Chapter 1
The man's swarthy skin glistened from his climbing effort, the droplets of perspiration standing out on his face and forming tiny rivulets that had begun to trickle annoyingly down his face and neck. As he gained the portico, stepping cautiously over the railing, he crouched low in order to take a quick look around, all his senses alert to possible discovery. His keen ears told him that his quarry was up and moving around the bedroom, whose double French doors opened out upon the porch where he stood. Good! He was in luck this morning. He would get to see her, again!
Three weeks ago, a few days after he had begun work as a gardener on the Marklin estate, he had climbed to this portico via a tall ladder to trim some overgrown vines. It was then he had seen her, accidentally, for the first time. The memory of what he had seen stirred in him, moving in his very being; the thrust of the pounding blood in his veins arrowed straight and true to the heavy protuberance of his loins, where he felt it working, sensually.
Still crouching low, he made his cautious, soundless way to the vantage point at the side of the many-paned door where there was a slight gap in the curtain. He knelt down and put his face close to the opening. Almost the entire room was visible to him, but he did not see her at first. He cursed under his breath. Maybe she was in the bathroom already. Patiently, he waited, telling himself that he was a fool to place himself in such a position ... here he was, Jack Chavez, kneeling in the warm sun on his employer's porch hoping to catch sight of her in the intimate details of her morning dressing ritual! It's crazy, man, Crazy!
Suddenly, she was there before him! The opened bathroom door revealed the pink-white and blonde loveliness of her. He cursed the bath towel draped carelessly at a diagonal across her body as she drifted across the room to stand for a moment beside the bed. The towel came off, sliding down and away and was flung languidly to the bed. His involuntary gasp sounded terribly loud to himself. Christ! He couldn't afford to be discovered there!
The vision before his eyes moved now to the full-length mirrors of the closet doors, the smooth, long-legged loveliness of her, topped with slightly damp golden-blonde hair reflected back to him clearly. The upthrust mounds of her breasts were alabaster-white, marbled with soft, blue veinings just below the surface of the skin... that unbelievably white skin. He watched, lust screaming through him, as her hands - tapered fingers curling caressingly - moved up and cupped those magnificent breasts. He tried to imagine his own hands caressing that same female flesh.
With a low, soft moan of hopelessness and desire he turned reluctantly away from the vision and cautiously retraced his steps. Why? Why ... he asked himself ... why hadn't he broken into her room and taken her ... did with her as he wanted ... raped her in one wild moment of sexual abandon ... Christ! He knew the answer ... he just didn't have the nerve! He was scared ... scared to death!
The cupped breasts in her hands were sore to her gentle touch, and Terri, unaware that she was being watched, catalogued the places where she hurt. George's tiny whips had left little or no marks on her body, but she was painfully aware of those spots where he had hit her. He was especially fond of beating her luscious breasts. Now, running her hands over the contours of her body she winced in pain as she discovered other tender areas on her curving thighs. She probed and explored the hurts caused by the leather thongs wielded by her husband.
"Damn!" she sighed. "Damn him!"
Her eyes wandered to the partly opened closet door. Rows of exquisite garments, hung carefully in protective plastic covers, awaited her selection. A small fortune, by some stands, was represented by the gorgeous array of dresses and suits. Each was an original... very fashionable, very chic ... and very expensive. Her husband, George Marklin, had supplied the money for their purchase, as he had for the luxurious appointments of the bedroom, the rest of the house ... and the Jag she drove.
The sight of all those beautiful clothes seemed to blot the memory of the pain from her mind. She had most everything she had ever wanted ... marriage to a successful movie director ... a beautiful home ... a powerful new car to drive ... and clothing - all original creations, with accessories to match. She had it made!
Yes! She had it made! From bit player to cameo roles, to stardom ... then, marriage to her director; it was her marriage that had made all of this affluence possible. But, it was also her marriage that had revealed a whole new and ugly world of sex to her. George Marklin, husband, was not the same man who had courted her with Old World eloquence and courtly manners.
