Dream & Dare

by Susan Fanetti

  “Hooj, I…” She wanted to say yes. She wanted him to take care of her. She wanted him to love her forever and never cast her aside.

  “What do you want, baby? Tell me what you want. I’ll give you everything I can.”

  Why couldn’t she just say yes? The word would not come. “I want…I want to not be so pathetic. I don’t want to just depend on you for everythin’. I want to know how to want things I want, and I don’t even know how to do that. I’m just a leech, suckin’ off everybody else. I want to not be scared of gettin’ left behind.”

  He walked into the room, to her, and cupped her face in her hands. “You’re young, not pathetic. You think I’d spend time with a leech? You have a fire in you, Cheeks. It lights me up. I want you to have whatever you want. I won’t get in your way while you figure out what it is. But I can still take care of you. I’ll never leave you behind. I mean what I say. I don’t throw words like ‘love’ and ‘marriage’ around like they’re trash. If you really love me, then let me take care of you. Marry me.”

  “We’ve only known each other a little.”

  “Who cares? How long did you know that guy you came out here with? You grew up with him. Dated him all through high school, right? Time doesn’t make you know a person. Trust does.” He bent down until his lips hovered over hers. “Do you trust me, Bibi?” he breathed, the words almost soundless. “Do you?”

  She did. God help her, she really did. “Yes.”

  “Then let me take care of you. Marry me.”

  It was the only thing she knew she wanted.

  FIVE

  Hoosier laughed when she came out of the bathroom of their hotel room dressed for their wedding.

  Bibi put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “If you want me to marry you, you probably shouldn’t laugh at my dress.”

  “That’s not a dress, Cheeks.” He came to her and put his hands over hers. “That’s underwear. But I like it fine. Didn’t figure you for a white dress and a veil, anyway.”

  She looked down at herself. He’d told her a couple of times that he didn’t think she was really a punk, and maybe he was right. She didn’t know what she was. She liked the clothes, though. She liked that they weren’t ‘normal,’ and that she could make an outfit out of almost anything.

  Like this: she’d cut the lace bodice out of a fancy red negligee she’d found at the vintage shop, and she’d sewn a couple of inches of red tulle on the bottom. It made a kind of corset with a peplum. She had a knit micro-mini and fishnets under it, both black. The black suede booties she called her ‘witch shoes,’ and her stacks of black jelly bracelets completed the look.

  It pleased her greatly to think that her mother would have taken one look at this wedding ensemble and come over with an acute case of the vapors.

  With that thought, Bibi realized that she’d done it again—dressed for, or against, somebody else. She’d never thought about why she did the things she did until Hoosier had pointed it out.

  Now she felt stupid. “Is it dumb?” she asked, and then realized, again, that she’d deferred the opinion to somebody else.

  He lifted her chin and smiled down at her. “Most of you is uncovered, so as long as you stay close to me, I like it.” Trailing a hand up the back of her thigh, he added, “I love the seams on these stockings.”

  “They’re tights, not stockings,” she sighed, swaying a little at his touch.

  “Okay. They’re indecent, whatever they are. I like indecent.” With a light kiss at the corner of her mouth, he ran his fingers through her hair. “And I like that I can touch your hair. But what do you think?”

  She really thought about that for a moment. “I like it. I feel sexy.”

  “You are sexy.” He winked at her. “So sexy I think I want to marry you.”

  Pushing him back a little before they ended up in their wedding bed before the wedding, Bibi frowned up at him. “It’s more than that, though, right? Am I enough? For the rest of your life?” She was still struggling with the truth that this man loved her as much as he said he did. She believed him, but it was hard for her to think of herself as someone with much to offer.

  At her question, he frowned back at her, then pulled her to sit down on the bed. He squatted before her, and, still holding her hand, he said, “I need you to hear this, Beebs. Of course it’s more than that. Maybe I see something you don’t. If that’s true, then I’m gonna help you see it. I saw it before I said a word to you, and I see it every day. There’s fire in your heart and steel in your gut. I want to take care of you, but you already take care of me. That’s what you do—you take care of people. You do what you need to do and find something worthwhile in it, whatever it is. You see what people need, even if they can’t even see it. And, baby, your heart is wide open. You put on that smartass front, and you’re good at it. It’s sexy and cute. But the truth is you’re the least cynical person I ever met. You trust first, even when you think you shouldn’t. I think I fell in love with you when you first got on my bike that night. You trusted me to take you home. I could see in your eyes—these huge, beautiful brown eyes—that you knew it wasn’t the ‘smart’ thing, but you did it anyway. I live in a world full of suspicious, cynical people. Feeling that trust from you—I don’t have words for how it made me feel, or for how I feel about you.”

  Moved nearly to tears, Bibi cupped Hoosier’s cheek in her palm. “Those are pretty good words. I think you did okay.”

  He turned his head and kissed her palm. “Am I enough for you? Till death do us part?”

