by D. M. Pratt
She’d brought some of the more current photo and picture albums downstairs to share with Beau. Again that flash of anger clouded his usually tranquil blue eyes as once again she explained her need to know him and his family because she had no history of her own. Beau stared at the books for a long time before he released a long sigh and crossed to sit next to her.
“I won’t do this if it pains you, Beau,” Eve said.
“Yes you will,” he said with a sad smile. “You’ll do it until you understand whatever it is you’re looking for in my family’s history. So, perhaps if I can help you find it we can let this all go and move on with our lives. I need you to be okay and comfortable with who you’re marrying and all that comes with it. So open the pages and ask me what you want. I’ll do my best to answer,” Beau said. “If you don’t trust me completely, this won’t work.”
Eve looked at him to understand the subtext of his words. He’d agreed so she opened the first album.
She’d found the photos from the seventies and eighties when Beau’s mother, father and younger sister were still alive. They looked to be a very happy family. Until his sister’s death in an odd accident Beau described as “the fall,” they had been happy. Then time seemed to stop. There were no more pictures of birthdays, holidays, trips or happy occasions. He told Eve the loss of his younger sister left a dark cloud over the house that sucked the joy out of everyone and everything - especially the Gregoire home.
Then, even more mysteriously, soon after that dark time of his sister’s accident, Beau’s parents’ unexpectedly died in a car accident. Their deaths killed the heart of the house and made living there unbearable. Beau’s grandfather, Millard, who’d never been welcome when his parents were alive, stepped in to raise him. They looked at a few snapshots of a sad little boy of twelve being sent off to Europe to attend a prestigious boarding school in Switzerland. From there only a few awkward shots at Beau’s graduations, both from high school and then from Oxford University were stuck into the pages of his high school year book. His grandfather was there, but the pictures were clear evidence of the distance that loomed between them; never touching or even standing too close, like a sharp knife cut the air between them. In every picture Beau kept his distance, obviously wanting no part of his past or the vast fortune he’d been bequeathed by his parents or his Grandfather, Millard Le Masters.
After University, Beau told her how he’d traveled and worked in Europe until one day he just walked away. He vanished for eight years exploring Africa, New Zealand and South America. Until a letter from Beau’s oldest and dearest friend, Augustus Valentine Lafayette the fourth, aka A.V. came with the knowledge that the family estate, the only home Beau’d ever known, was about to be lost to him. A.V.’s letter convinced Beau to give up his freedom and come home. Beau explained to Eve that he’d called A.V. and together they called the estate’s lead attorney. Lincoln Bryant, senior most partner of the prestigious law firm and Beau’s father’s friend and attorney, told him he’d all but lost everything because he’d been declared dead by his only living relative, his grandfather so he’d better get his ass back to New Orleans. Mister Bryant and A.V. started the paper work to raise Beau from the dead, but his presence would be needed in court as proof of life.
“That’s when I came back,” Beau said, explaining that he’d told no one except A.V. he was returning. Unannounced, he arrived at his family’s mansion the afternoon of that fateful summer night they’d met. He’d come home, gone into his old room, uncovered the dresser and bed, crawled under the covers and fallen asleep.
“When I woke it was dark and the party was in full swing. I showered and dressed, remembering only then A.V.’s letter said the house was being used for a gala to raise money for the Southern Belles Charity.”
“A.V. Lafayette adores you,” Eve added.
“He’s a good friend and a great attorney. He’d suggested I wait an extra day before I came back, but I’d gotten the dates turned around and somehow came in the day of the event,” Beau said.
Beau never told Eve that A.V. had been in love with him, wishing Beau would see him as more than a friend, a wish that blossomed when they were pubescent boys, or what had transpired between them the night of his parents’ death.
“I remember you dressed in that crisp white shirt and blue slacks,” Eve said.
“I found them in my closet and that old blue jacket somehow still fit well enough to finish off my ensemble.”
