Riding Bitch

RIDING BITCH

Melinda Barron

www.loose-id.com

Riding Bitch

Copyright © May 2013 by Melinda Barron

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eISBN 9781623003463

Editor: Maryam Salim

Cover Artist: Dar Albert

Published in the United States of America

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This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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For S.

Outside New Orleans, Louisiana

Felicia Montrose pulled on the bodice of her dress. No matter how much she yanked, she felt exposed, as if her tits would fall out and the entire group assembled for the wedding would gasp in unison. In her nightmare, they would take bets on whether or not her breasts were real, and then someone would say,
Of course they are. Look at how they jiggle.

“This might have worked on my twenty-two-year-old boobs, but seven years and fifteen pounds later, it doesn’t look so hot,” Felicia called out.

From the bathroom of the hotel room, a hearty laugh made her groan. “Have you really gained fifteen pounds?” A pretty face framed by curly black hair appeared in the doorway. “I hadn’t noticed.”

An equally voluptuous female, wrapped in a white, low-cut dress appeared. The material made a soft, swishing sound as Courtney Blue moved into the room. Felicia forgot all about the dress she wore.

“Courtney, you look incredible, just like you did seven years ago. I can’t believe it’s been so long. But it’s also hard to believe you’re renewing your vows after just seven years. Most people wait longer.”

“Most people haven’t had the sucky year Doug and I have had.” Courtney moved toward the full-length mirror. “It’s our way of reaffirming our promise to each other that the troubles of the past year are gone, and that we are putting them behind us and moving on.”

Felicia fought back the tears that threatened to fall.

“Do you think Doug will appreciate the fact I plan to leave my hair down this time?” Courtney touched her tresses. “He wanted me to last time, but I let my mother talk me into wearing it up. She said it would look better with the veil.”

“He’s going to get a hard-on the minute he sees you.”

Courtney giggled. “I hope not. His pants are too tight, and everyone will know.”

Felicia joined in her friend’s laughter. “That ought to make your mother happy.”

Courtney started to sit down on the bed, but Felicia waved her arms. “No! You’ll wrinkle the dress. We need to hang it up and change into our clothes for the rehearsal.”

Felicia’s worked the small buttons on the back of Courtney’s dress. As she undid the tiny fasteners, she prayed her friends would have better luck this time. Their first six years together had been good. And then the last year had been, to coin Courtney’s phrase, sucky.

Courtney insisted there hadn’t been a third, or fourth, party involved in the breakup, but she’d refused to go into details. Felicia had held her close as Courtney had cried, and then, after months of separation, Courtney and Doug were back together, as if nothing had ever happened.

“I don’t understand why you chose New Orleans for your vow renewal,” Felicia said as she hung up Courtney’s wedding dress.

“It’s romantic.” Courtney twirled, her petticoat making the familiar swishing sound as she moved. “A southern plantation with lots of trees and big four-poster beds.”

“It’s also August in Louisiana,” Felicia said as she fumbled with the zipper on her dress—the dress that had to be altered to make room for her extra fifteen pounds. “It’s like a sauna out there, which means you’ll be dripping in sweat before you reach the altar tomorrow.”

“I don’t care.” Courtney fell backward onto the bed. Her laughter was contagious. “By this time tomorrow night, Doug and I are going to be happily married again.”

“You mean remarried.”

Courtney leaned up on her elbows. “The past is behind us, Felicia. It’s like we’re getting married for the first time. Just like the song says, all you need is love.”

“Yeah, right.” Felicia moved toward the bathroom.

There was a pregnant pause before Courtney said, “Ash is here.”

“Really?” Felicia said sarcastically. “And here I thought Doug had found a new best friend, just so I wouldn’t have to see him.” In the bathroom, Felicia looked into the mirror. Her auburn hair hung in ringlets around her face. “He and I are proof that love isn’t always enough.”

“He asks about you,” Courtney said softly.

Felicia took several deep breaths, then came out of the bathroom. She put her hands on her hips as she faced her friend. “Please don’t go there. I have no idea what happened between you and Doug, because you won’t tell me. But you know exactly what happened between Ash and I. His parents hate me because I’m the white girl. My parents hate him because he’s the Indian boy, and let us not forget that my father tried to beat him to death, and might have succeeded if it hadn’t been for your father.”

Before Courtney could reply, Felicia held up her hand. “Plus my father had him arrested for sleeping with his daughter—me—when I was under the age of eighteen.”

“You were both seventeen, Felicia,” Courtney said. “You were over the age of consent in New Mexico. It’s not like we weren’t all doing it.”

