by Gina Drayer
“I didn’t figure you a drinker, Stu-my-man,” Nick said as he patted Stewart on the back.
“I’m really not. I’m hoping maybe it will loosen me up so I can keep up with that,” he gestured towards the blonde he had married just the day before.
Nick laughed, “I don’t really see that happening.”
“Why do you say that?”
“C’mon man, that stick is so far up there it’s gonna take a few more shots of whiskey before you’ll even admit that you hate whiskey.”
Stewart didn’t take his eyes of Nick as he downed another shot. Nick rolled his eyes and ordered two more shots, “Alright man, if that’s the way you want it. Maybe there is hope for you yet.”
***
Another round of something called a hurricane and Lacey was practically sitting on the lap of the woman she had grown to love in the last two hours. She had told her everything, about how she had saved herself for marriage, and that her husband had made it pretty clear that sex was not on his agenda.
“And I know he wants this,” she gestured down her body and the tight dress that hugged it. “Why won’t he just make a move? It’s ok now, we’re married!” She emphasized the “D” sound and leaned her head on the woman’s shoulder.
“Honey, why don’t you just take the bull by the horns and make the move yourself?” She asked. “Take control of your man and don’t let up until he’s sweating for all the right reasons.”
“I don’t really even know where to start. My sexiest nightgown is a cotton sleeper set that my mom bought me. She said it was classy.”
“Oh dear, that is sad. Maybe I can help you here, do a little favor for you and your man. Come with me.” She took Lacey by the arm and together they stumbled out of the bar. As they headed up the darkened stairway Amy began to clue Lacey in on all the ways to make Stewart’s night unforgettable.
“You can do that?!?” Lacey asked after a particularly helpful bit of information.
The woman smiled like a fairy godmother that had just turned a pumpkin into a stagecoach.
***
The little glasses lined the table indicating that neither man was going to give in and admit that they couldn’t hold their liquor. Though Nick had an unfair advantage of being a drinker for much longer, Stewart had the determination of a rookie. But it was looking less like a pissing match and more like an episode of Cheers as the two began to laugh and talk about everything.
“So you really haven’t had sex yet?” Nick asked, amused. “Why the hell not?”
Stewart laughed, “I don’t know dude, she’s incredible and I love her a lot. I don’t know what’s wrong with me!”
Nick put a hand on Stewart’s shoulder, “Stu-my-man, go get your woman, take her to your room, and make her scream… or I will.”
Stewart’s face got very serious and for a moment he thought about punching Nick in the throat. Then the liquor reminded him that he was a happy drunk so they laughed in unison. “You’re not her type dude,” he slapped him on the back.
Nick’s face fell as he said, “I know.”
Stewart suddenly realized just how close he could be to losing this amazing girl to any number of drunken guys who were probably ogling her right now. The thought brought him to his feet. He frantically began looking around for his wife. He couldn’t see her anywhere; she had abandoned her quest to be a table dancer and was nowhere to be found. He flung the bar stool that he’d been sitting on out of the way and rushed out of the bar. He heard Nick yell after him, “You go Stu-my-man, go bang your hot wife! Woo!”
He reached the stairway and nearly fell over, his legs didn’t seem to work right and everything felt slower in his intoxication. The stairs felt like they went on forever and when he finally climbed his way to the top he realized he was calling her name out loud.
“Lacey Harper-Richins, where art thou wifey?”
He got to their double doors and realized he did not have a clue where the room key was. He began to pound on the door from his position on the floor. A tall woman answered and he looked up at her. Even though there was two of her, he knew that neither of them was his wife.
“Who are you?” He asked.
The woman simply stepped over him with stiletto heels and called back, “Lacey, the bull is three sheets to the wind. Good luck grabbing him by the horns, Honey.” She sauntered away.
Stewart’s eyes bulged as he saw his vision of a spouse reach the doorway. The room behind had been lit by what seemed like a thousand candles and she was wearing a sheer lacey red slip dress that hid nothing but her caution. She walked towards him with swaying hips and four inch heels that he could only imagine she wasn’t comfortable in.
She bent down to crawl toward Stewart in the doorway. He could see cleavage in all the right places and it was a bonus because he was still seeing double everything. She reached him and pulled him close with more force than he thought was necessary and kissed him with urgency.
“You’re not getting away from me this time lover. I want you to take me inside and let me do things to you that I didn’t even know about until tonight, what do you have to say about that?”
And with that, Stewart threw up on her.
***
Lacey had cleaned herself off and changed back into her “classy” white sleep set. She had set up a little sleep area for Stewart and decided this time to settle down in the bathroom with him. After all, they were in this together now. With just one candle to light her way, she snuggled as much as she could down onto the floor next to her moaning husband.
“I’m never drinking again!” He stated. His voice was muffled from behind the pillow he had stuck his head in. “How are you not right here, head in the toilet with me?”
“I guess I sobered up about the time that what's her face was telling me about her divorce. It made me think, I don’t want that to be us.” She softly stroked Stewart’s sweat soaked hair.
Stewart looked up into Lacey’s sad eyes, “Why would that be us?”
“My mother told me not to let you smother out my fire just as I was preparing to climb in the limo after the wedding.”
