Violet Among The Roses

by Cricket Starr

  If it hadn’t been for his amazing ignorance earlier, she’d never have believed him to be an innocent at oral lovemaking…he was just too good at it! Not the least bit shy, not the littlest bit self-conscious, Nick simply dove in with teeth, lips, and tongue. Especially tongue. He was driving her wild. As she felt another earth-shattering orgasm approaching, Violet gave up fighting it. She ran her hands into Nick’s hair, feeling the silky strands slide against her fingers as he continued to work on bringing her to orgasm.

  Like a mighty ocean wave, the climax crashed over her, tossed her, turned her, enveloped her in overwhelming sensation, and she screamed his name at its peak. It seemed to go on for hours, immersing her mind in passionate depths, and when at last it was over, leaving her to drift, Nick still continued to lap away at the sweetness between her legs.

  Nick had opened his eyes to watch when her muscles clenched underneath him, and added another image of Violet to carry with him. Even the pull on his hair failed to disturb him so intent he was on giving her pleasure.

  Finally, as the tremors stilled and her breathing became even, he lifted his head from her still-throbbing mound. Licking his lips to catch the last trace of her nectar, he rose to his knees. His own aroused member stuck straight in front of him, its hardness painful. At once he wanted to know something of what she’d felt.

  “Violet,” he licked his lips again, watching her face. “My penis is swollen again.”

  Violet’s laugh sounded shaky. “It has many names, Nick. Penis, cock, prick.”

  “Cock.” That was the name of a jaunty rooster, and Nick certainly felt like that tonight. He laughed. “That’s a good name. Anyway, I was wondering if you would use your mouth on my cock.”

  Her eyes widened and she sat up. Mouth in a shy smile, she pushed him onto his back. “I’m not that good at this.”

  “You’ll be fine. I’ll let you know what I like. Just follow my lead like I did you.”

  Violet’s beautiful lips closed over the tip of his cock, drawing him into her mouth, and for a moment, he thought he would die of happiness. Moist, wet, hot—her mouth was everything he could have imagined and much more. She sucked and ran her tongue across the narrow opening at the tip, using her hand to stroke him.

  Oh, bliss indeed, sweet Goddess, it was bliss to have the mouth of the woman he loved kissing him in this so special way. He’d never again imagine Violet’s mouth without seeing it wrapped around his cock.

  He felt the urge to push further into her and his hips took up a rocking motion he didn’t know they could do. The feeling of before came back, from the bathtub, the sensation of an impending explosion and he nearly let it happen.

  Just as it built, a memory impinged, of the many couples he’d overheard in the garden, the number of times a woman would complain of her man “finishing too soon.”

  He caught Violet’s face in mid-stroke, stopping her. Catching his breath, he spoke, his voice harsh in his ears. “I don’t know how many times I can do this in a night and I don’t want to spend myself just yet.”

  She pulled him from her mouth and the head of his penis glistened, slick, hard and ready. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted—I’m sorry.” There was fear in her eyes and voice and for a moment it confused him. Then he realized she was afraid she’d angered him, probably the way some other man had been angry with her.

  “No, don’t be sorry. Don’t ever be sorry with me, Violet. I just want to love you, love all of you the way men and women do.” Nick sat up and gathered her into his arms, kissed the worried look off her face and showed how much he wanted her.

  There was only one thing left to do, and they both knew it. Apprehensively Violet opened the drawer next to the bed. “I know that you can’t make me sick, but I’m not on the pill, and…” Her voice trailed off as her hand emerged from the drawer with a small square package.

  Again his experiences in the park helped him know what she held. Protection—she’d spoke of it before, and that’s what this was. A condom, if he had the name for it right. Once more his heart sank a little at the thought that no child would result from the love he had for her. He’d leave behind nothing to show he’d been here but a pleasant memory.

  But could he really expect anything else? How could he ask Violet to carry his child when she’d have to do it alone? It wouldn’t be fair, not to her, not to the child left fatherless. He couldn’t be that selfish.