“Yeah, but your dad didn’t have Doug put in jail for it.” Felicia’s stomach turned, just as it had thirteen years ago when she’d found out Ash was behind bars. She’d cried and pleaded with her father to convince the sheriff to let him go. Her father had refused, until she’d told him she would never speak to him again unless he dropped the charges.

She’d reminded him that the age of consent in New Mexico was seventeen. Her father had said he would prove she’d been younger than that when the events had taken place. Felicia told him she’d refuse to cooperate, mostly because she hadn’t been sixteen. She and Ash had been careful to wait until they were both of legal age.

Her mother had cried; her father had screamed, but Felicia had remained firm. The next day, Ashkii Yazzi Chee was out of jail. Two days after their high school graduation his parents, well-known Navajo artists, had whisked him out of the country to mark his graduation from high school.

When they’d returned, they packed the family up from their home in Shiprock and moved them to Santa Fe.

The last time she’d seen him was seven years ago, five years after the incident, when Courtney and Doug had tied the knot.

Every time he’d tried to talk to her, Felicia’s father had rushed to her side, putting himself between the two of them. Ash had given her his phone number. Felicia had not called.

But every time she dated someone, practically every time she closed her eyes at night, she remembered how he’d looked at Courtney and Doug’s first wedding—his muscular body resplendent in a tuxedo, his thick, silky black hair hanging in a tight braid that ran down his back, his dark eyes serious as he stared at her over the happy couple. She’d been the maid of honor; he was the best man.

When they’d linked arms to go back down the aisle together, Felicia had been crying. Ash had put his arm around her back to steady her. Everyone had been sure her tears were from happiness at seeing her friend married. Felicia was sure Ash knew it was because she would never be able to marry him—the man she still loved.

She’d been without him in her life for thirteen years now. She knew he’d had other relationships, but he’d never married, just has she’d stayed single.

Was it for the same reasons? Because he couldn’t see himself married to anyone but her?

She hoped so.

“Felicia?”

The questioning tone of Courtney’s voice brought Felicia out of her memories. “Thirteen years is a long time, Courtney. He’s a famous Native American sculptor now, and I’m a school secretary. He travels the world. Every once in a while I make it to Albuquerque to visit you.”

Courtney stood, crossed to her, then hugged her. “If you lived in Santa Fe with Ash, we could see each other all the time. You’re thirty years old now. You don’t have to do what your father demands anymore.”

“If Ash wanted me, he would have been more insistent.” But Felicia knew that wasn’t true. When he’d passed her the number, they’d been dancing as part of the wedding party. He’d whispered in her ear,
“It’s your choice, but I’d love to see you again.”

She could still feel his arm around her waist, his hand holding hers as he’d pressed the paper into her palm. She still had that paper hidden in the small jewelry box Ash had made for her in woodworking class. It had a place of honor on the headboard of her bed.

Felicia smiled at her friend. “I can handle walking down the aisle with Ash one more time. For you, I’d do anything.”

“With luck, you’ll walk with him one more time after this, because you know, Felicia, love is always enough, no matter the past.”

It would do no good to argue, Felicia knew. When the past included her father, who had accused the man she loved of statutory rape, love might never be enough.

* * * *

It was like the original wedding all over again. Felicia’s hands were sweaty as she walked into the dining room, her gaze raking over the assembled people, searching for Ash.

She found him talking to Doug. Tonight he wore black jeans and a white shirt held in place by a black leather vest. His hair hung in two braids over his shoulders.

Felicia thought she would have an orgasm right on the spot. One of her favorite things to do was brush and braid his hair. It had always made her feel close to him, to feel his silky tresses in her hands. As if he sensed her looking at him, he turned his gaze toward the door. The smile that lit up his face made her go weak at the knees.

He started across the room and before she could put out her hand to shake his, he’d gathered her in his arms.

“Felicia.” He held her close as he whispered, “You look beautiful.”

The extra fifteen pounds felt like thirty as he held her. His body was more toned than she remembered.

“You must work out five hours a day.” She laughed nervously when he didn’t release his hold on her.

“One, maybe two,” he said. He took a step back, but he kept his hands on her waist. “I’m disappointed you never called me.”

Wow, that’s an opener, she thought as she licked her lips. She hadn’t thought of a response to vocalize when the justice of the peace began clapping his hands, calling them to gather so he could explain tomorrow’s service.

They ran through it several times. He showed them the proper places to stand, which was the same arrangement they’d had the first time Courtney and Doug had tied the knot.