She still couldn’t quite believe she’d done that. Jerking a man off, and in her own bathtub no less. Put that way, it sounded crude, but it hadn’t been. There had been something about the situation, a purity of spirit, so that being sexual with him had been natural. Taking him in her hands had felt almost—religious?
Immediately she backed off from that thought. No religion she’d ever known would have classified the sex act she’d performed as a holy rite. But then, she wasn’t dealing with a modern religion. Nick had said Aphredite, or whatever her name was, was the goddess of physical pleasure and had brought him to life to learn about sex. Maybe it was the goddess’s influence, making her want to be his teacher.
How did she feel about that? There had been no question about it in the bathtub. A thrill went through her as she remembered the tentative touch of his hand on her breast. What would it have felt like if he’d been certain of his welcome? Suppose those perfect lips had kissed her breasts. Suppose he’d suckled her…a thrill sped through her at that thought.
And the feel of his erection in her hands had been wonderful. He’d been so responsive to her touch and knowing she was giving him pleasure had been empowering. For the first time since Gary left—no, scratch that, for the first time since she could remember—she felt at peace with herself.
Giving Nick pleasure had helped her. Maybe this was what she needed, a couple of nights spent in pleasure with a man who’d be gone in just a few days. No awkward goodbyes, no muss, no fuss.
The perfect one-night stand, because one night…well, two nights would be all they had, all they could ever have. The idea had merit.
Searching the closet, she finally found a pair of faded button-fly Levi’s that Gary had gotten too heavy for and a sweatshirt he’d picked up at a sci-fi convention, stuffed in a bag in one corner. On the shirt a leering little green man held up a sign that read, “Mars needs Women—Prefer blonde, 38-24-36, must cook, brains optional. Apply here.” Tacky, but it looked warm. Nick might not mind, particularly as he couldn’t read English.
Hurrying down the hall with her finds, she encountered her handsome visitor leaving the bathroom. The towel he’d wrapped around his waist did little to hide his appeal and as he spotted her, she could swear the towel bounced a little in front.
Nick was happy to see her in more ways than one.
Suddenly feeling awkward after their close encounter of the sexual kind, she thrust the clothes at him. “Here. Get into these while I make dinner.”
“Dinner? You mean food?” An odd light came into his eyes. “I hadn’t thought of that. I can eat now.” Eagerly he took the bundle. “Can you make—” He named dishes she’d never heard of.
She raised her hand. “Sorry. I don’t know how to make anything like that. Tacos are as ethnic as I get, and they aren’t from your part of the world. Why don’t I do tuna with noodles? That can be pretty exotic.”
For an instant disappointment tugged his mouth into a frown and made his eyes sad, but then as quickly as it had been there, it disappeared under his sweet smile. “Whatever you make, I’m sure I’ll love it.”
Violet suppressed a groan as she watched him traverse the hallway to the bedroom, his perfect backside barely covered by the towel. Gary had never been so cooperative when it came to meals. She had a feeling Nick was going to spoil her for other men.
* * * * *
Heavenly smells came through the door of the room Violet had labeled the kitchen. Dressed in the pants and shirt she’d given him, Nick paused outside, took a deep whiff. Having senses again was a wonderful thing. It had been so long since he could do more than hear or see and even that had been the result of divine intervention. Smell, taste, and touch, especially touch, felt new, it had been so many centuries since he’d experienced them.
This smell he could not recognize. There was something familiar about it, perhaps fish, but otherwise he hadn’t a clue as to what it was. He pushed through the door, eager to investigate further.
Violet stood near the cooking surface she’d labeled a stove earlier, flames coming from under a couple of the round black things that dotted the top. She had a round metal object he recognized as a can in her hand, and was scooping bits of white meat from it into a black handled pan, using a forked utensil. A larger pot sat nearby and bubbled merrily over the blue flame beneath it. Violet threw an uneasy glance over her shoulder at him. “I hope this is okay. I’ve never fed a former statue before. Suppose you can’t eat normal food?”
