by Rita Hestand
They were watching Ghost.
Hannah smiled and turned to look at him with tears in her eyes. "That sounds like fun. But I really feel guilty up here enjoying myself while Deke's men take care of things."
"Consider yourself on vacation. You like this movie?"
"I love it. I always thought it portrayed death well, and the hereafter. I'd like to think that is what it will be like. You know...the white light coming to get you."
"Or the dark?"
"Or the dark." she giggled.
"I like it too. I especially like the fact that he takes care of her, even in death, as a ghost. A man should see to his woman."
"Yeah," she choked a little and turned so he couldn't see her face.
Rusty took her hands and pulled her down on the furry rug on the floor so they could both prop up against the foot of the bed.
It was deliriously warm and Hannah was too tired to argue. She didn't snuggle against him, although the thought occurred to her. Instead she tried to concentrate on the flickering movie. In any other instance this might be romantic, but she fully realized she had to keep her head. After all, it wasn't a real honeymoon.
"So what do you think of Las Vegas?"
"It's fabulous." It was a lead for her to tell him about her life here, but somehow she couldn't quite break the spell he was weaving for them. "This hotel is an absolute dream...."
She tried to concentrate strictly on the movie but Rusty was nipping at her cheek and the warmth that suddenly surrounded them enveloped them in a cocoon of their own. Her breathing seemed nonexistent, as his kisses brought all her attention to his desire ridden face.
She squirmed when his lips nibbled at her ear. She wanted him, he wanted her, so why couldn't it be? Because this is a dream, silly!
"I'm not gonna hurt you Hannah," he whispered hoarsely.
"I know…but this is a little too cozy," she said and forced herself up and away from his tempting arms. "Rusty, I appreciate what you are doing for me, but I'm not forgetting our bargain."
"Bargain?"
"This isn't a real marriage...and I'm sure you won't forget that."
"Not as long as you keep reminding me...." he didn't look at her but stared off into the distance.
Rusty frowned but he didn't argue the point. Guilt made her more amendable.
"Yeah," he moved to get up and gathered his coat. From the quick movements and the exaggerated way he struggled into his coat, she could tell he wasn't happy with her. But what did he expect? "I guess I better go downstairs for a while. Let you get ready for bed."
"That's a good idea," she breathed a sigh. Still, the room went cold when he walked out. Hannah shivered. She really enjoyed snuggling with him, and a small part of her wished it could last, but she was too sensible for that.
He stared at her over his shoulder at the door until she was forced to look straight at him. Something in his expression nearly made her weaken and go to him, but she made herself stay where she was. It was just too tempting. It would only lead to heartbreak later, her good sense reminded her.
"I think I'll take a quick shower, and get ready for bed. Which bed do you want?" She asked not daring to look at him now.
"Doesn't matter," he said with obvious exasperation. Then he was gone, leaving behind the cold breeze that crept from the doorway. It wasn't the wind that was cold. It was her. But how was she supposed to treat her husband? Her husband! Would she ever get used to those words?
What had he expected? She wasn't about to play bedroom pals with him now. Just because they were married didn't mean she was changing a thing. Except those kisses by the fire stirred much more than her imagination, and she was feeling as exasperated as he. So much so, she was on edge.
Shrugging off the desire of her own body, she headed for the small bathroom. A good warm shower and sleep would shake off this feeling of need within her.
*****
Unable to keep himself busy any longer, Rusty came back. He checked the doors and the beds for the long night ahead of him. He was about to check on the blankets when he passed the bathroom and saw it was cracked open. It suddenly dawned on him that he hadn't checked to see if there were towels or soap or anything. He peeked through the doorway. Good, she was still in the shower, he couldn't really see her, just a vague outline, so he tiptoed in to get the towels out of the cabinet and lay them on the top of the commode. He was about to set them down and leave when she opened the curtain and gasped.
"Oh-uh..." his jaw dropped, his breath left his lungs, and he stood there, the towel slipping from his fingers as he stared at his wife, all of his wife.
