Authors: Gwynne Forster
“You no longer know or understand what wild oats are. They’re out of fashion. Got that?”
Soul-warming laughter poured out of him. “As long as I can sow my oats with you, I don’t care about the wild ones.”
She raised her arms and stretched like a cat, and he stared down at her until she drew up her knees, bathed her lips with the tip of her tongue and asked him, “Any more where that came from?”
He grinned, partly because her words amused him and partly because just knowing that she loved to make love with him turned him on.
“For you, it’s like an eternal flame, a spring that can’t dry up. Why? Interested?”
The shock of her teeth on his left pectoral sent a shot of adrenaline straight to his groin, and he hardened within her. Pride suffused him when her eyes widened, her lower lip dropped and her eyes then took on the glaze he recognized as desire. She bucked beneath him, and an indefinable, gut-searing sensation plowed through him.
Her fingers dug into his buttocks, urging him to move, and he bent to her breast and sucked her nipple into his mouth. Her muscles tightened around him and he put a hand beneath her hip and carried them on a fast, wild ride to sweet paradise.
He lay buried inside of her, as drunk on her as if he had too much hard liquor. Emotionally and physically depleted. Many times, he had imagined what it would be like to have her fitted to him as a glove fit his fingers. The first touch of her portal had been the kiss of sunshine, the awakening of every nerve ending in his body. And then he was deep inside of her. Home. Heaven. He didn’t know how he survived the thrill of it, the shattering, heavenly torture of her explosive release. He kissed her eyes and put his head on the pillow beside her. She didn’t know it, but he was hers.
When he awoke an hour later, he wondered how he would react if she lapsed into self-doubt and, with it, the inability to give freely of herself. He knew it was possible, because she still had the image of Alexis always before her, and she still believed that her parents had never loved her—both potentially lethal.
“No matter what else is on your agenda, I want you to make time for us. I’ll do the same. I want us to find out if we can make it together. Do you agree to that?”
“I’m glad, because that’s what I want. Oh, Russ, I…I feel like a stranger to myself.”
He tightened his arms around her. “Maybe that’s what I was feeling a moment ago. I just couldn’t get in touch with myself.”
R
uss drove home slowly, deep in his thoughts. The mechanics of driving his Mercedes from Velma’s house to his apartment were far from his mind. A few days earlier, he would have been able to tell himself that he cared for Velma and wanted her and that there was little else to it. And he would have been close to the truth. That was before her acceptance of his explanation about Iris Parker, before she further endeared herself to him with her simple faith and trust, her belief in his integrity as a man.
And then, the sweet, loving way that she received him into her body—giving him all that he asked for and more and shaking him to the roots of his soul—had hurtled him beyond the caring and physical want and into a deeper and more serious, more binding realm. For the first time in his life, he loved a woman and needed her.
In spite of all that, however, he didn’t see how he could forego the kind of bond with his woman that he knew was
essential to him. And although she had shared things about herself that allowed him to see her vulnerability and to empathize with her, she hadn’t given the part of herself that would let him feel that nothing separated them. He needed it, and they could have it. With love and patience, he would lead her to it.
When Velma awoke the next morning lying on her belly, her left knee drawn a little toward her chest, she slid her right hand over the sheet to the empty space next to where she lay—searching. She rolled over, kissed and caressed the pillow that had cradled his head and breathed deeply of the musky male scent that overwhelmed the odor of their lovemaking.
She hadn’t wanted him to leave her, but she hadn’t articulated her feelings. Female clinging vines—which was how she thought of possessive women—were not among those she admired, and she was danged well not going to become one. She didn’t doubt that when they left the Horseshoe Club, lovemaking was not uppermost on Russ’s mind any more than it was on hers. They had responded to the moment, and she would never be sorry. How could she be? He gave her the love and loving she never expected to receive—complete fulfillment. And for that, she took greater pride than ever in her womanhood. Memories of that moment when he splintered in her arms, undeniably hers, would never leave her.
She stuck her big right toe out from underneath the covers to test the air, grimaced and dragged herself out of bed. No one would relish the task facing her; she could only guess at the shape in which she would find the Horseshoe Club. After waiting forty minutes for a taxi, she resolved to buy a car. At last she stood in front of the building. From the outer facade, it appeared that the club hadn’t suffered any
damage. However, she wouldn’t let herself relax until
after
she spoke with the manager and examined the things she had rented.
“Yes, ma’am, may I help you?” the porter asked Velma when he opened the door.
She glanced around, saw nothing untoward and allowed herself to breathe normally. “May I please see the manager?”
“Right this way, ma’am.”
“What happened?” she asked the manager after explaining why she left the club without supervising the cleanup and packing.
