Chances (Mystic Nights #1)

by MJ Nightingale

  Jonathan pushed her up and had her straddle him after she quickly slipped out of the yoga pants she was wearing. He made quick work of his slacks while she positioned herself above him. Handing her a condom, she slipped it on, and then slipped onto him. The pace was slow. Less than last night, but they both climbed to the pinnacle together. She felt every inch of his cock inside her. He thrust as she pushed down. Her pussy held him tight. Their eyes remained locked the entire time as he let her take the lead. Only when he was close to his release, did he let go of her hips which he’d been guiding, and began to run his index finger along her slick clit to help her find the release with him. It was heaven. It was their haven, as the snow outside swirled around them. When she collapsed on top of him, he was already beginning to fade into slumber. She curled up beside him and lie on her side, her head on his chest once more, listening to the sound of his heart. She grabbed the quilt from the back of the sofa and covered them both with it. Soon the warmth of their cozy quarters had her sleeping as she joined him in peaceful respite.

  Sometime during the night he carried her into her room. She woke with a feeling of unease. Perhaps it was the pizza she had consumed. But her stomach felt strange. She bolted out of bed when she felt the familiar acid rise in her stomach. She was going to be sick. Quietly she padded her way to her bathroom down the hall. And she made it just in time as she retched the contents of last night’s dinner into the toilet.

  Chapter 12

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  Aliya heard him before she saw him. Her eyes were still watering from her ordeal as she knelt on the bathroom floor. He was pulling her hair back, and he twirled it into a lose knot and clipped it behind her. He did this wordlessly, and it made Aliya almost want to cry. Who did stuff like that? She had heard of guys holding a girl’s hair, but clipping it up? Well, that was first. She nodded her appreciation, as she felt another heave coming.

  “Are you okay, darling?” he asked in the dark bathroom. He flicked on the light switch which she wished he hadn’t done. She didn’t want him to see her like this.

  “Yes, it is passing,” she replied. “I think.” She remained where she was just in case. But her stomach did seem to be settling down now.

  “What is it?” he asked, his voice full of concern as he massaged her shoulders and smoothed his hand over her back.

  Aliya sat back, and made to get up, her hand over her mouth. He let her, but filled the glass she kept by the sink with water and handed it to her.

  Again, she was grateful. She took in a small amount, and swished it about, spitting it into the toilet before flushing once more. She repeated the process before she attempted to brush her teeth. “I think lying down right after that Pizza was not the best idea. I didn’t give my body a chance to digest. I have always had a sensitive stomach,” she explained. That was what it must have been. Years of being so careful about her food choices to keep her weight down as a dancer made her stomach sensitive if she over indulged.

  “You don’t feel sick otherwise?” he asked. He hoped it wasn’t the flu or a cold. He really couldn’t be sick right now. He felt bad for her, but until this audit situation was over and his mother returned, he really needed to be at his strongest while at the helm.

  She shook her head while she rinsed once more.

  “Maybe you should go to the doctor. It could be the flu?” he suggested.

  “I had my shot this year.” She was shaking her head in the negative. “It was just the pizza. Really. And I have my meeting today before the council, so maybe a bit of nerves too.” She could see he still seemed concerned.

  “Are you sure?” he queried. His worried brown eyes searched hers.

  She nodded her assurances as he handed her a toothbrush.

  “Okay, well, I’ll let you clean up. Finish in here. I’ll go make you some toast,” he suggested as she smiled at him once more. She watched as he left the bathroom.

  When the door closed, Aliya first clutched her hands over her face in utter embarrassment, and then she clutched her hands over her stomach. Whatever it was, it hadn’t passed. She felt her stomach fluttering again.

  Glancing in the mirror, a sudden thought occurred to her and she had a moment of panic. She did some calculations in her head, and clasped her hand over her mouth. She almost lurched again. Yes! She needed to go to the doctors. But not to see if this was the flu.

  She had a feeling about this. A very bad feeling.

  Could it be? Not again, she thought. Please. Not again. Not now. Not this way.

  *

  Aliya arrived at the monthly open council meeting with plenty of time to spare. She had gone ahead and put together her proposal using visual aids she had printed at Kinkos. She also had professional copies made of her business proposal for all the council members, and a few spares to hand out if any members of the community wanted to see it.

  If they had a projection system she hoped to use it to share with all those in attendance. Yes, it would only be the four council persons voting, but Lantern Hill was a tight knit community, so if she swayed the elders and other community members in attendance; it could only help her cause.

  Because the meetings were held on Saturday afternoons, Aliya had cancelled today’s practice. She could have left it to her understudy, but they had all been working so hard putting together the routines for the new spring show. She felt they deserved the break.

  The room was fairly full when one of the the administrative staff’s assistants came to get her. Her parents sat in the audience as well, and she was glad to see some familiar and friendly faces in the crowd.

  Peter introduced her and outlined what her proposal was about. She smiled his way, and then took center stage. She thought she was doing a great job. There had been some cheers and sporadic applause while she presented. And most of the council gave her verbal encouragement as she spoke.

