Black Burlesque

by L. C. Castillo

  “So, Lenore. Did you help him pick it out?”

  Viola brings me back. Like always, she completely ignores whatever is happening around her. I need to learn to do that. I need to learn not to absorb other people’s negative energy.

  “No. Not really. I went with Vincent, but I didn’t offer my input. Or, I tried not to that is. We looked at three, and the last oneit was in a class all it’s own. I can’t believe he’s buying it, just like that,” I say and snap my fingers.

  “Is my Vincent moving to Uptown to be closer to you?” Her eyes sparkle again. She has a knowing smile on her face and I’m thrown by her question.

  “Er...uh...no. Um, he’s been lookingsince before, I think. He’s applied for a job at the University,too, I ”

  “You’re not as blind as that, Lenore. Don’t pretend to be.” She taps my hand and rises. “I need a nap before dinner. Would you mind walking me?”

  “No. Of course not,” I try to appear unflustered. But my mind and heart are racing.

  She laces her arm through mine, and we walk together far across to the other side of the house, and up the grand staircase. She really should have a room downstairs, if only to avoid a fall down these treacherous steps. There are so many, and all of the wood is so pristinely polished; she could slip and seriously injure herself. But I suppose she likes the exercise, or perhaps she’s too stubborn to move out of her room.

  She opens up her bedroom door, and looks up at me. She’s grown quite serious. My heart is in my mouth. I’m still thinking about what she just said. How am I blind? Seriously.Vincent wouldn’t buy a housea whole house, just to be closer to me. We barely know one another. It’s preposterous. He’s too intelligent for that. It’s been, what? Two weeks?

  “Take care of Vincent. He may seem strong and together, but he is naive. You need to help him see things for what they are. He’s still lost. After Walter died...” her eyes fill with tears. I reach out to her, to take her hand.

  “I’m fine, I’m fine,” she shoos me away, obviously uncomfortable with her display of emotion. So instead, I pull back her duvet and fluff her pillows. She has a lost and forlorn expression on her soft and wrinkled face. I smile apprehensively before walking out and leaving her alone. I close the door, and a moment later, I hear her move to her bed and settle in.

  The hallway is dark, and I’m not even sure if I’m going the right way. I turn back in the direction from where I think I came, and a body appears before me, startling me and dashing away my introspective thoughts.

  “That’s very clever of you. Burning down your own home to get Vincent to buy a house for you two. What do you think you’re doing, you little gold digger?” Elizabeth accosts me.

  I’m completely thrown by her sudden change of persona. Even her voice has transformed. It’s harsh and deep, not the soft and spider-like voice she had a few minutes ago when speaking with Vincent. She looks like a cobra, primed to strike. I’m offended by her words, truly offended, but I’ll be damned if I let her know that.

  “I am not that cunning, Mrs. Reynier. And I am not moving in with Vincent. Even if I were, your son is a grown man, and what he does, and who he is with, shouldn’t concern you nearly as much as it does.”

  She steps in, her face inches from mine.

  “What do you know? What the hell do you know about having a son? Or a family for that matter?” She spits out at me. My heart constricts, as does my throat. Her words sting, but it makes me wonder, what does she know about me?

  I feel bad for her. She is insane, completamente loca. I’m sure it has to do with the death of her eldest son, Walter.

  I shake my head, “I don’t. I don’t know what it is to have a son, or a family. But I do know that I don’t appreciate your accusations. You don’t have to like me, Elizabeth, but you should respect your son, and his choices.”

  I try to make my way around her, but she blocks me. I’m afraid. I am literally afraid. I don’t know what this woman is capable of. My eyes widen as I regard her, trying to guess what her next move will be.

  “I’m on to you. I know you want him for his money. Money is all whores like you think about,” she hisses out at me.

  “Who are you trying to protect? Vincent? Or his money?”

  She snaps back, her eyes blazing, and I’m finally able to make my way around her. I walk briskly back to the living room, the whole time bracing myself for her to attack me from behind. That woman is hostile, and in desperate need of therapy. My hands and legs are shaking with adrenaline and fear. Fuck, Conni was right.