She was beautiful! And every nerve in his body sprang to alertness as his gaze took her in slowly. He couldn't move, couldn't think for an instant. His body was sending out signals to his brain, but he refused to listen. Hannah had been hiding, but why? He had known she was hiding, but he figured she hid her imperfections from him, not her beauty.
Instinct had him grabbing the towel and slowly handing it to her as she stepped toward it. Her eyes were big as saucers, and they connected to his. Several minutes passed, or were they only seconds?
They both seemed speechless at the moment.
Then Rusty rushed to explain..."I'm sorry. I thought you'd need this." His voice was low, throaty.
He took the towel and gently wrapped it around her small but perfect body. As his fingers brushed the cleavage of her breasts he frowned down into her face. Tension electrified the air. He was mere inches from her. Steam from her shower wafted between them. Desire loomed like a fragile thread. Had the lights flickered, a match lit, or just the flames from his expression warmed her face.
Everything inside Rusty ignited into an inferno of desire, but he intentionally squashed it, knowing full well, that acting on his own needs would not win Hannah's favor. He had to win her heart. And he wanted her heart.
"Any more surprises Hannah?" he asked his voice low and husky.
"Surprises?" Her voice was faint, breathless.
"Baggy pants, big shirts, floppy hat. Ugly clothes, to detract any man. So what are you hiding from?" His face was a mass of conflicting emotions.
"N-nothing," she held the towel as though it were her lifeline. But he saw the quiver in her fingers, on her lips.
"Or who?" he said as though it were something bad. "Me?"
"No," she reacted too quickly, her eyes flashing with something he didn't recognize.
And then he did. Hannah was afraid of love...and somehow he had to teach her that love could be the most wonderful thing in the world. If what he felt for Hannah was even half of what his father felt for his mother, then he was on the right track at last. But how would he ever convince her now, that he loved her for herself, not her beauty.
"You're beautiful Hannah." He rasped.
She gazed at him in shock. "Please don't flatter me..."
His eyes warmed her. "This might surprise you, Hannah, but I've always found you enchanting. You charmed me with your cuteness a long time ago. I've been intrigued with you from the beginning, not able to put my finger on what makes my feelings for you grow. I liked you from the beginning Hannah, and not because of what you looked like, but rather in spite of it. There was something about you Hannah. I thought there was something special about you before I ever saw your body. And now that I have, it makes no difference at all. And I know that sounds pretty damned crazy coming from me."
The smile didn't quite reach her lips. "I'm very tired, could we talk about this in the morning?" she moved to go past him.
"No, I think we should talk about it now. What's going on here? Why the masquerade?"
She leaned against the doorframe. "You wouldn't understand."
"Try me."
She paused and stared at him. The old feelings came rushing to the front. "I don't want to be pawed and manhandled. If I want a man, I'll do the choosing."
"That's fair enough, but can't you just tell a man?" He asked his spirits lifting for a moment.
"Try me...again. Give me a little credit, Hannah." "I can't talk about this now, please." she cried and ran for the bed nearest the bathroom.
He walked out of the bathroom slowly. He wondered how he had done such a thing. Never had he felt so right about wanting a woman. He also knew Hannah wasn't completely immune to him either. And damn she was beautiful. This only complicated things, though. He knew she was cute; he'd fallen for that cuteness. Those baggy clothes only made him more curious as to what she was hiding. But this! What was she hiding?
He hadn't touched her. He wouldn't touch her. He couldn't. If Hannah had taught him anything, it was that love wasn't physical. He knew if he went after her now, she'd think that, especially after he made over Jennifer so. He reviled himself for talking on and on about how gorgeous Jennifer was around Hannah. How shallow he had been. And Hannah had witnessed it.
So how could he make her understand what he was feeling? How could he let Hannah know he was falling in love with her. Her! Not the package, although she certainly had one beautiful package he itched to hold again.
