ROMANCE: CLEAN ROMANCE: Summer Splash! (Sweet Inspirational Contemporary Romance) (New Adult Clean Fantasy Short Stories) (48 page)

              He heaved a deep sigh when he saw her as such, immensely satisfied as his treasure. He disposed of his cravat and shirt and reached his hands towards her, but she raised a palm to his chest. He was still as she explored the hair there with her fingers, silent as she stepped closer. As she pressed her palm against him, she looked up and he fell into the green of her eyes. “I want you to know,” she said, softly, but surely, “that I loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you.”

              And with that, she reached up and kissed him for all she was worth.

              The night was gentle about them as they made love, slowly and tenderly on their marital bed. When he kissed her, Olivia relished the weight of his manly body on her; she felt as if she had been made for this purpose and this one purpose alone. The dips and crevices of her body had been made to carry the weight of just this man on her, and he did not let her come up for air as he kissed her, tangling his tongue inside of her mouth until Olivia realized she could live forever without breathing if she could just have this feeling. She opened her legs to welcome him, bent her knees and cradled him closer, the heat of his erection pressing against the core of her through her undergarments until neither one of them could stand it. He broke away and unlaced her corset, following up with such a lavish celebration of her creamy breasts and rosy nipples that the aforementioned buds puckered tightly under his lips and fingers and Olivia clutched his head in her hands, trying to press him closer to an unknown place where she felt everything that had ever been felt since the beginning of time.

              She opened for him without thinking, for what was the need? When the duke pressed his member against her opening, he grabbed her hand, and the look he gave her opened her far deeper than a physical connection ever could. He pushed inside of her, pushed past the hurt, past the pain, soothing the momentary discomfort with his murmurings, with his kisses, until Olivia knew that nothing could ever hurt her again, not really, as long as this man was with her. And then Olivia knew nothing at all as she soared, again over that precipice where no words of poetry are ever needed because something so elemental requires no words save one, the calling of a lover's name over and over again into the deep dark of the night air. For wherever and whoever we are, whatever we have lost or managed to find, this is the feeling that unites us all, and on the night of her wedding, Olivia joined the rest of the human race in the celebration of a wonderful orgasm.

*              *              *

              The news of the separation of Mr. Ben Soothley and Lady Cynthia Freeworth scandalized the upper crust more thoroughly than they had ever been scandalized before. Or so it seemed. This was not the sort of news that has the luck to die down after several weeks. For wherever she went, Lady Cynthia Freeworth would henceforth be known as the lady who falsified her pregnancy to ensure her right to a gentleman's fortune.

              Soothley's own sins were widely forgiven in the face of his wife's latest deception, and he received a far more sympathetic response from both sexes of the upper crust. It was this particular detail that plagued the Duchess of Worchester as she read the latest missive that had been delivered by special coach straight to her desk.

              She read the letter, so full of the little charms that the lady had proved herself to be more than capable of in the past few years. She read of the disintegration of the union that had seemed so promising at first, and the coldness that arose, seemingly out of nowhere only a year after they had been joined. It was all very pretty, and somewhere halfway through it, the duchess felt a twang of sympathy for the composer of the letter, the kind of sympathy that can only come from a woman to another woman. It seemed as though Lady Freeworth had had some difficulty conceiving and had grown quite desperate to mend the break between her and her husband.

              “What did she say next?” breathed Mildred Kingsley as the duchess relayed her tale.

              It appeared as though many months were passing with no lack for trying, until the lady had grown quite desperate. It seemed that her handsome and wealthy husband had developed quite the roving eye and had begun to seek comfort in the embraces of other ladies whose minds were far less troubled with such ugly matters.

             
And I simply did not know what to do, darling! For heaven's sake, there is only so much a woman can take! So I thought, perhaps to purchase myself the little gift of time, I would tell him that we were already on our way, so that he could relax and spend some more quality time with me.

              It was all very sordid, the way things came out, in the end. I had just told him, and you should have seen the way he looked at me, as if he had love in his heart again for me. I thought nothing could ever break us—surely we would now conceive—and that is when I walked in on him and that damned red-haired harlot, Hillary Pinecust! Oh darling, and that is when I knew, I simply knew that there was no point to any of it, and I got so angry that I wanted to hurt him as much as he hurt me and I told him the whole truth of the matter. And wouldn't you know it, the stuffed shirt got on his high horse and went on and on about how I had deceived him! To say nothing of the fact that I caught him with his bare bottom waving in the air.

