by Riley Moreno
‘Thank you for everything, Rosie,’ Chivonn said, hugging Rosie who was dressed in her bridesmaid’s gown of peach tulle.
‘Oh, stop now, you’re making me tear up and I’ll spoil my make-up,’ Rosie scolded. and helped Chivonn into her white lace wedding dress. The dress was full and flouncy with a bodice studded with white rhinestones. Chivonn wore a silver tiara and a veil that covered her face and flowed down her back to form a long train. Rosie placed a bouquet of peach colored roses into Chivonn’s hands and clasped a bracelet around her wrist. ‘Something borrowed,’ she whispered.
Outside the flurry of activity had stopped as everyone prepared to leave for the Church. Lane’s Ford was bedecked with flowers.
‘You look nervous,’ Jake remarked as he got in beside him.
‘I am,’ Lane admitted, feeling slightly inhibited by his tuxedo.
At the Church Lane shifted from one foot to the other.
‘Calm down, man,’ Jake scolded.
‘What if she’s changed her mind?’
‘Why would she?’
‘Because of my past? My days as a vigilante?’
‘It was for a good cause and Chivonn knows that. She’s coming. In fact, here she is now.’
Lane caught his breath when his eyes fell on Chivonn, as she floated up to him in soft waves of white lace. She walked alone, with Rosie holding her train, and Lane walked over to take her hand and lead her up to where the priest stood waiting.
They spoke their vows with an earnestness that overflowed from the depths of their hearts, their love warming their souls as they held hands, looked deep into each other’s eyes and pledged to love each other through sickness and health, for richer or for poorer, till death do them part.
‘You may now kiss the bride,’ the priest said and Lane locked eyes with Chivonn. His kiss was a promise of things to come and Chivonn’s pulse quickened. When they drove back to the Reception at the Ranch House, Chivonn wondered if she would be able to get through it at all. She was desperate for her husband and she knew he was longing to claim her once for all. She had all but managed to make it down the Church steps, amidst a shower of confetti, where they posed for photographs that seemed to take an eternity for the cameraman to get just right. They laughed through the toasts, and cut their cake, their desire building. Their first dance was a test of their restraint as the proximity of their bodies and the fact that they could finally be together, made it difficult to hold back any more.
‘I want you so much Mrs. Hayes,’ Lane whispered in his wife’s ear.
‘Would I be considered too forward if I said I long for you with a passion so intense it is threatening to overwhelm me right now?’
Lane’s grasp on her waist tightened and he drew her closer to him, so that the heat of his body engulfed her and left her breathless.
‘Oh Lane, may we leave now?’
‘What? And not partake of the magnificent feast that has been arranged in our honor?’
‘I couldn’t eat a thing, Lane. My appetite is for another kind of food.’
‘Hmmm, mine too,’ Lane whispered against her ear.
Chivonn tossed her bouquet and Rosie sprang forward to catch it. Even as she did so, Jake noticed her for the first time and asked her to dance. Lane and Chivonn watched Jake and Rosie dancing, before they bid their guests farewell and got into the Ford, leaving amidst the clatter of tin cans.
‘Finally alone!’
‘And where are we going?’ Chivonn asked, as Lane drove out of the Ranch, turned around and re-entered through another gate where a stable hand was waiting with Beaumont. Chivonn looked questioningly at Lane. He said nothing, but assisted her out of the car and swung her up onto the horse.
‘My dress!’ Chivonn squealed.
‘It’ll be ok,’ Lane reassured her, springing up behind her and taking the reins.
They rode in the darkness up to that part of the countryside where the train swings by. Chivonn twisted about, trying to get a glimpse of Lane’s face.
‘It’s ok, Mrs. Hayes, I’m not wearing a bandana…but we are going to get onto that train.’
‘How?’ Chivonn asked, ‘It only stops further up at the Station. Perhaps we should go there?’
‘Don’t worry,’ Lane reassured her again, as the sound of the train whistle rent the air.
‘We’re not going to jump onto the train are we?’ Chivonn sounded concerned.