A stool stood nearby. He grabbed it and moved it closer so he could watch her work. “I’m sure it will be fine. Aphrodite knows what’s she’s doing. She wouldn’t turn me human, then leave it so I could only eat gravel.”
His joke made Violet laugh, a bright sound that warmed Nick. He’d have to make jokes more often.
At the intoxicating odor coming from the pan, his stomach gave an unfamiliar lurch and made a growling noise, audible above the sounds of the bubbling pot. Surprise filled Violet’s face, followed by a sweet grin that left him feeling warm and cozy. “Well, that sounds like a favorable reaction.”
She finished stirring the meat into the pot, which he could now see held a thick creamy liquid. Opening a large white cabinet nearby, she grabbed a bag with bright colored pictures of cut vegetables on it, emptying a goodly amount into the pan. As she was returning it to the cabinet, his curiosity got the better of him, and he intercepted it before she could replace it.
The bag was very cold on the outside, frost forming from the humidity in the kitchen. He poured some of the chopped bits of what looked like vegetables into his palm. Orange colored squares, green tubes, yellow kernels, and tiny green ovals filled his hand. They were cold and stiff to the touch. He held out his hand. “What are these?”
“Carrots, green beans, corn, and peas.” She took his palm and dumped the contents into the pot. “Frozen, of course. Not as nutritious as fresh, but convenient.”
A single yellow kernel clung to his palm. He put it into his mouth and chewed it. His first solid food in three thousand years and it was…he grimaced…not very good. Cold, crunchy, and almost tasteless. He thought of spitting it out but unwilling to make a scene swallowed the offensive item instead.
Violet watched his face, reading his reaction. “Don’t worry. They taste better when cooked.” That hope buoying him, he watched as she poured pale thin strips from another bag into the boiling water. He reached out and again managed to snatch some from the air. They weren’t cold like the vegetables were, but equally hard. Experimentally he tried one, chewing it carefully. At first it crunched, then dissolved into a tasteless paste on his tongue. With great determination, he finished that too.
He let the rest of the strips drop into the water and returned to the stool to mourn quietly. His first meal in three thousand years and it had no flavor or texture to it at all.
Something was very clearly wrong with this world.
Violet’s lips were twitching with amusement as she put the rest of the ingredients for their meal away. Opening the cabinet where the cold food was, she pulled out a glass bottle, green in color. “Perhaps you will find this more to your liking.” After pulling the stopper with a metal screw, she poured some into a clear glass goblet and handed it to him.
After his previous experiences, Nick sniffed the contents warily. The odor was sharp, with an undertone of sweet, the cold tickling his nose. With an attitude of sheer optimism, he sipped.
Oh, merciful heavens. Wondrous nectar of the Gods—it was wine! Cold as a snow-fed stream, tart as a newly ripe apple, yet sweet at the same time like just-picked grapes. Delicious, delectable, delightful. For a moment he let the golden fluid linger on his tongue until it warmed, and filled his mouth and nose with its essence. Then he swallowed and felt the richness flow to his stomach and a warm glow spread to his fingers and toes.
Speechless, he opened his eyes to see Violet sipping from her own glass. She smiled appreciatively. “Not bad for a cheap Chardonnay, I must
admit.” Putting her glass down, she returned to the cooking area. “If you’ll set the table, dinner will be just a few minutes.”
Confusion arose. “Set the table?”
She laughed again. Pointing to some doors over his head, she fed him instructions. “Get the plates from there, silverware is in the drawer underneath.”
Eager to please, but unclear what to do, he opened the doors. Thin plates decorated with a pleasing blue pattern were stacked on a shelf. He took two. Opening the drawer, he discovered a plethora of metal pieces, some recognizable like the knife, others he had no idea what to do with. Some were forked like the one she’d used on the meat. Those seemed the most useful, so he grabbed a pair of them, as well as the matching knives.
