Billionaire Alpha Romance: The Proposal (Mature Gentlemen Book 2) (250 page)
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Authors: Maurice Bedard
Lying in bed thinking about the situation brought back to her the memories she cherished. She had met Harry at the University of Indiana. She was staying at home; her parents would never have allowed her to stay on campus. But though she had to get home every evening, there were lots of unfilled hours of the day between and after classes, and from the beginning Shirlee had been determined to make the most of them. Sex hadn’t been on her mind from the beginning; it was new people, new ideas and new experiences she sought. She emerged from her chrysalis a butterfly. She hadn’t known how many men would find her attractive. Plump rather than slim, she had assumed she was ugly, an impression her parents took care not to dispel. She discovered to her surprise that though she wasn’t one of the campus queens who attracted the jocks, she was sought after by the second ranks. She hadn’t dared to begin wearing makeup; it would have been impossible to hide it from her parents. But she discovered a whole substrata of artistic and socially rebellious guys who preferred her that way. Imitating the girls in their group, she adopted clothing that was deliberately unglamorous – homespuns and cottons, peasant blouses and hiking boots, and stopped shaving her legs and armpits. Her parents, knowing no better, applauded.
It didn’t take long for the citadel of her virginity to be under siege, but mindful of her parents’ admonitions, she resisted, and stuck to group activities, avoiding situations where a defeat would have been possible, and since she was good company, her sexual reticence was accepted. She was one of the guys, suspected in a mild sort of way of being interested only in other women. She was, in her own eyes, being daring – flirting with all sorts of ideas and activities that her parents would not have approved of – agnosticism, beer, pot - and for a while it worked, but then at the moment it was beginning to pall, she met Harry.
Harry was an exchange student from Burundi. His real name wasn’t Harry, but something unpronounceable beginning with “Hari.” A member of the Tutsi cluster of tribes, he had the Tutsi build: 6ft tall with long limbs and incredibly long, delicate, fingers. He moved with the normal grace of the African, something that whites rarely equal. His light brown skin – the color of milk chocolate - was in perfect harmony with his coffee-colored eyes and glossy black hair, which he wore in elaborate corn rows swirling over his head.
If that were the whole picture, he would have been very popular on campus, but unfortunately, he was painfully shy among whites and deeply averse to American culture, a feeling he found it impossible to hide completely which meant instant ostracism in the elite or mainstream groups. After failing to become part of the main campus culture, he gravitated towards the circle Shirlee was in, which was both more tolerant and also somewhat critical of mainstream American culture. It was a group that foreign students often found congenial, so he was not the only non-American. Though shy off stage, the moment he took on a role, he exuded confidence and authority, making the most of his deep and expressive voice and physical agility. That was enough to ensure him acceptance. In addition, as a member of his tribal elite, he was rather well-to-do and had a car, making him popular in a rather impecunious group.
For reasons that puzzled the other members of the group, he was drawn to Shirlee, and she to him. For one thing, like many Africans, he had a preference for well-padded women. For another, the outspoken and aggressive sexuality of many American women offended him. He preferred being the hunter rather than the hunted. Shirlee on her part responded to his innate gentleness and the courtesy with which he treated her. That was a feature of her home life which she missed at the university. As straitened as it was, people in it treated each other considerately. Both her culture and Harry’s home culture were much more communal than modern American culture. One of the Tutsi’s proverbs was, “A man alone is an animal,” which harmonized with Shirlee’s family’s emphasis on brotherly love. As they talked, they found they shared many attitudes and ideas, and both responded with each other to the kind of treatment they had been used to at home.
One area which was never on the table for discussion because they had widely different ideas, was sex. Harry’s culture was very laid back about sex. It was expected that young men, like bees, would go from flower to flower tasting the honey therein. If a girl got pregnant, the couple married, which was no big deal since she would only be the first wife. Marriage was a more practical than romantic institution. Teenage experimentation was normal, and even approved of. It was all done with grace and by mutual permission, however; rape was essentially unknown.