“That jacket fit tight as a kid glove and you looked like Adonis descending.” Eve said with a smile and held an old photo of a much younger Beau. “You definitely filled out from your days as a slender youth.”
Beau smiled and they shared a kiss.
“I’m glad you liked what you saw,” he added.
“I never had a chance. I was smitten from the moment I laid eyes on you,” Eve said.
Beau talked about how he’d found his way down the curved entry stairs and stepped over the velvet rope put in place to keep the lookie-loos from exploring the upstairs. He had been starving and in search of food and drink. A passing waitress flirted and made it her business to keep him satiated with his favorite poison; a glass of scotch, neat, that went straight to his head. He talked about foraging the buffet tables for food, nibbling from the delicious display of Southern delights he’d missed so much in his travels. Their scents, spicy and sweet, ignited his olfactory nerves and had his mouth watering. He’d made sure to sample everything.
“I never tasted a bit,” Eve said, remembering her terrifying entrance with a laugh. It was good for her to remember those last hours before the coma. She liked talking about them and so did Beau.
“I’d been gone a long time and I certainly didn’t look like the twelve-year-old boy who left New Orleans. I watched as several women eyed me like a steak dinner on a plate and whisper between them about who would get first bite.”
“They were wondering who you were,” Eve added.
“One or two of the bold ones sashayed up and did their best to say clever things about the night or the house, blatantly flirting, but none of them got the satisfaction of discovering who I was, where I came from or why I was there,” Beau explained and laughed.
“You are a wonderfully wicked trickster. And, I have to say, I like your lack of humility,” Eve said.
“Hey, I was looking for you. I just didn’t know it,” he replied.
Again they kissed.
“So, how did you say you found me?” Eve asked, knowing the answer.
Beau smiled as he told her again how he’d found a shaded corner near the entrance to the main living room between the large, exotic plants the decorator had brought in for the party. They stood majestically and filled the space and gave just enough covering for him to sit, eat and drink undisturbed, allowing him to watch the night unfold from the shadows.
“The same men, ever Southern pompous and arrogant, and the women with too much make up bored me. Add to that the scotch, great Louisiana cooking and the fatigue from my jet lag and I was so relaxed I was falling asleep in my secret hideaway. That’s when I gave up, dragged myself to my feet and was just about to head up the stairs when I saw an awkwardly adorable and very beautiful stranger with a river of long, honey hair standing at the entrance trying to convince herself to find the courage to enter the room,” Beau laughed.
“I wasn’t talking out loud,” Eve said, horrified at the thought.
“Your honesty radiates like the sun and you become a piece of glass, so transparent I can see your every perfection, my darling almost wife,” Beau said.
Eve melted into his arms. He’d told her the story a thousand times, but each time she heard it, it made her smile.
They kissed and talked about how the music from the DJ changed to a slow, sensual ballad called “Will You Remember Me?” by Brenna Whitaker. A title they each thought appropriate in hindsight – a song that had become their song.
“It was the music that pushed me forward until my arms
slipped around your waist,” he said. “I wanted you from the moment I saw you with power that defies explanation.”
“You know you touched me and the room and everyone in it disappeared,” Eve added.
“And when we danced, we floated across that room,” Beau told her, cuddling and kissing her neck.
They each recalled their versions of dancing gracefully out onto the veranda and into the garden or when it was she’d lost her shoes.
“I felt as though I was holding living, breathing electricity,” Beau said. “Somehow I captured this ethereal, energetic light; beauty and grace inside of one being and I wasn’t ever going to let it go.”
“I felt the same,” Eve said with a nod. “You held me in your arms and when your lips touched mine and it turned into that first kiss – so sweet, gentle, innocent and yet… Fireworks.”
“No, it was the second kiss I gave you,” said Beau, “That kiss made me feel like I was a God being driven by some insatiable, indefinable hunger. You made time stand still and the world melt away.”
Tears of joy welled in Eve’s eyes. She told him how when her mouth met his, she had no choice but to give herself to him, surrendering with utter abandon was her only option. Clothes fell away and they made wild, passionate love surrounded by the thick foliage of the garden’s hedge maze.