“Nothing much, Miss Brighton. The maître d’ took care of everything. A few of the rowdies got hauled off in the Baltimore Express to spend the night in jail.”
She gaped at him. “You mean the police
did
come?”
“If I hadn’t called ’em, the place would have been a wreck. There wasn’t a sober person in here, male or female. No Smoking signs everywhere, and they perfumed the place with marijuana.” He shook his head. “They may call themselves intellectuals, but with the stuff they were using, I bet they burned up their brain cells long ago.”
“This is the first and the last time I cater for that bunch.”
His perfect composure was not what one would expect of a man whose place of business could have been permanently shut down owing to his customers’ disregard of the law, and it irritated her. She took the job primarily on the strength of the Horseshoe Club’s reputation as a place catering to an elegant clientele.
As if he read her mind, he explained, “They paid in advance and didn’t question the price. Fooled me, but it won’t happen again.”
“I’ve never been around such people. From angels to devils in less than two hours.”
“Well, I’ve been in business a long time, but I still make a mistake now and then. We have refined people coming here, people who appreciate the kind of service you render, and I’ll be glad to recommend you.”
She thanked him, inspected the items she had rented and breathed deeply, relieved that she had accounted for everything and found nothing damaged. “Last time I’m doing this for a group that doesn’t give me impeccable references,” she told him.
“Makes two of us.” He handed her his card. “Don’t forget—we rent for wedding receptions, sororities, fraternities, graduation parties, you name it. And the customers almost always ask me to recommend a caterer.”
“You never cater these affairs?”
He shrugged. “Never. I could make a lot more money doing it, but I don’t need that kind of stress.”
She left the club with the intention of visiting her real-estate agent, but instead impulsively made a visit to see her friend, Lydia.
“My goodness,” Lydia said, “you’ve gained four pounds. Didn’t you go to see that endocrinologist I recommended?”
In spite of Velma’s effort to appear nonchalant, learning that she continued to gain weight darkened her mood the way a sudden black cloud blots out the sunshine. Until that moment, she had been happy, she realized, and not even the prospect of facing disorder in the Horseshoe Club had dampened her spirit.
“Maybe this is just my lot in life,” she said, unwilling to take on the burden of yet another diet or to follow her current one more rigorously.
“Nonsense,” Lydia said. “That’s a pile of baloney, and you know it. What did Dr. Klee say?”
“I have a hypothyroid condition. He gave me some pills, but I still have to watch what I eat. When I’m with…with Russ, I just eat whatever I want. He thinks people who are preoccupied with the way they look are vain and frivolous.”
“And he’s right, but controlling your weight is the intelligent thing to do. He’s got other reasons for saying that.”
She wanted to get off the subject. “I know,” Velma said, and she did, but she wasn’t ready to deal with those reasons. “I just stopped by to say hello. See you another time.”
Half an hour later, she sat in the office of the real-estate agent, half happy and half worried. The warehouse he found suited her needs perfectly, but it was defaulted property that belonged to the city, and getting permits represented hurdles she hadn’t counted on.
“We have to demonstrate to the city that your business will enhance that neighborhood and provide jobs for the locals. Can you write a good proposal?” the agent asked. The warehouse had probably been vacant for years, but as soon as someone showed interest in buying it, impediments popped up like mushrooms after rain.
“I’ll do my best,” she told him. “Anybody else bidding on that property?”
He shrugged. “They never tell you that.”
She knew she had several strikes against her: no previous ownership of business property, a small business with very few employees, and a business unrelated to the neighborhood’s needs. Well, she would write a proposal that would make the buildings commissioner take favorable notice. She couldn’t afford to fail, and she wouldn’t.
Russ left the movie feeling upbeat. An hour and a half of relaxation without a single murder or shot fired. It was a light story about a guy who loved his horse. He could have used more entertainment of that type. He’d laughed uncontrollably when the horse bit the guy’s backside. Relaxed and mellow, he draped his arm around Velma’s shoulder.
“Were you serious when you offered to go to the courthouse with me tomorrow morning?” he asked.
“Of course I was serious,” Velma replied. “I’ll go unless you’d rather I didn’t. No telling whether she’ll bring along one of those friends of the court, or whatever they’re called.”
“Television stuff. I’ll be glad if you come, but it won’t matter who she brings. I’ll accept the results of a DNA test or nothing.”
“It’s your right to insist on that. I just want to be there for you.”
She had so many ways of endearing herself to him, of touching that place in his heart that had once been hard, if not locked, but that softened more every time he saw her and whenever any part of his body made contact with hers. How could one woman bring about so many changes in him so consistently and so swiftly? Time was when he would have considered himself a softie, less than a man, if he opened himself up completely not only to a woman, but to anyone. He didn’t have to be told that those years merely prepared him for the transformation he saw in himself, changes that he embraced with pride.