             
“She didn't!” crowed Mildred.

             
I suppose you are a bit surprised to hear from me after so long, dear, but as soon as it all happened, I thought of you. And that is when I realized how absolutely dreadful my own behavior was two years ago; how it must have felt when I caught Ben's attention right underneath your nose. My darling! I just know that you will understand my pain now. You have, after all, always been one of my closest friends—you even introduced Ben and me! I wonder if you could ever forgive me for the mistakes that I have made.

              “You didn't,” gasped Mildred as she sat across from the duchess. “Oh you couldn't forgive that shameless hussy after everything she did to you. Tell me you did not.”

              Remembering the mistake she herself had almost made, the duchess found she that she did indeed have room in her heart for forgiveness. And if she could forgive Lady Cynthia Freeworth for all she had done to Lady Olivia Knightbridge, well then she could certainly forgive herself.

              Lady Olivia Knightbridge, Duchess of Worchester Abbey, decided to invite Lady Cynthia Freeworth, recently separated, for a week of heart to heart chatting and rest at her new home. And her new husband and beautiful children were not the reason, not the reason at all. It took a certain kind of strength of character to admit one's mistakes and request absolution, and it did not matter if the lady in question had once been the rising star of the ton or not. All of us rise, all of us fall; we rise and fall again and again, only to live out our lives together.

THE END

Double Ink

              Jen loved tattooed men, especially ones that gave off that bad boy vibe. It was hard to find one that did it in an authentic way, though. So many people had watched a few episodes of Tattoo Masters Forever, or seen a tattooed actor on television or in a movie, and modeled everything they did after the aesthetic of someone more or less created in a Hollywood laboratory. It just didn't come off natural when, by nature, people had to try so hard. But it wasn't that way Seth.

              Seth wasn't the kind of guy that put on airs that he was somehow important because he tattooed people for a living. Although it was something that Jen found extremely attractive because of this she only known this was a turn on for her after giving it some thought. Because Seth was so humble, in a world where it's cool to be a blowhard, where it's cool to blast what you are doing and who you are with all over social media—but even so Seth was humble, but in his own way. He didn't like to tell people what he did for a living because television and movie stars had made tattooing something trendy. Seth had told her in conversations that even though the popularity of it made him quite a bit of money, it was something that he thought marked the high water mark of the industry as far as financial solubility went. In short Seth thought there was nowhere to go but down now, even though the stardom that the tattoo industry had garnered was the same kind enjoyed by people known for drinking and driving, or beating their wives and calling and leaving horrendous voice mails full of racial slurs; the same kind of attention that a carnival barker receives as he stands tall and proud, letting his piercing yelp ring out.

              Seth wanted everything to go back to the way it had been in the old days, when tattoo artists were people more associated with the seedy underworld than the lights of the silver screen. He wanted it to go back to being more craft oriented, more about doing solid work and leaving customers happy and wanting more. He thought the whole rock star attitude that people tried to push down the public's throat wasn't something that would, in the long run, benefit the industry. Because eventually, like the rest of the things that Hollywood dug its claws into, it played out. A thing just couldn't stay timeless when it was marked so thoroughly by the very nature of the passing of ideas and trends, and especially so when this transformation, instead of being allowed to happen and even fostered into existence sometimes, was instead exploited. It made things tend to go static, had a chilling effect on the people involved in the industry. No one that was really doing their own thing cared about the television stuff, so Seth wasn't really that bent out of shape about it; it was more something that the public projected onto him with their questions and how they treated him.

              But all in all Seth reacted to the whole situation with style and grace that Jen really found to be appealing in a person. Not to mention that Seth was damn sexy. He was an average height guy that had the build of a wrestler. But the best part was something that Jen hadn't been able to see for herself, not yet anyway. Rumor had it that Seth was really well hung. And THICK. This was the icing on the cake as far as Jen was concerned. It was hard enough to find a guy that she found really attractive, but it was even harder to find one that was hung decently well. It just always seemed like the artist types were either one way or the other: either really good in bed or not good at all. And from what she'd heard not only was Seth hung but he was one of the ones that was good in bed. And that was amazing news considering that Jen wanted to sleep with him.

