Wind in White Birch - Issue # 20

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 seventeen year old daughter, a herd of dairy goats, chickens, geese, ducks, turkeys, two 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

By

V.L. Locey

Issue Twenty

*~*~*

I laid the cell phone to my shoulder, smiled at my son then stepped from the ER cubicle out into the bustling hallway. God, how I wished Jonah had been allowed to come back with us. My head was throbbing unmercifully. Rhick was being Rhick. It took all I had not to scream at the man who was in transit as we spoke.

“So where the hell were you when our son was slowly getting sicker and sicker?!”

                I stalked past a small gaggle of women in bright medical smocks gathered at the nurses’ station and blew into a ladies room like a hurricane.

                “I was having dinner,” I said, bending over to check for feet. There weren`t any so I could let him have it with both barrels. “And before one more asinine comment comes flowing from your mouth, I had picked him up by ten and he was fine, just cranky.”

                “And it never occurred to you to ask what was wrong with him? You know how he gets when his ears are bothering him! Maybe if you weren`t so concerned with spreading your legs for that punk ass Indian bastard you`d be able to be a good mother.”

                The phone went dead in my hand. I looked at the Nokia then threw it against the wall. How dare he accuse me of putting my wants before my child’s?! My hands were shaking strongly as knelt down to clean up the bits of busted plastic then toss them in the trash. I found my reflection in the mirror. I looked like hell. Rhett had thrown up in the truck. I had been sitting in the back with him at the time, his head resting on my breast. My new dress – the one I would need a loan to pay off – was now ruined. Jonah`s truck was a ghastly mess. I had bags under my eyes and my skin looked blotchy and sallow in this horrible hospital lighting.

My hands splayed on the edge of a white sink. My head fell forward. If only I hadn`t been so obsessed with Jonah I would have noticed the signs. But no, I was so intent on getting my hands on the man I let my son get sicker than I should have. I was wearing my maternal guilt like a scarlet letter. S for slut should be pinned to my breast for the world to see.

I cursed and cried. The door opened. I rushed to turn on the taps and splash cold water on my face. Dabbing uselessly at the speckles of water dotting my dress I slid past a chubby woman in fleece and returned to my son`s cubicle.

Rhett was pale and in pain but I could see that the doctor and his wonder meds were having a positive effect already. Rhett`s face wasn`t quite as pinched. His temperature was slipping down from the 103.3 it had been when we were admitted. He had actually drifted off, although his sleep was far from restful. I plopped down in one of two chairs beside his bed, my head lolling to the left to rest on the cool tiled wall. How long I sat there listening to my baby breath I can`t say. His father entering his tiny room startled me from the land of half-sleep.

I met my ex-husband`s baleful glower with one of my own.

“Is he feeling better?” Rhick asked, moving to the bed to place his hand on Rhett`s furrowed brow.

“A little bit maybe,” I yawned then folded my son`s soiled coat over my lap. Rhick pushed back the boys too-long bangs then placed a kiss to his brow.

“Can I see you in the corridor?” Rhick asked, tucking the regulation blue hospital blanket under his son`s chin. I slowly got to my feet, wondering how I looked to the man I had been married to for all those years. Vomit on my dress, sneakers on my feet, my hair in disarray, and my face puffy from anxiety and tears. I pulled the door gently closed behind me then turned to look up at my ex. His handsome face was a seething cauldron of conflicting emotions.

                “Rhick,” I said wearily but he jumped over my unspoken plea like some rabid verbal hurdler.

                “I cannot believe I saw that damned kid you`re screwing sitting out there in the waiting room,” he seethed, his anger very barely contained, his hands gesticulating wildly. I glanced at the staff moving past us. “Was he in my son`s house fucking you when Rhett was getting sick?”

                I swear I do not recall slapping him. I hadn`t planned it certainly. One moment I was standing there, looking like the hang dog I always did when Rhick was chewing me out and then – Ker-Slap! – My palm was connecting with his cheek. Stunned, I blinked at the red mark on Rhick`s fair skin. He reached for me with a viscous sneer. I danced in reverse. Jonah appeared from nowhere. Later I would find out that all Jonah had to do was stand up and look around the glass partition to see into Rhett`s room. I bounced off the wall when the blur of black hair and wide back stepped between me and my ex.

                “You want to lay hands on someone, Big Man, lay your hands on me.” The warning rumbled from within Jonah`s chest. Nurses were already scurrying to intercede. All I could hear was someone on the intercom paging a Dr. Wilson and the nurses hissing “Sir! Sir! You`re not allowed back here!” and “Only family is allowed back here. Sir! Sir! Don’t make me call security!”

                Jonah gave Rhick a shove that sent him flying forcefully into the nurse`s station. I was shocked at the power Jonah possessed in one hand. Rhick is no small man. He keeps in shape. If not for the appearance of a rather mountainous orderly I know Rhick would have come out swinging.

                “Jonah, just come with me, okay?” I cajoled, tugging on his left arm until he started to follow me. The air was thick with barely veiled hatred. I managed to get the livid Seneca man out into the waiting room. Jonah grabbed his suit jacket from a chair then stormed outside nearly ripping the sliding door from its track so great was his desire to get into the frigid air.

                 I followed him out into the cold of the day after Valentine`s. Calling him was doing no good. He was on a direct intercept course for his truck. I lunged at him, my fingers managing to get a grip on his black woolen sleeve. He shook me off, his long legs gnawing up the parking lot. I stopped double-stepping to keep up with him.

                “Jonah, look at me damn it!” I shouted, my words bouncing off an idling ambulance. He stopped and turned. I shut my mouth.

                “Go back inside, Dana, your son needs you.”

