Twist of Fate

by Faver, JD

  Gripping the muscular arm encircling her, the camera dangled from her wrist. Mel’s fingers grasped the soft cotton sleeve of his shirt.

  “Last night I heard something howl. It could have been dogs, I guess.”

  “Not likely,” he said. “See that mountain?”

  Her gaze followed where he pointed.

  “You heard a wolf. There is a lot of wildlife up there. The mountain was named for my great-great-great grandfather. He settled this area in the late seventeen hundreds.”

  It wasn’t a big mountain; not when compared to the Grand Tetons or Mt. Shasta, but it was a mountain nonetheless with rocky areas jutting out of dense forest.

  “That mountain was my playground when I was a child. My great-grandfather built a small cabin that we used for hunting.”

  Mel felt the tension leaving her shoulders as his deep voice resonated through his chest and against her spine.

  “There have been Engles in this valley since that time.”

  “So your family has passed this land down over several generations?”

  “Yes.” He grinned down at her.

  “And you learned about farming from your parents?”

  “No, my parents died in a car crash when I was a boy. I came to live with my grandparents after that. My grandfather taught me everything he knew and he sent me to the university to study modern agricultural methods.”

  She gazed around her at the fields of ripening grain. “You must have learned a lot. This place looks like it’s thriving.”

  “I am having a good year.”

  “So it seems.”

  He stroked his fingertips against the bare skin on her thigh. “It just got better.”

  Mel smiled. “Indeed.” Her stomach caught at his touch, sending a swirl of desire through her.

  Helmut’s hand moved across her midriff, cupped her breasts, tweaked her nipples between thumb and finger through the gauzy fabric of her dress.

  Her spine arched into his caress, offering up her breasts for his ministering.

  Helmut’s mouth grazed her neck, sent her pulses racing as his warm breath whispered against her ear, “Mel.”

  An uncontrollable whimper escaped from her throat.

  Helmut let the leather reins fall against the horses back as his fingers kneaded her thigh, sending hot, moist messages to her libido.

  The horse slowed, took a few more paces and dropped its head to crop at some tender grasses.

  Mel twisted her head, seeking his mouth. The whimper again as their lips connected, as his tongue stroked hers.

  Helmut circled her ribs, lifted her against him, and raised her dress to brush his fingertips over the smooth skin of her belly. A chuckle deep in his throat as he traced the line of her low-slung panties and then slid his hand inside them. He sucked in a breath against her cheekbone as he lifted her higher. Resting her butt against the bulge in his jeans, he stroked his fingers into her wetness.

  Mel enjoyed a sequence of ecstatic spasms emanating from her crotch as he manipulated her into a state of nirvana. Helmut kissed and nibbled on her shoulder and neck as he rhythmically massaged her to orgasm.

  A tremor shook her as she emitted a moan of surrender. She opened her eyes, her shoulders heaving as she gasped for air. “Oh! That was...That was...”

  He made a guttural sound in the back of his throat. “I could not see your legs spread so far apart without some part of me in between them.”

  She giggled, still panting. “You...I...”

  “Shhh,” he whispered against her temple. He set her down on the horses back and reached for the reins. “I would rather have you riding me, but pleasing you also pleases me.”

  Mel swallowed hard as he drew in the reins and gave a little clicking sound with his tongue.

  They rode around his property, through a small orchard around a well-tended garden and back to the barnyard. Helmut slipped off the back of the horse and led it toward the barn.

  “Helmut,” she called. When he turned she captured the image of him looking back over his shoulder leading the magnificent white horse by its bridle.

  “Why do you take my picture?”

  She tried to make light of his question. “I might like to look at you when I’m back in the city.”

  He shot her a look. “You can stay here and look at me.”

  She smiled at him. “I have a job.”

  “And what do you do to buy your expensive automobiles so you can run them off the road?”

  She flashed him another smile and captured his grin. “I’m a photographer.”

  “Ah!”

