this and asked her why.

"I have only seen large fires during wars between men. When ships would burn, causing many to die. It was long ago but happened often in those times. Sometimes my sisters and I would watch from a distance while villages were burned down completely on the islands."

"Yes. I know It happened frequently," Doc said. "Mostly between the sixteenth and nineteenth centuries around these parts."

"This place . . . where you live now . . . the village they called Kastro? I watched it completely burn down several times, Doc. Mostly by pirates . . . but also enemies of the Venetians. The Ottomans, with their swift ships."

Doc knew the history well and it was true, sieges by pirates were a regular occurrence and always a lethal enemy of islanders. The cat and mouse wars between the Italians princes and Ottoman Turks also caused centuries of conflict and campaigns of fire and death on the coveted islands.

"Well, alright," Doc said. "This fire I make tonight will be a little bigger than the small flames beneath our lobster, but I promise. You'll be safe, Maera. Fire is also a friend to man. A gift from one of your distant cousins, Prometheus."

"She smiled proudly. You see, we are not only creatures to vex you in this world. It depends much on our nature . . . but also why we were created."

Doc smiled at her simple cosmology and delightful introspection.

"Yes, Maera. And you have shown me a different side to you and your sisters." He stood up to tend to the fire. "So will you stay . . . and talk to me tonight again? While I eat this delightful gift you've brought?"

"Of course, I'll stay. To see this fire you make, Doc. And to watch you happily eating,"

She smiled at the thought of it.

"There's something inside me that . . . wants to please you creatures. My sisters and I never tired of watching your kind . . . on ships and on the shore. I suppose it's just the same with you. Why you like to watch and listen to me."

Doc nodded and smiled back. "Yes, I think you're right."

At this point, Maera innocently pulled her dress up to her thighs freeing her shapely legs from the still damp dress. Doc took note of the gesture and what she said about pleasing men. Was it in her nature to not even resist him as a target for seduction? Her historic baiting of males? It was an intriguing question, and a point he would have to weighing against how she would further behave that evening.

Exactly how Maera was conditioned over the centuries--perhaps over millennia, to do what Nymphs were recorded to do, was an issue that enthralled him. Doc easily could understand if her words and movements might become more obviously flirtatious that evening. He felt it would naturally be in her mythic DNA to do so. Such traditional conditioning to taunt all men's base desires would surely not change overnight. But what of the emotions she mentioned? Her quest and interest in love?

As the smell of garlic and rosemary seasoned seafood called out to Doc's gustatory sense, he tried not to think of other pleasures. Particularly those he would have had immediately so many years ago in the presence of a beautiful young woman And especially one so willingly to share cozy space with him on a blustery night.

While building the fire in the fireplace, he saw Maera move subtly back, further away from the nascent flames as they began to devour the summer-dry wood. Yet, at the same time, she seemed beguiled by the fire as it crackled and broke majestically into hues of blue, red and orange.

As Doc moved the table over closer to the fireplace, he took down a bottle of wine and set out a single plate. He cordially motioned for her to come even closer with her chair to further enjoy the hypnotic aura that only an open fire on a cold, rainy night could offer.

He watched Maera comply, moving gingerly nearer, eventually placing her chair just in front of the flames. This allowed her to dry her hair but also be mesmerized by the fireplace's novel presence. Doc took the opportunity to move to the stove and fetch the cooked lobster from the water. He carefully removed the outer shell from its delectable tale and went back to the table with it, setting out a small bowl of olive oil and basil to dip the while meat in. He produced a half loaf of bread, as well, and poured his glass full of California Zinfandel.

Maera seemed to be in her own world, taking in the atmosphere of the fire and her busy company with a satisfied expression on her face. The rain and thunder only strengthened while Doc unashamedly devoured the amazing feast of a diner.

Very few words passed between them as the two allowed their sensual pleasures to be satiated in their own wonderful way. Perhaps it was both of them who wondered, Doc thought halfway through his meal, how the night would pass for them later—beneath the still raging storm.

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