"Beast!" she said to herself, again remembering the wounds on her body. Her hand strayed to a tender breast. Was it worth it? She knew the answer as she reached out to make a selection from a number of suits. Choosing a gay and colorful silk print dress she held it up to her body, her mind aglow with the prospect of her shopping tour planned for that day. Several well known boutiques were having special showings of their new collections. She had received special invitations! After all, she was Mrs. George Marklin and she had unlimited credit at all the salons. Crowded into the back of her mind was any serious consideration of the state of her marriage. The hurts of her voluptuous body were forgotten in the excitement of her preparations for a fabulous day of reckless spending. Yes! It was all worth it... to her!
Dressed in the mini-skirted print, her make-up done to perfection, Terri descended the stairs to the living room, intending to eat a small breakfast before leaving to drive to downtown Beverly Hills. Halfway down the stairs she saw him sprawled on the couch. Involuntary repulsion rose in her. It was Peter Marklin, her stepson, who at nineteen was only three years her junior. She had not quite adjusted - even yet - to the fact of their relationship, and she was made constantly aware of their nearness in age. Peter had a way of never/letting her forget. As she surveyed his figure' on the couch, he seemed to be sleeping. Good! The last thing she wanted was another confrontation with the youth. He had been gone for about ten days, and during that time she had lost some of the apprehension he generated in her.
Resolutely, she decided against breakfast; she would leave now, while he slept. She made for the service entrance leading to the garage.
Just as she reached the door, her hand on the doorknob, she was stopped, startled by his voice behind her.
"Terri!"
She whirled to face him, her defenses up. "Peter!" she gasped, "I thought you were asleep ... !"
Half-glazed eyes looked down at her. "I was," he said, *his dirty hand going uncertainly up to the scraggly beard and then going to his shoulder-length hair to scratch loose a flake of dandruff. "I was," he repeated, "but I heard you ... as you floated by ... and my dream became a reality ... the vision was you ... my dear mother..." He leered at her, her eyes sweeping over her trim body in bleary-eyed focus.
The wild look of him'frightened her. She had never seen him quite like this. Quickly, she said, "I have some shopping to do ... "
She turned to open the door, her only thought to avoid further contact with him. His hand closed over hers on the doorknob and his free hand rested on the jamb. She was trapped between him and the door as he stood close behind her, the uncomfortable closeness suddenly giving rise to a feeling of panic.
"Peter," she said, trying to make her voice firm, authoritative, "stop playing games!"
Turning in the circle of his arms, her eyes blazing up at him, she put both hands against his chest and shoved him roughly away. As she did so, she was aware of the filthy condition of his nondescript clothing, the stench of them filling her nostrils. Unconsciously, she noted as he stumbled back a pace that his fly was unzipped, his dirty shorts plainly visible through the opening.
"What's the matter, mother dear ... don't you dig me?"
"Don't be impossible!" she snapped.
"Hey, you're groovy when you're mad ..."
He came close to her, again, his lips twisted into a leer. She backed away until she touched the door. Whirling, she gained the doorknob and wrenched it open. In a moment she had gained the sanctuary of her car. The garage door had been left open by her husband. The way was clear for her escape. She keyed the powerful engine into life, slipped the gears into reverse and gunned the sleek car out into a circular driveway. She saw him in the rear view mirror. He stood in the door of the garage, his fly now fully open ... disgusting! As she drove rapidly down the driveway, he waved at her, his fingers shaping an obscene gesture.
"My God ... !" Terri said aloud to herself. "I don't believe it!"
Terri drove for several moments; meanwhile trying desperately to change the direction of her thoughts. Try as she might she could not erase that final scene from her mind.
Peter's youth she decided was the problem. They were too close together in age. How she was to cope with him she didn't know. She did know that the first thing would be never allowing herself to be alone with her stepson.
She stopped at a chic downtown restaurant for brunch, joining literally thousands of other women in a lonely quest for something ... something that she didn't quite recognize. Ostensibly, her search this morning was for more beautiful clothing to cover her beautiful hollow body; hollow because she was unfulfilled, and so the search went on ... would go on; indeed, it must go on!
Then, she remembered Ben ... Ben Whitlow was his name, and she realized how nearly alike they were... Ben, when she had been seventeen, and Peter, now.
When you 're seventeen ...in high school, playing the game, you know everything is right... right for you and all the other groovy kids your age, because adults are wrong! They don't understand kids. The teachers, especially ... they 're still living in the stone age! : You wear the costume and speak the jargon ... because it's yours, exclusively ... and you feel real far-out:.. you 're with it. And your parents don't understand you. You want it that way! If the deep-down truth were known ... you want it that way because you don't understand yourself... and that's too painful! You're an in-between - not a child and not an adult - so you play the game.