  Vincent and I nearly collide at the bottom of the stairway. I was practically running. I ball my hands into fists, so that he won’t notice that I’m still shaking.

  “There you are. Conni says dinner won’t be ready for another hour or so. We still have some daylight, want to go for a ride?”

  “Yes,” I respond quickly. I smile in an effort to mask how flustered I am.

  He takes my hand in his, seemingly oblivious to my turmoil. This family is crazy. How is Vincent so sane? How is he able to keep it together when he’s surrounded by all this...sadness and madness?

  We take a leisure walk to the horse stables. There are five gorgeous horses, each in their own stall. They’re large and slightly intimidating, I’ve never seen a horse close up like this. And the smell...it’s overwhelming!

  I instantly gravitate to a brown and white spotted horse. He seems friendly and sweet, so I walk over and nuzzle him. I scoop his face between my hands, and he breathes moist air onto my skin. I giggle.

  “I thought you meant a ride in your car, not on horseback,” I whisper to Vincent as I wipe my cheek.

  Vincent’s stares down at me, he seems bemused.

  “What?” I ask. What did I do?

  “That horse. He’s wild and our least domestic. I don’t think you should ride that one.” He shakes his head from side to side, his soft smile disappears and his brows furrow.

  I cock my head to one side. “No. If I ride, I get to pick. I’ll ride him.” I stroke his nose again.

  “Lenore...”

  “Vincent.”

  He smiles, and throws me a pair of riding pants and a white shirt from a metal locker.

  “There are some boots in here, too. My mother’s should fit you. You can change out of your dress back there,” he says pointing to a small room with a pine door.

  I turn around, my eyes fixed on his, and I unzip and drop my dress. His eyes darken instantly, I watch as they settle on my bare breasts. I slide on the riding pants and sashay a little as I bring them up and over my hips. I button and tuck the white shirt into the pants. I walk past him to get the boots.

  Vincent catches my arm as I brush past him and pulls me toward him. He runs his hands up and down my torso. His mouth is just a breath away from mine.

  We hear footsteps, and he sighs deeply, dropping his head in frustration.

  “To be continued...” he winks and turns around.

  An older, burly man with a black beard smiles at us, his cheeks pink with embarrassment.

  “Drake, this is, Lenore. Lenore, this is Drake. He cares for the horses.”

  “A pleasure to meet you, Miss,” he says with a thick, rich voice. He lifts his brown newsboy hat at me, and places it back onto his head.

  “Likewise, I was just telling Vincent that this is the horse I’ll be riding,” I say haughtily, attempting to push Vincent’s buttons. I make my way back over to the spotted rebel after I slide the boots on. They fit perfectly.

  Drake looks to Vincent and narrows his eyes. Vincent shrugs and rolls his eyes.

  “Alright, Miss Lenore, but wouldn’t you rather...”

  “No. I wouldn’t,” I nuzzle the horse again.

  Drake smiles at me, and looks back at Vincent who is clearly resigned.

  “Well alright, I’ll get them saddled up for you.”

  Drake sets off, taking the horses out for us.

  “Alright, Lenore, so when you’re riding y
ou want to sit up tall, keeping a straight line.”

  Vincent goes off, giving me all kinds of instructions. Apparently he prefers to ride English style, rather than Western style. I listen attentively. I’m a bit nervous, but I can’t wait to mount the horse and take it for a ride.

  Vincent straps a riding helmet on himself, and then one on me.

  “Is this really necessary?” I ask, pulling on the strap. I feel kind of stupid.

  “Yes,” he replies curtly. “I want you in one piece, and if you insist on riding Bruce, this is the least I can do to keep you safe.”

  I smile at his sweet and protective tone. My heart flutters inside my chest.

  He leads me to Bruce and shows me where the bridle, and bit are, and shows me how to hold the reigns. I step up to the mounting block as he holds the reigns for me. Thankfully Bruce remains perfectly still. His tail swishes and twitches back and forth. I grip the saddle and step my foot into the stirrup and spring upwards. I’m on! Vincent and Drake hand me the reigns and once again run me through the directions.

