Never: an erotic retelling of Peter Pan Read Online Free

dreams were filled with hopelessness.  Only the previous night she'd dreamt she was on the Titanic, dining at the Captain's Table.  For reasons known only to her subconscious, she'd been the lone guest aware of the imminent danger.  There'd been people all around her, laughing and eating and dancing while she'd sat mute, her eyes wide with a terror no-one seemed to care about.  The Captain, who’d looked suspiciously like James, had smiled benevolently at her and she'd tried to speak, but before she could prise her lips apart he'd moved on to mingle with his guests.  She'd become a little girl, too frightened of the censure she'd receive for being impolite enough to shock him with news that his ship was sinking. 
      
    And it was sinking.  Dee could feel the icy chill of deep water swirling around her ankles.
      
    She'd made no sexual overtures towards James since the Billy incident, and as a consequence he hadn't touched her once in the whole lonely fortnight.  She wondered if he ever would again.  Or if she even wanted him to.  In retrospect, their lovemaking seemed empty and meaningless, like the perfunctory rituals of his good-morning kiss on the cheek, and the solicitous hand on her arm when they were out.  Duty and convention, but no... passion.
      
    Had there ever been?
      
    Once, long before James, she'd felt passion but those exultant memories had been crushed by the pain that had followed.
      
    All in the past .
      
    She closed her eyes briefly, trying to draw on some hoped-for inner reserve of strength.  Most marriages went through rocky patches.  And nothing had actually happened to precipitate her turmoil, all the problems were in her mind.  James appeared happy with the status quo and she must simply adjust herself to it.  Because what was the alternative?  Life as a single woman in the jungle of academia was fraught with difficulties, not the least being the unwanted advances of every male on campus.  And would she be happier alone?  Would James?
      
    Gradually the soft morning sunlight streaming through the window seeped into her bones and the view soothed her troubled mind.  Amid the quiet bushland setting, the pace of activity below her was familiar and peaceful.  Students ambled from lectures, some couples with arms around each other, all young, eager, and open to what life had to offer them.
      
    She'd been like that once, but that time was dead, and the girl she'd been with it.  As it often did, the painful memory intruded on her consciousness, but this time she paused in the act of suppressing it.  Perhaps in the replaying of that memory she could recapture the strength that had helped her move on.  She needed it now.
      
    So she closed her eyes and cast back...
     
     
    "Don't talk about it, Ma," she'd whispered, her throat painfully dry.  "Just... please."  The general anaesthetic had worn off and she'd awoken to whiteness and sharp odours; disinfectant, a penicillin-like smell, and the metallic scent of the blood she felt oozing from between her thighs. 
      
    First the surgeon, and now her mother wanted to talk, but Wendee couldn't bear to hear it. 
      
    The throbbing of pain in her body she could cope with.  As long as it didn't invade her mind and her heart.  Not yet.
      
    "It needs to be talked about, my girl, and I'm too busy to be waitin' on your moods," her mother said, pushing Wendee's legs aside to settle her large frame on the end of the bed.
      
    The wrenching movement sent a sharp pain through Wendee's abdomen and for a moment she thought she'd pass out. 
      
    Was she going to die here, in a strange hospital miles from home, with her life barely started?  What of the dream ?  Would it never be realised?
      
    Through the haze of pain, the dream stood out like a beacon, drawing her back to life, to reality.  Gritting her teeth, she forced the pain out of her mind, ignoring its razor edge as she inched further across the bed, away