The Land of Painted Caves - Jean M. Auel [321]
A swim would feel good right now, she thought, and the river is muddy from so much use. She started walking upstream toward the bend in the small stream that cut a deeper hole near the outside edge and left a grassy strand with a beach of small pebbles on the inside curve. She smiled thinking about Jondalar and what they used to do beside that stream. She’d been thinking about him so much, thinking about how he could make her feel. She felt herself warming to his imagined touch, and even noticed a wetness between her legs. Wouldn’t it be fun to try to make another baby? she thought.
As she approached the swimming hole, she heard splashing, and then voices, and almost turned back. Sounds like someone else has found this place, she thought. I’d hate to disturb another couple looking for a place to be alone. But it might not be a couple. It might just be some people going for a swim. As she approached, she heard a woman’s voice, and then a man’s. She couldn’t make out the words, but something about that voice bothered her.
She moved as silently as she ever had when stalking an animal with her sling. She heard more talking, then a deep laugh of sheer abandon. She knew that laugh, though she hadn’t heard it much recently, and it was rare enough in any case. Then she heard the woman’s voice, and recognized it. She had a peculiar sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as she looked through the bushes that skirted the small beach.
32
Jondalar and Marona were just coming out of the water as Ayla looked through the bushes. With a stab of anguish, she watched Marona turn to face Jondalar, put her arms around him and press her naked body close to his, then reach up to kiss him. Jondalar bent down to meet her lips. With fascinated horror, she watched his hands begin to caress her body. How many times had she felt his knowing hands?
Ayla wanted to run, but she couldn’t move. They moved a few steps closer, toward a soft leather hide spread out on the grass just in front of her. She could see that he wasn’t really aroused. But no one had seen him since she arrived, he’d been gone all day, and it was obvious to her that they had already used the leather blanket, at least once. Marona pressed against him again, kissed him deeply, as though with great hunger, then slowly dropped down in front of him. With a languid, knowing laugh, Marona enclosed her mouth around his flaccid manhood while Jondalar stood looking down at her.
Ayla could see his mounting excitement in his expression of intense pleasure. She had never seen his face when she did that to him—was that how he looked? As Marona moved rhythmically back and forth, his tumescent organ pushed her farther away from him as it began to extend.
It was an agony for Ayla to see him with her. She could hardly breathe, her stomach knotted in pain, her head pounded. She had never experienced this kind of feeling before. Was this anguish jealousy? Was this how Jondalar felt when I went to Ranec’s bed? she thought. Why didn’t he tell me? I didn’t know then, I never felt jealousy before, and he never told me. He only said it was my right to choose who I wanted.
That means it’s his right to be there with Marona!
Her eyes filled with tears, she couldn’t stand it, she had to get away. She turned and started to run blindly through the small woods, but she tripped on an exposed root and crashed to the ground.
“Who’s there? What’s going on?” Ayla heard Jondalar’s voice call out. She scrambled to her feet and started off again as Jondalar pushed the brush aside. “Ayla? Ayla!” he said in shocked surprise. “What are you doing here?”
She turned to face the man who was coming after her. “I didn’t mean to interfere,” she said, trying to compose herself. “You have the right to couple with whoever you want, Jondalar. Even Marona.