The train swung along the tracks and slowed down, coming to a halt. ‘Welcome aboard, Mr. and Mrs. Hayes!’ the guard shouted.
‘All we have is a few seconds,’ Lane said, as he swung Chivonn off Beaumont and onto the train, and following swiftly after.
‘Home, Beaumont!’ Lane shouted to his horse and watched Beaumont take off as the train began to move again.
‘This way,’ Lane said, guiding Chivonn into a private carriage and shutting the door behind them.
‘How did you accomplish that?’ Chivonn asked.
‘I called in a favor,’ Lane explained, taking Chivonn into his arms.
‘We could have got on at the Station,’ Chivonn said.
‘Ah, but then we’d have to drive there, and the wait would be so much longer. This way, I have you now…finally.’
‘Are we…umm…private here?’ Chivonn asked.
‘Yes,’ Lane said.
‘And where are we headed?’
‘To a little town two hours away where we have a cottage waiting for us.’
‘How did you find it?’
‘I own it.’
‘Oh! Our very own honeymoon cottage!’ Chivonn said happily.
Lane took her in his arms and suddenly she was at a loss for words. His lips were hard on hers, his tongue stirring up flames in deep hidden places. Then he pushed her from him.
‘This is your last chance to save that wedding dress. Do take it off before I tear it off your body,’ Lane growled. Chivonn giggled and pulled off her veil and began to slowly shrug off her dress. She stood before him in a lace slip, her voluptuousness on display. Lane pulled her roughly into his arms again, grabbing her buttocks and grinding his pelvis into hers. She groaned.
‘Now take off the rest of your clothes for me,’ Lane breathed agonizedly, watching the slip slide off Chivonn’s shoulders. Her breasts overflowed the cups of her bra and Lane reached for them as they broke free. He lay her carefully down on the berth and tore off his own clothes, and Chivonn couldn’t take her eyes away from his manhood, rearing up like a stallion, pulsating with a fullness that she wanted inside of her. She trembled as he took her, moaning softly, completely tuned in to her instincts as she responded to his lovemaking with both skill and fervor. He called out her name over and over as he climaxed and she moaned his name out loud as the volcano erupted inside of her and spilled burning lava that inflamed her senses and took her to the point of no return.
It was still dark when they reached the cottage and only then Chivonn realized they had no clothes or cases with them.
Lane laughed when she drew his attention to the fact that they had travelled with no luggage whatsoever and she had been in such a haze of happiness that she never noticed.
‘Everything has been taken care of,’ Lane said, and carried her over the threshold. There were lamps on inside, a hot meal on the table, and a fire burned in the grate to welcome them.
‘Who has done all this?’
‘The staff. I have a couple who takes care of this place and I had told them we were coming. As for luggage…’ Lane opened the door to the bedroom with a flamboyant sweep of his hand. Chivonn entered the room amazed.
‘Open the closet,’ Lane instructed, and she did. Inside she saw an entire new wardrobe of pretty dresses and gowns which Lane had bought for her and sent ahead.
‘Oh Lane!’ Chivonn breathed ecstatically. ‘Thank you!’
‘No, thank you!’ Lane said, taking her face in his hands and kissing her deeply.
They sat down to their meal of roast veal and potatoes and then fill
ed the bath with hot water and soaked in it together.
‘I had this specially made for us,’ Lane explained when Chivonn expressed wonder at the size of the tub.
‘I love you Lane Hayes,’ Chivonn said, playing with the suds on his chest.
‘And I love you, Chivonn Hayes,’ Lane responded, cupping her breasts and pushing them up out of the water so he could admire them, leaning over to tease one gloriously turgid tip with his eager tongue.
‘In here?’ Chivonn asked incredulously, when Lane lifted her up, onto his aroused manhood.
‘Why not?’ Lane whispered, as she slid onto him, his hardness embedded in her warmth. She rode him like she would a rampant stallion and he bucked and thrust against her, her breasts like warm caramel, filling his hungry mouth.
CHAPTER VII
The golden light of the sun slanted down on the front porch where Chivonn lay back in a swing seat. Lane sat on the steps playing his guitar and humming.
