DISCLAIMER: I only borrowed them for a while. MGM and whoever can
have them back whenever they want.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
DEDICATED: to my muse and my love.
Sam Carter had always had an excellent spatial memory. Geometry had always been a favourite subject. No need for her to draw plans, she saw objects in her head in three, sometimes four dimensions (and if she went without sleep and consumed enough coffee even more dimensions than that), could mind map their prime co-ordinates, morph and twist them as she desired, turn them on their head, back to front, inside out, outside in, timeshift, progress, multiply…
She knew about being told about the geometric shapes that underlay everything. The lines, the curves. She read books on architecture, on art theory, on obscure sixteenth century philosophers just to appreciate the science of dimension, the sublime use of space and form, the meaning behind the meaning behind everything.
Yet it was the first time that she saw the curve of Janet Fraiser’s thigh that she truly understood. The way the line of her thigh intersected with the soft rise of her belly, the crease of her hip descending towards her cleft. Sam Carter studied it for a long moment, ran her hands over it, explored the shape, the texture, the dichotomy of strong bone and soft yielding flesh. It spoke to her of mysteries beyond everything. It was…
“Sam… what are you doing?”
“You’re beautiful… I look at you and I see mathematical formula, proofs of geometry that have baffled scientists for thousands of years. And it’s just… there.” She ran her hand down that perfect line once more. “Beautiful.”
There was one more thing about this perfect line she had discovered. She knew exactly the contours that would match it, fit against it as if they had once been part of a greater, perfect whole. Sam Carter knew her own body well, had studied its shape, its form, its contours to better understand the way things worked. And if she stretched out just so, and lay breast to breast with her lover, looking into those deep brown eyes that held eternity for her, and she raised her thigh to rest her leg over the curve of that hip so that their centres almost touched, curving her body slightly to compensate for her greater height, then the spatial dynamics of that moment created a whole new equation, a whole new geometry, variables cancelling each other out, elements equalising into one expression: perfection.
Soft lips touched hers, curved into a smile that was a whole different geometrical delight. “You know, girl, you’re not so bad looking yourself.”
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