My mother turns and sees he is gone. Someone screams. My mother is led to where my father lies in a crumpled heap on the ground in a pool of his own blood. Running from the scene was the prince; everyone had seen him, but because the witnesses are gypsies, no one would ever believe them. So the gypsies band together to get my mother to safety. My father had already booked passage on a steam ship from a port in the northern part of the country. The destination? Boston harbor, so that is where my mother headed. She safely boarded the ship, but only days into the journey, the ship sank after running head long into a ferocious storm that blew the vessel off course. My mother was found washed up on the shores of Iceland, of all places!
“She washed up on the shores of Iceland? Are you fucking kidding me?”
It takes Flor a minute but a light bulb finally goes off, “Right, you’re to the part of the story where your mom meets Daniel. Keep reading!”
My mom regains consciousness on a rocky beach. She starts feeling cramps and is afraid she is losing her baby. She cries out and a hand extends toward her. She grabs it and sees it belongs to the most beautiful man she has ever seen. He looks like a god with long golden locks, rippling muscles across his chest and forearms, his icy blue eyes burn a hole into my mother’s womb and sees me. He tells my mother he can save the unborn child, but there would be a price. My mother screams while clutching her belly in pain that the child must be saved no matter what the cost!
The Thor like god takes my mother’s hand and kneels beside her. Placing his palm on her swollen belly, my mom feels cold fire coursing through her. The cramps begin to melt away. She feels the baby stir within her for the first time. Tears of relief fill her eyes.
“Remember your promise,” reminds Daniel.
“Yes, anything you wish for saving my baby.”
“I request your daughter’s hand in marriage. You will have twenty-eight years to prepare her.”
I slam the diary shut with a loud thud causing Esma and Flor to jump. Not realizing the stylist had arrived when I was reading I could not help but marvel at whom these two bozos actually hired. I recognized the short perky blond from some reality TV show and knew the bimbo would work her magic and transform me into a gypsy Cinderella. Let the games begin.
After hours of being taped, dressed, plucked, scrubbed, washed, rinsed and blown dry, it was time for the great reveal. The celebrity make-up artist was the last to finish. She spun me around in the chair to face the full-length mirror that had been moved into my living room and I was honestly shocked. I looked amazing. My hair had been swooped up into an elegant French roll. The stylist came over and handed me a mirror so I could see the back of my hair and the sexy back of my Bob Mackey original. The stylist informed me the gown was a one of a kind designed specifically for me. It was sexy yet sophisticated. It was deep purple, which made my eyes appear almost violet in color. The front of the dress had a square color and the back was completely open all the way down to the very top of my ass, which the dress hugged perfectly. If I dressed like this more often, I would most definitely have had someone to call to celebrate my promotion. Delicate pearls and amethyst jewels had been hand sewn onto the dress, casting prisms of light as I moved. It was magical. Jeweled hairpins adorn the French roll and from my ears hang large tear dropped pearl and amethyst earrings. I loved everything but the shoes have to be my favorite. They fit my feet like no other shoe I have ever worn. Lifting the long gown, I look down at my feet.
The stylist says, “They are hand made to fit the exact contour of your foot and caress your every step. The interior is lined with a futuristic foam material and the exterior is hand blown Murano glass. They are to die for.”
I hated her and for some unknown reason wanted to drive a spike through her perky little face, but I had to agree, the shoes were to die for.
Flor and Esma inspected me. Flor smiled and clapped her hands merrily as if to celebrate the miraculous metamorphosis. She handed me a small one of a kind Michael Kors clutch the same color as the dress and said, “Inside you will find a cell phone. There is also a lipstick, some perfume, powder and some hand sanitizer.”
I take the purse and add to it the photograph of the man responsible for this grand illusion. Flor opens the front door and announces, “My lady, your chariot awaits.”
I was half expecting to see some garish crystal coach, but was pleased to see a 1920 Duesenberg. It was pearl white and reflected the setting sun making it appear encased in diamond shaped rainbows. A driver held open the rear door as I hike my gown and descend the front stairs. Neighbors I had never seen before peer out of doors and windows just to catch a glimpse.
The driver heads down the street and gets on the highway. I ask him where we are going but he does not reply. Instead, he rolls up the partition between the front of the car and the back seat. I almost start to cry. The stress of the day has caught up to me. Breaking the silence is an irritating old-fashioned telephone ringing from my clutch. Somewhat relieved I answer it. It was of course Flor sensing my energy shift thus prompting a call. She really was weird, Icelandic or not.
“Hi Flor, thanks for calling. I tried asking the driver where we are headed, but he ignored me and rolled up the partition. I feel like a kidnap victim.”
Flor says in an exaggerated tone, “Oh my poor dear, we are so sorry you feel that way and called you as soon as we sensed your unhappiness. Please put your mind at ease. Your driver is what you might call a mute. He cannot speak so do not feel badly when he did not respond to your question. As far as where you are going, you are going to the………………”
Just as she was telling me my destination, I see a sign for the airport.
