Flying Fawna

by Rose Smith

  Chapter Six

  After two more deliveries of various colors of Rhapsody of Roses and three phone calls that lasted well into the night—she went out with him. They came back to her room and made love five times throughout the weekend.

  She remembered how attentive he was. He caressed her skin. He planted deep romantic kisses on her lips and on her breast and on her nipples. He sent her shivering with excitement the first time he kissed the pearl between her legs.

  He even fingered her until he’d tickled her G-spot. They both laughed when she’d just about squirted her juices across the room. She’d never felt anything so orgasmic.

  For the next three months, they spent as many weekends together as they could. Each time he’d made love to her as if she were the last woman alive and he couldn’t get enough. When they married six months later, she thought that was the kind of romantic relationship they’d enjoy for a lifetime. She couldn’t have been more wrong. Soon after they said their vows, he stopped wooing her. He seemed to be more interested in the chase and less in the catch.

  As she clung to the bottle of champagne she’d taken a few sips of to steel her courage, she determined they’d get back to that kind of loving—starting tonight.

  She smoothed her red corset—the one she’d had delivered from Paris from the Abuade Lingerie Boutique. She’d been looking over their ‘lessons in seduction’ advertisements and thought the small intimate boutique had just what she needed to sex up their love life again, so she invested in several sensual garments the last time she visited 22 rue du Vieux Colombier.

  She’d had several pieces boxed and sitting in her office for a couple of months, unsure of what to do about their lackluster love life. Stephen kept insisting he was just as in love with her as the day they met—he just had some business deals on his mind of late. “I love you as much as the day I first laid eyes on you,” he’d tell her then he’d kiss the tip of her nose and walk away.

  She thought their last separation and the fact that they hadn’t made love in almost a month would make him as horny as she, so she determined to make her move tonight. Expensive champagne, a sexy red corset, black high heels and a sexy garter belt ought to do it.

  After the limo parked in her circular driveway at her house in Lincoln Park, she gave the driver instructions to wait.

  “We’ll be out in a few minutes.” She thought it would be romantic to go for a late night limo ride. Fawna hoped she could loosen Stephen up with the champagne and turn him on with her sexy lingerie.

  She turned her key into the mansion and made her way up the stairs. She didn’t call Stephen to let her know her business had concluded a day early, so she knew she’d be surprising him. At this hour, she knew he’d be in bed. Fawna crept up the stairs and walked down the large hallway to their bedroom and turned the knob to open the master bedroom door and flipped on the light.

  Her lips, as scarlet as peonies, parted tragically. A dull horror gathered in her wide eyes. Her slender face framed in a mass of jet-black curls turned ash-white from the sight. She leaned forward, her trembling tense hands clasped her neck, her gaze never leaving the shocked face of the man who, dressed in lingerie much like she had had delivered to her office to surprise him, lie in her bed locked in an impassioned kiss with one of his younger staff members—Jeffery Clark.

  They both jerked up and away from their embrace once the light showcased them. Fawna stood at the entryway unable to move. Puffed languid spirals of smoke rode toward the ceiling from the ashtray Jeffrey had on her side of the bed atop her nightstand.

  He jumped up, grabbed his cigarette, flicked the ash from it, and glanced at its glowing tip. “At last,” he drawled. “She knows. Better Call Saul.” He grabbed some clothing, rolled his eyes toward Fawna and walked into the bathroom.

  Chapter Seven

  The next day Tory, Simon, Tory’s mom Sophie and dad Charles and Tory’s mother-in-law Nonny sat next to the stranger’s bed and listened as he told them what had happened to him and his brother on their way to The Cave of The Rippers.

  “We are Chaz and Troy Xanadu from the Red Fire Pride. It was to be my birthright to lead the pack. Now I can never return. I’ve destroyed my own destiny and that of my dear brother. My brother warned me to stay close because of the bears that were known to live among the caves in the forest. But I wanted to show him I could shift into a hawk and soar into the air.