                “I`m not going back inside without you,” I argued, feeling a chasm beginning to open.

                “Yeah, you are. You`re going back in there with your son, you`re his family,” Jonah said dully.

                “You`re important to him too,” I said weakly.

                “No, not really, I`m just some guy his mom is dating.” He raised his eyes to the sky, searching for something but I didn’t know what. “You can`t see the stars here. Did you know that?” He brought his dark, dark eyes back to me. “I don`t belong here, Dana, not when a family crisis is happening. Rhick belongs here, not me.”

                “Don`t you dare get in that truck and go back to New York!” I yelled with my hands tucked under my armpits. “You belong here if I say you do!”

                Jonah shook his head. That chasm I mentioned earlier? It wasn`t a rift in the ground opening up, it was a tear starting in my heart.

                “No, I don`t.”

“Where are you going?!” I demanded when he spun to show me his stiff back.

He never did tell me. He just drove off, leaving me standing beside an ambulance, fingertips crammed into armpits, cheeks wet, and heart ripping in two. 

*~*~*

Issue # 19

Fate's Kiss Chapter Three

Fate's Kiss

Chapter three

By Cathy Brockman

After seeing to my daily duties, I go inside and wash using  my best smelling soap, my brother’s wife had  gotten me form a street vendor. I want smell and look my best for my love, not smell like a horse stable. I readied my mare Delilah and have her waiting for my ride.

 I ride deep into the woods; the rich earthy scent relaxing me. As I near our usual meeting place, fear and disappointment grip me. Where is she?

I ride a little further to the nearby stream so I can let my horse drink. I sat on a nearby rock and watch Delilah; pondering why she hasn’t shown up. She is always awaiting me. Has she changed her mind about me? Found someone else? Has her clan left?

“Nee-co-li! The man than steals my dreams,” Her rich voice sings through the air sending shivers straight to my soul.   

I spin at the deep sultry drawl of my name. How I love the way my name rolls over her tongue so slow and sensuous. Just the sound of her voice does things to my body, making me ashamed for her to see me. I fold my hands over my lap to hide my arousal wishing it to fade, but knowing as long as she is near it will do nothing but grow stronger and harder.

Turning to face her, my heart falters at the mere sight of her. Long, raven hair cascades in waves over her olive brown shoulders that peek from under the white blouse that shows off her womanly figure. Big brown eyes glitter in the sliver of sunlight that filters through the trees.

 The way she looks at me, as if I am the only man she has ever seen, makes me feel on top of the world. Right now, for the next couple hours it is as if only the two of us exist here in our private little kingdom.

“Do you truly dream of me, Illia?” My voice comes out thick and faltered, betraying me, as does my body.

“Would you like me to show you what I dream of my love?” She glides forward gracefully like a wild-cat stalking its prey.

As much as I want her, even though I hear rumors that her people don’t hold sacred the values and morals as do we, I will wait for her. I will show her that to me she is more Lady than any in the town, Hell the entire world, to me. I can wait.

“Come sit with me love. Tell me about your day. When we are apart I feel as if part of me is gone.” I wrap my arm around her as she sits next to me leaning her head on my shoulders.

 I gently stroke the silky tress and soft skin on her shoulder. I try to ignore the pain that nags  me in my loins, but it gets more difficult every time we are close.

“You are such the gentlemen, Nicolai my love. So charming. I don’t want to waste precious time talking when I would much rather feel your lips on mine.” She slides her hand slowly up my knee heading into very dangerous territory. I long to feel her hands stroking my most private place, to feel her hands on my bare skin, but I know this is forbidden. If I ever give in to just such a small temptation, I will be doomed like our forefather Adam after he tasted the forbidden fruit. I can wait. I must wait.

All of a sudden she is in my lap. Her skirt pushed up high on her thighs so she can wrap her legs around my waist. She leans close her body pressed so tightly against mine only the fabric we wear separates us from being one. I can feel the warmth of her body against my groin even through our clothes. Her lips bind with mine, first softly then harsher, more eager. She wants me as much as I do her. God help me. Give me strength to resist this temptation. Give me patience, no not patience but will. Mother always told me to never pray for patience.

“Illia. Heavens woman you will be my undoing.” I pant breathlessly, my voice resembling the squeak of a mouse as I put my hands on her narrow hips and try fruitlessly to dislodge her from my lap. She is much stronger than she looks and very determined. And alas I am very weak. I find it hard to think, much less form words. I know we need to talk but my mouth would much rather be kissing her, tasting her.

Her lips press against mine again, the wet silk of her tongue caressing my upper lip seeking entrance. I surrender to her for a moment. I manage to find a pittance of strength and ease her back slowly.

“Love, we must talk. Father has chosen a wife for me. He is adamant on this and is having a dinner this weekend, for our families to meet and make arrangements.”

Anger flashes through her dark eyes. She grabs my shoulders tightly, fingers digging into my flesh. “No! You belong to me. I will cast a spell on her entire family!

“Illia you mustn’t say such things. The towns people fear your clan already, don’t let them hear you speaking of such untruths.” Fear tries to force it’s way over my desire.

“If you want me for your wife you must understand our kind. We can do things. Some of us are more powerful than others. Some of us can evoke the Dark Ones, most of us know better.” Her body still trembles lightly, though I am unsure if it is anger or need.

My hands tremble more now, partially from fear mixed with my earlier desires. I take her into my arms. Her deep brown eyes now stormy and darker than night. My lips still ache to kiss her. She pulls away.

“We are what we are Nicolai. Does that frighten you? Can you love a witch?” Her voice is now soft as a whisper of the wind through the leaves.