And the game ... ? What are the rules of the game? No... they're not written down and organized into a book like baseball and football. There isn't any manual you can follow. It's like follow the leader. And who are the leaders? They 're the new elite... the singers ... the disc jockeys ... the new generation of movie actors and the New Left student leaders. These set the trends in speech, clothing and attitudes. Reject the old! Only the new is worthwhile... and never trust anybody over twenty-five!
Terri grinned to herself, remembering how close she, herself, was to that dreaded age. How she had changed! It was hard for her to believe that it had been such a short time ago.
You talked about the singing groups ... about drugs ... and sex. Mostly, you talked. You knew that there were some kids who were turned on to drugs, but there really weren't so very many of them. Some of them got busted and there was more to talk about. You defended drugs - that was the thing to do - but you didn't take drugs. You knew the jargon ... popping pills ... downers, uppers ... dropping acid ... blowing grass ... getting busted by the pigs: It was all part of the game ... wasn't it?
Sex was part of the talking game ... everybody talked frankly and openly about sex. According to the way they talked, everybody was turned on to sex ... everybody was doing it... some were doing it every night... and they knew every way to do it. They knew all the words and used them. It was real groovy!
And Ben Whitlow was the most turned on. His hair was long. He wore a moustache and the most far-out clothes. He had been the center of a flap about long hair, beards and non-conformist clothing ... the school was insisting on adherence to the dress code for students, but Ben's father, an attorney, had pressed the school board, taking Ben's case to court where he had won.
The uptight community was licked. The kids took over. They dressed and acted almost any way they chose. It was fun time. The establishment was backed to the wall.
Well... almost all, but not Terri's parents. They bent a little; they allowed Terri some freedom, but mostly they tried to hold the rebellious girl within reasonable bounds. Terri was angry and frustrated with them. She considered running away from home. She didn't run away, fortunately. Instead, she rebelled in other ways. She would stay out too late, sitting in Ben's car talking and petting. Eventually, the petting got out of hand. She hadn't wanted it to go that far; there was still something of respect in her for her parents' values. She would not have admitted it... but it was there, in her basic character. If she had examined her thinking closely, she would have realized that she still wanted to save it for her future husband.
Ordering a second cup of coffee, Terri grimaced wryly to herself. Yes, she had managed to save it for husband; then wondered cynically to herself whether it had been worthwhile. Momentarily, she was aware of the pains last night's session had produced.
It had been a lark ... lying to her parents - telling them she and Ben were going across town to a movie - then driving to Ben's house ... all pre-arranged, since his parents were out of town for a long, four-day weekend. At least, it had started out as a lark ... they were going to play house!
"But don't get any ideas, Ben ... no fancy ideas!" she had warned.
"Don't you trust me, Terri baby?"
"You know I do ... I've already let you ..." she began, her face coloring in an embarrassed flush, "Go as far as you're going to go!" she finished, snappily.
"Cool it, baby ... no need to get uptight!"
Ben had made them tall, cool drinks, and they were outside, lounging beside the kidney-shaped swimming pool. The alcohol swam in her brain. Images and memories were not quite clear. Suddenly, she was in the pool, completely clothed ... and she couldn't remember ... had she fallen ... or was she pushed?
Terri remembered the details of the rest of that evening. Actually, she would remember them for the rest of her days.
Ben helped her from the pool, and together they went into the house to change. Terri even managed a laugh at their predicament.
"What a sight I must be ... my hair so wet and stringy ... !"
"Groovy!"
She frowned. "Can we put these things in the dryer?"
"Of course," he said, "only forty-five minutes."
"And can I wear something of your mother's while ... ?"
"Yeah, man... like one of her sexy nightgowns!"
"No sex ... remember? You promised!"
"Oh, did I... ?"
"You know you did!" she said quickly.
"But I get ideas when I see naked women ..."
"I'm not - naked yet... "
"You will be... and I've got a good imagination!"
Terri fled toward a bathroom, flinging over her shoulder, "Be good, now ... and bring me a pair of your mother's capris ... or something..."
She didn't hear Ben mutter, "Baby ... it'll be the 'or something'!"