  Six weeks had passed since that first night. All she knew about his history was that he’d grown up on a farm in Indiana. He’d had two older brothers, but both had died in Vietnam. He’d been distant from his parents since he’d rebuffed the idea of taking over the farm. She knew he was a mechanic, and that he was a member of the Desert Blades, but he refused to go into even basic details about that part of his life, and, other than Blue, his best friend, she hadn’t met anyone else he knew. He’d come into her life, not the other way around.

  If she married him, she guessed that wouldn’t be the case anymore. And honestly, she was taking a big leap of faith to marry a man who was so unknown.

  But she did know him. She knew him. And he was right: she trusted him implicitly. It was like she could tell. She knew, she was certain, despite the voice in her head that insisted she couldn’t possibly, that he was worthy of her trust.

  “Yes.”

  A grin smoothed his brow and opened his face, and he stood. “Then let’s get hitched.”

  ~oOo~

  They were married in a little chapel on the strip. Nothing special, but not too tacky, either. Considering all the ways her wedding was nothing like the one she thought about when she was in high school, with Joel, the ceremony was traditional. Jerome Andrew Elliott and Bedelia Beth Ladue vowed their love and commitment, until death did them part.

  Hoosier surprised Bibi with a beautiful set of rings—a white-gold claddagh with a big diamond for the heart, and a thin band of diamonds to match it. She didn’t have a ring for him. He’d proposed only a week before, and she was broke. And he already wore five rings on his hands, so she wasn’t sure how he’d wear another, anyway.

  At that moment of the little ceremony, Bibi stared at her glittering finger and felt awkward and lost. “Oh, Hooj. They’re beautiful. But I don’t…I didn’t…”

  He chuckled and kissed her cheek. “It’s okay, Cheeks. I got a better idea, anyway. That’s next.”

  When the minister—she supposed he was a minister—declared them man and wife, Hoosier bent her back over his arm and kissed her breathless, his hand clutching her ass. A couple of people who worked there and served as witnesses threw handfuls of rice over them. Then they took pictures—a few from the 110 camera Bibi had brought with her, and a few with a ‘professional’ setup that they could buy and have sent to them after they were developed.

  And she was married.

  Holy Moses.

>   ~oOo~

  The thing that was next—and, in Hoosier’s estimation, better than a ring—happened at a tattoo shop a ways off the strip. When they went in, Hoosier greeted a couple of the men working there as friends, and introduced her as his wife. There was hugging and backslapping, and Bibi was happy. This was a part of his life. Not the life he lived in L.A., but a part of it nonetheless.

  They were there for a couple of hours, and when they left, Bibi felt like she had new friends, too. Garth and Patch, Hoosier’s buddies, who were calling her Beebs by the time they’d said goodbye.

  And Hoosier had new ink. On the inside of his left forearm, in elaborate script: Bedelia. The dot on the ‘i’ was a tiny claddagh.

  He was right: much better than a ring.

  ~oOo~

  He carried her over the threshold. And had arranged for champagne to be waiting for them in the room. They each drank a glass in honor of the day, and then Hoosier poured them each another. He handed her hers and took a long drink of his, finishing it off. Then he set his down and pulled on the little satin ribbon at the front of her corset.

  She stood, sipping her champagne, and let him undress her. The bubbles hit her hard; they hadn’t eaten since breakfast. But she didn’t care. It was more than the champagne making her feel like her feet floated above the floor. She took a big drink and set her empty glass down next to his.

  As he pulled the ribbon, the corset loosened and slid down, exposing her breasts. Hoosier stopped and stared, his hands going to the sides of her waist and holding her fast. “Everything about you is beautiful.” Cupping a breast in one hand, he bent his head to it and sucked deeply, teasing her nipple against the roof of his mouth.

  She loved when he did that. Threads of ecstasy so sharp they were brittle shot from that point, into her head, her heart, between her legs. She arched backward with a cry, her hands holding his head to her. She might have fallen if he hadn’t been holding her, and she him.

  Then he released her breast and went to his knees, pulling her loosened corset over her hips, down her legs. She stepped out of it. From his knees, he removed her shoes, her skirt, and her tights, until she was standing before him in nothing but her jewelry. Her cheap rubber bracelets and her beautiful new diamond rings.

  He pressed his face between her legs, and she felt his tongue on her, licking through her folds. Her fingers curled tightly in his hair. “Oh God, Hooj!” she gasped.

  “Spread your legs for me, wife.” He’d barely moved from her to speak; she could feel his lips and breath moving against her clit.

  Thrilled at the thing he’d called her, that it was true, she obeyed and was rewarded with his hand moving between her legs, his fingers sliding through her wet, pushing into her body. As his tongue tantalized her clit, Bibi felt his thumb slide into her pussy. She could tell by the feel of it and the position of his hand that it was his thumb, and she knew what it meant, what he would do next. She sagged back against the table, spreading her legs more, making way for him.

