Adieu, Bonjour

by Red Rose Publishing

  “Come here and give me a kiss,” she said in the sunny voice he hadn‘t heard all day. Truth was, she’d done little besides complain about the movers since he had come home from work. The men had scuffed the frame of the front door while they delivered the items they‘d bought at the church fund-raising auction.

  Shawn hadn‘t noticed it when he had first stepped into the house. But the moment he‘d found Hillary in the kitchen and tried to hug her; she had taken his hand and led him back to the door for a look. She was furious and vowed to call the movers in the morning to demand they come and polish the frame.

  At this announcement Shawn had come close to making the mistake of telling her what he thought-that it was hardly noticeable, and besides, the volunteer movers had spared him from having to take the company truck on his one day off. But just as these sentiments formed in his mouth, an all-too-familiar furrow started to press over his wife‘s brow.

  From experience, Shawn had known that to say anything in the men‘s defense would only deepen the furrow to the bridge of her nose. After that, he might have spent the rest of the evening listening to her pray on the phone to her minister. Praying, of course, for the redemption of his soul.

  And if things got too bad, Hillary might even be thrown into another apoplectic fit. They‘d steadily grown worse over the years, and the last one had sent her to the hospital. Her recovery had tested what remaining patience and self-respect Shawn had possessed.

  Hillary had told her friends that it had been his fault she’d been so angry in the first place; which subsequently made him a pariah amongst the socialite congregation and a number of their neighbors.

  Wisely, Shawn had bit off the grateful comment about the movers before it was uttered.

  To complicate matters, the scuff had been made by the one thing that Shawn had bought at the auction for himself. The swivel office chair. Not that he was hurting for a new chair, but as long as he‘d been shoveling out the money raise money-proceeds going for the youth minister’s new swimming pool, of all things-he had seen no reason to not go ahead and get it for his home office.

  But why it couldn‘t have been the antique dresser or walnut chest, even that ugly, chipped claw-foot bathtub with the peeling mushroom slip-guard stickers all over the bottom… hell no, fate had deemed it proper that the cause of trouble had to be the chair. And sooner or later, he knew Hillary would be in the mood to remind him exactly which auction item had scuffed the precious doorway.

  At least her disposition had grown a little brighter since after dinner. He remembered she was looking forward to the brunch tomorrow with her Committee. Perhaps by now she realized something as trivial as the scuff wasn‘t worth such a headache.

  He rose from the sofa and kissed her cheek, and slowly, cautiously, drew her into a hug. For the first time in several weeks she didn‘t immediately back away. She even rubbed her palms lightly up and down his back.

  “Shall we say our prayers together tonight, Shawn? “

  His hope sank a little, but as she was still in his arms, he lowered his face to her neck and hazarded to nuzzle it lightly with his mouth.

  He caught a stirring trace of her real smell which the twice-daily showers and thickly applied deodorant could not completely sterilize.

  There had been a time, not too many years ago, when Hillary smelled like a blood and flesh young woman, when she still acted like the vibrant girl he‘d fallen in love with in high school. Life had been fun then, and Hillary‘s easy affection had made him glad to be a man.

  All of that was before those church people had come knocking on their door one day. Whatever they had said had touched off some spark in Hillary; a spark that rapidly soared into a consuming blaze.

  And everything they had once shared as a couple became a sputtering, damp wick beside religious rhetoric. Church activities and hobnobbing with that elitist Women‘s Committee was Hillary‘s life now.

  Shawn had often wondered what kind of friends these women would have been to her if they’d not fished out of her that first day that Shawn had just recently inherited his father‘s furniture business.

  “What say we wait a little while for that, Hillary?”

  Her arms stiffened around him. “It’s late, dear,” she said softly, “—and the Committee will be here for brunch, remember.”

  “So? You already have the cold cuts and everything tucked away in the fridge. I can help you set up the dining table before going to work.”

  Hillary managed a sparing, amused sound. But her tone was sharp, as if scolding a child, “Oh, Shawn, we more debauchery until we‘re ready to conceive a baby.”

  “Well,” he murmured, “if not debauchery, how about just some old-fashioned good lov‘n, Hillary?”

  “Oh, you little devil!” At her tender laugh, Shawn‘s hope soared.