“Illia I love you. No matter what. Let’s not waste what little time we have on this.” I reach for her again and she melts into my arms like the butter on my flapjack this morning.

This is what I have longed for all day. All night. We stand folded into each other’s arms, it seems as even the wind has stilled.

“What will you do about your Father Nicolai? You can’t defy him. I can’t bear to see you hurt again.” Her lips graze the side of my face, her hands carries my back, fingers trailing over my muscles like tiny serpents sending my nerve endings into turmoil.

I try to get my body and mind into one accord. We need to talk, make a plan, but my thoughts are like mist. I pull her off me and take her hand leading her to a fallen tree that serves as a settee. I pull her onto my lap folding my arms around her relishing the feel of her body against mine. The more I have these moments the more I long for them.

“When have you seen me hurt?” I whisper into her silken hair.

“I have watched you for a long time. I see how your father treats you different from your brother. I have seen the scars on your back, the hurt in your eyes. Sometimes it is hard to not wish a curse on him. But I know you love him and would hate me if harm came to him through my people.”

“I could never hate you, love but please promise to not curse my family.” I pull back her hair lightly nipping at her neck, causing her to tremble and giggle.

She stands up and turns around facing me. Throwing back her had she chuckles.

“Even a witch doesn’t give a word she knows she cannot keep.” She holds her hands out to me as I stand she pulls her into her arms crushing me with her lips. Long slim fingers trace along my nose, my jaw, my lips, as her eyes search mine. I try to breathe.

“You are so handsome Nicolai. With your dark hair, dark skin and your name, you could easily pass as one of our clan.”

“Do you really think so, Illia?” An idea come to me.

“Of course my love, only you cannot see how attractive you are. All the women look at you, want you as I do. It makes me want to turn them into bugs and stomp them.”

I feel color rise into my cheeks.

“No, silly woman. I mean could I really pass as one of you? Would your clan accept me?” I brush the hair from her shoulder and kiss it lightly savoring the salting taste on my tongue.

“You would truly give up all this for me?” She waves her hands encompassing the land my father owns. The sky begins to darken I know it is getting closer to time for us to part. My heart weighs heavy.

“Illia I would give my life for you.”

If you missed the first episode you can find it here: 

The second here: 

 And come back next week to the shocking conclusion. I promise you won’t see this one coming.

Perfect Retreat Part 2

Did everyone enjoy Faith's debut piece?  Well it seems that the girls aren't the only ones with secrets.  Let's jump in and find out. 

Perfect Retreat

Part 2

by

 Faith Ann Whitten

Read Part 1 here

Jake stood there in the opening of the door.  His eyes widened while watching his beautiful wife touch herself. Oh… the beautiful Rose, grabbing her breast then putting each nipple in her mouth, Lily moaning as she began to climax.  He knows that sound oh so well his mouth, is getting dry as he rises in excitement.

He heard Rose whisper to his woman “you can come now doll, you have my permission.” 

Lily climaxed, her whole body shaking in pleasure as Rose watches her,  giggling.

He enjoyed every second of it watching one of his fantasies play out. He didn’t even realize  he stroked his own cock until he felt the urge for release.

Jake raced to the bathroom to release his load, letting go in the sink.
Breathing, heaving, suddenly feeling a little dizzy he puts his hand on the mirror to steady himself.  While running the water he looks at himself staring at his face, and his eyes; the hardness, the blue hue they hold, the lines and shape of each cut he received from the footballs smacked into his face, and remembering the whistle sounding.  Then his mind wanders back to the sight he just witnessed.  Secretly wishing he could of been apart of it.

'The women fuck! Both of them are so sexy', He runs his hand through his hair.

He went downstairs to tell her that he had spoken with Jeremy, and wanted to give Lily the good news that they both will be going to this retreat. That's when he stumbled upon the most amazing sight he had ever witnessed. 
 
'What would the women do if they knew that he knew their very sexy secret?'  A big smile spreading  across his face knowing he will want to be a part of it.




The next morning Rose gets the girls off to school, texts Lily just to remind her to schedule the date as they only had a few days to confirm they are going.  She shoves her phone in her purse and is off to work.
Lily is staring at her phone as Jake walks in and sees the smile on Lily’s face
He asks “So who was that?"
Lily replies “Oh, Rose . Just checking in to see if we will make the reservations for them. She wipes her hair out of her face and says "Oh, I forgot. Rose called last night on skyperpal to let me know she and Jeremy will be going with us. Isn’t that exciting?”
She walks over and puts her arms around his waist and lays her head on his chest.
He gently puts his hand on her head and he says “This will be so much fun” with a big mischievous grin across his face, making plans to keep them apart just to see how well they will do without each other.
 

                             *                         *                        *



The next week seemed like a breeze to Rose, she was excited and couldn't wait to spend every second she can with Lily.

Jeremy loads the last bag into the trooper and can’t believe he will be leaving his electronics locked away for a whole month, wondering if he can sneak a touchscreen cell phone in and sneak a few calls to Joyce, as he will miss her very much.

Joyce, the woman he is planning to leave Rose for, is taller, smarter, her ass is rounder and she is much thinner than Rose. She is different than anyone he has ever met.

Rose is quiet and doesn’t like to fuck or explore her sexuality like Joyce.
He knows he doesn’t love her, but what does love have to do with anything any way?

The kids are grown and now that Rose and him have more time together, they seem to just avoid each other.  He needs excitement, he needs sexual excitement, he needs . . . Joyce.

Jeremy goes inside to get Rose, telling  her to call Lily to find out if they are ready.  He feels his phone vibrate in his pocket.  He knows its Joyce and  rushes past Rose to answer the call upstairs.  He answers on the steps then goes into the bedroom.