Oh he knew what he was feeling alright. White hot desire...that's what. Right this minute, he wanted her so bad he wouldn't sleep most the night because of it. But he also knew that wouldn't work with Hannah. He wasn't just going to work his way into her bed. Somehow he had to work himself into her heart, first. He had to convince her of the rightness of it. That she was different. Now that he knew what love was about, he had to convince her he knew. He suddenly realized she had torn down a wall, and erected a bigger one.
Why would any woman hide such a beautiful body. Not that he expected her to parade around like a common...no, not Hannah.
Had someone hurt her? She'd do the picking she said. Now that was an outstanding thought. Only problem was...how was she going to pick him?
He would have to think this out, and he hoped it kept him up all night thinking, because what he wanted to do was make her his woman, tonight.
This was a totally new experience for him. He was in love with Hannah. And not just because he suddenly found her beautiful. He had liked her before he ever saw her body. He had liked kissing her. But so far, he'd only managed to convince her he wanted her. And knowing Hannah like he did, that wouldn't be enough.
He took the other bed. He tried to go to sleep, but her milling around in the bathroom minutes later had him curious as to what she wore to bed.
Damn! White silk. White silk is what she wore to bed, and lovely as a picture. And her hair, that wild head of dark hair that seemed to know no real direction cascaded over her shoulders like a dark cloud. Then he smiled to himself and licked his lips, yes, like a dark cloud of heavenly chocolate. His fingers itched to run through it.
He gathered his blankets and jumped into the cold bed he'd made wrestling with the pillow for what seemed like hours.
This was the longest night of his life. And the most miserable...
"Goodnight," she called from the other bed. "Goodnight," he wailed miserably not far away.
*****
But the night wore slowly on and all the tossing and turning didn't help.
"Hannah, you asleep?" he called to her from the darkness.
"No...why?" she asked quietly.
"You as miserable as I am?" He asked. "Miserable?"
"Let's don't play games, Hannah. We want each other...plain and simple."
He heard her voice hitch, in a short gasp. He'd shocked her.
"I'm not having sex with you Rusty, I'm sorry. I thought you understood the terms of this marriage." She protested weakly.
"Terms? I didn't know there were any terms. Good thing you told me." He quipped hitting the pillow and glancing through the darkness for her.
"I wasn't thinking of having sex, Hannah. I was...thinking—about making love." He sighed heavily as though the subject were closed. "There's a difference you know."
"I know...I mean..." Hannah's voice drifted away. . "Well...what's so bad about making love Hannah?
You want it as much as I do...I saw it in your eyes today." He muttered miserably.
"Maybe...for a moment. I'm sorry Rusty. I'm not that sophisticated. I haven't...I mean...I never..."
"Oh God, tell me it isn't true..." Rusty sat up straight in bed and stared at the darkness.
"What?" she sat up in the other bed expectantly.
"Tell me you aren't a virgin." He moaned biting the pillow and spitting it out.
"That's none of your business." she said miserably, drowning her voice and tears into her pillow.
"You are aren't you?" He whispered, and suddenly he was standing by her bed.
She pulled the sheet up over her and covered her head and all. "And what if I am?" she mumbled through the sheet.
She felt the mattress give as his knee moved towards her. "The first time should be special Hannah, and with someone who cares about you."
"I know that," she cried out, as the bed began to shake with her fear.
"I care Hannah...." He reached through the darkness for her, and then moved away, off the bed. "That's why I'm not going to touch you...until you are ready."
It was a whisper in the night, but she heard it and uncovered her head just a little.
"Thank you," she managed, and felt the tears falling as she heard him returning to his own bed. "Rusty..." she called out to him
He hesitated, but didn't look over his shoulder at her.
"His name was Vic Trusdale. I thought I loved him."
This sudden admission had Rusty more than pausing. He turned around and stared through the darkness at her then he came and sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at her and wondering just how much this Vic Trusdale had hurt her. He wanted to hurt the man, for hurting Hannah.