The kitchen had a table with four chairs set up in the corner. He took his finds there, arranged a fork, knife, and plate next to two of the chairs. He turned to see Violet’s approving smile. “You learn fast.”
“I try. There is much to learn tonight.”
At his oblique reference to their earlier encounter, she blushed, covering her discomfort by sipping more wine.
Nick watched as Violet drained the water from the cooked white strips and put them and the sauce in bowls, which she placed on the table, then took the seat next to him. Spooning some of the strips into the middle of his plate, she covered it with the sauce.
Using his fork to push the food around, he eyed it with apprehension. It certainly smelled better than he’d expected. Next to him, Violet scooped up a forkful of noodles covered with sauce and ate it, obviously relishing the mouthful.
With a resigned sigh, Nick did the same. Astonishment filled him at the subtle taste of the sauce, flavored by the sharp saltiness of the meat, and the blander but still recognizable vegetables. The pale strips were the biggest surprise. Cooked, they were delicious, a wonderful counterpart to the sauce.
When he looked again at Violet, she was quietly laughing. “I guess it tastes better than you expected. Noodles aren’t meant to be eaten raw, and the vegetables are more for texture than taste. Not haute cuisine, but not bad either.”
“Not bad at all,” he managed between mouthfuls. “Best I’ve eaten in three thousand years.” He washed some of it down with the wine and held up his goblet. “And this is wonderful.”
“Three thousand years. Has it really been that long?”
“Since I’ve eaten, yes. When I died, my soul drifted for the longest time, a part of the curse. Then a sculptor was inspired to create my image, and my spirit became tied to that. After that, I’ve known homes, museums, and gardens.” He finished another two bites of dinner, in ecstasy again. “I like the gardens best. The one in your park is my favorite.”
Curiosity colored the blue of her eyes, made them brighter. Already attractive, Nick found her enchanting with her questioning look. “Why would you like gardens best? And why our park?”
“I like gardens because they have people in them. A garden is a place to play, to relax. People in museums are sometimes tense. They often don’t want to be there. No one is forced to go to a garden.” Three more bites disappeared. He began to ration them, put fewer noodles in each bite, so he would have more to savor.
“And the park? Why is ours your favorite?”
He put down the fork and gently took her hand. Staring into her face, he noticed the blush over his blatant caress along her fingers. “I liked your park because it is where I could see you.”
Flustered, but clearly pleased, she pulled her hand away. He released it without comment; there would be time later. He picked up his glass to sip more of the ambrosial wine, feeling its heady warmth cushion his mind against the real world around him. He and Violet ate their dinner in a silence of appreciation of good food, good wine, and good company that needed no conversation.
A ringing sound interrupted the peace that had descended. Violet startled at the noise, then even more at the sound of a key in the lock of the front door.
“Excuse me,” she murmured, then stood and left the room.
Nick finished the last of his dinner, waited a moment then followed her path to the front room near the door.
Violet stood face-to-face with a man roughly Nick’s height, but quite a bit heavier. Sandy brown hair covered his head and chin, and angry black eyes stared out of a face more doughy than anything else.
“What do you mean I should have called first?” he was saying, his voice a low growl.
This must be Gary. Nick had never seen him, but he recognized the man’s nasal twang.
Arms folded, Violet’s former boyfriend glared down into her face. “Why should I call—it’s not like you’d be doing anything. I’m just here to pick up the rest of my things.”
He started to move around her, then noticed Nick standing in the doorway. The look of pure shock on his face was something to behold, and Nick felt satisfaction at the man’s discomfort.
“What’s this guy doing here?” Gary asked with a baleful glance. Another glance took in the sweatshirt. “Hey, he’s wearing my shirt!”
Violet’s hands fluttered. “His clothes were wet… I didn’t think you’d mind.”
Gary struck a belligerent pose. “Well I do mind. Tell him to take them off!”