  Yes, she was a dancer, but public speaking was not something she was used to. Her Dad winked at her as she wrapped up her prepared statement and speech, and her Mom gave her a thumbs up, pen gripped in hand as she took notes. Aliya was sure she would end up being an article in the small town’s local paper. It would be a very favorable piece. Laura Chance was her mother after all.

  “So as you can see,” she concluded, “a facility of this type will appeal to our youth, both boys and girls. It will strengthen the community, infuse our youth with new ways to acquire and learn skills pertinent to our culture and heritage, and provide a healthy outlet for their feelings and emotions. Studies show from similar activities, and similar dance studios in low socio-economic areas have proven that positive culturally sensitive activities benefit the community as a whole by decreasing dropout rates and crime. All around, this will be a good thing.”

  She glanced at the council members. Myrtle was smiling broadly. Peter gave her a wink. And the two other faces peering down at her looked pleased as well.

  “Shall we vote?” Myrtle was the first to speak.

  There was slight pause before anyone else spoke. “Shouldn’t we discuss it first?” Aliya’s head snapped towards the voice of the person speaking. It was the first hint of dissent she had heard all afternoon. It came from Josephine Milea.

  All eyes turned towards the newest council member. “If you would like,” Myrtle conceded. “But let me go on the record by saying I love the idea. I am all for bringing a dance studio to our reservation. Cultural activities like this will enrich the youth of our people.”

  Josephine interjected softly. “I agree. But for now, space is pressing. We really could use a clinic for drug addiction. You know this is a growing problem.” And it was. Aliya could admit that. There had been several incidents involving drugs on the reserve. There had even been an accidental overdose last fall. It was tragic.

  But on the other hand, her studies showed that drug problems diminished when kids had healthier recreational choices. She wanted to speak up. Address that issue. She had forgotten to mention it in her report. But her slotted speaki
ng time was up. She felt her Mom pat her affectionately on the arm. Luckily she didn’t have to say anything. Myrtle was already jumping to her defense. “I know Miss Chance did not mention it, but in her report on page 38 she mentions the positive effect of dance on the younger generation. It serves the need for a healthy activity, and alternative recreational activities keep children occupied and prevents the problem before it starts.”

  “I understand that. But treatment places are needed for those already addicted.” Josephine’s smile twisted.

  Myrtle went on. “It’s preventative. A treatment facility wouldn’t be needed . . .”

  “Again, Myrtle. No offense, but addiction is a serious issue here. Not only among the younger generation. I’m just thinking of the benefit to the larger group,” she stated shrewdly. “And I’m not saying no, I just want us to examine all options.”

  Myrtle contemplated the younger council member’s concerns. Aliya glanced at the other council members who had yet to speak up. Myrtle also looked to the other two council members. They remained mute and she did not look happy about it. She spoke. “Are there any other concerns, you, Josephine, or any other of the council members have?” Jason Paralta shook his head. Myrtle looked at Peter who looked pensive.

  Josephine spoke once more. “Again, it’s not that I’m against this . . . this . . . dance studio. It’s just that we have this small hall. I think for now, the reservation has more pressing needs. Our kids are already addicted to these drugs. Adults too. Prescription pills, and the other new chemical concoctions they are making in the streets these days. I think we need to look into using the space for that. Perhaps when we begin receiving funds from the casino, then we can look into building a cultural center, something on a grander scale, and house Aliya’s studio there. Something that is more than just dance too. Crafts, language classes, cooking,” she suggested.

  Aliya couldn’t fault that idea. It was a good one. But she felt her dream slipping. A cultural center with dance, music, art, could benefit more than just the youth. But it wouldn’t be hers alone.

  “That is a great idea,” Myrtle nodded. Aliya felt the noose getting tighter. “But, to start a clinic in that space would also require outside sources of funding. We have not looked into the cost of hiring a staff, doctors.”

  “I’m just saying let’s take the time to do it right.” Josephine’s appeal to the other members was beginning to sway the crowd. She heard the murmurs of approval. Jason gazed at Myrtle looking for her direction. She shook her head sadly. “The idea for a clinic is a good one. We do need a clinic, but our funds are tight for now. This studio could happen quickly.” Myrtle was fighting a good fight, making a last pitch for her. For that Aliya was grateful.

  Peter interrupted. It was the first time he spoke up. “I agree, Myrtle. How about instead of voting, we allow Josephine a month to do the research on the clinic. What the expenses might be. I would hate for us to use the space too soon and later realize we had made a mistake.”

  “I hate for the space to go to waste,” Myrtle returned.

  Peter cut her off. “I believe Miss Chance would be amenable to delaying a vote. She is under contract with the casino anyhow. She wouldn’t be turning the hall into a studio anytime soon. She has time. We have time.” Aliya cast her eyes downward and nodded when Myrtle silently inquired if that were true. It was. Her face fell.