  Someday Violet would meet a wonderful man, maybe one who would remind her of him and the love they’d shared tonight. When that happened she could get pregnant and visit him in the park. He’d see her pregnant someday, if not with his own seed, then with that of someone else and it would have to be enough.

  He took the package and gave her a reassuring smile. “I know this is needed, Violet. Don’t worry so much.” He eyed it with some trepidation. “I could use some help though, getting it on.”

  Her laugh was shaky as she tore open the package and removed the rolled sheath. Placing it on the tip, she carefully rolled it into place, covering him completely.

  It felt tight but not unpleasant, and when she stroked him through it he felt wonderful. Then he looked into her eyes and saw the gratitude at his understanding and he felt even better. It was good to be a responsible man, if responsibility resulted in such affection from the woman he loved.

  When Nick was ready, Violet lay on her back and directed him to lie on top of her. He fit himself between her legs, felt the opening to her damp with her desire, and fit his condom-clad shaft to it. He pushed forward and felt her stiffen then relax as the tip slipped in. Nick caught his breath at the sensation, the warmth and tightness of her. Gazing into her eyes, he saw the same pleasure as he felt, that she loved the feel of him inside her. Experimentally he pushed further in and her moan almost matched his. Her hips moved and they slid together, centers meeting, his cock embedded deeply within her.

  The sensation was fantastic, amazing, like nothing he’d ever known. Even the feel of the condom wasn’t a detriment. She contracted around him and he almost lost control.

  But he wasn’t going to let this end any sooner than he could help. He’d feel his Violet climax again, with him inside her, before he took his pleasure.

  Instead he took command and pulled back, then forward again in the simple rhythm that had come so naturally before. Her smile wide, Violet welcomed him, her arms caressing his back, lingering on his buttocks when they drove in again. She kept pace with him and it became as a dance between them, in and out, back and forth, a lover’s dance to a music only they could sense, the music of love.

  It was the first time for him, the first time for her with him, but it didn’t feel that way. Instead it was as if they’d done this before a hundred times or more, so natural, so familiar it seemed. Love was between them, new love, but old love as well. They were lovers now, and lovers are never really new to this dance…it comes too naturally.

  Perhaps it was the Goddess’ influence that made this so simple. Entwined in Nick’s arms, his cock buried deep within her, all Violet could think of was how dear and precious this night was, how much she desired this odd but wonderful man. It barely registered that these few moments were all there would be with him.

  Nick knew intimately this was all he would have of Violet, all he could hope to ever have, but could not dwell on that at the moment. How could he when he made love with the woman he desired above all others, and she loved him as well. This was the apex of his life, the culmination of his existence. Two days from now he’d once again be the centerpiece of a garden, but tonight he was Violet’s lover.

  He whispered loving words into her ears as they moved together, tasted the sweetness of her lips, the softness of her breasts pillowing him as he rocked against her.

  It was heaven to be as one with her and he poured his heart out to her in words and gestures, in soft moans of pleasure.

  Wonderful, wonderful.

  Under him, Violet stiffened, her eyes growing wide and she moved
harder with him, driving him to a peak of need he could no longer ignore. With a cry she completed, body pulsing, her hands clenched and face rapt. Her vagina tightened around his cock and he lost control, allowed the spiraled passion to carry him into orgasm.

  It was like before, an explosion in his brain, a physical surge in his belly, deep pulsations in his cock that throbbed with his release. The inside of the condom grew hot as it filled and trapped the semen that flooded out of him.

  He answered her cry with an inarticulate version of her name and collapsed on top of her, gasping into the pillow beside her.

  A prayer formed in his mind. Beautiful, sweet, charming Aphrodite, I will worship at your altar forever.

  Chapter Seven

  Moving to one side, Nick pulled Violet into his arms, cuddled her close as her breathing began to slow. So this was love. He kissed Violet, his emotions twisted and turned, the physical tumult of passion’s remains mixing nicely with his wishes, wants, and desires.

  One thought stood out—this woman was his. His love, his woman, if only for tonight and tomorrow night.