  But instead, his hand and mouth left her, and he stood. Covering her mouth with his, he pushed his tongue deep to tangle with hers, and he walked her to the bed, lifting her up and laying her across the mattress. Then he stepped back and shed his clothes, keeping his eyes on her all the while.

  He, and the champagne, had made her dizzy and horny, and she felt at loose ends while he undressed. She’d never let him see her touch herself before, but her fingers were in her wet, replaying the movement of his tongue over her clit, before she’d realized it was happening.

  She saw his eyes widen and go even darker at the sight, and the new rings on her finger made her bold. She spread her legs wide and pushed her fingers into her pussy.

  “Jesus,” he muttered. He pulled something from his pocket before he laid his kutte over a chair. She was too focused on how good she felt to give it much attention. It wasn’t a condom, she knew that. She was on the Pill and had been as long as she’d lived in California, so they’d never used condoms.

  He came to the bed and lay over her. Before she could move her hand, his cock was there, pushing into her, even while her fingers were still moving inside her. She gasped at the enormous fullness, and he groaned and pushed deep. “God, baby. God, that feels…fuck.”

  But it was too much fullness, too much stretch, and she moved her hand. He groaned again, harshly, as if she’d hurt him, and then kissed her. He thrust hard, and their grunts were muffled by their mouths, grinding together.

  As his thrusts sped up and she hooked her legs around his waist, holding on for dear life, he tore his mouth from hers and buried his face against her neck. She loved this best of all, her face tucked to his shoulder while he rocked inside her, the way the scent of him surrounded her completely, the way she could feel his muscles moving against her cheek as he filled her up again and again, enlivening her body in ways only he could. She loved the sound of them, their bodies waxing and waning together, and the sound of him, his labored breath and feral grunts, and the sound of herself, the cries and moans that seemed independent of her will.

  And then his hand slid under her, between her and the bed, and his fingers found the ruched ring of her anus. This was a thing he liked that, before him, she’d never known was a thing at all. Not for straight people, at least. The first time his finger had touched her there, that very first night, she’d about had a heart attack. She’d been afraid at first. But now she knew she liked it, and she brought her knees up higher, spread herself wider, as his finger pushed in. Immediately, she felt the spasm and rush that signaled the onset of her climax, and the sound of them changed as her juices flowed even more.

  When she moaned, he chuckled, “That’s my wild girl.” And pushed another finger in.

  “Oh God. Hooj! Yes!” Lord, that felt so good. She didn’t know how it was possible.

  Just as she was getting to the point where all she cared about was the splendid tumult in her body, he took his hand from her and lifted away, to his knees. She groaned and tried to pull him back, but he eluded her with another chuckle.

  Still inside her, he looked down. “I love you, Bibi Elliott.”

  Hearing her new name for the first time, she smiled, forgetting the crushing disappointment at having her orgasm derailed. “I love you, too. Come back here.”

  “You’re mine now. Forever.”

  She nodded. “And you’re mine. So get down here.” He thrust into her, and she whimpered and arched. “Please, Hooj. I was close.”

  His eyes went black, his expression intent and serious. “I want all of you. Give me all of you.”

  “You have me.” Now she was getting confused as well as frustrated. “Don’t you?”

  “Let me take you here.” He pushed his hand between them, under their joining, and smoothed his fingertips over her anus.

  Oh. Based on her sample of cocks she’d experienced, which was not exactly extensive, but was almost double digits, Hoosier was enormous. Fingers were one thing—fingers were wonderful—but the thought of taking his cock that way…

  “Hooj, I don’t…” She couldn’t finish; she didn’t want to tell him no, but she didn’t want to tell him yes, either. She was afraid.

  “I won’t hurt you. I’ll never hurt you. Trust me, Bedelia. The way you take my fingers, I know you’ll like it.”

  “I’m scared.”

  He smiled his wise smile and then leaned over and picked up something from the bed—whatever it was he’d had in his kutte pocket. She’d forgotten.

  He handed her a small brown bottle. “Hit this. It’ll be okay.”

  It was Rush. “I’ve never done poppers, though.”

  “No? Really? Why not?”

  “I don’t like puttin’ things up my nose.”

  “It’s just vapor, baby. Just sniff the top of the bottle.” While his fingers continued to tease her anus, he smoothed his other hand over her belly. “Trust me.”

  She trusted him. And his thrusts continued, slow and gentle now, keep
ing her need acute. So she came up onto her elbows and opened the little bottle. She huffed a deep huff.

  And instantly—instantly—her head spun and her heart raced. The room rocked and rolled, and she felt higher than she ever had in her life. She giggled. “Oh, fuck me!”

  Smiling broadly, Hoosier took the bottle from her, took a deep hit of his own, and recapped it. Setting it aside, he pulled out of her and pushed his cock at her other hole. It didn’t hurt. In fact, she felt like all of her muscles had just given up and clocked out for the day. She was made of vapor and nerves and nothing else.

  “That’s my girl,” he groaned and then, holding her thighs down at her chest, he simply pushed into her all the way.