Harry, as a result was frustrated. His pattern for sexual encounters was foreign in America, and that coupled with his shyness meant that it had been months since he’d experienced sex – a most untoward situation. He saw in Shirlee the sort of woman he fancied, and mistakenly supposed that her reluctance to engage in casual sex was assumed. He started off indirectly, and then more to direct pleas, becoming more and more frustrated and puzzled as time went on. What, he wondered, was holding her back. It finally occurred to him that she might be afraid. He had learned that American women, if they weren’t already sexually active, could be very ignorant about sex, which no women at home were.
With that in mind, he took infinite pains to move slowly, becoming gradually more hands on in expressing affection – for a while brotherly hugs and caresses only. Shirlee loved it. There had been practically no touching in her family and she was touch deprived. When Harry thought the time was right, he leaned over and kissed her gently. At first she stiffened, but then she melted and the kiss became tonguelessly passionate. Wisely he left things there for a day or two until he could sense that she would not be averse to another such kiss, and during it, slid his hand up under the back of her blouse. Once again she stiffened and then relaxed against his hand, enjoying the ministration of his delicate fingers.
From there things moved quite quickly. Harry made each new experience such a pleasure that Shirlee had no will to resist. She couldn’t see any harm in it. Harry staged the final step with care – a romantic and comfortable setting, and some pot. The trust he had carefully built up paid off and though she said, “no,” as the moment of penetration was imminent, she made a move to stop it. That first time, though no great physical pleasure for Shirlee, was full of emotional thrill and Harry took the trouble to worship her body long after his climax. For Shirlee, the gentle massage and butterfly kisses were almost as thrilling as the genital sex had been.
From there it was all smooth sailing, as Harry introduced her to the full complement of joys he had at his command. He used his enormous organ and facile tongue expertly, and she took special pleasure in the sight of his blemish-free glossy skin, his musky scent and taut muscles. It was special to her because it was new, but also because it was really special. She had qualms, but they were slight and few. Clearly her parents were wrong. They couldn’t have known how much Harry would love her or, perhaps, though she felt disloyal in thinking it, they were not as expert at making love as Harry and she had become, so didn’t know how truly wonderful it was.
As the Christmas holidays drew near, Harry announced that he would go home for Christmas. As a kind of farewell celebration, he managed to procure a holiday cottage remotely sited on a nearby lake. It had become routine for Shirlee to spend nights away from home – at her girlfriend Sally’s home, she said. And though her parents were growing slightly uneasy, they trusted her too much to check her story.
When they got to the cottage, as soon as they had shucked off their snow gear, Harry unpacked the gourmet feast he had brought. It only needed heating and to be shared out. But before they finished that, their hunger for each other overcame their hunger for food and they gravitated to the bedroom, where Harry stopped her from throwing off her clothes. “Let me undress you.” Positioning her next to the bed, with deliberate slowness he unbuttoned her blouse and slid it off her shoulders, baring his favorite spots on her body, the hollows between her neck and her collarbone. After licking both, he unhooked her bra and released her breasts. Cupping them in his hands, he lifted her nipples up and placed his lips over them, one by one, flicking his tongue across them, making them swell and stand. Kneeling in front of her, he kissed his way down till he reached her belt, which he undid, allowing her skirt to fall to the ground. With a finger under each side of the waist elastic, he pulled her panties down inch by inch, kissing each bit of skin as he uncovered it until with a sharp gesture, he uncovered her bush and buried his nose it.
“Oh! None of the perfumes of Araby could equal yours,” he exclaimed. Then lowering her gently on to her back, he searched the center of her bush with his tongue until he found lips surrounding the inner sanctum and licked them, moving to the nubbin within them when he felt it rising in anticipation. When it was erect, he stroked it with his teeth and then plunged his tongue as deeply into the adjacent cavity as it would go withdrawing it slowly only to plunge it once more to the depths. When Shirlee began to moan, he quickly shifted his position until his organ was where his tongue had been and then stopped all movement until Shirlee clenched her fists and her pelvic muscles in ecstasy whereupon he brought her over the crest of the wave with a few gentle thrusts, so she could concentrate wholly on her own pleasure, and when she began to relax with a few thrusts he brought himself to explosion point, jetting his seed into her in a torrent. After the last spasm had fully subsided, he withdrew and lay beside her, resting his head on her shoulder and breathing gently into her ear.