Breathlessly, he  whispers “Hey love, I have missed you. I have no idea what I am going to do without you, and I can’t stop thinking about the other night. It was the best way to keep my thoughts on you while we are apart.”

She cuts him off “Jeremy, I am quitting. I am leaving you!”

He sinks into the door and runs his hand through his hair.  “What?” 

She explains “I don’t love you. I don’t want you to leave your wife.  I don’t want to start a life with you, I just wanted to fuck you. I just wanted a fling. I'm only 23.  Dammit, I don’t want babies and old smelly men waking up in my bed. The other night was the perfect way to end our relationship, and besides you need an old woman to settle down with like your wife. You should really think about her on your couples retreat, maybe you will fall back in love with her.  I am a hopeless romantic.  Well, I gotta run.  It's been fun.” 

He hears silence on the other end.   “Its been fun? Its been fun?!”  He rakes his fingers through his hair then turns off his phone and tosses it in the drawer. Stomping down the stairs aggravated, he turns towards the kitchen to see his wife sitting at the kitchen table with a huge smile on her face.  

She looks up at him and says “Are you ready cowboy?”

Oral Dilemma Part 4

I'd be willing to bet that you had given up on Roxy by now, huh? I have been unavoidably detained with other business matters. This week I am back and Roxy is ready to rumble. Let's see what she's gotten up to now. 

Storytimne does not own copyrights to this image, 

all rights reserved to Gina Carano, courtesy of GQ.

 

Oral Dilemma 

by 

Ellie Mack 

 Read Part 1 here. 
 Read Part 2 here. 
 Read Part 3 here.



    The rest of my senior year rocked. I was confident in myself, not because I was someone’s girlfriend but because I felt good about me. 

Devon was always there for me. We developed our friendship first, the romance gradually. It was a natural easy relationship. We could laugh and joke with each other, be ourselves. I never felt awkward, or guarded with Devon. We could just as easily be playing video games, discussing homework, or the latest movie, or taking about our dreams. 

I dreaded the end of my senior year in ways. Devon was going into the Marines. It had been his dream for years, since he was 14. I wasn’t about to stand in the way of that and neither of us made any professions of love to deter the other from their dreams. 

Devon would go to boot camp at the beginning of June, I would go back to my summer job at my dad’s company. We had a good time for a while, and until I met “the one” as my mom would say, Devon would be my best friend. 

The summer job paid well, I managed to save 75% of what I made. I indulged in the MMA classes. I was stoked to make my body stronger, leaner, more agile. I worked hard in my off hours. I trained with single minded focus. I was determined to climb in that ring and see if I had what it took.It took me all summer to get up the nerve to actually enter a match. I knew I had the skill, but going in that ring was the scariest thing I had ever done. 

I didn’t win, but I did manage to do fairly well. The most important thing though, to me was that I had met a challenge and not given up or backed down. I sent email to Devon to tell someone. I was proud of myself for completing it. When I got his return email, he wasn’t as thrilled. Thought that I was taking dangerous risks. Nobody seemed to think it was a good idea but me. When I came home from the match with a black eye and a busted lip, dad said I’d need plastic surgery. His bimbo suggested that it might be a good idea anyway. OUCH!

Two weeks later when I showed up at college my bruises were nearly healed. My roommate thought I had been in a car accident, and when I told her that I was an MMA fighter, she immediately requested a roommate change. I didn’t get a replacement so I had the room all to myself.

The first few weeks of classes were hectic, but mostly uneventful. The biology teacher gave us group assignments, to work on genetics problems. I was in group three. That’s when I met Luke. He was the most obnoxious guy in the group. He instantly got on my nerves with his cocky attitude, and sarcasm. I figured he would be one of the slacker students, but he wasn’t. He was in fact absolutely brilliant, but I wasn’t about to acknowledge that. 

He followed me out of class and caught my shoulder. “Hey”

I turned, glaring at him. I didn’t say anything just glared.

He took his hand off my shoulder, then combed through his hair. “ Hey, um I didn’t catch your name in class. I’m Luke. Luke Reed.” He offered me his hand.

“I’m Roxanne.” I shook his hand briefly.

He looked around, then adjusted his backpack. “So, you’re heading for the gym now, right?” He turns back and looks at me a little sheepish, “I um saw you working the bag the other day. Where did you learn that?”

“From my trainer over the summer.”

“Do you have a sparring partner here?” He shifted from foot to foot, bouncing on his toes. 

“No, I don’t.” 

“Well. Um, would you like to train with me?”

“Why?” I adjusted my backpack, shifting my stance.

“Well I just thought, well, you know, we could get to know each other, and maybe challenge each other.”

I stood there for a few minutes then figured ‘what the heck’. “Well Luke, if you think you can keep up, sure.”

A wide grin slowly spread over his face. It made his eyes light up in a peculiar manner. Luke had gorgeous eyes. I’ve always been a sucker for eyes. I know that may sound strange, but I heard someone say one time that eyes are the windows to your soul, and I believe it’s true. What you see in some people’s eyes makes you want to run the other way. But Luke’s sparkled like a child’s on Christmas morning. It made me smile.

I started walking towards the gym, Luke in step beside me. “So um, what’s your major? I notice you have a couple of the same classes with me.” 

I chuckle quietly. “Luke, they are basics. Everyone has to take them.”

“Well yes, but you have the honors classes with me.” He took a couple long strides ahead of me then turned around, walking backwards facing me. “You seem like a serious student, not one of those girls that are just here to pass the time or find a guy.”

“Graphic design” I offered it. Devon had encouraged me to pursue something I felt confident in as a backup for when I was too old to fight in the MMA. Of course in his opinion, I was already too old. He didn’t like me getting in that ring, said I was still trying to prove something. Damn right I was, I was determined to prove I was made of more than the fat girl I used to be in high school, the one that had her heart broken. “What about you?”