  Aliya groaned inwardly. She was losing the battle. Peter was siding with Josephine. Yes, a clinic would be great in that spot, but it would take a year to accomplish a successful program and getting the funds to equip and run it properly could take longer. True, she had a contract, but she had been planning on fixing up the studio in her down time. Having some friends help. Getting a small loan for the equipment she would need. She knew two girls she was planning on training to be the other instructors. She could have the place open within a matter of months. She’d submitted her final papers online only yesterday for her business license. She’d have that license by mid-April.

  Her father reached around her mother and gave her shoulder a squeeze sensing her disappointment. “All is not lost,” her mother murmured softly. “It’s just a month.”

  Myrtle was looking her way. She met the older woman’s eyes. She winked, then cut over to Josephine. “One month. Find out the costs of an endeavor like the one you are talking about. I think a studio in that location would serve our community more quickly and reduce problems we have now. But . . .” she paused for emphasis, “let’s table the issue until next months meeting as Peter has suggested, meanwhile we’ll discuss the clinic idea in committee.” All the members nodded their agreement and the meeting was then brought to a conclusion.

  The people began to file out. Many gave Aliya a sympathetic glance as they passed her. That made her feel better. She could see she still had some support in her community. It meant a lot.

  She too turned to leave.

  *

  After her Mom and Dad left her in the parking lot at the tribal council hall, Aliya lie in wait for Peter. She understood Josephine’s point of view. A clinic would be helpful, but could take years in the making, whereas her studio could alleviate some of the stress on the community now. She wanted to reiterate that point, make it clear so when the council met in committee Peter had that thought at the forefront of his mind. He had been supportive before, and she hoped he would continue to be so.

  Her mother and father invited her over for dinner later, and she promised them to do that next weekend. She didn’t mention Jonathan. It was too soon yet. Her mother had been hounding her for some time to give love another try. But for a decade she had sworn off entanglements. Love hurt. It made you do things you never thought you would. So she had focused on her career instead. It helped to block out the pain of her youthful choices.

  But she couldn’t blame her Mom for the recent pressure. She was an only child, and her parents, she was sure, wanted grandchildren. That brought a whole new wave of pain. Her abortion, all those years ago. She had immediately regretted it. It had been rash and stupid. But she had been so young, so terrified. Her fiancée was being terrorized by a serial killer. He had killed eight women already and he was threatening her. Andreas Marino, her former fiancé, had been a New York City police officer, a detective. He had tried to keep it a secret from her, had claimed he didn’t tell her about the threats so she wouldn’t be afraid. But instead, she had freaked out. She was barely twenty at the time. And instead of listening to him, she had blown up after she found several notes threatening her in his files one night. He’d left his briefcase on the desk, and when she had bumped into it, the contents spilled out and she panicked. She ended their engagement and fled to Nevada. Only a few weeks later she found herself pregnant. Telling Andreas at that point had been out of the question. He would have come and gotten her. Then she and the baby both would have been at risk. Plus, she wasn’t in the right state of mind for having a baby then. She’d been too raw, and terrified. The serial killer mutilated his victims, raped them, and then killed them.

  She was twenty at that point, and without counsel from her parents who’d already moved back to Lantern Hill after she finished school at the dance academy she’d attended, she’d made a rash decision. And without even telling Andreas, she had gone to have the abortion. But the guilt ate at her.

  Just days later, drunk, she had called Andreas and confessed everything. He had taken it remarkably well, though she heard the undercurrent of disappointment in his tone. She hated herself for a long time for that decision. He had every right to know, be a part of the decision. It had been his child too.

  It had been a time of grieving and loss. But she grew up. Without the guidance of her parents, and Andreas to help make her way, she had been on her own for the first time in her life. She contemplated going back, but couldn’t. Then just months later, both of his parents were murdered by the same killer. His parents had been remarkable people. She grieved for them alone. She sent flowers to the funeral; it was all
she could do. Knowing the man was still out there caused her to have many a nightmare in the next few years. Just recently, a decade later, he’d finally been caught. She heard it on the news just last month. And again it was Andreas who pursued and captured him. A decade, the man had hunted his parents murderer. She felt bad for all he had been through alone. She was glad he’d finally found someone strong enough to to stand by his side.

  She spent six years in Vegas. Maturing. Perfecting her craft. But a dancer’s career in Vegas didn’t last forever. It was one of the reasons she had come back four years ago. It was time to let go of the pain, time to heal. It was one of the reasons she wanted to open a studio that would embrace her culture and heritage. She wanted to be that support for some other confused girl or boy. Help them through the tough times, but in a healthy way.

  She saw Peter coming out of the hall and quickly got out of her car. He saw her right away and headed in her direction. Plastering a smile on her face, she held out her hand. He took it and pulled her in for a quick embrace. He was so touchy. She shook it off. “Sorry,” he started, “I know that didn’t go the way you wanted. But, it’s not a lost cause.” His voice sounded reassuring.

  “I understand that Peter. And the clinic is something we need.”

  “I’m glad you understand.” His smile was conciliatory.

  “Believe me. I do. But I just wanted to talk to you for a moment. During my proposal I was so nervous I forgot to mention a few things, and I was hoping when you all met in committee, you could bring those things up.” She hoped he would hear her out.