“How many hours did we make love?” he asked.
“There is no time when I make love to you. That’s what you do to me.”
“Good,” Beau kissed her.
He slipped his fingers inside her and felt how wet and ready she was to be taken. Eve’s eyes glazed over as he fondled her breasts with his other hand and kissed her mouth. It hung open, suspended in the shape of a tiny, perfect ‘o’ beckoning him to slip his tongue inside. Her hands found his cock, each stroking motion making him harder and harder.
Between the kisses, sucking and strokes, Beau whispered about how they built up the I-can’t-get-enough-of-your-passion, almost coming over and over, again and again, but holding back until they finally climaxed together.
She moaned, uttering between his kisses how in that final, sensual thrust of passion, she’d somehow known the exact moment when he’d given her his child.
“Tell me. You knew the instant Philip was conceived?” Beau asked.
“With all my heart I believe so. What I didn’t know was that he was a Gregoire with hundreds of years of history flowing into each dividing cell,” Eve recalled breathlessly. “But, my fiery master of love, at that moment you could have been a Troglodyte for all I cared.”
Beau’s fingers worked in and out as Eve’s breathing escalated, matching his.
“I exploded from the inside out,” Eve said
“You were magnificent. Your arched back, bare tits to the sky,” Beau said.
“And slammed my head on the statue and knocked myself out,” Eve said laughing.
Beau threw her back and slipped inside of her.
“I thought I’d killed you,” Beau said.
“Best sex I ever had in my life,” Eve said.
The story made them both laugh until they cried tears of embarrassment and joy. Beau climbed on top of her and slipped inside. They made love and kissed, holding onto each other as they always did when they shared their story. They made Eve’s favorite kind of love; the mad, passionate, ride me until I scream with breathless delight and bring me to our highest climax kind of love. Spent, they fell asleep in each other’s arms.
Hours later, Eve woke. Tangled in his arms and legs and exhausted, she held Beau while she stroked his hair thinking how excited she was to be his wife and to be part of a family. Her thoughts went to Philip. The Gregoires had married and repopulated through the centuries, their children born with thick black ribbons of curls and azure blue eyes … until Philip.
Eve had seen the evolution of his features, each detail memorialized in oil, painted on ancient canvases, held captive in the gilded frames that displayed them. She had explored the paintings and letters and photos and all the dust-covered memorabilia and found the line of genetics that carried his features and those impossibly dark eyes. Sadly, she knew her family didn’t have his nose or eyes or hair. She could only see Beau in him. Beau had his mother’s eyes. None of it mattered. She loved her son and she felt certain she would forever be unconditionally in love with his father.
Restless, she untangled herself from Beau and walked down the stairs. Eve meandered around their guest house. It was small and sweet, but she’d made enough changes in the antiquated décor so it felt like home at least until the big house was complete. She raided the refrigerator in the tiny kitchen and ate cold, fresh picked peaches, hungrily biting into them and letting the sweet juices run down her chin until it made her smile. Then, having made a mess of her face and her night gown, she headed up and into her bathroom, dropped her clothes on the floor in a heap and stepped naked into the warm water of her shower. The shower spray tingled and caressed her body, still electric from making love to Beau. His scent hung on her skin, his taste still lingered on her lips. There was no question, she loved him and he made her very happy.
Her hands mindlessly soaped her body as Eve enjoyed the slippery bubbles as they lathered up in between her fingers. She washed her face, then her breasts. They felt fuller because of Philip’s nursing and Beau’s reverent attention to them, but the rest of her body was tight. She’d lost the baby weight. The long walks along the back forty made her muscles feel lean, firm and strong. She let her fingers slip down her stomach, across the tuft of blonde hair and between her legs. As she touched herself she thought of Beau again. She wanted him again. He had that effect on her. Eve smiled imagining her hands were Beau’s hands caressing her, arousing her, loving her. The water seemed to beat harder as she fingered her clitoris. She stepped closer, straddling the shower’s lower body jet. It had just the right amount of force and pushed right at her G spot. Eve stepped closer and closer until the rush of water pressed against her mound. She massaged her breasts and fondled her nipples as the water did its magic. Her breath quickened. Her head fell back, arching her spine as her erect nipples brushed the cool of the tile shower wall. The steam of water from above swirled over her, moist and hot. Eve turned up the water pressure until the sensation felt unbearably delicious and, just as she climaxed, her fingers slipped inside.
