Mud squishes under our shoes as we walk along the path that overlooks the river gorge. It's not exactly a narrow path, but wet fallen leaves and slippery rocks make careless walking treacherous, and there is a steep slide downhill that, at best, would end in a close encounter with jabbing underbrush, at worst, in an involuntary bath in rapids that have been swollen with autumn rain; so we're taking this section of trail at a slow and careful pace. The earlier part of the trail was gently sloped, even paved in parts, and led to a rather nice overlook from where we could see the waterfall, or, if we preferred to walk just a little farther, a wide cave mouth; it's a popular part of the park to visit, though, even on wet, chilly days in late fall, so we're pushing on. I'm glad this is a day we both have off, because it means we can take our time. There are rocks and trees in this park that have graffiti carved into them from the nineteenth and even the eighteenth centuries, left by wandering trappers, soldiers, and settlers; looking for their carved signatures and initials is half the fun of walking this trail.

After a particularly rugged section that has me wishing for a walking stick, he looks around, sees something on his right, and veers off onto what I would be tempted to call a goat track, except I'm pretty sure, given the crushed beer can that I can see in the scrub brush, it was made by teenagers, not goats.

He looks over his shoulder and beckons. "This way," he says, and I do my best to tiptoe in mud and wet leaves without stumbling. He's more sure-footed than I am; he has to stop every few minutes to wait for me to catch up to him.

Eventually, we are perched side by side on a large, moss-covered log, overlooking a gully that leads down to the river.

It's a long way down.

"Excellent. We have a good view of the river, and we're just exposed enough to the mist that we'll stay in touch with the dampness. A little further on is a cave passage that would also have worked well for my purposes, but it's on the path, and while it's unlikely anybody will be coming this way, given the weather, I didn't want to risk a chance of being interrupted. This is better. I thought we'd work on channeling the elements. Sit facing me, please."

I rotate gingerly until I am straddling the log. It seems a stable enough position. More or less. He's in the same position himself, and he seems comfortable enough.

"You'll probably find this particular lesson rather enjoyable," he says, and smiles. "It involves a lot of kissing."

He's right. I like the sound of it already.

"Attend. I am sure you have noticed, by now, that quite aside from any questions of technique or style, there is a qualitative difference between certain of my kisses. It's because I sometimes channel different types of elemental energy for different desired effects. When working with Air, for instance, I've generally done so to take a very small amount of yours away from you. I do that to intensify certain physical reactions you have while we're making love, also because I happen to greatly enjoy it when you start swooning in my arms. You look cute when you do that. I'm not going to demonstrate it right now, because we're perched on a log over a steeply inclining slope and a ravine. Earth, on the other hand? Earth is another matter. This is Earth when channeled through a kiss."

He takes my face between his palms and leans in toward me and covers my lips with his. Instantly I feel a hungry, desperate stirring of desire that starts between my legs and works its way up me, caressing my flesh, murmuring to me of things to come. At the same time, I feel blissfully secure; the leather-clad hands that hold my face still are my rock, my anchor, my home.

"There," he says, as he slowly pulls away from me. "We are both grounded. I've just pulled the element of Earth through you, using you as a channel, and into myself. Some of that Earth energy actually came directly from you, from your body, although most of it came from the soil and trees and rocks around us. Did you feel how it flowed?"

I reflect on his words, but ultimately, I have to shake my head. No, I was too busy noticing how wonderful it felt to be kissed.

He can be very distracting that way.

He smiles. "Well. We'll just have to try again. This time, pay attention to the energy, not just to what the energy does to you. I know you are capable of this. There have been times when I had you on the receiving end of my riding crop, and I could swear a part of your consciousness was sitting on the side, taking notes. This situation is no different. I am going to kiss you and use you to channel Earth again. Attend."

Our lips connect once more, and by some Herculean effort, I manage to hold a bit of myself apart so that I can trace the energy flow. This time I feel it. He's pulling it up from the ground, through the soles of my dangling feet, and blending it with my ch'i. Once more, I feel the bliss of absolute security in his hands.

"Better," he says at last. "I think you got it that time; and that is good, because now I want you to show me that you can do the same thing. Practice on me. I think we'll be going back to this element often, in the days to come - since your personal energy is predominantly Fire, you have a bit of a hard time with patience, which can be a dangerous flaw when you are the one in control. You need to be the anchor of stability when you are dominant. Earthing your own desire is a skill you need to have, and you need to be able to do it easily. Channel Earth through me now, please." He smiles again. "Take all the time you need. It's Earth, after all. Earth does not need to be rushed."

Well.

When I lean into him, concentrating on his energy, I notice mostly his warmth, and a tightly reined passion that I desperately want to release, but that's Fire. I'm looking for Earth. I focus instead on his body, on the delicate bones of his face, the salt and pepper of his hair; the log underneath us asserts itself, so I weave in my awareness of the wood and the moss and imagine us growing roots that sink deep into the soil. There is a sweetness about him, a sweetness I want to taste, and I open him gently; our tongues dart around each other as I take him in.

I pull back.

"A reasonably good first attempt. We'll be working more with Earth over the next few weeks. An important thing to keep in mind, by the way: you cannot create something from nothing. You cannot bring out and work with what is not there. So, in a sense, you can rest assured that although you are dealing with the emotions and needs of another person when you kiss in this manner, you won't be forcing yourself on your partner. If what you seek is not there, you simply won't get a response. You'll wear yourself out for nothing.

