Violet Among The Roses

by Cricket Starr

  “Oh really? Staying in your bedroom?” Ali questioned, her eyes dancing with dangerous humor.

  The splashing sounds from the bathroom ended and Nick reappeared. He was moving surreptitiously down the hall, as if trying not to be noticed.

  Ali called after him. “Hey, Nick! Come in here and introduce yourself!”

  Freezing in place, he turned slowly, cautiously, as if debating what to do. Then, resignation screaming from his posture, he approached the living room, apprehension written all over his handsome face. His approach made Violet think of a Christian facing the lions in a Roman coliseum. On entry to the room, his gaze darted between their faces. When it landed on Violet, quiet regret was in his eyes.

  “I couldn’t wait to go any longer,” he whispered. She tried to convey her understanding with a quick shrug and a smile, and some of the concern in his face melted away.

  Then Marge spoke. “So, you’ve known Violet long?”

  “Most of her life,” he answered, wariness returning to his stance.

  “Where did you meet?”

  “In the park. When Violet was a child.” He smiled at her, and even with the stress of the moment Violet found herself melting under his warm regard. “She was a beautiful child.”

  The cross-examination continued. “Oh? You live near here? How come we haven’t seen you before?”

  “I don’t exactly live here…” Nick began.

  Fearing an explanation that would raise more questions than answers and involve unusual deities, Violet jumped into the fray. “Nick’s only here for a short time. Just a couple of nights, actually. On business.”

  Helen snickered and eyed the robe, which barely fit across Nick’s chest. “Business? What’s he doing in your robe?”

  “My clothes got wet in the rain,” Nick told her.

  “And the airline lost his luggage,” Violet improvised wildly. “Nick’s looking into a position at the university in the ancient studies department and is only here overnight.”

  “And he’s really just a good friend,” Marge finished with an amused air. “So, good friend Nick, what did you think of Gary?”

  A scowl twisted Nick’s handsome face. “The man is pond scum,” he said flatly. “Completely unworthy of Violet’s affections.”

  All four other women burst into laughter and applause, while Violet squirmed under their amusement. Nick didn’t have to be quite so blunt.

  “We’ve been telling her that for months,” Helen got out between guffaws.

  “No man is worthy of a woman’s affections,” Marge noted scornfully. “That’s what I always say. None of them can be trusted further than they can be tossed.”

  “I don’t believe that’s true,” Nick said. “There are many men deserving a woman’s love. I’ve seen it time and time again, people in love. Not every man is like Gary. Most aren’t like him… but you have to know what to look for, what makes a man a good lover.”

  Marge eyed Nick like a cat would a mouse…just before pouncing. “Okay, expert. What makes a man a good lover?”

  “Caring, for one thing. Caring for more than just himself. It doesn’t even have to be that a man cares for a particular woman. The man who picks up loose paper in the park so it doesn’t foul the duck pond, or the one who makes sure his dog doesn’t leave a mess on the pathway—these men are worthy of love, because they take care of the world.”

  “So, you’re suggesting we hang out in the park and look for losers who pick up after their dogs?” As usual, Marge’s voice had gone beyond skeptical into pure scorn and Violet cringed at her friend’s ill temper being turned on an innocent like Nick. He didn’t deserve Marge making fun of him.

  But she couldn’t really blame Marge, either. She knew the source of the woman’s pain. Her husband of seven years had left her when she’d undergone surgery for breast cancer, telling her he’d hadn’t signed on to live with a woman who wasn’t whole anymore. The fact that her Harry had become half again the size he’d been when they’d married, with a beer gut and thinning hair to boot, didn’t seemed to strike him as important. He could have done something about his belly, at least. Certainly Marge would never have divorced him over it.

  But Marge being one breast less made her too flawed for him, so abandon her he had. Now that was a man who was pond-scum.

  Nick’s thoughtful smile suggested he hadn’t understood Marge’s sarcasm and had taken her question as serious. “There are worse places to meet someone. A lot of nice people go to the park.”