“……………………….airport!”
“Yes, you are clairvoyant!” excitedly exclaims Flor.
“No I am literate you moron and I just read the sign indicating we are at the airport! Where in the hell am I going?”
In a dream like response she says, “Anywhere you desire.”
The car drove onto the tarmac and stopped in front of a huge airplane hangar. Inside was a Gulfstream G650ER. The door to the luxurious jet was open and the stairs extended. At the bottom of the stairs is a red carpet and the most beautiful man I have ever seen holding one dozen purple and red long stem roses. As I got closer and the car came to a stop a wave of recognition hits me. I stare through the window at the smiling face and pull the photograph from my purse. It is the same man. How can that be? Maybe he looks just like a close relative. I have pictures from when my mom was a little girl and if you compare them to me at the same age, we look like twins. It was interesting to say the least.
The driver opens the door and extends a white gloved hand. I exit the car and walk toward the handsome stranger drinking him in with my eyes. He stands at least 6 foot four. His teeth are perfectly straight and brilliantly white, like perfectly chiseled chunks of Chicklets gum.
I think to myself “Oh my God what am I saying? Come on, relax, yea he’s the hottest guy I have ever seen, but damn, I can’t get my thong in a bunch this early into the date, can I?”
He is wearing a perfectly tailored Armani Tuxedo jacket. His black pants have the same color purple as her gown piped down the side. I quickly avert my eyes as I am self-conscious he has realized I was staring at his crouch a little too long. His feet are clad in the finest Italian leather and I can just make out the Ferragamo emblem. His long hair is drawn back and tied in a tight ponytail. He extends the bouquet and in a rich baritone voice says, “You look radiant and I am charmed to meet you.” He takes my hand and kisses it. His lips are pink, plump and firm. They create a moist heat against my skin as they brush across the back of my hand. I cannot help but wonder what they might feel like brushing across my ruby colored lips. He looks up and blushes, as if he had heard what I was thinking. He clears his throat as he tugs at the expertly tied bow tie around his thick, muscular neck. His eyes are pools of cold blue ice. He takes my arm and guides me up the short flight of stairs. I
stand just inside the cabin waiting to be officially invited into the plane’s interior. As the man climbs the stairs, a flight attendant takes my flowers and arranges them in a beautiful bronze colored vase hand painted with the most tranquil seascape.
He takes my arm and waves his, majestically as he welcomes me aboard. The interior is elegant but manly. The wood paneling is a deep rich mahogany and the seats are a creamy beige leather.
“Welcome, and thank you for agreeing to meeting me.”
“I don’t really know that I had a choice given my fairy godmothers presence at my house.”
“Fair enough and I apologize if Flor and Esma were in the least bit difficult. I am so eager to hear all about you but before we engage in such an intimate conversation I wanted to tell you about our destination.”
Not knowing what has come over me I uncharacteristically put my forefinger over his lips and say, “No, I want it to be a surprise.
“Your wish is my command.”
As the jet taxis down the runway, the flight attendant hands me a glass of champagne. I look out the small window and see the ground recede below me. The jet ascends to meet the stars that twinkly in the purple twilight.
He turns his chair toward me and looks deeply into my eyes. He radiates an ice blue aura. I have never seen anyone’s aura before even though my mother tried to teach me how to see them for years! He smiles.
“I get the feeling you are reading my thoughts.”
“I must confess. I am.”
“Fair enough. I will try to keep that in mind and save you from reading any X-rated thoughts I may have after enjoying more of this champagne.”
Sensing my flirtatious response, he winks sending a bolt of energy tingling in the pit of my stomach. “So I never got a chance to ask you how you are related to Daniel.”
A look of confusion sweeps across his brow. “I don’t understand.”
“Is Daniel your father? Maybe grandfather?”
He looks directly at me and says, “I am Daniel. The picture you have is of me. Didn’t your mother explain?”
“No, well maybe. What I mean is she may have tried to tell me about you but growing up I didn’t believe anything she told me and I often refused to listen to her mad stories.”
“What if I were to tell you her stories may not have been as mad as you might remember. I would have preferred your mother prepare you for our arrangement, but I will take it upon myself to explain. When your mother was pregnant with you, she washed up on the shores of Iceland, fulfilling an ancient prophecy. You see, I am from the world your mother described. I live in a world where magic; kings, queens and dragons are real. Magic is like anything else, it can be used to help or it can be used to harm. I believe in using it to help and that is what makes me an ice dragon versus a fire dragon. A fire dragon wants to harm, as a dragon I must do what all dragons must, and that is mate with someone from a royal lineage. When I saw the child your mother was carrying I knew you were of royal lineage and would be twenty eight when it was time for me to mate, thus promoting eternal life for both myself and my mate.”
I look at him for a long time not knowing what to think. Was he nuts? Probably, that would be my luck. Smoking hot rich guy is of course insane. Oh well, let’s ride this fantasy as far as it will take me. What do I have to lose?