“I’ll be here at eight thirty in the morning,” he told her when he took her home. “I want to be at the courthouse no later than nine.”
“I’ll be ready.” She had a habit of giving him her door key so that he unlocked her door and opened it. At first, he
thought it unusual, but he’d come to like it. He unlocked the door and followed her inside.
“Do I get a kiss?” he asked her.
She said nothing, but clicked on the light switch, and he thought he detected an expression of concern on her face. Still, she looked up at him, lifted her arms to his shoulders and lowered her lashes. She hadn’t meant to be seductive, he knew, but the gesture seemed to say, “Do with me as you wish.” He knew what would happen if he let himself give in to his feelings, and he wanted to avoid a heated exchange, but he controlled the impulse to back away, lest she misunderstand. With his arms around her, he brought her close to his body, inhaled the dizzying perfume she wore and let her woman’s warmth seep into him.
“You’re so sweet,” he whispered. “Kiss me and let me get out of here.”
As if it were the most natural move she could make, her right hand caressed his left cheek, and then her parted lips, soft and glistening, welcomed him. His arms tightened around her as he sipped the sweetness she offered. And like a hummingbird drinking the nectar of a flower, he lingered. Lingered and supped until the heat began its treacherous journey to his loins. Then, he stepped away from her. And that pleased her, he saw, for she registered neither surprise nor displeasure.
“Thanks for such a lovely evening,” she said. “See you in my dreams.”
Velma didn’t want to drift into an affair with Russ, but she knew that, considering the way she felt about him and their mutual explosive reaction to every kiss, no matter how simple or how fleeting, if she wasn’t careful she would wake up one morning to find either her clothes in his closet or his clothes in hers. And as much as she had wanted to feel his
arms around her and to have his lips and tongue drain her of her will, she couldn’t allow their times together always to end in lovemaking. If she had so much as looked into his slumberous eyes when he asked for a kiss, they would have been in her bed that minute.
And if I start to think of what he did to me and the way he made me feel that night, I’ll still be awake come daybreak.
She arose early and remembered to say her prayers, for she didn’t know what the morning would bring. “I won’t let myself contemplate anything unpleasant,” she said aloud to herself as she tripped down the stairs on her way to the kitchen. “I didn’t offer to go with him because I was curious, but because I love him,” she continued.
She opened the door before the echo of the doorbell died away. “Hi, hon,” she said, her face bright with a smile that welcomed him. “My goodness, you’re dressed to the nines.”
He leaned down and kissed her. “You’re not looking bad yourself. You look great in that,” he said of the dark orange suit. “I always wonder why the sisters wear those drab colors. Nothing beats a dark-skinned woman in just the right autumn color.”
“Thanks. If you need coffee, the pot’s still hot.”
He didn’t move away from the door. “I appreciate the thought, but I just had a cup. Ready?”
After he helped her into her coat, she wrapped a long mustard-colored wool scarf around her neck, slipped on her gloves and slung the straps of her pocketbook across her shoulder.
“Let’s go.”
To his amazement, Iris Parker was sitting in the waiting room when they arrived, rolling a baby carriage with her foot, suitably dressed for a visit to Buckingham Palace.
“Hi. I’m so glad we could meet away from…” It was then that she saw Velma.
“Good morning, Miss Parker,” Velma said in a tone pleasant enough but without pretending to be friendly. He stifled a laugh when Velma solved the seating problem by sitting in a different section of the waiting room, beating Iris Parker at her own game.
After a brief court hearing, during which each side stated their position as to the child’s parentage, the judge ordered the tests. Russ wondered why any woman would subject herself and her child to that kind of scrutiny, knowing that she would lose the case.
“You’ll get the results at the end of the week,” the technician told him.
Holding Velma’s hand, he walked over to Iris, but didn’t look at the child. He didn’t need to, because he knew it had none of his genes. “I don’t see how you could subject yourself and your child to this, knowing that the result will be negative. Aren’t you aware that there is now a court file on you and your son? Did you bring the birth certificate?”
“Couldn’t we go somewhere and talk…uh…privately?”
“That isn’t necessary. Ms. Brighton knows all about this, and she won’t discuss this with anyone, so go ahead and talk.” She winced at that, but he’d only told the truth.
“Well…I’m, uh…things aren’t going too well right now, so—”
He cut her off. “Did you bring a copy of the birth certificate?”
He could see her confidence slipping away like melting winter snow from the limbs of trees in the afternoon sunlight. “I forgot it. I had so many things to remember, formula, Pampers, a bracelet for motion sickness… Matt sometimes gets sick in a moving vehicle. Well…you know.”