In the tiled bathroom, Terri undressed, stripping the wet, clammy garments from her budding voluptuousness and grabbing a fluffy towel to dry herself. She watched her reflection in the full-length mirror with fascination - her parents had never installed one in their home - studying carefully what she saw there. Ever since she had become a woman (she knew she was a woman the first time her menses had appeared) she had had a more than curious interest in her own body. She noted the creamy smoothness of her skin, her high, taut, but small breasts that were not yet filled out... no extra flesh on her ribs or belly... the gentle slope of her shoulders ... her narrow waist and curvingly swelling hips. Her long length of leg, their shapeliness of tapering thighs, slightly dimpled knees and curving calves into trim ankles, all grounded on long, narrow feet had always pleased her, and she turned before the mirror, surveying herself critically. She liked most of what she saw - the only thing she wished for fervently was that her breasts would fill out a little bit more, and her derriere was a little more boyish than she thought it should be; otherwise ... well, she knew that she was feminine and desirable.
She dropped the lid of the commode and sat down to dry her feet. Suddenly she was aware of a disturbing, tingling warmth of fullness and desire. She felt hot, and remembered with a quick blush how she had let Ben touch the most secret places of her body with his hand. She had both liked it and hated it... hated it because she had become like putty in his hands when he touched her there; she had almost succumbed that time ... she had been on the verge of telling him to go ahead and do it to her!
It must be the drink, she decided, that had gotten her so worked up. Her experience with alcohol had been very limited. She was not sure what her reactions to its effects were, but she did know that the feelings generated in her spelled danger! Well... she would have to see to it she kept her head, tonight.
As Terri sat languidly, smoking a cigarette and drinking her coffee in a Beverly Hills restaurant, remembering how she had been that night... when she had been on the point of taking that giant step into adulthood ... when she had been a frightened teen-ager ... scared of the unknown ... ready, but unready, yet... knowing, yet not knowing what to expect, she became acutely aware that the re-creation in her mind of that night had not been wasted ... her body was reacting, and she shifted uncomfortably in her chair and carefully re-crossed her legs. She was getting hot! But, God... What could she do about it? She wouldn't dare do what she knew other women did - perhaps even some here in this restaurant. They picked up men during the day, had their fun, and, presumably, their husbands were none the wiser. But George? God! George had made it clear to her that she would never be unfaithful to him! His was a consuming jealousy. If he ever carried ©ut even a small portion of what he threatened ... ! She shuddered. Her husband was certainly a strange man, to put it mildly. Forcefully, she put him out of her mind. Her reverie returned. She was back in Ben Whitlow's house, naked in the bathroom.
The door to the bathroom had opened slowly, gently and almost noiselessly. Terri jumped to her feet, her towel held instinctively in front of her. Ben stood there tall and unmoving, wearing only his tight jockey shorts, his long hair and scraggly moustache. The lustful look in his eyes was frightening. She gasped aloud, her eyes wide with fear.
"Ben! You promised me ... "
He stepped toward her, his slender but somewhat muscular body exuding his sexual self-confidence. His head shook from side to side, negatively, and his mouth worked.
"No! I didn't promise you ... anything ... remember?"
"My God, Ben ... ! We can't... do it... ! What if your folks were to come back ... w-walk in on us ... " she faltered, trying to find some reason to make him change his mind.
"No way!" he said, "they're down at the beach with another couple ... the Maynards ... and if my guess is right, they're having a swap meet. They're a real swinging foursome!"
"You mean ... y-your mother and father ... a-are doing it with another couple ... ?" she asked, a sudden truth dawning on her. To reinforce her supposition, she went on, "Y-your father and Mrs. Maynard ... and Mr. Maynard ... a-and y-your mother ... ?"
"Hell! Do I have to spell it out for you? They're like one big, happy family! Jack and Jill... and Betty and Bob ...
"Oh, Lord! I - I never dreamed ..."
But then, he had reached for her, tugging the towel from her grasp and dropping it to gather her into his strong, young arms, her naked flesh pressed tightly and helplessly against him as he kissed her with ardent passion, flattening and spreading her lips, his tongue probing until she uncontrollably thrust her tongue searchingly into his mouth, tasting him.
The hollow fright in the pit of her stomach came to life, and her legs became rubbery as she felt herself being transported by them out of the bathroom and into a bedroom, her body plastered to his as they moved almost as one person."