  He thought for a moment. “For example, I know one man who brings his little girl to the park every afternoon to play. He loves her very much but taking care of her in the afternoon and evenings doesn’t give him many opportunities to meet nice women. If one of you were to go there, maybe with a book to read, perhaps you could find him.”

  Helen perked up and Violet remembered how she loved children but had been unable to have any of her own. “A little girl? How old?”

  Nick shook his head. “I’m not very good with ages, but they’ve been coming there for a few years. I guess she must be six or so.”

  “A six-year-old girl…” Helen’s face grew wistful as her voice trailed off.

  “Then there is a big man who has a booming voice. He comes and sits on the bench in the rose garden on Saturday afternoons. He feeds the ducks and I’ve heard him talking to them. He’s very lonely since his wife died, they used to feed them together.” Nick glanced over at Marge thoughtfully. “His wife was something like you.”

  Now Marge’s eyes held a thoughtful expression, but suspicion crossed Ali’s thin face. “How is it you know so much about the people who hang out in the park when you’re from out of town?”

  “I’ve spent far more time in the park than anywhere else when I’ve been here. It’s a lovely place.”

  Abbey laughed. “No wonder you’ve got so much in common with Violet. The park has always been her favorite place. When we were girls she’d always want to spend the afternoon there. I didn’t mind though, I loved it too. Beautiful trees and lawns, and the gardens are lovely.”

  “Me, I like that statue they have there,” Ali added. “The marble one of the man staring into the pool. He’s a real hunk, if you ask me. Too bad they had to put clothes on him.”

  “A real hunk?” Nick laughed. “You think so?”

  “Sure, ask anyone…that guy is yummy. I wish I could meet the model for it,” she said with a grin.

  A surge of unreasonable jealousy sped through Violet. Not that she cared that Ali liked staring at the mostly naked Nick when he was a statue. It was the way her friend stared at the non-marble Nick that burned her up.

  Ali nudged Violet gently with her elbow, a mischievous grin on her face. “You’ve always had a little thing for him, too, haven’t you, Violet? I’ve seen you spending lots of quality time with that statue in the park.”

  Violet resisted the temptation to elbow her friend back, much harder. “I’ve always loved spending time in the park, Ali. And it wasn’t the statue’s body I was staring at.”

  Chapter Eight

  Nick listened to them banter, leaning against the edge of the couch, his fingers resting on the cushion behind Violet’s head. The urge to run his hand down the back of her neck and feel her smooth skin was overwhelming, but he didn’t dare do anything of the sort at this point, not with her friends there.

  He shouldn’t even be in the room with them. Violet had made it clear he was supposed to stay hidden until they were gone, but when nature called, it called. After so many centuries of not having bodily functions, he’d been surprised at how fast his new form adjusted to being alive. Nick had hoped to sneak down the hall and make it back before he’d been noticed… but, of course, they’d noticed him.

  Now he’d embarrassed Violet, who obviously didn’t want her friends to know they were lovers… if only temporarily.

  A dismal thought occurred to him. Maybe she only wanted him for the time they had and even if he could stay longer, sh
e wouldn’t want him anymore. He gazed at her beautiful profile in melancholy appreciation.

  It didn’t matter if she didn’t want him for longer—he couldn’t stay anyway. Aphrodite would never agree to let him stay for more than the time he’d been given. She couldn’t, not without risking the anger of the gods who’d sentenced him in the first place. While the goddess might risk a reprimand or two in the pursuit of her own amusements, she’d never go against the others.

  The women were still discussing the merits of men he’d mentioned, the lonely ones from the park. Perhaps they would take his advice and go there, look for the men who deserved love. Maybe his being here could change their futures. There was some hope in that and he should feel good about it.

  But he didn’t. He was one lonely man who didn’t have a future and who would never deserve love.