‘Are you ready for tonight?’ Lane asked.
‘As ready as I will ever be,’ Chivonn said.
‘Well, you will drive the fans wild as you always do,’ Lane remarked.
‘And you will drive the fans wild as you always do,’ Chivonn echoed. She slipped off the swing seat and joined Lane on the steps.
‘Do you like this? Us singing together?’
Lane swung her off the steps and onto his lap. ‘I love every minute!’ Lane said, ‘Especially when we’ve finished a show and are alone in our dressing room!’
Chivonn gave him a playful slap on the cheek. ‘Naughty!’
‘I can be naughtier,’ Lane’s voice was husky with pent up desire.
‘Care to show me?’
Lane swung Chivonn into his arms and carried her into the house and up to their bedroom. He kicked the door shut and stood her up on her feet. She was breathless as he kissed her, bruising her lips with his ardor, but she was hungry for more, thrusting her tongue into his mouth and sucking on his tongue as she ground her pelvis against his. Lane swung her around, his mouth still on hers, his hands kneading her buttocks and sliding between her thighs. He pushed her up against the wall, his hands on her breasts, cupping and squeezing them. Chivonn freed them from the confines of her blouse, arching her back to push the large globes up for him to feast on them. Lane’s hands could scarce contain their fullness, and her flesh spilled out of his palms as his tongue darted from one swollen tip to the other. He pulled her skirt up roughly, tearing at her panties and taking her with a fury that unleashed her own intense need for him. He lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he thrust against her arched pelvis. He sucked and bit her nipples, sending huge shafts of desire searing through her belly and trailed his tongue along her neck as she begged for more. When he had rocked her senses into complete and ecstatic submission, they fell to the floor replete, spent passion dripping off them.
‘And how do you expect me to have any energy left to sing this evening?’ Chivonn teased, stroking him between his thighs.
The path to the concert hall was filled with cars, trucks and people on foot who had come to listen to their favorite couple sing. The band was already on the stage and the fans were working themselves up into a frenzy.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, The Hayes!’ The announcement sparked off a fresh burst of applause as Lane and Chivonn took the stage. They sang separately and together, but always with an intensity that brought the crowd to their feet and made even seasoned musicians sit up and take notice.
When they took a break and went to their dressing room there was a knock on the door. It was a middle aged African American with a large bouquet in his hand. ‘For you Chivonn Hayes,’ he said, and Chivonn stood open mouthed staring at him.
‘Do you know who I am?’ the man asked.
‘Only the biggest name in Jazz …in all the world!’ Chivonn exclaimed.
‘I’ve come to ask you to think about singing my kind of music.’
‘Oh,’ Chivonn said and turned to look at Lane. ‘But this is what I do best.’
‘With that kind of voice you can do anything, my dear.’
‘Meet my husband, Lane Hayes,’ Chivonn said, beckoning to Lane.
‘Chivonn’s husband and manager,’ Lane introduced himself, ‘And if you want her to sing for you, then you must assure her of a recording contract.’
‘And no doubt one for yourself as well?’ the man said ironically.
‘No,’ Lane said shaking his head. ‘I want this for Chivonn.’
‘Alright then. Come meet me tomorrow my dear. Here’s my card.’ The man left, and Chivonn looked at Lane.
‘Are you sure my darling?’
‘I wouldn’t dream of limiting you, Chivonn. Your talent is extraordinary.’
‘But I love what we do together,’ Chivonn said.
‘And I love it too. But you need to move on from this, don’t you think?’
The next day Chivonn went to meet the jazz icon who had given her his card and when she returned from the meeting she was more excited than Lane had ever seen her.
‘Lane my darling!’ she exclaimed, ‘You have no idea how overjoyed I am. I met singers like me. People of my color, with talent that far exceeds mine. I am to perform with them and have a record as well!’ She hung her head. ‘Though I will need to spend a lot of time on the road. And they said I need to do that without you.’
Lane looked at her, his feelings veiled. ‘You must do whatever you think will take you along the path of your dreams, Chivonn…and don’t let me stand in your way.’