  Twenty-four hours in a day…the goddess had given him thirty-six hours to learn about love.

  It sounded like a long time.

  It wasn’t.

  Tonight, tomorrow, tomorrow night. How much of this night did he have left, how much time before dawn? He glanced at the timepiece on the bedside table, recognizing it as a larger form of the small disks people wore on their wrists in the park, but he couldn’t read it. What did those squiggles mean? So much he didn’t know, even how to tell time.

  “What time is it?” he asked.

  She glanced at the clock. “Just after eight o’clock.”

  “And dawn will be?”

  “A little after six I think.”

  Twenty-four hours in a day and he had until dawn the following day. Ten hours left of this night, plus twenty-four, thirty-four hours to spend with her, learn her secrets and hold her close.

  Thirty-four hours—not nearly long enough. He nuzzled her neck. “What do lovers do…when they aren’t making love?”

  He felt her smile. “They talk. About things they have in common, things they want to do. Sometimes things in the past—sometimes the future.”

  Nick sighed. He had no future with Violet, just a long stint of staring into a pool to look forward to. But even if he could stay, what would he do? He couldn’t read, write, or do numbers in this modern time. Illiterate and inexperienced as he was, he wasn’t prepared to live in Violet’s world.

  She seemed to be thinking something similar. “What did you do, Nick, when you were a man?”

  “I was the son of a merchant who wished me to become a scholar. I studied in town, learned to read and write. In Greek, of course. I was good at it.

  Violet nuzzled in closer to him and rubbed her hand across his chest, toying lazily with his nipples. Tingles started to come from them, and Nick was disappointed when she stopped.

  “Perhaps you could become a historian. You probably know a lot about ancient Greece.”

  Well, that was certainly true. “But there is so much I don’t know, Violet. Even if I could stay…”

  “You’re smart. I bet you could learn.”

  Could he? Maybe. At least he should learn to tell time, if only so he wouldn’t always be asking Violet how much time he had left.

  Nick pointed to the clock. “Maybe we could start with something easy. How do you tell time?”

  * * * * *

  Nick was smart. Dressed in her robe, Violet watched as he carefully copied the numbers she’d shown him onto a legal pad, his dark eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, only a sheet providing modesty, he scowled at one of the numbers on the bright yellow legal pad she’d found for him, and erased it, replacing it with the correct value.

  What had started as him learning to count from one to twelve so he could understand a clock, had quickly turned into a full-fledged numbers lesson. Nick had learned mathematics as a child, using Greek acrophonic numbers, a system similar to Roman numerals. After she’d showed him the modern English number equivalents it took him but twenty minutes to master the advantages of a base-ten numbering system.

  He chewed the end of the pencil thoughtfully. “This is far more efficient. I can write very large numbers using fewer symbols.” He wrote down the number 9999. “It would take me thirty-six symbols to do this.” He eyed the pencil. “And this is much less cumbersome than a stylus to use.”

  Nick raised a hopeful eyebrow. “Do you suppose you could show me how to read some of your symbols for words?” he asked eagerly.

  She laughed. “Maybe later. You’re going to be here tomorrow.”

  A hungry look came into his eyes that Violet recognized. Immediately her center responded with a flood of desire. “Well, then…what else can we do?” he asked in a husky voice.

  A bell rang from the distant living room, startling them both. Violet’s eyes widened and she stared at the clock, just as the bell rang again. She jumped from the bed, her face showing a dawning horror.

  “Oh, no, I forgot! It’s group night!”

  “Group night?” Nick stared in confusion as Violet hopped about the room, grabbing yet another sweatshirt adorned with painted flowers, this time daffodils, and another pair of her apparently unending supply of baggy jeans.

  She struggled with one of her shoes while answering him. “Group night. I forgot, it’s group night, and I’m hosting. I’m in this group, for women…” She got the one shoe on and looked under the bed for the second. “…women who’ve had trouble with men. We meet on Thursday evenings at nine o’clock for dessert and…” Obviously spying it, she disappeared beneath the mattress, her voice muffled. “…talk.”