Together, they seemed to float across the floor, the giddiness in her head, the lack of strength in her body weakening her resistance, and she fluttered down under the pressure he exerted til they were both stretched out on top of the queen-size bed of his parents. She moaned once, aloud.
"Nooooooo!"
His mouth covered hers, again, and muffled the sound, his hands beginning to explore her body. She whined feebly as the sensations keened within her.
"Please, Ben ... no!" she pleaded, ever more aware of her danger.
It was as though she had not spoken, his hands were prowling her body with a mind of their own, his own brain senseless to any other stimuli. She moaned again, softly ...
"Oh, darling ... Ben!" she panted into his mouth, "O, God, we can't ... we mustn't... Ben!"
"Terri... Terri, baby! I've got to ... !"
Then, his ever-questing mouth was sliding down over her quivering breasts and belly. Again, she endeavored to stop him, but her will and her body had become, seemingly, momentarily paralyzed. His head moved lower...
With great effort, she found a croaking voice. "No, Ben, no!" But he paid no attention; he concentrated only on the demands of his body. And intense, insane spasms shot through her own naked, defenseless body, demanding sexual fulfillment.... And, yet... something within her cried out against it.
"Oooooooh," a long, agonized groan rose from deep in her throat; she heard herself as she moaned down at him. "Ben... we've got to stop! We can't go on! We can't!"
"Terri... darling ... my God! I want you!" he ground out between clenched teeth.
"No ... Ben, darling... no! It's not good ... ! You'd hate me afterward ... not respect me!" she moaned, trembling with the need of him.
"We're not talking about... respect! It's love ... loving! Damn it... don't you see ... ? I've got to! You can't leave me like this ... high and dry ... if you really love me ... !"
God! She must let him, her body, the physical side of her being told her, but her mind still struggled to maintain some semblance of control of her runaway senses. She wanted it! She wanted him! She couldn't stop herself now! It was a losing battle she fought with herself!
"Terri..." he grated in her ear, "I can't wait... ! God! I can't... wait any longer ..."
The length of his body rolled on top of her, his frantic face above her, where she read the lust and determination that drove him, and it was then that something in her snapped her back to reality; perhaps it was the realization that the game had become real... too real, and that the stakes were high ... higher than she wanted to( go!
"No! Ben! No! I can't let you do it... and make a complete mess of everything ... for us!"
Her mouth was imprisoned by his, but she talked wetly into his mouth, her words muffled ... "Listen to me, darling ... please, listen to me! It's not right... for us ... and we'll both be sorry. It'll be so much better ... for both of us ... if we wait..."
"I've waited too damned long, baby! I want you ... right now!" he grunted.
She hugged him close to her and kissed him hard.
"Please, oh, please, Ben... isn't there something else ... I - I could do ... ?" she pleaded, realizing that it would somehow be inhuman to stop him from gaining the relief, the sexual release, he obviously needed, but he seemed oblivious to her words.
Then, suddenly, as she tried to hold him away from her, he emitted a harsh grating cry and she felt something warm and wet splash onto her abdomen and begin to run down over her thighs.
Finally, with a huge groan, he collapsed on top of her, heavily, panting and sobbing, child-like in his explosive release. She caressed his head gently and thought to herself: OH, GOD! I WANTED IT TO HAPPEN ... BUT NOT NOW! NOT LIKE THIS! WAS I WRONG TO ... TO KEEP HIM OUT?
Ben sat up slowly, not looking at her. He eased his frame over to the side of the bed and stretched his legs over the side; he reached to a box of tissues, extracted several and handed Terri a few of them. She followed his lead, wiping herself as best she could. She pushed her hair back from her face and slid across the bed to him; her arms went around his waist and she buried her face in his shoulder.
"Sorry ... baby ..." he muttered softly, "I guess I shouldn't have come on so strong ..."
Terri's nerves were still on edge from lack of satisfaction. She decided not to let it show, and kissed the nape of his neck.
"Get me something to wear ...and we'll get my clothes into the dryer... O K.?" she said lightly.
He nodded, arose, fumbled in the closet and found a dressing robe of his mother's. Handing it to her, he asked, "This O K.?"
"Perfect," she got up from the bed and slipped into the garment.
Ben hesitated, standing, uncertainly, near the door, still nude - his manhood now hanging limp and innocent.