"Did he...?"
"No," she rushed to answer. "We never did. Although, I was almost ready to give in to him until I found him with another woman, a co-worker. He was the first man I ever cared about. I thought he cared too. He didn't. At least not that way. I was naive, young, silly even."
Rusty hung his head. All of this news had startled him, but he knew he had taken a giant step with Hannah tonight, even though they hadn't made love. Hannah was learning to trust him. And that was a start. He smiled sadly at her, put his hand on her arm and nodded, "Thanks for telling me about it."
"Goodnight, and thanks for listening." "Anytime, little darlin'."
Now he could sleep!
Or could he? Hannah had just shared something important with him. Was it his turn?
"Hannah," he called softly through the darkness. "Yes," Hannah raised herself in the bed.
"It's my turn to confess something..." He said lowly.
Hannah seemed to hold her breath, as though waiting.
"I've never ...." his voice drifted off into space. "Either."
"You haven't?" Hannah rushed to ask.
"No. Jennifer and I agreed early on, not to. We had this notion that it would be something to look forward too, later. Anyway, we never."
There was a long silence; he could almost hear her breathing. He wished he could rush into her bed, take her in his arms and hold her, but he knew he'd frighten her. He wanted to be gentle with Hannah.
"Hannah...have you...ever imagined what it might be like?" Rusty asked as he pushed himself down into the softness of the bed.
He heard her voice catch as she spoke. "Sometimes."
"Would you mind if I share what I think it should be like?" He asked, almost turning to stare into the darkness at her.
The gasp told him, she was holding her breath for his words. He smiled to himself.
He laid back, threw his arms over his head and closed his eyes.
"When a man and a woman come together..." he began slowly, his voice softening as he imagined it in his mind. "Well...it should mean something. It should mean they are committed to each other...in every way. Don't you agree?"
"Y-yes," she laid down too. He wondered if she
closed her eyes and if she was imagining it too.
"Okay, this is what I would do...Hannah...if I was in love with a woman." He clarified that so she would know this wasn't just some sexual arousal.
"We'd have dated a while, got to know each other well, only not too well. I think knowing a woman too well can complicate it all. But anyway, when I decided she was right for me, and I was right for her...that's when it would happen."
The silence from the other bed made him nervous, but he felt he had to share this with her. "We'd have a nice quiet dinner, I'd give her a rose, just a single rose, I think. Mainly because to appreciate something as beautiful as a rose, it should be separate from others, special sort of. We'd gaze into each other's eyes, and I'd know she loved me, just from the look in those eyes.
We'd be sitting on the couch, probably. I'd put my arm around her, till she was real comfortable with it. Then I'd lean over and kiss her, real gentle like. If she kissed me back, I'd let her know how much I wanted her by my movements, and my kisses. I pick her up and carry her to my bed, kicking the door closed, so no one would disturb us. I'd lay her down on the bed, and smother her with kisses till I knew she was wanting more. And I'd know too, by the look in her eyes, and the way she breathed. I'd want to kiss every part of her, slowly, enjoying every inch of her. I'd like to see her body, and watch it react to my kisses too."
"H-how do you know it would react to you...?" "I don't for sure. But I know mine does...so hers would too."
He sat up, shaking himself a little. This was getting him nowhere, but he had to go on. He had to tell her how it would be.
"I wouldn't rush her. But if she responded, I'd slowly begin to peel away her clothes, toss them on the floor, and let her do the same with me. She'd be beautiful to me, even if she had a pot belly and a mustache under her nose. They say love is blind, and I'm inclined to agree. I'd be kissing her all the time we were doing this, so as to build the fire between us. And I think as I kissed her I'd tell her what I thought of each and every part of her. Starting with who she was...what she was...and what she could become. I'd touch and kiss her breast with a reverence because to me, it's that exact body part that makes her a woman, different from me. I'd take some time to explore, both the tips and beneath." His breath caught as though he were experiencing it right now.