Devil's Mountain by Bernadette Walsh

mouth was dry, my tongue felt like it was twice its normal size. I struggled to croak out, “What? What happened?”
    Another woman rushed into the room. Her face went pale.
    “Call someone. I can’t get this bleeding to stop!”
    I looked down at my stomach and saw rivers of blood before I passed out.

    * * * *
    By the time I regained consciousness, not more than fifteen minutes later, the rattled acupuncturists had cleaned me up, and already, whatever wounds I’d suffered had healed. My stomach, which only minutes before had deep gouges torn out of it, was now clear, unblemished.
    Aside from a slight buzzing in my head, I felt fine. Better than fine.
    When I refused to go to the hospital, the center insisted on calling me a cab home and suggested I take a nap before picking up my son. I tried to close my eyes when I got home, but sleep eluded me. I was too wired, so I walked the six blocks to Marcie’s and picked up Aidan.
    When I got home, I raced around the house, tidying all the toys. I even shocked Bobby by calling him at the office and insisting he come home early because I’d cooked him his favorite dinner: roast beef and mashed potatoes.
    Bobby arrived at six. Aidan was sleepy, and after his dinner he fell asleep in my arms at 6:30. Normally he was up past nine, and we spent our evenings focused only on Aidan. Now, Bobby and I had the evening to ourselves.
    Unlike our usual fare of takeout eaten in front of the TV, Bobby and I ate like grownups.
    Like we used to before we had Aidan. Wedding china, the good table cloth spread over the cherrywood dining room table, candlelight.
    Bobby smiled as I served him his plate. “What did I do to deserve this?”
    I kissed the top of his head before I took my seat. “You work hard, sweetheart, and deserve this more often.”
    He took my hand. “Caro, I know you’re busy with Aidan. I don’t mind Indian takeout.”
    “Tonight I’m treating you to your Irish soul food. I even used Mary’s secret recipe for the gravy.”
    He cut a large piece and ate it. “Mmm, heaven.”
    His wonderful black silky hair shone in the candlelight, its few silver strands reflecting the light. His eyes glowed with contentment. I’d been caught up caring for Aidan, lost in the rhythms of new motherhood. While I hadn’t exactly ignored my husband, I hadn’t given him my full attention in some time. We had occasional quickies on a Saturday morning before Aidan woke, or sometimes midweek before we collapsed in exhaustion. I think it was lack of sex, hot and heavy sex like we’d had on the Mountain, that led to my dreams during the acupuncture session.
    I poured us both more red wine and soon we finished the meal and the bottle. Bobby updated me on his latest office coup, his expected promotion and the stress of moving from the midtown office to the firm’s new space at the Trade Center. I smiled, not exactly following everything, but enjoying the sound of my husband’s voice.
    I took his hand and led him to our bedroom. Since I’d had Aidan, I hadn’t allowed Bobby to see me fully naked without the lights off. Tonight I wanted him to see every inch of me. I stripped for him and stood naked before him. I closed my eyes and tried to recapture that feeling I had in the dream, of being lush and ripe. Of being beautiful. I opened my eyes, and Bobby with his dark hair and green eyes was enough like my dream man, I was able to lose myself again in my forest fantasy. I placed his hands on my full breasts. He caressed them, gently. Carefully. But I didn’t want him to be careful. I wanted him to take me. To hurt me.
    I pushed him onto our king size bed, and like the dream man, I began to explore his body with my tongue, from his toes, to his thighs and above. Bobby moaned when I sank my teeth into the sensitive flesh of his inner thigh.
    I climbed his body, forcing my nipple into his mouth. He kissed and then sucked my swollen nipples. “Harder,” I commanded him. “Bite me. Hurt