She noticed his uncertainty and wondered about it. Wondered if he was thinking of trying again ...
"You'll take me right home ... as soon as my things are dry?"
"Yeah, O K____"he agreed. He turned and left the bedroom. She heard him enter his own room, down the hallway, and she knew it would be all right.
Suddenly, as Terri sat at the restaurant table, she was jolted back to the present by the realization of what she had been doing by re-living that episode in her life. God! She had made herself hot! She was actually close - too close - to orgasm. Hastily, she gathered her purse and made her way quickly to the plush restroom. Then safely in the privacy of a cubicle, she gratefully allowed herself the luxury of a gasping self-induced climax, using her hand to stimulate her throbbing flesh. It was a surgingly welcome release, but her feelings were mixed; she was glad and relieved physically, but there was still the repugnance for the act, the feeling of guilt that had been ingrained in her from early childhood. It was something a nice girl did not do!
Emerging from the enclosure, she found herself face-to-face with a svelte, chicly dressed woman, who, at the exact instant, was just coming out of the adjoining cubicle.
Suddenly Teni realized that she had not been alone; however, she was quite certain she had been the only occupant when she had entered the lounge. This woman must have come in later while she ... she had been occupied with her own debased relief. She felt her face reddening. God! This woman knew!
A quick, friendly smile on the other woman's face put her at least partially at ease. She smiled a tenuous smile of her own and headed for the door. The last thing she wanted was a stranger knowing who she was.
"Terri ... Terri O'Neal isn't it?" The woman's musical voice stopped her. "I've always enjoyed your pictures."
"T-Thank you ... I'm glad ..." Terri said weakly, turning again to leave that confined place and perhaps ... an embarrassing incident... if the woman were to refer to what had just taken place.
"You're even more beautiful, in person, than on the screen," the other continued. The woman, somewhat taller than Terri, stood directly behind her, and she was aware of the exquiste perfume, the obviously cultured tones of her voice and the nearness; the uncomfortable nearness that made Terri's skin crawl with apprehension.
"You flatter... me," Terri said in a small voice. "I - I really don't feel like I - I'm that much..."
"You're a very lovely woman ... a woman to be loved..." the other said, softly, then continued, "to be loved ... properly ..."
Terri turned to face the stranger, her face flushed, "If you'll excuse me," she said, "I must be going..."
The woman's eyes bored into her, and Terri looked away, quickly, recognizing at once the meaning of the words reflected there. She read burning desire. She had seen it in the eyes of men often enough... but in a woman, never. Hastily, Terri swung the door open, but the woman's hand on her arm restrained her. The stranger's voice crooned, "Don't be hasty! There are many delights to be found ... in the arms of another woman. I could make your life something unbelievable!"
"Please ... y-you don't understand ... I'm married ... and my husband ..." Terri fumbled, at the same time attempting to leave the room.
"But... I do understand! Otherwise ..." the woman's pause was significant, loaded with meaning.
Terri wrenched herself free of the woman's grasp on her arm, "Let go of me!" she snapped.
Instead, the tall, strange woman leaned forward and kissed Terri full on the mouth. Somehow, it both intrigued her and repulsed her, at the same time. The soft, yet warm and flooding passion of the woman's mouth on her own made swift lightning strokes along her nerve endings that she could never have explained.
Lifting her head, the woman looked into Terri's eyes. "If you change your mind ... call me at this number ... after seven."
Terri looked down at the scrap of paper thrust into her hand. It bore only a telephone number. "W-what... ?" she stammered.
"Ask for Pauline!" the woman said, and swept regally through the door.
Numbly, not knowing what she was doing, Terri automatically stuffed the scrap of paper into her purse, self-consciously checked her make-up in the mirror, brushed at an imaginary out-of-place lock of hair, left the room, paid her check and found her way to her car. At this point, she was too dumbfounded to realize, or even to contemplate, the importance to her of this encounter with Pauline Riggs.
Finally, after long moments sitting at the wheel of her car, she heaved a long sigh. "I don't believe it," she said to herself.
She stared the car, swung out of the parking lot and headed for the first salon showing she had planned to attend that day, but as she drove, she could not shake the images of that bizarre encounter from her mind. The words, the voice, the woman was still there, rattling around in her skull - but mostly, it was the kiss ... a woman's kiss, that she remembered!