              Jen always made a point to drop by the shop and talk to Seth if he wasn't busy, try to hang out with him a little bit. He was in his late twenties and was pretty independent. He liked her, that much she could tell. His face always lit up when he saw her and he always smiled so big when she smiled at him. He liked the attention from her and Jen liked giving it to him. But Seth was a little bit shy underneath his tough guy outer shell. Even though it seemed like nothing could faze him, and that he didn't care what anyone else thought about him, she knew that deep down he was a person just like everyone else. Albeit a person who needed much less attention than the average male his age, but a person none the less. And that meant he had hopes and fears, dreams and nightmares, things that he never told anyone about and parts of himself that he wore on his sleeve.

              But Seth liked to keep his distance from people, even the ones that made the effort to spend time around him. Jen didn't take it personally or anything like that; it just bummed her out that that was where the world had left him. He couldn't really trust that the average person was being for real about actually liking him because there was always the chance that they were really just being chummy to get some free tattoos, or something along those lines. Countless times while Jen had been hanging around the shop she'd heard people come in and try to haggle with Seth, tell him that they would hook him up, or that their cousin knew them somehow, and all kinds of other things. Of course most of these things were just complete and total bullshit. But there were times that Seth seemed to be caught unaware how a potential client went from being all "nice guy" to a hard bargainer.

              Jen couldn't image what life must be like for Seth, not that it was hard in the sense of having to go hungry or going without shelter, but more in the sense of being alone. Because something Seth really liked to do was drowned his sorrows in booze. Not that he was drunk every single day, but there were times when Jen would text him and she could tell that he was trying to text back and sound as sober as possible. There was always the chance that Seth was really only having a couple, but more and more Jen was coming to realize how many people said they were only going to have a couple and then really tied one on. But maybe he really was only having a couple, wetting his whistle like he said he was.

              After really thinking about it for a while Jen decided that she was going to ask Seth out next time they hung out. It was a bold move, especially for her, and she knew that it would catch him off guard. But that was all right. It was all right if she made him think a little bit more about what kind of person she was exactly. Because something that she really did worry about was that he thought she was just some kind of bimbo only hanging around to sleep with him and get tattooed. And even though she did want to sleep with him and she wouldn't mind getting tattooed more, it wasn't like she didn't find him to be someone that she genuinely thought could maybe end up being something for real with her. Even though that wasn't the driving thing behind what she was doing it was still an axillary motive.

              So the next time Jen visited the shop she waited until it was about ready to close before she stepped inside and made her way past all the tattooing booths to the drawing room where Seth sat drawing up a tattoo for a client scheduled to come in the next day. Jen put her hand on Seth's shoulder to let him know that she was there. He looked over his shoulder for a brief moment then went back to what he was going. He wasn't being rude, it was just that whenever she dropped by he finished whatever was at hand before he talked to her. It was pretty much the only way he could get anything done. Seth couldn't talk and do anything at the same time. It was one of those strange quirks some people have, where if they are texting they can't talk, and if they are doing something intensive on the page they can't do anything else, not even watch television. So Jen sat next to Seth and watched him draw, watched how his hands moved with confidence over the page as he situated the paper in front of him and continued to draw out the feathers of a bird in flight. She loved to watch him do his thing when it came to drawing and tattooing, it was so fascinating to her. Not just watching him but the whole thing, the way people came in to get things tattooed on them. How sometimes it was for very serious and somber things never to be forgotten, and other times it was things like a pot leaf, or a dog’s paw, or a dagger through a skull.

              Watching Seth's strong hands draw on the paper she remembered how she'd asked why so many people liked getting skulls tattooed on them. Seth said it had something to do with memento mori, a French term meaning literally, “Remember that you will die.” Death was something that humanity had grappled with throughout the ages, and it was something that it continued to grapple with. People, although they might not know it intellectually, got scary reminders of death on their body as ways to cope with the unknowable that lay just beyond death that faced everyone equally when they tried to imagine living in the blackness of the great beyond. But the way Seth had explained it had made it all make sense. He was really good at that, making her understand some of the concepts behind the art that he surrounded himself with. It really was a lifestyle more than a job, it had to be. With all the competition and the people out there who didn't care how good or bad their tattoo artist was, Seth had to be a cut above the rest by a considerable amount or he just wasn't going to make it. But he was doing well for himself, despite being relatively new to tattooing. As Seth finished up the drawing he was working on he looked over at her with a warm smile on his face.