"The flip side of that, however, is that most people do have strong emotions, many of which are repressed for whatever reason, and the reason is often a good one. Toying with emotions can be quite dangerous, and you can expect it to backfire on you eventually if you make a habit of it. It's unethical to play with the emotions of other people for your amusement. Be careful who you use as a living channel, and don't do it without a good reason.

"Now. Let me demonstrate Fire. You're very familiar with this energy, of course, as with others, especially given that Fire is your natural element, but not under these circumstances, and it's important to have Fire under conscious control. Unrestrained Fire can scorch. The first step toward controlling any element is knowing it."

He seizes my chin with his hand and pulls me toward him, crushing my body against him with his other arm. The chill of November vanishes. His kiss ignites me; I have become Fire. I want to have him here, on this log, now. Now. All I have to do is throw on a little more tinder. I want to feel his skin under my hands, his body writhing beneath mine, and I feed him my desire, tearing at the buttons of his coat with my free arm. It's too warm for coats, anyway. There, under his shirt, there is a place that likes being teased. It's mine now. His mouth, too, is mine. I will drink in this passion that he keeps buried deep inside. I know how to reach it, and I want it, all of it.

He gasps. Oh, sweet and delicious, that gasp. I pull him closer and nudge myself onto his lap so that our pelvises touch, my legs straddling his. Only a little more.

Come to me, lightning.

His face between my hands. His body writhing, arching. He moans into me. Oh, how sweet is the taste of that moan.

This time I am the one to break contact.

He chuckles under his breath when his head collapses onto my shoulder. "I think it's safe to say that since you were able to not only detect my working from the very start, but also completely take it over, with fine control, you already thoroughly understand how to use the element of Fire. I asked for that one, didn't I?" He coughs and clears his throat. "I'm going to have to catch my breath before we go on. I'm a bit drained."

I smirk.

We sit in place, leaning into each other, heads on each other's shoulders, listening to each other breathe, holding each other. A wet breeze begins to stir. Eventually, I notice that it's getting cold and drizzly, and I press closer for warmth, feeling the strong, steady current of his being pulse against me.

It's amazing the things you learn to notice when your voice is stilled.

"There. Now that I can focus again, I think it's time to channel Water through you. This should be interesting - not that I haven't done it before, but this will be the first time you're aware of it as such. Believe it or not, you're very easy to use as a Water channel, because, quite independently of compass corners, Water is your polar opposite. Water opposes Fire; Earth opposes Air. Anyone who has strong tendencies toward one element will have a buried side, corresponding to what Jung called the Shadow, in which their opposite element predominates. You burn with a white-hot Fire, but you have hidden Watery depths. They are profound and dark, to match your brightly burning flames. Any power that great is very easily manipulated by someone who knows how to do it." He smiles, and his smile is like velvet and midnight. "I happen to very much like stirring your waters and plumbing your depths. You probably knew that."

I think I noticed that some time ago, yes.

He reaches out for me with one hand, stroking the bottom of my jaw with a gloved finger. I shudder. Already I can feel it, and he hasn't even taken possession of my mouth yet. "Come here," he murmurs. "Come to me, now."

I swallow past the lump in my throat and lean forward into the kiss. I couldn't resist if I tried.

Our lips meet.

Drowning. Melting. Disintegrating, disintegrating. I'm dissolving into him. All I feel is my desire, which will kill me with ecstasy; and him, overwhelming, hard as granite on the outside, sharp as steel, and yet warm and soft and comforting beneath the surface, a blanket, a hearth fire. In this is everything I ever wanted or needed, and it caresses me softly, holding me in warmth and sweetness. My body is reduced to atoms, spinning dizzily, falling apart. From a far distance, I can tell that I'm trembling as I collapse against him, and then even that awareness is gone on a flood of drunken bliss. His lips are all over my face, tenderly kissing my cheeks, my eyelids, my hair. Every kiss leaves blossoms in its wake.

"Mine?" he whispers, caressing me softly on one cheek.

I nod speechlessly. Yours, yours, all yours, forever yours.

His lips meet mine again. I moan into him, nearly in tears from happiness. When his hand plays at the back of my neck, tracing a faint circle before seizing me gently and holding me in place near the place my birthday necklace usually sits when I wear it, a faint cry escapes me. He kisses me there, too.

I feel his lips against my ear. "Mine," he whispers, and I press closer to him.

His.

"Come for me."

My body convulses, and a hoarse cry starts to escape me before he covers my mouth with his hand. Muffled, my cries go on, until at last he releases me and pulls his face away from mine, and I sag, exhausted.

I feel a chuckle begin to rumble in his chest. "There. I think we're even now."

"We are not even," I mutter, before I remember that I'm not supposed to be talking. "Not even close."

He smiles as he puts his finger against my lips. "I've had practice. Speaking of which, did you follow any of that closely enough to try working it yourself?"

I shake my head. No. How could I possibly trace an energy path, when I was busy being drunk?

"Ah. Well, then. We'll just have to keep trying this until you can trace the energy and follow it when I work with it."

I had a feeling he'd say that.