  But then he realized she wasn‘t speaking to him but Cranberry, her reddish-brown Chihuahua. The dog was standing on his hind legs at her foot and pawing anxiously at her leg. Hillary scooped Cranberry up and hugged his face fiercely against her cheek. Seeing the dog lick her mouth and chin, Shawn’s passion dampened like a just-lit match thrown into the toilet.

  “Yes, Cranberry,” Hillary cooed, “you know it’s bedtime! Daddy and I were just coming up!”

  She raised and gave Shawn a peck of a kiss. “We‘ll have the blankets warm for you, Daddy!”

  Shawn concealed his impotent agitation with a fake yawn. “I‘m going to check out that new chair and be right up.”

  “Oh, your office chair,” she said. Her lips skewered up in her best feigned smile. “You like that old thing, don‘t you?”

  I‘d better, after all your bitching about the damned thing, he thought.

  Instead he answered with forced cheer, “I ought to actually try it out for a few minutes, don‘t you think?”

  “Well, okay. But don‘t be too long, dear.”

  She turned and walked out into the foyer. Shawn watched as she carried the pooch up the staircase, kissing and making baby-talk to it all the way to the bedroom.

  “Sleep well, Cranberry,” he said sourly.

  For a few moments he remained in the semi-darkness, listening to Hillary‘s faint movements upstairs as she moved across the bedroom floor.

  Cranberry yipped a couple of times and the springs of the bed mattress creaked. Then he heard Hillary begin her nightly prayer. She was never quiet about doing it, but of course, from what he knew about her church, it seemed humble. Silent prayers were not part of their faith system.

  Then again, if Hillary could act more like Jezebel now and then instead of always the withered old nun, he might have been tempted to hoot out a few grateful prayers to the Almighty, too.

  Shawn sighed and tried to dismiss Hillary‘s latest rejection as he stepped into the foyer. He padded past the staircase and to the door of his office. Opening it, Shawn was surprised by the heat in the room, and as he snapped the light on, noticed at once the film of moisture that had formed on the window behind his desk. Odd, he thought, for there had been no rain for weeks, and September nights in this part of North Carolina held little humidity.

  But he closed and locked the door, and forgot the window as well as the heat. Rubbing the stiffness at the nape of his neck, he regarded the new chair a moment. It was just a practical office chair, hardly worth the hundred bucks he‘d paid for it. Someday, he contemplated, he‘d have to get it re-upholstered. The red velveteen on it just wasn‘t manly.

  He paced a little about the room to relieve the stiffness in his legs. Looking about, he admired what he had done with this room that had once been just a huge storage closet. He‘d decided to convert it to an office soon after inheriting his father‘s business.

  It was here he kept the iron filing cabinet with all of Hillary‘s jewelry and old childhood diaries locked safely away. And though he kept important business files on the computer, and their tax receipts in the desk drawers, Shawn considered the room more of a haven than an office.

&
nbsp; Hillary had no interest in coming in except to read his emails and monitor his history on the computer. Three or four times a week he managed to sneak in and read the news online without having to hear Hillary complain that every war, catastrophe or murder spree was a warning that God was displeased.

  There was the old couch by the wall he occasionally slept on to separate himself from Cranberry‘s presence in the upstairs bed. There the crate full of old science fiction novels he re-read when he found the chance, though he had to content Hillary in the belief he kept them only as an investment. And behind some papers stowed away in the wall safe, was even a bottle of whiskey.

  It was the whiskey he had come to the office for. Now, with the first real yawn of the evening, he stepped toward the safe and touched the dial.

  Before he could turn it, a low swish sounded behind him. Turning his head instinctively, he saw the office chair swiveling slowly about on its base.

  He looked to the door, and noticed it was still shut and locked, and raising his eyes to the window saw that it was closed securely. He took a wary breath and stepped around the spinning chair. He crouched but saw no one under the desk.

  Mildly baffled, he rose to his feet and placed a hand on the arm of the chair so that it stilled.

  I must have bumped the desk, he thought.

  He started toward the safe again when a moan –whisper soft and carnally husky- paralyzed his legs.

  His heart pounded sharply as he turned, and his arms spidered with goose bumps as he saw the chair spinning again. A frigid sweat broke over his entire body, a sweat that singed against the heightening of heat in the room.

  The base of the chair began to squeak with its accelerating rotations. Shawn’s lungs tightened. He glanced to the door, almost hopeful, and grappled for a steady voice. “Hillary?”

  The only sound that answered was the squeak of the chair. Shawn closed his eyes and drew a long breath. But the sound did not fade, and when his eyes opened again, the chair was still turning.