  She laughed. “And what does that mean?”

  “That explains a lot.”

  She clicked the shutter just as he flashed his killer grin. “What does it explain?”

  “Why you are acting like a tourist.”

  She made a mock pout. “I’m not acting like a tourist!”

  He reached up to put his palm in front of the lens. “Yes you are. You are acting like a tourist clicking your little camera as you take a tour of my life.” He shook his head, a slight smile on his mouth. “You are so busy looking through there you forgot to be scared up on the big horse all by yourself.”

  Mel froze, looking down at the ground and then at Helmut, his arm resting on her thigh. “I guess I did. You made me feel safe.”

  He laughed. “I told you I would not allow you to be injured.”

  A short time later a tow truck with a wench arrived and drew the injured Porsche onto the hydraulic bed.

  Mel watched sadly as the truck turned toward the main road and vanished, hidden by the field of golden grain.

  Helmut came up behind her and wound his arms around her shoulders. “So now you are trapped here with me until your precious automobile is repaired.” He laughed, swinging her around in a circle. “I hope they are very slow.”

  “Oh, no, Helmut,” she said. “I have to get back to the city. I’m having a rental car delivered here by tomorrow morning.” She watched his face cloud as he tried to cover his disappointment. She reached out to touch the side of his jaw. “You’ll only have to put up with me for a little while longer.”

  He drew a breath and let it out heavily. “So be it. I will take you into town for dinner tonight.”

  She gaped at him. “On the tractor?”

  He scoffed. “In my truck.”

  “You have a truck! You could have driven me into town yesterday.” She swung at his arm, but he dodged her blow, grinning.

  “Could have.” He scooped her up in his arms and carried her into the house.

  Mel figured out quickly that he really liked her short, gauzy shift dress because it was so accessible and easy to slide up over her hips. Helmut managed to divest her of her still damp panties and make love to her against the wall near his bedroom. At least he got close to the bedroom.

  And later, after he’d fed her a ham and cheese sandwich on thick slices of the brown bread, he returned to the barn to perform more chores.

  When he came to the house again he managed to find the bedroom and they spent the rest of the afternoon exploring each other, making love and talking.

  Mel learned that the cows had to be milked twice a day.

  That several of them would soon give birth and that he had names for each of them. He explained that a large tanker truck came by three times per week to haul his milk to a dairy processing plant and that he would be harvesting sorghum soon and after that, the corn.

  She lay on her back naked, looking up into his eyes. “Why do you do all this? You could sell this place and make a fortune.”

  Helmut caressed her face with his hands. “Because I love it here. I love the valley and the farm and this old-fashioned house. It is my heritage.”

  “I love your accent,” she said. “I love the way your voice wraps around each word. You’re very articulate.”

  He smiled. “I only spoke German until I went to school. My grandparents spoke German to each other and to me, so t
hat was my first language.”

  She envisioned Helmut as a child. He must have been beautiful then too, “What were your grandparents like?”

  He swallowed convulsively.

  She knew she’d hit a nerve. “Sorry. You don’t need to talk about them if you don’t want to.”

  He drew a breath. “No, no. It is all right. They were good people. My grandfather was a big man, like me. He was very kind and patient with me. My grandmother was small, like you. She had long hair that she wore in a single braid down her back.” He stroked the side of her face again. “And they loved each other very much. When my grandmother died, I watched my grandfather die a little every day until he joined her.”

  Mel felt the sting of tears behind her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

  His smile was sad. “They are together now.”

  She nodded, never having thought about the hereafter or who she would spend eternity with. “And you’re here, in the house they shared with you and doing the work they did?”

  “Exactly.” He smiled. “I guess that is why I never changed the house. It is just the way they left it.”

  She raised her brows. “They’re not coming back, you know?”

  “I know.”

  “Surely they wouldn’t mind if you had an indoor toilet.”

  He laughed. “Get dressed and I will take you to dinner.”