“International business law. I’ve always wanted to travel. I’m from a small town, and the only pace I’ve traveled to so far is Washington DC.” He flashed that smile. I knew it was sincere because he smiled through his eyes.

“Sounds like a tough major.”

“Nah, it’s actually simpler than U.S. Business law, each state has specific laws. I plan to represent the big businesses that deal internationally.”

“Cool, sounds like you have your plan mapped out.” I reach for the door just as he turned and nearly smacks into it.

“Whoa! That was close.” He side stepped and opened the door for me. “Ladies first.”

I entered with him close on my heels. “I’ll um, I’ll meet you back at the multi trainers.” I pushed the door to the ladies locker room open, unaware that I was smiling for the first time since saying farewell to Devon.

Wind in White Birch - Issue # 19

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 seventeen year old daughter, a herd of dairy goats, chickens, geese, ducks, turkeys, two 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

By

V.L. Locey

Issue Nineteen

*~*~*

It was amazingly rude, I know, but I could not rip my gaze from his bare chest. His skin was the color of finely worked leather. There was just a fine line of dark hair between his pectorals that slithered over a rippled abdomen then disappeared into the low riding waistband of his pants. My mouth grew arid. My fingertips absently stroked the linens in my arms. He didn`t move to hide his body but he didn`t show it off either. He simply let me look at him. It was incredibly erotic to have this man standing half naked in my living room.

“Why don`t you come closer, Dana?”

I wasn`t sure that was a good idea but my feet moved me closer to him of their own volition. The pillow and the sheets slid from my arms to the couch. I touched his chest lightly. The coffee-colored flesh twitched. His dark brown nipple puckered. My mind strolled up to my libido and handed the keys to the castle to her.

He tipped my chin up. I couldn`t stop peeking down at the expanse of muscle my fingertips were floating over.

“I like it,” I whispered, tracing the thin line of black hair downward. His breath rustled in through his teeth when my index finger danced around his naval.

“I like it too,” he replied.

 I didn`t think we were on the same page since I had been referring to his lack of body hair, but who the hell cared? Not me! I was letting Ms. Libido do the driving. The refrigerator turned on, rattling two bottles of beer on the door. Jonah`s fingers moved over my jaw then into my hair as I explored his upper body. He lifted my hair up then let it flutter back down. I placed my palms to his ribs. He dropped his head and captured my mouth. My hands slid around his bare sides to his back. I rubbed my tongue over his. He twisted us around then dropped to the sofa, me coming down on his lap soundly. His mouth moved over mine, probing deeply. I wriggled around to face him, never once breaking contact between our mouths. A deep groan rumbled up his chest when I rocked into him.

“Dana,” he panted, pulling from my needy kisses for the briefest of moments. I mumbled something then attacked his neck like a rabid zombie. The man arched upward when my teeth sank lightly into his neck. His hands took hold of my hips. His ass rose up as I was pushed down. The shock of hard male flesh against damp female flesh sent shivers racing through me.“Dana,” he said again. I lifted my head from his jugular then caught his bottom lip with my teeth. I was rolled to my back faster than I could say ‘Take me now!’ which was probably the next thing I was going to say as soon as I caught my breath.

I looked up at him braced above me. His hair was loose and dangling down over his right shoulder. Jonah`s thigh slid between my legs. I bucked up. He lowered his huge frame over mine just enough to let me recall how wonderful a man`s weight on my belly is.

“Are you sure?” he asked as I took his hair and lifted. The silky black mass enveloped us.

“Yes.”

“Here?” he inquired.

I shook my head. He kissed me again. We lost track of things. Like how we were supposed to be moving to my bedroom. I think the plan had been to curl up and watch TV until bedtime. The TV never got turned on but we sure as hell were. The first time I heard it Jonah had just found my left breast. His mouth was grazing my collarbone. My heels were resting on his ass. His hair was sliding over my face. The tremors of an orgasm began the moment his thumb flicked over a rigid nipple. I tried to raise my breast to his mouth. He continued to suckle my neck while rolling the fleshy orb around like rising sourdough. His erection was snuggled tightly against my pelvic bone.

Jonah started when the sound pushed through the thick fog of lust.

“What was that?” he asked his words hot, sloppy, and moist against my neck. Another whimper and I knew what was happening. I had heard it a thousand times.

“Get off me!” I panted, pushing on his chest wildly. He rolled to his feet. I was off the couch in a second, fumbling to neaten the bodice of my dress. Rhett`s next cry was louder and followed by the sound of a child getting sick.

I bounced off my son`s door in my frenzy to get inside his room. The smell that met me is a smell every mother knows. I flicked on the light. Rhett was sitting up in his bed, his Spider-Man sheets and duvet filthy. I hurried over, cooing and whispering as I gathered him out of the mess. His skin was hot and clammy. I placed my lips to his cheek.  I could feel the fever burning just under the surface. When I turned to carry my whining son into the bathroom Jonah was in the doorway. He was set to rights: hair neatly pulled back, dress shirt loosely buttoned. If one didn`t look at the smoldering desire for sex in his eyes they would never know how close we had been just two minutes ago.

“He`s got a fever,” I said. Jonah ran a jerky hand over his already neatened hair.

“Why don`t you get him cleaned up? I`ll take care of the bed,” he said. I shook my head violently.

“I can`t ask you to do that.”