‘But what will you do when I’m away?’
‘Dream of the day when you return, and write love songs to you in the meantime.’
CHAPTER VIII
May in Alabama is warm, and as Lane saddled Beaumont for a ride he wiped a trail of perspiration from his brow. He missed Chivonn – her laughter and enthusiasm for every new experience. He rode along, more morose with every mile, when he heard someone calling his name. It was one of his stable hands, riding like the wind.
‘What is it?’ Lane asked, turning Beaumont about.
‘There’s some gentlemen come to see you.’ The stable hand answered.
Lane cantered back to the Ranch House, handing Beaumont over to the stable hand before he ran up the porch steps and into the living room where two men were waiting.
‘Lane Hayes?’ one of the men asked.
‘Yes,’ Lane answered, ‘That’s me.’
‘What would you say to a concert tour?’
Lane sat down heavily and looked at the men. He shook his head. ‘No. No thank you gentlemen, I don’t want no concert tour. I need to be here at my Ranch.’
‘Why? Are you waiting for your wife to come back to you? Do you think she ever will?’
Lane bit his lip. ‘Why do you think she won’t?’
‘Because the music grapevine says she has found favor with her mentor – one of the greatest Jazz musicians the world will ever know – and she would be mad to return.
‘And you believe this?’
‘Yes we do and so should you.’
Lane stood up. ‘Well, I don’t believe all that gossip, gentlemen, and neither should you. I thank you for your offer but I am unable to accept. I have commitments that I can and will keep.’
The men rose to leave, one of them shaking his head. ‘You’ve turned down a great offer,’ he said.
‘Maybe I have, but maybe there’s a better one ahead,’ Lane said, walking the men to the door.
Lane closed the door and went up to the bedroom that he had shared with Chivonn. It had been three months and she hadn’t returned. There had been the odd letter in the beginning but then there was nothing, except snippets of gossip, like the two men had brought him earlier. He just wished he had been more selfish and prevented Chivonn from accepting the offer from the Jazz musician. He picked up his guitar and strummed it, singing a few lines of a new song he had written.
That evening Lane drove over to the
Bar where he had first heard Chivonn singing and as he sipped a beer a young girl came on with a guitar and began to sing. Something about her reminded Lane of Chivonn and when she took a break he went over to talk to her. But as he began to sit down, he felt a hand on his shoulder, and turning around abruptly, he saw it was Jake. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Jake asked, leading Lane away.
‘Having a beer with a nice young lady,’ Lane answered.
‘Not you, Lane. Not you. You’re not like that. You are the guy who will wait for his wife to return.’
‘And what if she never comes back?’ Lane said, perceptibly dejected.
Jake squeezed Lane’s shoulder. ‘She will. I just know she will.’
‘Has Rosie heard from her?’ Lane asked hopefully.
‘No. She hasn’t.’
The two men wandered out of the bar and Lane got into his Ford and drove away. As he drove through the gates of his Ranch he knew one thing for certain. He needed to get away. So he saddled Beaumont and rode over to where the train slows down at the point where once the masked gang used to board it and terrorize the passengers.
This time Lane jumped onto the train and told Beaumont to race home. He stood by the doorway looking out at the countryside flash by, veiled in darkness with tiny points of light indicating scattered habitation. In minutes they would slow down and reach the Station, and he had only that much time to make up his mind about whether he would disembark and go back to his ranch or stay on the train, buy a ticket, and go wherever it was going.
As he stood there debating his next move, the Guard who was known to him came up and exchanged pleasantries.
‘Ever the romantic!’ he said.
‘What do you mean?’ Lane asked.
‘Well, I remember the first part of your honeymoon was spent on this train…and how you arranged it…so romantically. And now this…’
‘This?’
‘Yes,’ the Guard said, ‘Come to greet your missus before the train hits the Station. I call that truly romantic.’
Lane felt his heart hammer against his chest. ‘The missus? Is she here? On this train?’
‘You didn’t know? Have I spoiled her surprise?’ the Guard looked confused, but Lane had disappeared, striding through the carriages to seek his love.