  “Get off of me long enough so I can find my clothes and I will.”

  Mel cleaned up a bit and rummaged in her bag again.

  Not much left to choose from. She pulled out her hundred-and-fifty dollar stone-washed designer jeans; the ones that made her butt look like it deserved a standing ovation. She tossed on a deceptively simple shirt and tied it up in the front to show her midriff.

  Helmut grinned appreciatively. For a moment she thought he would carry her back into the bedroom, but he appeared to think better of it.

  He raised a wide overhead door on the side of the barn and drove out in a club cab pick-up in a deep green color. He helped her climb up onto the passenger seat before going around to put the idling motor into gear. “We go now.”

  The drive into town was almost totally silent. They smiled at each other now and then, but kept their own thoughts.

  Reaching for her hand, he kissed her fingertips before spreading it on his thigh and covering it with his own larger one.

  Holding her hand thus, she felt the hard muscles work as he braked to slow the truck. She gazed out the window at the quaint rural town. Prosperous-looking businesses lined the main street.

  Helmut turned onto a side street and pulled into the crowded parking lot of a restaurant with a sign overhead declaring it to be Greta’s. He opened her door and held out his arms for her to alight. Something about the expression on his face let her know that this was important to him.

  This was not just a meal.

  She leaned into his arms and he set her gently on the ground. She looked up uncertainly and he reached for her hand.

  “We go inside now.”

  As he held the door open for her, a cowbell clanking against the glass alerted the clientele to their presence. Heads turned and many people nodded or raised a hand to Helmut, but gaped at Mel with undisguised curiosity.

  A middle-aged waitress bustled forth and, grinning at him, showed them to a booth. “Helmut.”

  “Vangie,” he acknowledged her.

  Aromas of various foods intermingled, sending a message to Mel’s stomach. She scooted across the padded plastic seat and Helmut slid in beside her.

  The waitress recited various specials, took their order and promised to return with water.

  Mel gazed up at Helmut and he grinned at her.

  “It has been good to have you with me,” he said.

  She lowered her eyes and leaned her head against his solid arm. “I’ve been a complete pain in the ass. Thanks for putting up with me...and for taking such good care of me.”

  He wrapped his fingers around her thigh, warming it through her jeans. “So what will you do when you go to the big city?”

  “I’ll be working. I have a schedule of fashion shoots all lined up. I work with one very famous designer a lot. I’m wearing his jeans.”

  Helmut frowned at her. “He must be very small.”

  Mel giggled. “I’m wearing jeans that he designed. We’re going to Cabo San Lucas in a couple of weeks to do his spring collection.”

  Helmut looked puzzled. “But, it’s just September. Spring is a long way off.”

  “We work five or six months ahead. It’s all very hush-hush. There are a lot of people who would kill to get a sneak peek at his spring designs.”

  His brow furrowed in a frown. “You are in danger?”

  She shook her head, smiling. “That was just an expression. I also work with American and European fashion magazines. They can book me for their layouts.”

  “Layouts?”

  “Pages. The way the photographs are arranged on the page.”

  “Very confusing.”

  “Confusing? Did you see my eyes roll up in my head when you were telling me about milk pricing and dairy subsidies?”

  Helmut’s beautiful face looked wistful. “I will miss you, Melanie Hannigan.”

  The waitress returned and placed their plates in front of them. Suddenly, Mel had no appetite.

  #

  CHAPTER THREE

  “You look different.” Janissa, Mel’s assistant looked her over critically.

  Mel whirled on her. “Different? How?”

  Janissa shook her head, setting her dreads to dancing. “I don’t know. Different.” She made a circle around Mel. “You got a little color in your lily-white cheeks, for one thing. And you look rested for another.”

  Mel rolled her eyes and tried to control the grin that spread across her face. She couldn’t exactly say her weekend with Helmut had been restful. She did feel strangely energized.

  “By the way,” Janissa said, “I suppose you know there’s a hickey on the back of your neck.