“You didn`t ask, I offered. Now go get him cleaned up.” Jonah stepped inside. I padded over, kissed his smooth cheek then took Rhett into the bathroom. There we peeled the soiled Superman pajama`s and underwear off, washed him off with warm water and a soapy cloth, and then performed the thousand question routine. He complained of his left ear, throat, and stomach hurting. I patted his cheek then went to get him clean pajamas. Jonah had the bed stripped and the dirty sheets in the hamper.

“He okay?” he asked as I ruffled through the dresser.

“He says his ear hurts,” I said, tugging out a set of Batman jammies. “He`s got a fever already.”

“Should we take him to the ER or something?” Jonah asked, pushing me gently aside to free the Batman PJ`s from where they were pinned between two drawers.

“I don`t know, maybe? He`s prone to really bad ear infections. If we can get some antibiotics into him quickly it`ll be that much better for his inner ear. The last time it nearly ruptured. He really needs to have that surgery,” I explained. Jonah pushed the pajamas into my hands and then pulled me against him for a fast hug.

“You get him dressed. I`ll go warm up the truck,” he whispered into my wild blond hair. A fast kiss to my brow and then he was gone. I heard Rhett calling for me. I made it into the bathroom just in time to get his head over the toilet. While my son cried and heaved I heard the front door slamming shut and felt a wash of relief knowing I wouldn`t have to face this alone again.

 *~*~*

Issue # 18

Fate's Kiss Chapter Two

 Fate's kiss

 Chapter 2

By Cathy Brockman

“Brother you look troubled. Would you like to go to town tonight to ease your frustrations? Perhaps a drink or a lady? Or Both?” He waggles his thick brows, his deep, throaty, laugh rumbles through the room as he pushes the costly pewter coffee server that Mother loved so much, and a dish of sugar lumps towards me.

“No thank you, Jonathan. I am going to go for a ride before dinner, then I will read a little before turning in.” I pour myself a cup of the dark; rich brew and think of how much it looks like Illia’s soulful brown eyes. I let out an audible sigh.

“I can go with you if you like and we can talk. Man to man. It seems lately you are deeply troubled.” Jonathan pushes me a plate of fresh biscuits and butter.

“Master Nicolai, how do you want your eggs today?” Maybelle, our cook kisses me softly on the cheek. Jonathan moves his head back and she pinches his cheek instead.

I can’t help but chuckle. Jonathan acts all tough but he loves her as much as I do. She has practically raised us both since mother died of fever when we were but young lads. She is married to one of our ranch hands. Slaves no longer exist since the war, but a lot of the old slaves stayed on with their plantations. Most had nowhere else to go. Maybelle and Roper hired on with us for a small pittance and a place to live. He works with Dad on the ranch and she cooks and cleans our house.

Sometime I like to think she is the mother I no longer have. I can talk to her about anything. She doesn’t treat me like my Father does, like I am just another of his prize stallions. Instead of horses to sell, I am to produce him more grandsons to carry on his name and granddaughters to barter for prestige.

 Let Jonathan do that, he likes breeding. At least the act of it. He will use any excuse to go into town and visit the Parlor. I chuckle to myself. Father would go insane if Jonathan got any of those girls with child. But not half as mad as he would if he found out about Illia. He would rather our name be sullied by a common whore than a Gypsy.

Why does he have to dislike the Gypsy people so much? They are just people like us. They are not the heathens Father calls them. No heathen could be as beautiful, kind, or loving as Illia. He also calls Illia’s clan witches. I have asked her this and she said they do some magic but not all magic is evil. Some of their potions render healing, invoke peace and love, or protect them from evil. That’s a good thing, not evil. No different really from doctors.

I think we should not fear what we do not know. We should learn the ways of those we consider our foe. If we knew more of the other people and why they do the things they do instead of shunning and hunting them down to burn as evil, the world would be such a better place. But that won’t happen anytime soon, if ever. Especially for Father. He is dead set in his way of thinking. Only he is right, in his mind.

Cook brings my eggs and bacon and a plate of slapjack with warm maple syrup. I take in a deep breath, inhaling the sweet aroma of the syrup and the smoky aroma of the bacon. I savor each bite as the syrup and hot cakes slide over my tongue, teasing my taste-buds. A smile curves over my lips as I think of Illia. However good this tastes, she will taste so much sweeter. Her kisses taste like the nectar of the Gods.

“Maybelle, what did you put in Nicolai’s cakes that you didn’t in mine. He looks as if he has just seen heaven. You always have favored him more.” Jonathan drops his lips in a big boyish pout.

 He is much more handsome with his fairer skin and light hair like Father, and more outgoing than I am. I can see why the ladies flock about him wherever we go. Whether it’s a high society party, a church social, he can always have his pick.

 Why he throws away his savings on the women at the bordellos I will never understand. He can have any he desires for free. I look more like Mother with my dark hair and skin, the only exception being my blue eyes. I have no trouble attracting ladies by all means; some prefer the darker look though the more innocent seem to like the fairer ones.  Like hair color or skin tells anything of a person’s nature. I am the gentler of the two of us. None if it really matters since my heart has already been won.

 “Ah boy! You know I love you both as you are my own, but Nicolai has the disposition of his mother, sweet and gentle. You boy, are surely your Father’s son!” She set more slapjacks in front of Jonathan with a chuckle, a playful ruffle of his hair and leaves the room to start lunch, no doubt.

“When are you planning on going for your ride?” He takes another bite and sighs in pleasure. Maybelle does make the best slapjack in the state.

“As soon as I see to my chores.” I take a bite of eggs and pray that he changes his mind about tagging along.

Jonathan raises an eyebrow as he looks at me. I guess my face must have conveyed my unease of him wanting to go with me. I could never play poker; I tried once and lost what I brought along very quickly. I would rather spend my money on a book or a trinket for Illia.

