Katherine cried softly as she folded up the letter and replaced it in its envelope. She haltingly searched the mahogany desk for matches and lit a nearby candle. Then she shut off her reading lamp and stared through the dim light cast by the candle and into the candle's flame. Her eyes were held in rapture as the flame flickered and danced to some unknown, hidden tune. Her man was coming home.
She turned her eyes to the double bed and stared blankly a moment at the nymphs carved at the tops of each slender wooden bedpost. She slid the chair over to them and gazed at them with longing.
Each of the tiny, naked, slender little beauties, arched their backs, leaning backward, throwing their shoulders behind their heads with arms uplifted, reaching to the heavens, to some unknown intangible force, hands open, asking for the intangible to come into their grasps. Katherine placed her index fingertip at the wooden waist of one of the nymphs, drawing in the beauty of the touch, the feel of the waxy, solid finish. She slowly slid her fingertip up the nymph's abdomen, careful to lovingly note each tiny, delicate curve as they rippled across the waist. She drew her finger upward still, into the bared cleavage of the nymph's breasts, drawing a shallow breath as she felt the imprint each of the nymph's firm oaken nipples as they pressed their wooden way into the flesh of her finger tip. Then she moved her fingertip under the chin of the outstretched nymph and held it there as if she could raise the chin of the nymph higher, as if trying to bring it closer to the goal it gazed upon. Katherine followed the slender, sensuous curves of the nymph and frowned as she reached the nymph's delicately hewn thighs, drew her finger to them and noted the tension in the limbs encased in the wooded sheath below.
She sighed again as she stared at the nymph's leg, each one encased in the frame of the bedpost. The wood seemed to wrap around the nymph at the calves, like dirty tentacles copping a feel. Katherine lovingly pressed her cheek to the diminutive statuette, fully knowing the torment it suffered. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the nymph's face--so beautiful in suffering, as it looked to stars, mouth agape, with pleading eyes--eyes pleading for freedom--eyes in which she could see tears.
Katherine lovingly cupped two of her fingers and brought them to the nymph's forehead, caressing the long strands of wavy hair, dragging her fingers gently downward as the hair fell hanging behind the nymph's back, wincing as each ripple moved in shudders against her fingers. She sighed.
Slowly she drew her hand away from the nymph, a resolute nostalgia burning within her. She reached under the bed, running her hand against the clean yet gritty carpet until she banged her fingers into a metallic tray. She winced slightly from the pain and wrapped her slender fingers around the tray's edge, drawing it out from under the bed. She half-smiled, half-frowned as she looked at her husband's tools--tools of his trade.
She inhaled sharply, slowly wrapping one hand around a slender wood carving chisel, the other around a small hammer. "Don't worry," she whispered, "you'll soon be free."
She was eager to begin her work, but she knew that she had to take the gentlest of care before proceeding. She closed her eyes, visualizing each dynamic curve of the form before her, focusing--feeling--sharing. She braced her soul for the coming task, and with a start, she opened her eyes.
Katherine inhaled deeply and grasped the chisel and hammer tightly. She fought against the years of weight pressing down upon her arms and shoulders as she forced herself to raise her hammer and chisel. She placed the chisel against a tentacle, her hand shaking nervously, her mind wondering if she could accomplish the task before her. She brought the hammer close to the chisel's head and gave the chisel a gentle tap. She stared blankly as a slender sheet of the tentacle peeled away from the nymph's shin. She moved the chisel's blade ever so slightly, ever so carefully a centimeter's fraction to one side. Then she gave the chisel another gentle tap. Another fleck of the despicable tentacle broke away from the nymph's lower limb. Katherine struck again, a tad more boldly, with slightly more confidence than she had allowed herself in ages--more of the detestable projection destroyed.
Slowly, more and more tenaciously, Katherine drew herself more hotly into her work. Her nimble hands moved, rapidly clipping away more and more of the offending limbs. She paused a moment to breath, to undo her blouse a touch, to wipe away the slight grimy sweat that had begun to congeal on her brow.
She smiled as she gazed upon her handiwork; she had freed the nymph's left leg down to the calf. She slipped her hand under her blouse's collar loving the slimy, grimy texture that had formed over her breasts and rubbing, massaging the slightly aching shoulder, glad to have the lubricant her sweat provided. She lowered her hand as if she was wiping away the sweat, letting it roll into the valley of her bosom, reveling in the slippery smooth feel of her skin. She slid her hand out from under her blouse, drew it onto her waist, looking up at the ceiling as she brought her hand to her side, running the grime into her blouse, drawing her hand down along her waist and to her thigh. Then, she moved her hand to her leg and pushed the sweat from her hand altogether. After uttering a relaxed, tension-draining sigh, she began anew on the nymph.
She raised her chisel and hammer and carefully resumed her work, knowing full well that if she expressed the passionate fervor within her she would risk severing the nymph at the ankles. She strained to keep her breath steady, her hands controlled as she worked. A thick, sensual grime formed beneath her crotch as the fury she felt within became personified in her luscious scent. She quickly freed the nymph's left leg--a tumultuous whirlwind forming in her mind, making her dizzy. Her breaths came in steady heaves as she reached to the tray and retrieved an awl.
She tried to force herself steady, to breath easier but an energy seemed to linger in her frame--an energy she had never dreamt possible--a compelling energy that forced her to work more rashly, more daringly than she ever had before. She quickly etched rough hewn toes for the nymph. Her hand darted to the tray to retrieve a small scrap of sandpaper. She quickly, lovingly buffed out any rough edges and enhanced the delicate lines of the nymph's toes with the awl. Then she began the task of freeing the other imprisoned leg.
She fought the impulse to give in to her lust for abandon--she forced her hands to remain at their task despite every urge within her--every rage that developed in such a short span tried to break her will--to throw her into the fires of the impulsive, the reckless. She continued her delicate, rapid hammering, quickly unsheathing the tender leg held in stasis for so many years of tumultuous torment. She violently grasped the awl, wrenching it from its place on the floor and quickly carved out the toes.
Her hand shot to the tool tray and wrapped around the handle of a coping saw and she began the final stages of freeing the nymph from its disastrous cage. Now she panted with each stroke of the blade, each heave coming with each pass of the slender, jagged-toothed monster's maw. She watched, her sense of triumph growing as each stroke peeled away yet another millimeter of the nymph's prison. Her motions grew stronger and stronger until, with a triumphant cry, she raised the nymph from the confining grasp of the bedpost.
Tears came to her eyes--she slumped forward, half-laughing, half-crying as she brought the tender idol to her chest in a joyous hug. "You're free," she croaked feebly--feeling the passion's release as she held the immaculate creature tightly with both hands. She raised it to her lips and kissed it upon the lips, the breast.
Then it all came crashing away in one final, exaggerated sigh. Katherine thrust the idol to the floor and freely wept; the smile on her face shattered as she lowered her head to face the floor. Her newfound energy seeped away as her knuckles touched the carpet, her eyes giving a sidelong glance to the door. She shook her head sadly at the door and reached for her blouse's buttons. She undid them to her waist and then slowly crawled to her feet, leaving the wooden statue on the floor. She raised her hand to her shoulders, one at a time and slipped out of her blouse, allowing it and her skirt to fall to the floor. Then, she looked down at her naked body with its slick sensual coating of sweat and grime, raised her eyes to the heavens, arms pleading as she arched her back, mouth agape, imploring whoever was watching her with wistful eyes to take up a hammer and chisel, to cut away the tendrils that held her aground, to tell her in a loving whisper or roar of triumph, "You are free!"