Violet moved between them. “But we got caught in the rain and he hasn’t anything else that’s dry. I’ll wash them and get them to you later.”
With a rough gesture, Gary shoved her aside and took two threatening steps toward Nick. Nick held up a placating hand.
“It’s all right. He can have his clothes.” With one smooth motion he pulled off the sweatshirt, placing it onto the chair behind him. Then he unbuttoned the fly of the jeans, one button at a time, all the time staring at the other man. When he was done, he stepped out of them and laid the jeans on the chair as well.
Gary stared at him, his head bobbing up and down. “You’re naked!”
Nick put his hands on his hips and glanced down as well. “Very observant. That happens when clothes are removed, right Violet?” When he looked over at her, she seemed to be suppressing a giggle.
Glaring, Gary turned on her. “What’s a naked man doing here?”
It was obviously becoming harder for Violet to suppress her amusement. “Well—he wasn’t naked before you made him take off his clothes.”
Gary struck a threatening pose. “My clothes,” he reminded her.
“Yes, that’s right. Your clothes.” Nick reentered the conversation. He indicated the pile on the chair. “There they are. You can have them, but you should leave the key in their place.”
“What?” Gary spluttered. “I don’t have to listen to you!”
Violet broke in. “No, but you do have to listen to me. You can have the clothes, but leave the key. I’m tired of coming home and finding things missing around here.”
Gary’s piggy eyes narrowed further. “You had it too good when I lived with you. I’ll take my stuff and when I’m done I’ll send you the key.” He moved to grab the clothes off the chair.
With a smooth motion, Nick grabbed his arm and tossed the man over his back, landing him hard on the carpeting. One powerful arm wrapped around Gary’s neck in a wrestling chokehold Nick had learned three thousand years ago.
Athenian boys learned to wrestle at a very early age.
Helpless, the other man struggled in vain to free himself, looking astonished at how easy Nick had disabled him. Leaning forward, Nick whispered into his ear. “You are done coming here and disturbing this lady. You can take the clothes, but give us the key.” He tightened his hold, and Gary’s eyes bugged out. “Don’t make me hurt you.”
Gary’s hand reached out still clutching the key and Violet darted forward to snatch it away. Slowly, Nick released his hold, allowing the man to catch his breath then helping him to his feet. He watched sternly as Gary grabbed the clothes from the chair and backed up out of the house.
On reaching the door, some of his bluster returned. “You haven’t heard the last of me, Violet
.” He glared at Nick. “I’ll sue!”
The last of Violet’s control was broken and she burst into laughter. She waved the key at him. “Sue who, Gary? The public park?”
Confusion covered the man’s face as she slammed and bolted the door behind him.
Chapter Five
Violet’s giggles finally wore down and she shook her head at her visitor. “You’re naked again.”
Nick looked down at himself, not the least bit embarrassed. “That keeps happening.” He slid a sly smile at her. “Perhaps it’s a sign from the gods.”
She snickered at that. “Very funny, Nick. I guess I’ll try and find something else for you.” Turning, she started for her bedroom, but his hand caught her before she took two steps.
“The clothes you gave me…they were his?”
“Yes…” she answered, uncertain.
Nick folded his arms across his bare chest. “I will wear nothing of his.”
Violet exploded. “But I don’t have any other clothes that would fit you.”
His eyes narrowed and his mouth turned down into a stubborn frown. “It is not important that I wear something tonight. I’m not here to wear clothes and I will have nothing to do with something that belongs to that man.”
She paled. “I suppose that goes for me, too.”
Nick blinked at her, disbelief in his expression. Then his face darkened in anger. “You think of yourself that way, as that man’s property?” His emphasis left no doubt as to his opinion of Gary.
He captured her hand and put his other arm around her waist, drawing her to him. “You are your own person, Violet, my perfect woman, a woman deserving of love. I want you to see that. I offered to worship Aphrodite in order to gain the life I needed to prove it to you.”
Violet Among The Roses Page 4