by Tiana Laveen
“Yessss…like that!”
She reached forward, her arms flailing wildly against the counter as she reached into nothingness, grasping the air – wanting something to hold onto as he manhandled her, his need stronger than his self-control. He buried his forehead against her arching back and jetted in and out of her. They were both almost there.
“I love how you fuck me!” she screamed out, as he continued to slam into her. “You just…take me…you’re so…Ahhh!” The red light bathed them in lingering soft crimson glow as he continued to take…her….
“You didn’t want to tell me you were a virgin,” he grunted, laughing roughly. “Do you know how fucking sexy that is to me? Knowing my dick is the only one you’ve ever had in you?”
He screamed out as he continued to thrust in and out of her, turned on even more when she looked at him over her shoulder. He was taking her body on the ride of its life.
“I get so turned on by you…knowing you chose me…”
He gritted his teeth as he came inside her. His liquefied warmth spurred her own, his words, his climatic thrusts causing her to orgasm just as hard. Afterward, they rested, keeping their same position. Mark exhaled, his face and chest hot with sweat. He kissed the middle of her back, his lips running up and down her with additional pecks as he tried to wake from the sexual love hangover.
He truly felt intoxicated. Every time they made love, it was the same thing – his head would throb from the harsh orgasms. She liked to be spoken to so dirty; it would make it even harder for him to keep his climax at bay. He loved that she was so nasty; oftentimes liked it rough, hard and ferocious. Someone so beautiful, sweet, and a tad bit innocent wanted him to manhandle her…and now that they were making love regularly, he saw her as an exquisite nympho that he was madly in love with. She spurred him on as she continuously solicited him for early morning, afternoon and late midnight snack encounters, doing all that she could to make their sex life that much more exciting and joyous. He owned her body and her heart, and the enslavement was mutual. He loved her so much, it hurt…more than any other woman he’d ever dated, kissed, had sex with and loved – and this side of her, this display for his eyes only, was the beautifully busted cherry on top…
* * *
Three months later…
“Yes baby, I know!” Bijou laughed as she cradled her cell phone in the crook of her neck and moved frantically around the dark room. “Mark, I promise I will stop by the funeral home and drop it off, just let me get these photos up that I developed last night. You really should have a spare though.”
“Are you really going to blame me for this? In your big hurry this morning, you just grabbed the first keys you saw.” He huffed. “I need to get into the back room. It doesn’t even look like your key.” He laughed. “Just come on by, baby. Call me when you get here.”
“OK, I’ll leave in a few minutes, I promise!”
Bijou replayed the conversation in her mind and laughed again as she grabbed the photos off of the thin hanging line in the darkroom. Her smile froze, then slowly faded. The entire room seemed to be spinning out of control as her emotions jumped in various directions, causing her heavy heart palpitations. She rubbed her eyes in disbelief as she looked closer at the footage.
She hadn’t gotten around to developing the film, the photos she’d taken of Mark drinking milk out of the jug, all of those months ago. She’d taken so many pictures of him, especially that day – all forgotten until earlier that morning when she looked at all the undeveloped film she had been collecting in a big bin on her desk. She finally had a spare moment after leaving her boyfriend’s home following yet another wonderful night. It was a quiet morning, the perfect timing to take care of work that had piled up.
Bijou doubled over, holding her stomach as queasiness, agitation and sorrow consumed her. She took a deep breath and regrouped, then made her way over to the side of the room and turned the overhead light on so she could see clearer. She looked closer at the glossy black-and-white photographs, the ones of Mark standing there eating, laughing, running, sitting, and talking. His large rustic kitchen framed his tall, toned semi-naked body beautifully as a trickle of milk ran down his chin – the glowing bright light of the refrigerator shining on him.
But beauty was in the eye of the beholder because they were not the only two in the room.
She hadn’t seen it with her naked eye, and obviously neither did he – but Rhine was there but there were bits of her…a blur, in the background at times, in various photos, but it was definitely her. In one, her entire face showed in the background, a look of forlornness and sorrow consuming her.
Rhine hastily collected all the photos, her hands shaking as she reviewed them over and over and over until she’d had her macabre fill. She filled another tub of solution, turned the overhead light off and turned the red light back on. Taking a deep breath, she clutched the photos and dropped them one by one inside it, submerging them, purposefully ruining the images, making them turn completely stark white and curl at the ends. Though the photos were now gone, what she saw, who she saw, would be forever, indelibly imprinted in her mind…
* * *
Six months later…
Bijou sat in front of the large vanity. She sighed and looked herself over once more, smiling as she placed the small warm glass of water to her lips, careful to not smear her sheer gloss. She sat alone, the morning sun filtering in the window, highlighting her spiraled hair under the sparkling tiara. Just outside the door were their family and friends, waiting to see the bride walk down the aisle, toward a lovely man named Mark Centano who’d asked her hand in marriage. She accepted, but this was not the only vow they’d taken.