That was not the end of the night by any means, and it was a long time before they reheated and enjoyed the dinner Harry had brought, and even longer before they left their bed for the last time – reluctantly - because they needed to show themselves on campus.
Shirlee thought that life could hardly get better than this, and when he dropped her off and waved good-bye she was reassured by the assurance that in a few weeks he would return. That was, however, the last moment she ever saw him. He never returned to Lafayette; he never phoned or wrote. He just disappeared.
Shirlee’s misery was compounded by the impossibility of sharing her grief with her family, among whom she had to maintain a pretense of holiday cheer. The one or two friends who had been aware how far the relationship between Harry and Shirlee had become just shrugged and asked her what she could expect from an African. She never, in fact, recovered fully, and when Brad began to court her, she turned to him for the little comfort his attention provided.
When Shirlee woke up, sweating and tingling from her daydream, she found that it had something of the same effect that Harry’s real presence had, and took a long shower. As usual, it had both enforced both her desire to end her celibacy and to use her supposed virginity as a shield against disappointment and betrayal.
Brad, when he left Shirlee’s room was in a similar state of confusion. He admired Shirlee’s steadfast refusal of sex before marriage. As frustrating as it was, it spoke of a character that he wanted his wife to have. At the same time, he felt shamed that he had given in so quickly. A real man, he felt sure, would have insisted and overcome her initial resistance. She wanted him. He was sure of it. Didn’t every women, in fact, want it? That’s what his friends said, anyway. Not only had he missed a wonderful experience, he had shown himself to be a wimp. He was glad none of his friends had been around to witness the debacle.
He mentally reviewed the bunch of guys he went hunting with. There were a couple who would have been sympathetic, who didn’t embrace the macho ethic as wholeheartedly as the others, but most would despise him, he was sure, and more than anything else, he wanted the respect of his fellow hunters. He always waited eagerly for the hunting season to open. He never felt more alive than when he had successfully stalked and brought down a buck. He relished the opportunity to be master of all he surveyed and his role as a provider for his family.
He had wanted, in fact, to go on a hunting safari with Shirlee, but she had insisted on a visit to a game park instead. He had given in on that too, something he didn’t like to remember. His friends had made ribald comments about that, employing words like “henpecked” and worse, “pussy whipped.” He had considered giving Shirlee up over that, but he wasn’t at all sure he would find a replacement. He was not physically attractive; he couldn’t persuade himself otherwise. He was, to put it politely, pudgy. He was strong enough; his hunting had given him a reasonable musculature, but there was nothing like the kind of definition he saw on the cover of
Men’s Health
, which he looked at every month on the rack at the drug store but never persuaded himself to buy. Nor was he particularly intelligent. He wasn’t stupid either, but no girl would be attracted to his brilliance. He could be charming and was good company in groups, but face to face with a girl, he was a bit tongue-tied, lacking the self-confidence to be fluent. All in all, he felt lucky to have captured Shirlee, and was loath to give her up.
The overnight flight to Lusaka went smoothly. Shirlee and Brad were a bit awkward with each other because of the incident of the night before, but both made an attempt to smooth things over – more or less successfully.