“I have to go into town and get some feed and a few things. I would ask you to come along, but I think this ride into the woods is more than you are saying. Please; dear brother, tell me you are not meeting with the gypsy girl again?” The look on his face is mixed with concern and disgust.

I refrain from answering and seem absorbed in my breakfast though now my stomach is churning with dread.

“I take your silence as a yes. Dammit Nicolai, why do you insist on defying Father? If he gets wind of this he will strip your back of its entire hide!” He slams down his fork, nearly knocking over the chair as he rises angrily.

“My hide is none of your concern.” I try to keep my voice steady and calm though he is right, I’d be lucky to live if Father found out how strongly I felt about her.

“It is when I put my own flesh on the line for you! I do everything in my power to divert his attention from you and where you are and what you’re about! Do as I have. Marry the woman he has chosen. I have met Maryanne. Dad has chosen well for you. She is very pretty, sweet disposition, as well as a wealthy Father. You will get a ranch of your own as dowry, that’s what you dream of, take as its handed to you on a silver platter with a lovely dish of lady on the side. Marriage isn’t a noose on your neck. I have my cake at home and get my frosting in town when I need more.”

“I have been saving for my own ranch. I don’t need Father’s money or a dowry. All I need is Illia. I would live in the woods and sleep under the stars, as long as she is by my side. If you ever fell in love, Jonathan you would understand how I feel.” I look at him with a set determination.

“Heavens, Nicolai. Take the damn woman Father has chosen. You can still trip off to the woods and see this girl. Have you met her family? Do they accept you? What will you do Nicolai, if her family feels the same way as yours?” He rakes his long fingers though his dusty brown hair, before putting on his hat and slamming out the door.

He is right. Illia is going through the same thing. Her family frowns on me as much as mine does her. Neither family has met either of us. How can they judge without even knowing us? I just don’t understand this. Mother wasn’t like that. She believed as I do, there is good in us all. Although, sometimes I just don’t see any good at all in Father. He is devious and spiteful. He has no room to talk about Gypsy’s, since he is more evil than any of them I have met.

I refuse to let this conversation get me down. It is bad enough to have this meeting of Maryanne looming over my head. Illia and I must do something soon. I cover my face with my hands and try to clear this aching in my head that wants to spread to my heart. I lick my drying lips as I search for my hat. The lingering taste of sticky sweet syrup jolts my taste buds, reminding me something sweeter awaits me in the woods.

If you missed the first Episode you can find it here! http://storytimetrysts.blogspot.com/2013/05/fates-kiss-chapter-one.html

HIghspeed Connections

Ever feel like you're in a rut?  That it's just not going to happen for you, you'll never meet that special person? In our busy lives, fate sometimes finds a way.  Today's offering is life in the fast lane.   Catch your breath, then buckle in for the ride. It might be a bit rocky!

High-speed Connections

by 

Ben Hannigan

The place is humid, I can feel the sweat pooling down my back soaking my shirt. I’m in a shirt and tie and I’m choking in the heat, sliding off the tie and bundling it into the pocket of my leather jacket. I’m almost pinned to the thin metal walls -- half leaning, half sat --on the cushion by the window. Watching the stations fly by, my own fault really, the rush hour tube, I have half an hour left before I get to my bike.

Looking out across the carriage I can see the mix of tourists and workers crowding the train. I turn, no wonder the bloody tube train is like an oven the window is shut. I spend the two minutes we are waiting between stations turning, wriggling, and edging so I can get my left hand to the clip. Bugger, there’s no way to release the other side because I cant get past the crowd. I fumble noisily with the catch hoping someone will get the hint and yank the left hand catch down. It takes a little while but I finally feel a little play and suddenly that ‘thunking’ sound as the window slides down the greased runners and almost, almost . . .  No! Bollocks, its stuck. I raise my hand, a closed fist and give the top of the glass a thump as I see in the corner of my eye another with the same idea.

I meet their eyes and nod in thanks as the cool air hits my back. I’m drawn to her eyes, a deep violet, lenses I think. I smile and blink letting the image lenses I wear show the picture printed on the film. I’m rewarded with a beautiful giggle as she see’s my green eyes turn to green Cat eyes. I keep the contact and we have a slow conversation of lip reading and nods.

She can see I’m sweltering and suffering and smiles. We share our misery and feel a little camaraderie. Over the next ten minutes the crush of people ebbed and flowed and slowly, strangely I was sure that the girl with the violet eyes was moving not towards the doors and the vague hope for a seat, but instead I would swear she was moving towards me.  My suspicions were confirmed when I felt a tap on my chest tugging at the misshapen lump of copper and lead hanging off the chain round my throat and though my eyes were closed, I could feel her, could see her in my minds eye.

A four foot eight girl with an impish smile wearing a trouser suit and a black fitted leather jacket, I opened my eyes and smiled “heya.” I knew she was going to ask as she fingered my “lucky charm” but as I started to speak she gently placed a fingertip to my lips which I kissed gently.

“First business, then talking.” As she said that she reached for the zipper of my jacket, that I couldn’t reach, my hands occupied by my cane.  She undid the popper and slid it down, breaking my heavy leather prison open. I sighed in relief as she saw my sweat dampened purple shirt and I sighed gently. She smiled again, this waifish girl with elfin features and reached up on tiptoes to push the garment off my shoulders, rocking and bouncing with the train with the practiced ease of a commuter, her converse creaking a little on the metal floor. She looked confused as the jacket didn’t drop to the floor as expected and I sighed, knowing that the twin canes would kill her interest for sure, even if this was more than a helpful sweet gesture.