They swore to keep what occurred a secret – theirs to hold – and to not speak of that evening ever again. No one knew what had happened that night, not even Aunt Clarabelle. Their union grew exponentially after such a tortuous, surreal event, yet it fit so perfectly with their unconventional and beautifully unique relationship. She was in love, and the day couldn’t be sweeter. A tinge of pain filled her heart as she looked over at a photo of her and her sister, hugging and kissing each other’s cheeks. It was one of the best days they’d shared, both happy teenagers at the state fair with pale pink cotton candy in their hands. Bijou picked up the photograph and traced it casually with her finger.
“Rhine, I know you’re OK now. You’re finally OK.” Her voice shook. “I love you, baby girl.” She slowly stood to her feet when her father entered the room and took her by the arm. He smiled at her, patted her hand, and led her away to the man of her dreams.
* * *
“You may now, kiss the bride!” exclaimed the minister.
Mark lifted Bijou’s veil, his smile wider than the ocean. He lowered his lips to hers, blocking out the cheering and applause as he pulled her into a serene, protected little biosphere.
“I love you so much, baby,” he whispered in her ear. He smiled down at her and cradled her close, gently rubbed her back, the lace of her bodice soft against his fingertips.
“I love you, too.”
Thirty minutes later, the last of the professional wedding photos were taken as people moseyed past, and entered the dining hall. Mark was alone with her, waiting as she grabbed her satchel purse and change of shoes – white, thick-wedged flip flops with large rhinestones so that she could dance the night away. He caught her eyeing him as she rose to her feet, and he smiled at her as sexual thoughts of the wedding night he had planned for her crept into his mind. Red rose petals, expensive vintage wine, romantic music, black-and-white polka dot blindfolds, a heart-shaped hot tub and some of the dirtiest chat he could muster…
She winked at him, snapping him abruptly out of his daydream as she came forward and took his hand. When they approached the door to rejoin their guests, he looked back, noticing her train; it was not touching the ground. He looked around the room. No windows were open, no breeze blowing, yet the veil stayed safely off the ground, floating. His hear
t played a faster beat. It was then that he realized that his eyes were not deceiving him. He looked down at Bijou.
“What? What is it?” She looked behind her, canvassing the room for anything out of place.
He then felt the familiar coolness as the temperature dropped. He knew it all too well now.
Clearing his throat, he held her closer. “It appears that someone wants to be your maid of honor…” He then pointed to the long veil, almost the same length as her train, approximately three inches off the ground. Just then, a light giggle could be heard. Bijou’s eyes grew as she continued to look over her shoulder.
“Oh, my God.” She put her hand to her lips and looked back up at Mark.
He gave her an encouraging smile, hooked his arm around hers once again, and led her out of the chamber into the hallway towards the large banquet room where a feast of epic proportions was being served.
The double doors opened and everyone cheered and waved, shouting words of congrats as the beautiful couple, dressed in their very best, entered the large, crowded room. Mark’s maternal side of the family screamed out congratulations in Spanish while a Cajun band began to stir up the crowd with loud, happy tunes, mixed with English and French southern dripped words. Mark placed his hand on the small of his new bride’s back, stealing another glance at her semi-floating veil. Like a bodyguard, he moved fastidiously behind her, protecting her as he unclipped the ornament from her hair. The joyous and boisterous crowd began to descend upon them.
“Rhine, thank you. I’ve got it from here…” he whispered, before handing Bijou her veil which was quickly snatched out of her hand by her cousin and twirled about in the air like a sheer, white kite…
* * *
As Bijou looked at her veil floating in the air, now being tossed back and forth between her two tall and rail thin, gorgeous cousins with almond shaped eyes and skin the color of rich, dark cocoa, she felt a slight breeze by her ear, followed by the scent of her sister’s familiar perfume. Then, there coolness turned to complete warmth, as if a blanket had been laid lightly over the entire room…
Almost inaudible, the words came, tickling Bijou’s ear. “I love you. Congratulations, big sister…” and then, the feeling of familiarity was gone.
Bijou knew that was it. Right after her confrontation with Rhine was over, she still wondered from time to time why she would occasionally feel her around. It was not a foreboding feeling, but one only true sisters would understand. Now, things had changed. Bijou knew she’d never see, feel or hear Rhine again. In that moment, it was understood that they had loved the same man and ’til death do us part.
It was also plain to see that Rhine would no longer ever be a shadow again, shrouded in shame and confusion, misery and unexplainable manic highs and lows. She could now bask in the light, healed in divine perfection, kissing goodbye her previous emotional torment and now – she was proud.
So proud, she was allowing her big sister to love and be free, no longer as her own private keeper…
THE END
About the Author
Tiana Laveen was born in Cincinnati, Ohio and now resides in Kentucky with her husband and two children. She enjoys a fulfilling and enriching life that includes writing books, drawing, painting, listening to music, cooking, and spending time with friends.
Tiana Laveen is a uniquely creative and innovative author whose romance fiction is geared towards those who not only want to temporarily escape from the daily routines of life, but also delve into social taboo as it pertains to interracial relationships. She creates a painting with words as her readers are guided through the lives of each and every character.
Her prior works include Cross Climax I, Cross Climax II, The Slave Master’s Son, The Naughty Sins of a Saint, I Want Candy, When Saint Goes Marching In, Swirled Satin Sheets I, and Swirled Satin Sheets II.
If you wish to contact Tiana Laveen, please contact her at www.facebook.com/tianalaveen.