  Mel wrapped her fingers around to cover the spot Helmut had nibbled when he’d been molesting her on horseback.

  Janissa stroked her chin thoughtfully. “You look like you’ve been to a luxury spa for the works.”

  “The works?” Mel chortled softly. “Yeah, that sounds about right.” She still felt aroused. And she was excited about the contents of her digital camera. She thrust it into Janissa’s hands. “Printer! Quick!”

  “There are three-hundred possible shots stored in here. Do you want all of them printed?”

  “Just proof the last ones. You’ll know what I want.”

  Janissa set to work and Mel heard her shrill whistle after a few minutes. “Holy guacamole! This guy is hot.”

  Mel giggled and went to peer over her shoulder. “That doesn’t even describe the half of it.”

  Helmut’s face stared back at her in dozens of shots, his clear blue eyes staring deep into her soul. She felt her nipples tighten through her clothes.

  She gazed at the shots she’d grabbed of him sleeping after they’d coupled in the afternoon. The indirect light filtering through the open window played over his golden tan, a stark contrast to the white, rumpled sheet draped low across his hips. The soft light caressed the planes of his face, shadowed the ridges in his muscled abdomen. He lay with one arm stretched overhead, elongating the muscles on that half of his torso.

  Janissa groaned. “This man is a god!”

  “You could be right about that.” Mel examined the shots on the monitor. “Print me a proof set. I want to look at this boy.”

  “Don’t see no boy,” Janissa said. “I just see a hunka burnin’ love.” She giggled and shot a sidelong glance at Mel. “He’s the one! You did this guy?”

  Mel exhaled, grinning in spite of her resolve to be cool. “I’m proud to say that I did.”

  “Oh, my god!” Janissa shrieked. “I would say that you broke your dry spell in style. I don’t think I would have gotten out of be
d with this one.”

  Mel suppressed a little shiver, recalling the smell of him, the taste of him, the feel of him inside her. “I had sex with this beautiful man on eight separate occasions in less than forty-eight hours. Great weekend.” She succumbed to the giggle building inside her. “He even finger-fucked me on horseback!”

  Janissa covered her mouth with her slender hands and sucked in a whoosh of air. “No way!”

  “That sounds interesting.”

  Mel and Janissa both started. Mel whirled around, blushing as she met the gaze of the last man she’d slept with before meeting Helmut Engle.

  “Hello Alain.” She blinked and drew in a breath, the color rising to her cheeks.

  Alain St. Croix, elite fashion designer, had been a long time friend and frequent date. Although they’d never professed to love each other, they’d fallen into a convenient relationship based on close proximity, mutual interests and handy sex.

  He looked short today, and foppish.

  Mel knew that Alain was five-foot-eleven in his bare feet and that she was just comparing him to Helmut’s rugged macho bearing. Helmut in worn jeans and a faded shirt made the elegant Alain look almost effeminate.

  Alain wore a muted lilac shirt of his own design, pale camel slacks and a lizard-skin belt to match his slip-on moccasins. He’d tied a pastel pink cashmere sweater around his neck by the sleeves. His perfectly styled hair shone, his skin glowed from frequent facials and daily moisturizing and his nails glinted with a hint of clear polish.

  He gazed at Mel reproachfully before giving her a kiss on both cheeks. “So, who is this pretty boy?” he asked, turning his attention to the monitor.

  Three pairs of eyes stared at Helmut’s image.

  “Where did you find him?” Alain asked.

  “Um, upstate.” Mel resumed gnawing her lip.

  “The camera loves him.” Alain said, thoughtfully.

  “He doesn’t have a bad angle,” Janissa breathed.

  Mel knew that was true. She’d spent the weekend staring at him from every direction, and they were all spectacular.

  Alain wagged his head from side to side. “Once again, Mel, your model search has paid off. I’ll offer him an immediate exclusive contract. This is the new St. Croix Man.”