  “Talk?” Nick wrapped the sheet around him, trying to make sense of Violet’s turbulent running around.

  “Yes, talk.” Dressed, Violet paused in the doorway. “Talk about what bastards men are.” A third time the bell rang, this time far more insistent, the buzzer going a long time before easing off. Violet threw a desperate glance at Nick. “I can’t explain you. Just stay here and be quiet while I’m gone. It’ll only be an hour or so.”

  * * * * *

  “Well, good riddance, Abbey, that’s what I say.” Marge leaned back and took another sip of her decaf coffee, condemnation and scorn decorating her face. “There isn’t a man alive that’s worth our tears.”

  Violet watched as Ali and Helen nodded in agreement with their outspoken friend. Both were two years divorced, same as Marge. She and Abbey were the only ones who’d never been married, but like the other three, their relationships with men had rarely been anything but disastrous in the long run.

  Gary at least had lived with her for a while. Abbey’s boyfriend wanted to move in, but the military kept him hopping from one location to another.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Abbey said softly, her gentle expression showing her dismay. “It wasn’t like Howard wanted to leave me. But when the army says you need to go, you need to go.”

  Marge helped herself to another brownie from the plate and spoke around the mouthful. “If he’d really loved you, he wouldn’t have left, even if he’d had to desert.”

  “But they put people in jail for that. Besides, Howard has too much honor to desert his post. What do you think, Violet?” Abbey appealed. “You don’t think he should have gone to jail for me.”

  “No, of course not.” Sometimes Marge went too far, this definitely being one of those times. No way a man should go to jail for his ladylove - any more than he should return to being a statue, she realized, comparing her problem to Abbey’s. Both of them had men who wanted to stay, only to be ordered elsewhere.

  Why couldn’t Nick stay here with her? What would happen if he didn’t return to the park? Maybe if he didn’t, Aphrodiddy, or whatever her name was wouldn’t be able to turn him back into a statue.

  Surely by now Nick had served his punishment for self-absorption,
even in the minds of the gods who must have memories as long as their lives. Nick certainly wasn’t a man who only thought of himself now. When he made love to her, it was her pleasure he sought first, not his own.

  Nick was the most unselfish man she’d ever been in bed with. If only there was something she could do for him.

  Violet settled back on the couch, trying to ignore the lump under the cushions from the clothes she’d stuck there before answering the door. She’d spent a scant few moments to clean the place up after leaving the bedroom, grabbing her clothes from the floor next to the couch and hiding them.

  Fortunately, jeans and sweatshirts didn’t wrinkle badly, but they did add bulk to the cushion underneath her. Sipping her own decaf coffee, she tried to stay focused on the conversation around her rather than wondering what Nick was up to in her bedroom.

  “Well, at least Violet’s doing all right,” Marge’s deep voice boomed approvingly. “I would have expected to find you in a puddle of tears after that jerk dumped you.”

  She had been…but that was before Nick. Not that she could tell them that…

  “Who is THAT?” Ali’s mouth dropped open from her spot on the chair facing the hallway. Turning, Violet spied her green robe clinging to a much larger frame, disappearing from the hallway into the bathroom. After a while, a thin trickling sound came through the open doorway.

  Three thousand years as a statue must not have interfered with his needing the toilet. Of course, she remembered, they’d drunk a fair amount of wine. For a moment she wondered if he’d understand how to use the facility, then the sound of flushing answered the question. She smiled—very clever these ancient Greeks.

  Then she turned to face her audience and heat permeated her cheeks under the steady stares of her friends.

  “Why, Violet. Were you entertaining?” Marge asked in a dangerously sweet voice.

  “No wonder she’s not upset over Gary.” Helen added.

  Violet fought the urge to tell them to go to Hades and kick them all out of the house. “Nick is an old friend of mine,” she said. Well, that was true enough. Three thousand years certainly counted as old, and she’d known him most of her life… sort of. “He’s staying with me.”