I gestured and she saw them, well the pistol grip tops of them trapped by the crowd against the metal wall. Rather than recoiling, she scooted close in and told me “Lean on me.” Taking the cane from my left hand, she pulled my arm over her shoulders rocking me forward to lean on her as she slid the cuff and arm off my wrist before repeating the process, my jacket hitting the floor with a jangle of keys and lighter and shrapnel change. She bent into me as I leaned once more on my supports and I felt her hips wriggle down my body, my breath catching at the look of what id swear was arousal as she almost rode my thigh and knee, snaking back up and tying the jacket around my waist.

“Thank you.” I murmured hoarsely, as she stumbled into me on a particularly vicious swerving jerk of the carriage, my arm automatically round her waist to brace her and protect her from injury. When I began to move it away again she stopped me and smiled, reassuring me and stroking my chest just once with a finger tip. “Stay like this” she murmured, smiling again before going back to the petal like shape of expanded copper.

What is it?

Oh! Um, well it’s an old lucky charm of sorts, a reminder. I talked into her ear as she did mine, our breath tickling each other as we talked slowly amid the hubble and noise of London.  I don’t know why I told her, I just felt she deserved to know.

It’s a hollow-point bullet.  The bullet that changed my life, ended my career. I was shot in the spine during a house search in Helmand province. It was removed from my lower back by the medical team that saved my life. I was hit by someone, I was the point man on the search questioning the guy in his bedroom. A woman stepped out from a hidden doorway and fired.

She took the knowledge in stride.  The first I saw who didn’t change, didn’t suddenly treat me as an invalid. She didn’t shy away but just continued to toy with it. She told me she was a solicitor and I told her that I work for Lloyd's of London. I worked as a negotiator and shared a little about my role working to return kidnap victims.

She stayed touching me.  I could feel her warmth, her touch, as we talked about our work and other little things. But alas, all good things must pass. We pulled into the stop I needed, I moved to leave and to my surprise so did she. She followed me from the first to the second tube train and we made our connection and waited in the crush, still talking but I still didn’t have a name for this remarkable woman. As we pulled into the point where I would have to leave the tube, I waited with baited breath as I walked, my canes clicking against the tunnel, still talking; still I hadn’t managed to fuck this up. She didn’t care that I was broken.

I stumbled as my cane slid in the wet puddle of either sweat, piss or spilled drink in the tunnel.  She caught me, telling me that I should just lean on her, my hand snaking into hers as we navigated the stairs and through the exit, her taking my Oyster card and swiping me through the gate before doing the same herself, sliding the card back into my back pocket and just for a second, I swore she took the chance to squeeze my arse. Was I imagining it or was she dropping almost constant subtle hints as to her intention? I tapped my way up to the sign leading the way to the national rail station and waited. At that point I stumbled on my words, I looked into her eyes and walked with her somehow still hand in hand with me and leaning against the wall. I pulled out my wallet, retrieving a business card from work and pulling a pen from my other pocket I scrawled my private number on the back of the card.

“Um hey, well as you can tell I’m, and that’s my private number if you wanna go for a coffee some time.  I’m heading up to the train to Croydon and I thought, I’d um, well. . . I guess, well I hope you will call me sometime. It’s been really nice talking and um, stuff.” I hated the sound of my voice there, this sudden reverting to a nervous teenager, talking to a girl down the youth club.

My heart soared as I heard her rolling my name across her tongue thoughtfully, “David,” she paused, “It suits you. Well, as it happens I’m heading out to Croydon tonight so if you want I would love to carry on chatting and um… stuff.” She paused, mimicking me, teasing and I threw my head back laughing uproariously. Suddenly that was the funniest thing in the world and she laughed with me. “It’s Ellen by the way.” I smiled back into those violet eyes.

“Shall we then, Ellen?” She nodded and we walked up to the train, waiting in the bleak aluminium shell of a platform that was the southbound platform of St. Pancreas. The metal cool against our backs, trains rocketing past bringing a gorgeous breeze through dragged with these tin monsters flying under the city streets. We slipped onto the train, facing each other across a table I tuned out through habit, pulling a travel chess set from my jacket pocket set up ready, expecting to play myself as I always did on the way home. I was shocked back into reality by the fact that White had started whilst I was stretching “Oh um right,” I blushed and responded to her opening.

We played in silence, a nice companionable silence rather than the oppressive loneliness that is commuting alone in the under-dark of London.  Playing as we rocketed past Thames link, past Gatwick, and finally into East Croydon. She matched my rocking swinging gait effortlessly as we walked through the station and out into the car park. I walked over to my trike checking it over as I approached.  No clamp, no ticket due to a stolen parking slip, no fat chavvy “wide boy” sat arsing about with my controls. Perfect!

I swung myself into the seat and stretched, the trike built off a chopper front end and the back end of a VW beetle. The seat more bike than car with a large rack for storing my wheelchair or other luggage. The violet purple paint job contrasting with the diamond plate. The paint matching her eyes as she admired the snow leopard curled up painted on the back of the machine behind the storage plate. The tank the playground of a leaping snow leopard leaping to engulf the fuel cap in her strong jars, “That explains the eyes” she said slyly. I blushed and nodded. “Long story, but yeah.”

“So, where are you heading from here?” I asked, the loss escaping into my voice; loss of the company and the contact as we prepared to part. My heart stopped as she spoke, the pounding, pulsing in my head all I could hear.  She kissed me hard and fast for a second before she slid onto the trike, her legs straddling the seat behind me as she slid forward till I felt her breasts pressed against my back as she almost straddled my body.  Her heat radiating into the small of my back as she stood on the back pegs and slid up my back rubbing up against me like a cat.

“I don’t know,” she whispered before flicking her tongue wickedly across my right ear “You tell me.”