  “What happened?” Tory urged. “Was it a bear that attacked you?” “Yes. It all started because I was fascinated by the trees and the little tree people that inhabited them.

  “Look up Troy,” I told him. “We are surrounded by trees a world of trees!” He looked up and said, “It’s beautiful here, my brother.”

  “After we had lunch that day, we lay on the ground looking up at the Magic forest—filled with trees of every size—little, middle, giant. Tall, skinny and thick, some with broad leafs, others with narrow leafs. I became hypnotized, gazing at the trees. Rough barked ones, smooth barked others—bright green, dark green, one in a solid hue, another spangled or variegated with many-colors of fragrant flowers, ones that bore nuts, bore fruit, and even the shriveled up, seemingly useless trees, who were feeding the forest with their nutrient-rich debris. I couldn’t stop looking up, dreaming about being among the trees. We watched as the sunlight struck down in darts or flakes—formless and unconfined—dancing among the trees.

  “It was when I was looking for the light that I saw them. The itty-bitty tree people of Magic—some leaning their heads against one another, others working on the trees, pressing side to side, and a group of them pulling on endless vines looping through the forest—all of them looking as colorful and varied as the trees themselves, crawling, walking and flying amongst the branches. And we that the tiny tree-folk had nests and houses throughout the trees.

  “Arrangements of sticks and forest debris they heaped between the forks of the trees. They wore tiny tree hats, hats made out of leaves, even ones made out of sticks. They pretty much stood upright, and when they moved about, they seemed to use their eyes so they could see things on top of the forest as well as the things around them.

  “My brother and I lay there watching their tiny world unfold before us. These were wonders we’d never seen in our part of Magic, where the forest is not as dense. We were in a trance. I wanted to get closer, with my horizon widened for the first time away from my pride—I wanted to go up higher. Watching them filled me with curiosity. I wanted to get closer. Wanted to see the world from up top. That was the first time the hawk inside me spoke. For the first time, I realized I could fly.

  “I laid my Winchester down to shift into a hawk. When I flew off, Troy made his way to the stream to gather water. He was frustrated that I was not as anxious as he to get to the Cave of the Ancients. I had finally begun mastering my Hawk, I was absorbed into enjoying the feeling of soaring.

  While I was still high up in the air, I heard a desperate cry. I sped down and saw the grizzly's hook marks where he laid into my brother. I could see this before my eyes, yet it felt like it was far, so far away.

  I saw Troy grab his chest and look at the blood in shock. The mighty bear raked his chest open with one blow of his long claws. He had to be in the vicinity of 800 pounds. There was a big glob of blood on the ground and the bear had torn the ground up something fierce. Blood, hair, flesh spewed all over hell. As I flew toward him, blood shot over me—gave me the chills just looking at him so helpless.

  He tossed my brother’s rifle downstream. I transformed back into my human self, grabbed the gun, but it jammed and that’s when he charged. I screamed as a sear of boiling pain knifed up my leg as the bear held me then tore into my leg. I passed out from the pain. When I came to, the bear had gone. I crawled over to the fallen tree, thinking I could pull Troy and we could hide inside of the log in case the bear returned. I passed out several times before your boys heard my cries for help. They saved me.”

  “They saved your brother, too,” No
nny said in a sympathetic voice while she patted his head with a warm washcloth.”

  “You mean, Troy’s not dead?”

  “No. He was near death, but Tory got you both here just in time. It took some powerful magic, but he’s going to be healed. So are you. You both need lots of rest.”

  Chaz Xanadu smiled up and each of them. “Thank you. From the bottom of my heart I thank you.”

  “Rest now,” said Nonny and weaved a spell over him that like his brother, put him into a deep healing sleep.