  Nick cleared his throat and caught their attention, the strangely beautiful faces of Violet’s friends turning toward him. So different from the faces of stone he was used to…imperfect, flawed, yet gloriously lovely in their humanity. Their smiles warmed him in a way he’d rarely known before.

  Only Violet’s smile set him on fire. He glanced down at her and felt the now familiar raging in his blood and loins, and was grateful for the covering bagginess of the robe.

  “It was nice meeting you, but I should leave you alone and let you get on with your meeting,” he said and rose to leave the room.

  As one, the other four women leapt to their feet. “Oh, we’d better be going, ourselves,” Marge said, with a side-glance at Violet. “It would be rude for Violet to ignore you when you’re only going to be here a short time.”

  “Oh, yes…very rude,” Ali added, grinning. “We’ll just show ourselves out.”

  While the four grabbed their coats and hastened to take empty cups to the kitchen, Violet put up a mild protest that everyone ignored. Soon the group was moving through the door, hugging and kissing cheeks and promising to catch up next week, this time at Helen’s house.

  It was Ali who had the final comment on his presence. “Lovely meeting you, Nick, and I’ll see you around the park!” she chirped as she pulled her car keys from her pocket.

  He smiled at her, hiding the sadness he felt. “I’m sure you will.”

  She flashed him a grin and disappeared through the door and finally Nick and Violet were alone again.

  “Are you angry with me?”

  Violet turned to see Nick’s brown eyes dark with concern, uncertainty in his face. “Why would I be angry, Nick? You haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “I just thought…you were bothered that I was here when your friends were.”

  “It was awkward at first. I was afraid—well, never mind what I was afraid of.” Nick was from a different time and place and conversed with the goddess of physical love. How could she explain to him that intimacy as instant as theirs, the proverbial “one-night stand”, was normally forbidden to “nice girls” and that in spite of allowing Nick, practically a stranger, to stay with her tonight and make love to her, she was still a nice girl.

  She’d been afraid her friends would guess the truth about their relationship, make the logical jump to conclusions, particularly since he wouldn’t be there after tonight.

  But then she’d realized that if her friends judged her that way, they wouldn’t really be her friends. She laughed at the memory of their faces. “It was funny when you began matchmaking for them. Do those men really exist?”

  “Of course they do. I wouldn’t make them up.” Nick almost looked offended. “I couldn’t describe them because I’ve never been able to see them. Only yesterday was I able to see more than my own face in the fountain. But I’ve heard them speak, I’ve listened to them.”

  “It’d be funny to see if they go to the park and find out for themselves. I notice you didn’t suggest a man for me,” she teased.

  Pain crossed his features. “I…I don’t like thinking of you with someone else. I should though.” He shook his head, frustration ebbing from him. “I have so little to offer you.”

  His sweet concern touched her and she threw her arms around his waist, burying her head in his chest. Breathing deeply, she filled her lungs with his warm smell, of man and sweat, the result of their earlier lovemaking. “You offer me love, Nick. What more can any woman ask for?”

  He crushed her to him, the strength in his arms a surprise. “I would give you anything, Violet, if it would mean you’d stay with me. I would give anything to be with you. You say I give you love, but even that is only temporary, for a short time…too short.”

  “I’ll take what I’m given and appreciate it—a night, two, or a lifetime.” His pain became hers, their dilemma cutting deep into her soul. “If this is all we have, then let’s make the most of it.”

  She lifted her face to his, and he captured her mouth, drawing her into a long, lingering kiss. Lips slid against lips and tongues intertwined and once more Violet was overwhelmed by Nick’s flavor. She reveled in it, let her hands play across his back, the taut muscles under the robe.

  Leaning back, he had a peculiar expression on his face. “Your taste has changed.” Running his tongue over his lips, his eyes widened with appreciation. “What is that?”

  For a moment she wasn’t sure what it was either. Then realization hit and she pointed to the plate of brownies on the table. “We were having coffee and dessert.”

  “Coffee? Dessert?” Excitement took over Nick’s face. Then he seemed to remember his manners. “Could I have some?”