              “Want to head back to my place to smoke?”

              He cocked his eyebrow when he asked.

              Jen, up to this point, had been really against smoking pot. Not that she cared if other people did it, it just wasn't for her. So, to be exact, she was really against it for herself. But that didn't mean that Seth didn't try to pressure her into it whenever he got the chance. He really wanted her to try it for some reason, saying that it would expand her mind or something. She didn't know if it would or if it wouldn't, but she wanted to spend more time with him so she said yes this time. For a few moments it was like Seth didn't know what to say, which was very much unlike him. He usually knew just what to say and when to say it, but now his words were failing him. He bounced back quickly though, and before she knew it she was at his place. It didn't take long because she just jumped in his car and road the two or three blocks to his place. When they got there he put a record on so that the music could barely be heard and started to dig around one of his drawers for the weed and a pipe. He said that he'd hid it well that morning because his landlord had said something about dropping in just to take a look around. When Seth found it he gave a small cry of victory and quickly set to loading a bowl.

              Jen felt a little bit apprehensive but tried to be cool. She didn't want Seth to think that she was some kind of square who couldn't loosen up or have a good time. Besides, it wasn't like they were going to smoke a ton. She was sure that Seth would only load what they could both handle without getting silly. As they sat on the couch and smoked Jen could feel all the stress leave her body. It was strange to think that it was this easy to let go of what was ailing her. All of her thoughts of school and work were gone from where they had been, swimming around the back of her mind. Instead she was just watching television, sitting on a couch with Seth. Then she started thinking about how lucky she was that she actually got Seth to hang out. Usually she couldn't get him to hang out after work because he was always busy doing something work related. She knew that he had to work a lot to keep afloat, but sometimes it was just frustrating when she wanted to hang out and all she ever got was shot down by Seth. She felt like he didn't even want her around sometimes, but she knew that was just her mind running a little wild, like it was now that she was high with him. He seemed to be doing all right, and if his mind was spinning he certainly didn't show it. That was how it was supposed to be, Jen thought. Then she tried to stop thinking.

              On the screen in front of her several cartoon characters were fighting to the death on some desert landscape with a two lane highway running through the middle of it, but nothing else. It took her a few minutes to realize she was watching an old rerun from her childhood. Man, she really must high if she couldn't recognize the iconic road runner character being harassed by the coyote who wanted to eat him. But the coyote wasn't as slick as the dog of Native American legend. He was always to slow, or too fast, or he aimed his comically enormous missiles just a little bit off. There were a lot of things that made the coyote a character that just seemed to have a lot of trouble following through with whatever it was doing. Jen thought about all the friends she had that were coyotes. They got all wound up about something and then let it loose, let it all their energy spring forward at once onto the thing at hand. Sometimes it worked out in their favor, but as everyone got older and the stakes got higher the strategy of just throwing all the energy someone could muster at something wore thinner and thinner. Jen thought about all the times that she herself had made similar mistakes when she didn't take into account how a coworker would stab her in the back during a meeting, or how she would need more time to complete whatever project she was working on. It wasn't like it happened a lot but it certainly did happen. Then Jen realized that she was high as fuck and trying to compare a comical cartoon to real life people and situations. And even though it didn't quite work out, the allegories worked out well enough that Jen found it a little bit disconcerting.

              “Hey I've been thinking about something,” Seth said.

              Jen's thoughts stopped and she focused on Seth.

              “What have you been thinking about?” Jen asked.

              “Why we don't hang out more,” Seth said. Then he paused a moment and seemed to stare off into the horizon where the ceiling met the well. Then he continued. “I guess maybe I'm just kind of shy. Not with the public, because I have to be good with them. I work with them every day. But more with people that could actually mean something to me. You're special to me, even though I probably show it like I should. I hope that you realize that the reason there isn't any competition to sit and watch me draw is that I'm not interested in anyone else. That and no one else really seems to give a damn to sit and watch me draw.”