Lusaka Airport, their first experience of Africa showed them Africa at its worst: stifling heat, overwhelming noise, and what seemed to American eyes, total chaos. There were no signs anywhere. If you belong to an oral culture, you either watch to see where other people are going or ask for directions, but Brad and Shirlee didn’t. Brad was of the “real men don’t ask” persuasion and Shirlee was too timid to take charge. Fortunately, Central African Safaris had a Lusaka representative to deal with exactly the problem they were having, but unfortunately, he had got caught up in Lusaka’s horrendous traffic and didn’t arrived until his charges were thoroughly discouraged. When they saw his sign with their names on it, they made their way to it with haste, Brad shouldering aside anybody who was so unfortunate as to get in the way. “Where the hell have you been?” he snarled. The Central African representative, used to tourists of Brad’s type was fulsomely apologetic and managed with practiced ease to smooth Brad’s ruffled feathers. He led them to the Immigration window and then to the baggage collection point. The bags were still being carried in on hand carts, and there were a few uneasy moments because neither Shirlee nor Brad could see theirs, but before too long their bags appeared and the Central African rep helped carry them, there being no trolleys, to the departure desk for their flight to Mfuwe. Fortunately, they hadn’t long to wait, and the rep’s cheerful chatter pretty well restored their peace.
When Shirlee saw the plane they were going on, an aged two prop four seater, she paled visibly, and took Brad’s hand. Brad was himself none too sure he wanted to fly on it either, but managed to reassure Shirlee with a confidence he didn’t feel. The rep, expecting their reaction joined in, assuring them that in ten years there had never been an accident. The pilot looked like a teenager, which wasn’t helpful, but his air of absolute assurance was, and he told them that the weather was perfect so the flight would be smooth.
And indeed, so it was. After a few minutes of unease, Shirlee managed to relax and look out the window at the landscape not very far below them. Even in the Midwest, she had never seen a countryside so devoid of the evidence of human habitation. They flew over a few farms near Lusaka, but after that there was nothing but trees and an occasional road. Shirlee commented that it seemed desolate, but Brad remarked that it would be great for hunting.
As they began their descent into Mfuwe, they crossed the Luwangwa River, red brown and braided into many channels. The pilot pointed at what looked like dark brown rocks in the river and mouthed “hippos.” Shirlee didn’t really get what he was saying, but when she looked more closely she could see that the rocks were indeed moving about and guessed what they were. She was thrilled, and all her worries behind her, she was filed with eagerness to be down among them.
Mfuwe airport consisted of two sheds, one marked “Customs” and the other “Immigration” but at least, Shirlee thought, it was clear where they were supposed to go. The formalities were very relaxed and the officials welcomed them warmly. As soon as they were finished, a tall African greeted them and introduced himself as “Blessings”. He was dressed in a khaki safari suit: a loose short-sleeved jacket and very short shorts. He wore shoes of rough beige suede, without socks,which Brad and Shirlee soon learned was a practically universal fashion in Zambia. The arms and legs revealed by his costume were muscular, hairless, and deep brown.
Shirlee took to him immediately, not least because he reminded her strongly of Harry. Brad’s hackles rose immediately as he sensed a masculine threat. Physically he was no match for Blessings; nor could he match Blessings’s easy affability and charm. Consequently he was surly, embarrassing Shirlee who tried to make up for it by being extra friendly. It was not a promising beginning.
Blessings, from long experience, knew exactly what was going on and how to deal with it. He sighed inwardly. His enjoyment of the safari depended entirely on the nature of the clients, and this one did not look promising. The other four members of the party, who had arrived by car, were white Zimbabweans, taught from birth that they were superior to blacks, and without being overtly offensive had made it clear what they thought. They were all school chums having a reward for successfully passing out of secondary school. Undoubtedly they would think they knew everything that there was to know about African game, which was a problem for Blessings, whose job included a lot of instructive patter to interest the clients when there was no game to see. He could deal with them, but it was an effort. Not only that, with only one female in the party, Blessings saw little hope of sexual dalliance, which often enlivened the guide’s spare time. He found Shirlee quite attractive, in fact, but with her husband as prickly as a porcupine, it would be very difficult to take advantage of that.
He ushered Shirlee and Brad into the open safari vehicle with its tiered seats and canvas canopy, and they drove to Thornicroft Camp, which was beautifully situated along the east bank of the river in a remote spot north of the entrance to the park.