  Violet burst into laughter at his hopeful tone. “Of course, just a minute and I’ll get you a cup.”

  When she returned from the kitchen, a fresh cup in hand, Nick already had one of the brown squares in his hand and was eyeing it suspiciously. “It certainly smells good,” he told her, a dubious tone in his voice.

  Amused anticipation bubbling through her, Violet poured some decaffeinated brew into his cup and placed it before him. “Why don’t you take a little bite and see if you like it.”

  He did, just the tiniest nibble and his eyebrows shot clear to his hairline. “Oh praise the gods, that’s wonderful! What is it?”

  “Chocolate, Nick. That’s a chocolate brownie, a kind of rich cake. To most of us chocolate is the food of the gods. Go ahead, take a bigger bite.”

  He did, and the resulting moan of ecstasy made her glad that her friends had left. They might have believed many things, but no one could have missed knowing this had to be Nick’s first experience with chocolate. He rolled his eyes, his bliss evident even in the way his jaw moved, slowly, then slower, letting the flavor stay in his mouth longer, waiting until the last moment to swallow.

  He groaned, and for an instant Violet wondered if he was going to have another orgasm. She handed him the cup of coffee, and he took it, and sipped the brew carefully.

  Again he groaned. “That was good too. Not as good as the brownie, but the combination is wonderful.”

  She indicated the still half-full plate. “Well, enjoy yourself. I guess you don’t have to worry about having a weight problem.”

  Sipping a fresh cup of decaf, Violet watched Nick consume the rich dessert like there was no tomorrow. For him, there really wasn’t, or at least not more than one. He ate two more brownies before he seemed to realize she wasn’t eating any.

  Looking guiltily at the third square in his hand, he offered it to her. “Don’t you want one?” he asked.

  She shook her head reluctantly. “No, I can’t. I have to watch my weight, I’m too fat already.”

  He stared at her, consternation in his expression. “What are you talking about, Violet? You aren’t the least bit fat.”

  “I am.” She pinched her waist, taking in a good inch of skin. “See?”

  Nick exploded. “That’s skin, Violet. It’s supposed to do that. It’s thick there, that’s all.”

  “But I’m not thin, like…” She stopped when she saw him shaking his head gravely.

  “Ther
e is nothing wrong with your shape, Violet. Yours is a womanly figure, that of someone who enjoys life. You don’t ritually starve yourself, or deny your appetites…except for maybe one.” He moved closer and she again saw hunger in his eyes, a hunger that had nothing to do with the brownie in his hand. He put it aside before he took her into his arms.

  He’d promised to show her love, to prepare her for another man, but deep inside she knew that was a lie. Nick could no more give her to another man than she could give him to another woman.

  They were made for each other. What a shame they couldn’t stay together.

  “Nick, I want you now. Take me to bed.”

  He didn’t need another invitation. In moments they were in the bed, entwined as before, and this time when he entered her it was even more intense, quicker, the result of desire too intense to ignore. They were no longer strangers making love, but lovers repeating something precious to the pair of them.

  Love made, given, and taken. Love in the physical…but moving on. Moving to something more, more precious than sex.

  Love-making migrating to love-giving.

  Nick pulled Violet’s arms higher, holding them against the pillow and stared into her face, flushed with exertion. Her beautiful face, eyes bright with affection and desire for him.

  For him!

  His lover, Violet, in his arms, under his body, her arms aligned with his, her core clenching his cock as he drove into her. His Violet. His. Lover, woman, his.

  His!

  She was his. No other man should hold her like this, possess her like this.

  His lips descended on hers, wanting to brand her, to show her she belonged to him. She accepted his kiss and returned it with equal fervor. Perhaps they were branding each other.

  Nick moved again within her and she responded, her cries growing more intense with each move he made. Possessiveness took a new hold on him and his hands bound her wrists like manacles, tying her to the bed as his pace picked up. She didn’t fight him, but moaned a little as his grip tightened.