  ****

  After a few weeks of magical spells cast upon him by the Fates, Nonny and Tory, and Charles and Sophie, Chaz Xanadu was again well. He knew he’d soon need to leave and make his way back to the deep forests of Magic to find the Ancient Cave of the Rippers and complete his training. He felt like he’d found a new family. They knew all about him and the order of Rippers. They each did what they could to heal both him and Troy. He knew since Troy had almost died from the attack, would need many more weeks of magical spells to heal his wounds.

  Chapter Eight

  Fawna had gone from the secure feeling of being back in the comfort of her own, home—soon to be making love to Stephen in her own bed after the limo ride to feeling like she was sitting atop Mt. Everett blowing in a cold, forceful wind. A tiny speck of nothing on the largest mountain on earth. One she knew she was in no way equipped to climb. She felt as if she was standing in a large, empty stadium—all alone.

  Then the room she was in became small as her fears and insecurities loomed, like an angry monster, towering over her. She felt lost. She hadn’t even considered that Stephen was not interested in her because she is female. If anything, she thought he’d be with another woman—not ever did she even consider he’d been sleeping with a man. The shock went through her like a bolt of thunder. More was on the way.

  As Stephen put on a woman’s blue robe over his lingerie, he spoke to her in one of the coldest tones she’d ever heard from him. It was as if he’d been performing a role as her husband. Something he’d done in a calculating manner. Just like the family image he played for his company. All a facade.

  “Now, there’s not a bit of use of your flying off the handle, Fawna. You’re not an infant, or ingenue. You’re not even young and inexperienced, as a writer-type would put it. You’re a grown woman living in the 21st Century. You’re 27, and you have to have known something was up. I haven’t touched you in a while. I didn’t want you to go through the drama of finding out this way. If I had my way, I didn’t want you to find out at all. You — ”

  She halted him, feeling absolute anger and betrayal. “Those are all flimsy arguments, Stephen. How could you? In our home? In our bed? Why the hell did you marry me if you knew you were gay?”

  He snatched the size eleven red woman’s high heels he had on the side of the bed, walked over to the closet and tossed them in, then went back over to the bed and sat.

  “I thought you married me because you loved me. I’m a person who has feelings—a woman.”

  “I know, dearie, therein lies the problem,” he said glibly. “And anyway, everybody knows marriage is the death-knell of romance.”

  She’d never wanted to strike anybody in her life, before this, but his ‘don’t blame me because I’m gay’ attitude was too much. She knew this was the day and age gays were applauded for coming out of the closet, but walking all over her to do it was something she hadn’t signed up for.

  Marrying her when he knew he couldn’t really love her, and then him and Jeffrey both being so disrespectful about what she’d just walked in on! As if she were the one in the wrong for catching him. He was cheating on her with another man. And somehow, it was no big deal? At last, she knows? That’s what Jeffery had said before walking away from her like she’d just committed some crime. She couldn’t wrap her mind around what was going down.

  She walked toward the bed with one hand gripping the champagne bottle. Stephen reared back and protected his face with his hands, fearing what she was about to do next. She plunked it down on his nightstand. “Seems like you guys need this more than I do since you’ve got a celebration going on.” Then she turned around, walked down the steps and out the door and got into the waiting limo and gave the driver the address to her sister Nell’s house.

  Chapter Nine

  “He’s an ass.” Her sister met her at the door with a hug and a mug of hot chocolate. Fawna collapsed into a ball of sobs onto Nell’s couch. Nell let her sister cry while she rubbed her soft curls. After a few minutes, Nell’s wife, Nancy, came into the living room and hugged Fawna, telling her how sorry she was that this was happening. She kissed her spouse and went to bed to leave the two sisters in the living room to talk.

  “You know I’m the last one to go against someone coming out, but dammit, he used the hell out of me. He all but admitted it. He knew he was incapable of loving me, but he married me. How does anyone think that is right? I don’t think anybody should have to hide who they love—but using me to hide behind is despicable! What would anyone be saying if he were cheating with a woman? They’d think he was a louse.”