Her eyes closed. She gasped with pleasure when suddenly an explosion of wild images filled her mind. At the same time, something physically grabbed her filling her, inside as if it were trying to possess her body. There was only blackness. Eve’s arms reached out to push the invisible force away. The harder she pushed the more it pressed in against her, holding her as she struggled. Whatever it was she could feel it all over her body, grabbing her breasts, sucking on her nipples, licking at her clitoris. It was inside her, huge, thick, hot pumping in and out and in a matter of seconds she erupted in orgasm. The fire of her orgasm pulsed in her inner walls and seized her in spasms so powerful it weakened her legs and sent her crashing down to her knees in a prayer of pleasure and horror. She knelt on the tiles in the rush of cascading, hot water, panting and wanting more of whatever surged inside her. Part of Eve wanted it to stop; the other part spread her legs, as it plunged deeper, pressing her into the floor. She opened her mouth to cry out for Beau, but a huge hand covered her face, leaving her in silent blackness.
“Beau,” she whispered in her mind hearing only the echo of her helpless cry. Useless words swallowed up by the crash of water flailing against her on the shower floor.
She called again for Beau to come, to protect her from the blinding, senseless images that crowded into her brain. It was as if they were pushing her toward some bottomless pit of erotic insanity. The images pulled her deeper into spiraling depths of pleasure so overwhelming she knew, if she gave in to them, she would disappear forever and never find her way back. There, on the shower floor, trembling, she made her mouth open and she screamed.
“Stop!”
In an inst
ant the vision stopped and the simple sound of water falling was all that filled her ears. Unable to move, Eve allowed the water to cascade down on top of her and wash the fear from her mind. Lying on the shower floor, she grabbed the shampoo and scrubbed the attic dust from her hair and the strange feelings off her skin. She scrubbed so hard she thought her fingers would bleed. She was attempting to banish the thoughts and images she feared could only be the first signs of …what…insanity? Was she losing her mind? Was what happened a hallucination or was it real? Her body ached. She tried to shift her focus to all the responsibilities that awaited her. Trembling, Eve struggled to her feet, rinsed the soap away and stepped out of the shower. She held the wall as she sank to the floor, still weak and drained. Something caught her eye and when she looked up she saw Beau standing in the bathroom doorway towering above her, naked with his erect cock jutting into the room. It looked more like a weapon than a penis to Eve. When she could tear her eyes away from his raging erection, she looked up into his face. His expression was dreamlike and placid as if he were sleepwalking.
“Beau,” she whispered.
He didn’t look at her. He just stared wide-eyed into the room. Hearing his name, his erection melted and he turned and left without saying a word. Eve turned off the shower and listened as Beau’s footsteps padded down the hall and descended the back stairs. What the fuck was the only thought that passed through her head.
She reached for a plush towel, gently dried herself and applied pear-scented lotion on her skin. Every inch of her skin ached as if it had been bruised, but there were no visible marks and the simple act of lotioning her body calmed her. Her hands vibrated with the slightest tremor like an old woman with weak muscles struggling to do the most mundane of tasks. Eve brushed and braided her hair into a long single plait. Her first step made it clear her legs were still weak. She dressed in a simple, pale green shift dress that gathered at her waist and had her favorite bone buttons running up its front. Carefully, she walked from her room, through the guest house second floor and down to the nursery. She suddenly felt concerned for her son’s safety. The look in Beau’s eyes haunted her. First she would take care of Philip, then she would deal with Beau.