“How kind of her,” he said, his head back in the pillow.
“It just got me thinking about how we barely know each other. We’re complete opposites Stu. I guess I was just thinking about how sad I would be if this didn’t work out. I don’t feel like we’ve been connecting on this trip.”
She felt his hesitance as he painstakingly raised himself up to sit eye level with her in the candlelight. “I’ve got to tell you something.”
“What is it?” She asked.
“I’m not a virgin. I’ve had sex before although I don’t think it should count seeing as how it was awful.”
Lacey felt the blow and it hurt her heart. Though she had never really asked Stewart outright if he had ever been with anyone before, it had always been assumed that they had the same feelings about premarital sex.
“Oh,” was all she could think to say. She wanted to ask questions, to know everything about his past experience, but before she could even form the words he told her everything.
He told her about his first real high school girlfriend, a foreign exchange student from Belgium. He told her about how he thought she was the one he would spend his life with, they had dated his entire senior year and on the night of graduation she told him that she was going back home. He thought maybe he would never see her again, so they decided to make love. And it was awful.
“I thought for sure it was me, my inexperience and her obvious vast experience. She practically made fun of me after. I never saw her again after that night. She didn’t even say goodbye. I was crushed and ever since I’ve been terrified that every girl would leave me once they found out how bad I was in bed.”
Lacey understood. All the terror, the sickness, the avoidance, Stewart was terrified of having a repeat of that night. She took her husband’s head in her hands and kissed him. She felt so relieved to know the reasons for h
is hesitance.
“Stewart,” she cooed, “I love you so much. I can’t imagine anything that we could do in bed that would be anything less than beautiful and perfect. Everything is new to me too, so we can learn together.”
She reached over to him and pulled him into a long, slow kiss. His arm reached around her waist and pulled her into his lap. She wrapped her legs around his waist and kissed him deeper. He pulled back and she looked into his dark eyes and the way the candlelight almost made them dance.
No more words needed to be spoken. Their bodies answered all the questions that they might have had. He slipped her classy white top off and held her as close to him as he could get. She kissed his neck, the sweat now genuine heat rising from his body. He laid them back only to smack his head on the toilet.
“I’m not really sure what I’m doing but I don’t think I want to do it on the bathroom floor,” he laughed.
She blew out the candle and hand in hand they walked into the bedroom. The only light came from the bright fresh snow that had slowed to a light decent outside. It tumbled around until each flake found its way to nestle among the rest. In the midst of it all, two lovers found their way as well. Bodies entwined, rising and falling to a natural rhythm that can’t be taught.
Miranda Miller lives in Utah with her husband and child where her day job is in accounting. She loves being outdoors either four wheeling or hiking in the mountains. She's been writing since she was young and has always enjoyed the escape of a good book. She hopes to someday make writing her only job.
CHAPTER SIX
Better Than Fiction
by Gina Drayer
It may have taken Josie a half an hour to shovel out her car, but it had only taken a few minutes of sliding down the drive— and subsequently smashing into a snow drift— to know she wasn’t going anywhere.
A little stunned, she sat in the car, gripping the steering wheel and desperately trying to slow her racing heart. She should have listened to the travel warnings and stayed put. It figured. The first weekend she’d had off since starting at the lodge, and she was snowed in.
With a sigh of defeat, Josie hefted her gym bag out of the back of the car and trudged her way back up the long driveway to the lodge. She’d not been dressed for a hike in blizzard conditions, and her legs had gone numb under her skirt of her uniform. All she wanted now was a room with a hot shower, and she hoped to hell the feeling would come back to her toes.
When she finally made it to the front door, Josie was greeted to the sound of a soft laugh coming from the middle-aged concierge.
“I told you, you’d never make it,” Leonard said.
Slumping her shoulders in defeat, Josie felt on the verge of tears. “You can’t fault me for trying. I’ve worked ten days straight. TEN DAYS! If I have to deal with one more panicked bride or another half-lit businessman hit on me, I might get a little stabby. But now that I’m stuck Rachelle is going to try to wrangle me into working, and like a sucker I’m going to say yes.”
Leonard chuckled and patted her on the back. “Don’t give in, Josie. You deserve some time off. You've been here since noon, and you haven't taken two days off in a row for as long as I can remember."
She smiled weakly. “And what am I supposed to tell Rachelle? I’ll be down the hall, but don’t call if you need help because officially it’s my day off. We’re snowed in. She’s going to need help.”
“She’ll manage. And if she doesn’t know you’re here, you won’t have to tell her no.” He slid a key card into her hand. “The small meeting room is empty, and the sofa folds out into a bed. Take my key. I won’t let her know you didn't make it home.”
The meeting room wouldn't have been her first choice, but she could stay in there without having to checkout a room from the system. There were other rooms available, much nicer rooms, but if she picked on of the suites, she'd have to let Rachelle know she was here.
“Leonard you are a lifesaver.” Josie stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “I owe you one.” She took the key and glanced to the desk, hoping Rachelle was busy, so she could slip by unnoticed.
That was when she saw him. Dr. Raj Chhapola, the brilliant physicist and resident author of the Liberty Springs. He was standing at the desk, laptop in hand, speaking with Rachelle.