  “Walk.” I relax the reigns and Bruce walks forward. Ah! This is so exciting!

  Vincent quickly mounts his horse, Shadow. He’s tall, and has a silky black coat. He pulls up alongside me.

  “Follow me, Lenore. And don’t go too fast! You need to take it slow.” He takes off and I try my best to keep my posture right, I try to bounce in rhythm with Bruce.

  The trail is beautiful and before I realize it, I’m not concentrating on riding and am just staring off at the sights surrounding us. How many acres of land does his family own? It seems to stretch for miles! This is some backyard. I’m riding effortlessly now; Bruce and I find a rhythm and harmony. He turns when I want him to, speeds up and slows down when I pull slightly on the reigns.

  I decide to take a risk and speed up, we trot alongside Shadow and Vincent and I loosen my calves and loosen the reigns. We take off! The wind whips around me. The sound of hooves hitting the ground, the setting sun, it melts away all of my sorrows and worry. I feel free as the wind slices through my hair.

  I hear Vincent coming up behind me and Bruce breaks into an even faster trot. I don’t want to worry Vincent, so after a moment, I tug lightly on the reigns and we slow down, allowing Vincent to catch up.

  I prepare to be scolded, but he boasts an enormous smile. I love to see his eyes lit up and unobstructed, without his glasses, so carefree. It’s hard to imagine that not too long ago, I couldn’t bear to look into his eyes.

  “You’re a natural, Lenore!” He looks at me with pride. I beam a smile back at him and blush. “Come on, we better get back.” We turn back around and ride at a comfortable speed to an awaiting Drake. He applauds me once we near the stables.

  “Very good Miss, very good,” he says, grabbing hold of the reigns. “Bruce likes you. You must be special,” he mutters.

  I blush.

  “Lenore, you can change back into your dress inside that bathroom if you’d like.”

  I narrow my eyes at him, and bite my bottom lip. I hope he gets the message I’m sending.

  My dress is neatly hung in the small bathroom. It’s a surprisingly clean bathroom considering we’re in a horse stable or barn or whatever this is. My shoes are placed perfectly underneath my skirt. I wonder if Drake did this? I dress quickly, and just as I am about to open the door, Vincent steps in, running his hands through his hair anxiously.

  “Can’t you knock?” I gasp, slightly startled.

  He stands before me. His chest moving rapidly, the atmosphere between us is instantly charged. He’s still in his riding boots, and pants. I’m already panting just looking at him. I take a step towards him, and look into his hungry eyes.

  Reaching out, I trace the outline of his manhood through his pants with my index finger. His eyelids droop, his lips part, and I’m up on tiptoes. I lean into him, and run my tongue along his bottom lip. He moans. I slowly begin to unbutton each and every single button of his shirt. It feels like an eternity has passed before I reach the last one and tug his shirt free from his pants. I pull it off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor. He looks edible. His body is all thick muscle.

  I run my hands over his abdomen, my fingers lingering on his happy trail. I run my hands back to his behind and pull him into me. He takes my head in his hands kisses me roughly.

  “I want you, I want you right now,” he growls into my neck. He pulls up my dress as I clumsily try to pull down his pants. We stumble and I’m pushed up against the wall. I tug his pants and briefs down and his beautiful erection springs forward. I release my breath. I run my hand over his pubic hair and wrap my hand around his length, gripping him firmly.

  “This is mine, all mine,” I groan against his mouth.

  His eyes heat, his blue eyes are aflame. “Yes, yours. All of it.” His mouth claims mine, and my underwear is hastily pushed aside as he enters me. We both still as my body acclimates to his ravenous assault.

  “Ahhh....” he moans into my ear, goosebumps cover my skin. I wrap my legs around his waist and I’m hoisted up against the wall. My arms wrap around his neck and he drives himself into me feverishly. We’re both frantic, our hands running up and down over each other’s bodies. I pull his hair and he grips my behind.

  “Vincent. You feel so good,” I pant and slide my lips against his ear.