Over the intercom, the captain announces we are making our initial descent. I cannot wait to see where we are landing. I scan the horizon for any discernable landmarks that might identify our destination. I know immediately. New York City! What a wonderful surprise.
Excitedly I exclaim, “I have always wanted to visit New York City, but I haven’t had the chance. I am so excited! There are so many great restaurants here. Where are we going?”
“A friend of mine is a chef. He was raised in Sweden and has a kindred spirit. You may have heard of him. Chef Marcus Samuelsson?”
I recognize the name and remember seeing him on Top Chef. He is an amazing chef. I look forward to a romantic dinner.
“Maybe we can take a carriage ride through Central Park after dinner. He looks down and smiles. “I would like that.”
He holds the door to The Red Rooster restaurant open and we go inside and enjoy the most delicious meal ever created in the history of the world. After dinner, we walk hand in hand across the street and enter the park. A carriage stand is just ahead and we approach the next driver in the short que. Daniel helps me into the carriage and we sit closely. Daniel puts his arms around me and we embrace as the carriage horse begins to trot. The carriage driver is an old gentleman with an eastern European accent. He plays soft romantic music for us. Daniel’s embrace is electrifying. Over dinner, he tells me more about his clan and the ice dragon’s he leads. It still sounds crazy, but he really seems harmless and I doubt he would hurt me. I am sure that is what all victims of serial killers say right before being brutally murdered. Daniel begins to laugh.
“You’re doing it again.”
“I’m sorry. I could not help myself. I was hoping to pick up on something entirely different, but what you were thinking, while entirely valid, was humorous. I am in no way a serial killer. I am as I claim. I am an ancient ice dragon king whose clan migrated from Norway to Iceland where I have lived for centuries. Just before your mother washed up on shore, a fire dragon killed my long time mate and I knew I would have twenty-eight years before I would have to find another. That other is you.”
He grabs me and kisses me deeply. My lips part as he slides his tongue inside searching, tasting, exploring. I feel a hot wetness between my legs and cannot help myself. I reach down, grab his hand, and place it on my breast. He responds by plunging his tongue deeper into my open mouth and squeezing my breast. I need more of him, reach down, and grab his erect penis through the fine silk threads of his Armani pants. Before coming around the central park curve that takes us back to the carriage stand, he pushes me away. I cannot believe I attacked him like that. We both adjust our clothing and regain our composure as he takes my hand and helps me down from the cab. We walk arm and arm back to the car and enjoy a silent, sexually charged ride to the airport. Once inside the plane he takes me by the hand to the door at the rear. He opens it revealing a bedroom. We grab each other and anxiously resume our exploration of each other’s mouths.
He gently begins kissing my neck and strokes the side of my cheek with the back of his hand. He continues running his fingertips down over my arms while nibbling gently on my neck. He spins me around and unzips my dress revealing the lacey thong. I step out of my glass shoes and walk over to him. I begin unbuttoning his shirt. He reaches down, unbuttons his pants and pulls them down. He steps out of them revealing an engorged member hard enough to cut diamonds. I reach down, grab his red-hot cock and drop to my knees. I begin gently sucking the tip of his penis and rolling my tongue just around the rim of the head. He tilts his head back and moans taking his hand and placing it on the back of my head gently coaxing my thrusts deeper and deeper. Just before filling my mouth, he stops, lifts me up and carries me to the bed. He gently places me on the edge of the bed and slides my hips forward before dropping to his knees in front of my thick mound of hair. He plunges his tongue between my lips, parting them, revealing a hot pink wetness that glistens with my own excitement. I wiggle my hips in unison with his hard, long licks and cannot contain my screams when I orgasm in his eager mouth. He cannot wait any longer. He climbs on top of me, plunges his tongue into my mouth and thrusts his hard throbbing cock deep inside me. My muscles contract involuntarily forcing Daniel to whimper as his body erupts in orgasmic spasms. He fills me. I feel him spill down my inner thighs. I have never had such an amazing orgasm before in my life. I could not even hope to achieve such self-satisfaction. Daniel rolls off and lies on his back staring up at the interior cabin’s ceiling. “That was amazing.” He rolls on his side; props himself up on his elbow and gently brushes back the strands of hair that came loose during our lovemaking. “I want to make you happy and I hope I can.”
/>
“I can’t remember the last time I felt this way and I can’t thank you enough for rescuing me from what I though was my fate. I like this much better than becoming a spinster workaholic.”
“I am so glad and I look forward to the time we meet again. However, that will not be until our wedding day. I will send Flor and Esma when it is time. You know how gypsies love their weddings.”
Laughing I picture the show “My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding” and know it hits the mark. Gypsies go gaga for weddings, and I cannot wait to see what Flor and Esma come up with. Daniel rolls off the bed and dresses. He opens the window shade and peers down. He sees lights in the distance and says, “We will be landing soon. You had better get dressed. I think you’ll find something much more comfortable in the closet than that evening gown.”
To Love A Hitman Page 62