Dr. Chhapola tapped a finger on the counter in a short, staccato burst. Even from this distance Josie could tell he wasn’t happy about something. He raked a hand through his thick dark hair as he spoke, his voice getting louder.
She listened to their exchange with increasing fascination. God, how she loved his accent.
“I don’t understand why you won’t just let me plug in my laptop here until it charges. I’m on a deadline. Can’t you make an expectation?” He enunciated each word with exact persuasion. His British accent made it sound more like a dressing down than a request. “I have to finish the last five chapters by Sunday, and I’m not going to get anything done with a dead laptop. Being able to work uninterrupted is the whole reason I’m here.”
“I’m really sorry Dr. Chhapola,” Rachelle replied in a terse professional tone that always drove Josie crazy. It sounded fake, but Rachelle had it down to an art form. “Since we don’t know when the power will be restored only essential items can be hooked up to the generator. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”
“Yes, fine, I understand.” His broad shoulders slumped, and he gathered his laptop and cord from the desk. “If something changes, please let me know."
“I will Dr. Chhapola. And again I’m sorry, but unfortunately, there’s nothing we can do about Mother Nature,” Rachelle said in placating, saccharine tone. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to run this message to the bar.”
Dr. Chhapola stormed off down the hall, muttering something under his breath. Josie smiled, and thought how hot he looked when he was pissed off. He hardly showed any emotion, only polite nods when passed the desk, but she knew there had to be some fire in him. He wrote with such passion. She’d had fantasies about him unleashing some of that passion on her ever since he’d checked in.
Rachelle rolled her eyes when he left, obviously glad to be rid of one more angry guest, and Josie felt a stab of guilt. She knew Rachelle could use a hand, but Josie could also use a night off. Rachelle checked the lobby once more, came around the counter, and disappeared into the other room.
Josie took the opportunity to cross the open lobby. Keeping her head down so no one would notice her, she didn’t see Dr. Chhapola until she collided into his solid frame.
He staggered back a few steps, regaining his balance, but Josie wasn’t as lucky. Her bag went skidding across the floor and Josie tumbled forward, landing flat on her face.
“Josie, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there.” Dr. Chhapola came rushing to her aid, but stopped just short.
She started to sit up, but noticed, much to her horror, her skirt had drifted high on her leg exposing the tops of her stockings and the black lace of her garter. Cheeks flaming, Josie pulled her skirt down. Not only had she fallen in a spectacular way, but she’d flashed her goodies to Dr. Chhapola. She looked up, catching his eye, hoping desperately he hadn’t seen. As usual, Josie had no such luck. Dr. Chhapola stood, slack-jawed, eyes trained to her now covered thighs. She covered her face, and prayed the floor would swallow her whole.
“Josie,” he said, the breathy lilt of his accent made her name sound exotic and sinful. He cleared his throat nervously. “Let me help you.”
He extended a hand to help her off the floor. Unable to meet his gaze, she took his hand. With a firm pull, Josie was on her feet again, and firmly pressed against Raj Chhapola. He was a tall, lean man, and it would have been easy to mistake him as wiry, but he wasn’t. His chest was surprisingly solid and well-muscled chest. As the warmth of his body soaked into her, Josie had to fight the urge to run her fingers across the solid plain of that chest. She looked into his dark eyes, and for a brief moment she saw interest, no desire, flash before he looked away.<
br />
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Please don’t be,” Josie said before stepping out of his arms. “It wasn’t your fault Dr. Chhapola. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going. I’m so embarrassed. I should be more careful.” Then she remembered his laptop and her embarrassment turned to dread. “Oh, no. Please tell me you didn’t drop your laptop.”
“Don’t worry about the laptop. I managed to keep hold of it, not that it’s doing me any good right now. You have no need to be concerned, Josie.” There it was again the sound of her name on his lips made her insides quiver. “And please call me Raj,” he said, his voice taking on a husky tone. Was there more in that invitation than just a name? Surely she had imagined the lustful look in his eyes. The man hadn’t said more than two words to her before now.
Remembering his conversation with Rachelle, she took a chance. “I’m glad…Raj.” She smiled, realizing how much she enjoyed saying his name. “I’m stuck here for the night and was just heading to the meeting room. You’re welcome to join me,” she said.
He raised his brow in surprise, and she blushed anew, realizing solicitous her words must sound. Christ. She was screwing this all up. Josie had waited weeks for him to say anything to her, and now that they were talking, she’d managed to sound like an idiot. A desperate idiot.
“That’s not what I mean,” she said, blushing down to her toes. “I just mean, you could come to the meeting room to charge your laptop. There’s a plugin there that’s hooked to the generator.”
Raj tilted his head and his gaze met hers for a brief moment, his dark eyes turning her insides to putty. “Yes. I’d love to accompany you,” he said. Stepping back, he gracefully extended his arm. “Please, lead the way.”
Again she swore, the look on his face implied something more. Unnerved, Josie retrieved her bag and headed to the end of the hall to the small meeting room. She unlocked the door and held it open for him. “Give me the charger and I’ll find the right plug.”