  “Fawna, he is a louse! He’s a jerk. You know I’ve never liked Stephen. I stood behind you and was delighted to be your maid of honor because you seemed so happy. But he’s always been a controlling jerk. It doesn’t surprise me that he has to have control of this narrative as well,” Nell sighed.

  “What do you mean?” Fawna looked up, her eyes rimmed in red. “His public relations manager has already left four messages on my phone. He’s telling me they need to talk to you because they want to get in front of this thing for the sake of Pace Industries. Stephen is a real suck-face. They called me because Stephen thought you’d be heading over here.”

  Fawna yanked her phone out her coat pocket and saw that both Stephen and his public relations manager had left several messages. She couldn’t hide the surprise and disappointment in her eyes from her little sister. She rode over thinking that somehow, this nightmare couldn’t be real. That by the time she got to Nell’s, Stephen would be waiting for her, carrying a dozen roses, maybe two, to apologize and convince her she didn’t see what she saw. She just knew the shock she’d witnessed in her own bedroom couldn’t be real. It couldn’t. Once again, her heart sank like the Titanic.

  “I admit that I have been a fool for love—like most women, I acted the part. I loved and believed in him. Until I met him, my record was without spot or blemish. Probably because I devoted myself to my career at such a young age. I didn’t fall head over heels in love with any man I dated—until Stephen. He was a man of the world, He understood how to handle me. I was swept off my feet—‘literally’ (they both said in unison—Nell well familiar with the story of how they met) by his sexual skills and all of his romantic gestures. In me and my trust and malleability he found an easy victim.”

  “He’s an ass-wipe. Not fit to wipe yours!” Nell grumbled. She hated to see the devastation in her sister’s eyes. She knew how hard Fawna had worked all those years to provide a nice living for the family. She often had to flat out refuse Fawna’s offers to buy her a home, a new car. She never wanted her sister to feel she had to provide for her. She often encouraged her to enjoy her own money more, but Fawna seemed to be waiting for someone to enjoy it with. That’s when she’d met Stephen.

  Nell was uneasy about him from the start. Something about him rubbed her the wrong way. Still, it wasn’t at all what she expected. Stephen was gay. Like Fawna, she had no idea.

  “And you said he had on lingerie?”

  “Yes, and the bastard looked pretty ridiculous in it,” Fawna snarked with a little laugh.

  Nell laughed. “Didn’t you say he had on high heels?” She frowned at the image planted in her mind.

  “Well, he didn’t have them on, but they were on his side of the bed.”

  “Jesus! The man has to be 6’3” at least! I can’t picture him in lingerie. And women’s shoes, high heels, no less!” She continued her peal of lau
ghter at the thought.

  “Let me tell you, it wasn’t pretty!” Fawna exclaimed as she kept giggling. “Remember how I used to complain about how unattractive the shoes look in my size, 8 1/2, while they look cute as hell in a size 5, the size shoe stores display to pull you in? In my size, that same shoe looks more like a boat. Imagine him in a size 11!”

  She had a mind pop. “Now I know what the funny look on his face was whenever I tried to seduce him in lingerie—envy! He wanted the lingerie for himself!”

  They both snickered until their sides hurt. Soon after spending this precious time with her sister, her best friend in the whole world, the tears streaming down her face were ones of laughter, not pain. That was the first inkling that she’d get through this. Bruised and battered maybe and questioning her femininity, but she’d get through it. She was so glad Nell was there for her. The next morning she went to the florist and ordered a gorgeous bouquet of yellow daisies, purple irises, red and pink roses, white alstromeria, blue delphinium, orange gerber daisies and bright reddish yellow sunflowers and had it sent to her sister. She wrote her thanks to her sister on a beautiful card along with the flowers that had a sentiment by writer and poet Donna Fargo that said:

  Sisters carry each other in their hearts for ever and always. As she stood there signing the card, she thought of an incidence that happened many years past that bonded them like no other—one that was cemented in fear.