  “Mmm, you do too, baby.” His dick strokes a ridge deep inside of me and that’s it. I come apart, hearing him call me baby. That one little word, the word that no one in my life has ever called me, that sweet term of endearment, is my undoing.

  I come loudly, pushing myself against him, rolling my hips into him. He pours himself into me, his biceps bulging, his chest flexing, I take it all in.

  His forehead rests against mine as we attempt to regain our equilibrium. He takes my head in his hands and kisses me softly. I can feel his need and untamed desire, for me. Me! This gorgeous, sexy, talented, intelligent man wants me, the wallflower. He makes me feel powerful and strong, like the blossoming woman that I am.

  “You tamed, Bruce, Lenore. You are something special.”

  “I’d rather tame you.”

  “Oh, I am tame. I think you’re the wild horse in this duo.”

  I push him off of me playfully. I straighten my dress, and adjust my underwear.

  “How’s my hair?”

  He tucks a stray strand behind my ear. “Perfect.”

  He looks at me with pure adoration. I don’t know what to do. I can’t handle the look he’s giving me. I’ve never been looked at like this. I am mystified as to what he sees in me.

  “What’s wrong? I was hoping to distract you, are missing your home? Bucky?”

  “Yes…I am, but it’s not that. It’s just...no one has ever looked at me like that. Or given meso much,” I pause, “Why do you like me, Vincent? Why are you even interested in me?”

  I’m not sure I’ve selected the best place and time to ask; we’re surrounded by the smell of horse and shit. But now is as good a time as ever. These thoughts have been plaguing me. I need to know.

  “Lenore, Ihow can I explain that? I’m…drawn to you. Ever since I met you on the trail, I felt this pull. Like, I had to see you. Had to be in your presence. I don’t know how else to say it. I crave you. I know it makes you uncomfortable and I’m trying to hold back. I don’t want to scare you away...”

  This is holding back? Whoa.

  I know I’ve been holding back, too, protecting myself. I’m not ready to succumb to how I feel for him. I’m not ready to admit to it. I know that once I do, I will be consumed. Am I ready for that? I know so little of relationships, of sexof anything, really.

  I need to change the subject.

  “Your mom. She’s very protective of you, isn’t she?”

  He furrows his brow. He opens the bathroom door and scoops his shirt off the floor. His back is to me as we step out into the cool air. It’s grown considerably darker; the sky is a darkening purple.

 
“Yes, I suppose she is,” he sighs deeply. I’m guessing it’s a source of frustration, his mother, and how she inserts herself into his life. The pressure she is putting on him.

  “I guess I could understand why. She lost her eldest sonI’m sure she just wants to keep you safe.”

  He turns around, shaking his head. Have I crossed the line?

  “No. Walterhe wasn’t her son. He was my half-brother.”

  Oh.

  “His mother died, when he was very little. I think he was only one. She and my father were high school sweethearts. Back when he was ambitious, and…not a drunk.” He hangs his head and walks over to the locker. He buttons his shirt, and slides his boots and pants off. I watch, fascinated and intrigued by his body and the graceful and powerful way he moves.

  “My father was different then, he built his own company from the ground up. My grandfather helped him get his footing, but his yacht business really took off. My dad has visionhad vision,” he corrects himself.

  “He was very ambitious when he was with Walter’s mom, but not so much anymore. His business, it’s a sinking ship, no pun intended. When Walter’s mom got sick…my dad, he won’t talk about it. I know he must have really loved her.”

  He sounds faraway and desolate, but I allow him to continue. My curiosity piqued.

  “Anyway. He married my mom not too long after. Then they had me. So…no. That’s not why she’sprotective with me. She’s justcomplicated.”

  “Aren’t we all?” I say in an effort to comfort him and lighten his mood, it’s darkening faster than the sky. But I suppose on some level we really are all complicated in our own way, it’s just that Elizabeth is unhealthy.

  He turns back to face me, zips up his pants, and gives me half smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

  “Thank you…for the wonderful distraction. I had a very good time riding, Bruce. And you,” I flush bright red.

  He grins at me wickedly.

  I reach out to him, and he folds me against his body. We walk back, his arm draped around me, shielding me from the cool night air.