Saturday, January 26, 2013
Wind in White Birch - Issue # 4
Hello all! My name is V.L. Locey. I am a self-published and traditionally published author that lives in the mountains of Pennsylvania with my husband of over twenty-one years, my sixteen year old daughter, a herd of dairy goats, chickens, geese, ducks, turkeys, three dogs, two cats, and a partridge in a pear tree. For more info about me and contact links, check out the author bio tab up above.
Enough about me, let`s get back to Wind in White Birch and our lovers Jonah and Dana.
Wind in White Birch
Dinner that night was one of Rhett`s favorites: Hot dogs, boxed macaroni and cheese and tossed salad. I make the salad to counteract my guilt about feeding him hot dogs and boxed macaroni and cheese. At least he`s getting something healthy into his growing body. After we sat down and filled our plates I glanced over at the lad. He was spooning in cheesy elbows like there was no tomorrow.
“Chew buddy,” I said, topping his bowl of salad with ranch dressing. He swallowed loudly then gave me his quirky smile. That smile was going to win him girls by the truckload in about ten years. “I have a surprise for you,” I told him. He dove into his salad, forking a carrot slice with gusto. “Jonah called today.”
Rhett`s deep blue eyes widened. “Awesome!” he exclaimed around his bite of carrot. “Are you going out with him again? Can I see him this time? I want to show him how good the baseball mitt fits!”
“Well, actually, he asked if we wanted to go up to his neck of the woods for the weekend.”
I thought the child would combust. Or perhaps fly up to the ceiling and bounce around like a deranged bottle rocket.
“Can we, mom? Please, can we?” he begged, ranch dressing smeared over his lips and chin. I nodded with a smile. The lad leaped down from his chair and broke into what could only be termed a combination rain dance/Lady Gaga routine. He shook his scrawny little rump and pumped his fists into the air.
“They even have snow. Jonah wondered if we could do some snowmobiling. Think you`d like to try that?” I asked, jabbing a cherry tomato and plunking it into my mouth. Rhett`s mouth dropped open. His sandy head bobbed up and down. I laughed at his expression. He raced at me then threw his arms around my neck. I swallowed my tomato, shocked at the show of affection. He was at that age now where he only hugged mommy when he was hurt or over the top. Obviously this was the over the top show of emotion.
“I swear this is cooler than Jeremy Cotter`s Pokemon gold game,” he breathed into my neck. I squeezed him hard then released him. His small stocking feet hit the floor and the moment was gone. The light of excitement still glowed in his eyes though.
“I agree, it`s very exciting. Jonah will pick us up at the church tomorrow night, and then we`ll ride up to New York and stay at Andy`s house. You remember Jonah`s grandfather, right?” I asked, shaking out my napkin and laying it over my slacks. I had yet to change from work.
Rhett nodded as he scaled his chair then dropped down into the seat. “Sure. I like Andy Big Deer! He said he knows way more stories than Jonah. Andy said Jonah`s just a wet-eared pup.”
“Compared to Andy I guess Jonah is a puppy,” I responded. I didn`t think of the man as a pup. I thought of Jonah Big Deer as one hundred percent sleek canine. Jonah was like a silver and black male wolf who catches you in his sights and you`re instantly lost in his onyx eyes. Even as the wolf comes closer you stand mesmerized by its power and masculine appeal. You drop to your knees, naked in the snow…. The wolf circles you, sniffing at you, nipping at the base of your neck, urging you to fall to your hands and knees so he can mount you from behind and—
“Mom, you dropped a radish slice on your shirt.”
I came out of the erotic fantasy sharply. I glanced down. There sat a radish slice soaked in French dressing on my left breast. Great. So much for this pretty light green sweater I huffed internally, smiled sheepishly at my son, and tried to gather my naughty thoughts.
Homework was done as was the bath. The duffel was filled with clothes for the weekend in New York State. The story had been read. Tonight`s choice not an unexpected one given our dinner conversation. We read Osseo, Son of the Evening Star from the anthology The Enchanted Moccasins. Rhett had found the compilation of Native American legends in the bookstore a week ago and wheedled me into buying it. Not that much wheedling was needed. If there is one thing I will purchase for my son, it`s books. I`ll skip lunch for a week if Rhett wants a book, that`s how important it is to me to instill a love of reading into my boy.
Now it was time for mom to unwind and pack her weekend bag. I took a hot shower, got my fuzzy PJ`s on and sipped a decaf cup of hot chocolate while I filled my suitcase. I picked out practical things. Jeans, sweaters, thick socks and sweats, long johns, and flannel pajama`s. There would be no frilly lacy rails for this woman. I knew firsthand how cold it got in the Finger Lakes region. Sometimes they got buried in lake effect snow that made what we had gotten so far in the Steel City seem like a joke. Of course, we sometimes got buried in Pittsburgh, so it was just a toss of the meteorological dice.
After my bag was ready and my cocoa was gone, I made a final sweep of the small second floor apartment, checking the locks on the windows and front door. Feeling as secure as I ever did living in a large city I slid under my heating blanket then turned out the light beside my double bed. My toes were thrilled with the warmth. I lay on my back for awhile, watching the patterns of headlights pulling into our complex slicing through the mini-blinds on the window.
Tomorrow night I`d see Jonah again. Heat engulfed me. I closed my eyes. A memory of Jonah jacking me up against my front door - his mouth hot and demanding over mine – had me kicking off the covers. My breasts grew tight. I flipped to my side. The dresser was a safe thing to look at. I studied the brass handles on the bureau. I wondered what Jonah slept in. Did he wear fleece pants to bed, or sexy boxer briefs? Did he go nude? My mind pulled up an image of his naked body spread out over my bed, his flesh smooth and tanned and so very, very long and hard. Fire licked at my core. I squeezed my thighs together to try to drown the flames.
It didn`t even begin to work. I left my bed in a snit. Out to the living room I stomped, throwing my ass like a surly child into the sofa. I snapped the remote from the table and turned the TV on with ire.
“Just had to go with the naked version, didn`t you, you trashy brain!” I muttered. God but he was a sight in that fantasy with his eyes burning with dark fire and his body begging me to touch and taste and—
“Damn it! Stop it!” I shouted then shrunk into myself when Rhett mumbled in his sleep. I curled into a ball on my side and dashed to TCM. Black and white would be safe. There would be no sexy stuff to contend with. I`d find a nice, wholesome, classic movie to cool down my slutty brain.
“Oh real funny person in charge of programming,” I sniffed as that beach scene From Here to Eternity popped up. A long, lonely night lay ahead.
For those who may not have seen From Here to Eternity, here`s the clip of the beach scene starring Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr. It`s a real face fanner!