  “Take me!”

  The whisper drained the strength from his legs. As he made his way to the door, a deep moan trailed after him. He turned the lock and threw the door open so heedlessly that it banged his temple. Swarming black dots filled his vision.

  The moan turned into a rueful sigh. His ears noted the sudden stop of the chair, and the office floor creaked behind him as if under the weight of advancing footfalls. His heart slammed against his chest, and stumbling into the foyer, Shawn pulled the door shut. Except for his own anxious breathing the house was as quiet as an empty chapel.

  Shawn finally got to sleep hours later. But he awakened sometime later, filmed with sweat despite the coolness of the bedroom. At once he was aware of the hard-on he‘d developed. He got out of bed and walked into the bathroom without even turning on the light. When he had relieved his bladder and flushed the pot, he returned to bed and pulled the heap of blankets about his neck.

  Sliding toward Hillary, he inadvertently elbowed Cranberry, who was lying snug against her back. The dog let out a half-conscious, covetous growl. Shawn grumbled and rolled back over to his portion of the bed.

  The only thing he was aware of as sleep descended again was the heavy tick-ticking of the grandfather clock. And just as this comforting sound started to detach from his consciousness, the cozy covers were curtly peeled off of him.

  “Dammit, Hillary…”

  His eyes snapped open. Just as his brain registered the nothing his eyes beheld, something clasped his scrotum. Fingertips, as soft and sensuous as he remembered a woman‘s fingertips should be.

  Shawn‘s heart lurched. The bed crushed beneath the invisible weight, and unseen hands glided up his thighs. A lithe burden moved over him; rounded, silken flesh scaled his legs and straddled his hips. A fragrance, vacant of all perfume except for a lush and primordial femininity, filled his senses.

  “Take me!”

  The voice sent a bolt of terror up Shawn’s spine; inspired and fomented a desire deep in his loins. He looked to his sleeping wife and her mutt, as if they might know the words that could banish his hallucination.

  “Take me, Shawn, fuck me!”

  With his heartbeat thundering in his head, Shawn reached out and felt the soft flesh that had saddled him with its seeming weight and tantalizing odor. His trembling hands caressed the ample hips above his pelvis, and slowly moved, until he found himself cupping firm buttocks.

  The unseen thing lowered so that its hardened nipples nudged his face. His hands slid up the hips and cupped the smooth waist. The skin of its belly was smooth, burning hot. Timidly, Shawn clutched the breasts and traced the nipples with his fingertips. The hips undulated over his crotch, and a pussy, searing wet, moved up and down his swelling cock.

  And then with a little moan this tempting presence sat straight up on him. Shawn felt the invisible seducer‘s head toss back. His balls were tickled by the feel of hair and the thighs beneath his hands tilted forward. The unseen body leaned over him and he was kissed by a mouth that tasted of ambrosia musk.

  Shawn‘s hands moved down between the thighs. He touched a moistened pelt, and beneath this, nether lips wet and heated. As a tongue penetrated his mouth he probed a finger into the orifice. The muscles squeezed him and the lips over his mouth released an anxious moan.

  Shawn turned his face and glanced at Hillary again. She was sound asleep. But Cranberry had awakened and crawled over her to the other side of the mattress. The animal’s dark, marble eyes stared at Shawn nervously. Then, with a frail yip, Cranberry hid behind his mistress altogether.

  Shawn forgot the two of them and smiled as the lips kissed his ear.

  “Fuck me, Shawn, fuck me!”

  The wanton request whetted Shawn‘s desire to a tormented need. He lifted the unseen hips and brought the hungry pussy down roughly over his engorged, hard dick. A taut sheath it was he had entered, inflamed and pulsing with juices. The body began to fuck him with fast, eager strides.

  Almost agonizing was Shawn‘s pleasure; pure and unabashed debauchery. His climax was intense, encompassing. The entity‘s strides ascended to a rutting pitch, and moments later he felt the nether muscles clamp around his dick. A rapturous moan spilt from the unseen lips and echoed against the bedroom walls.

  Shawn‘s eyes searched the darkness before him. A musky aroma had filled the air, so real it made his mouth water. But though he could feel the sweat-satin flesh, he saw nothing except the ceiling and walls and outlines of the familiar furniture.

  The body crumpled over him, embraced him with its soft, desirous arms. He kissed the mouth offered, savoring the earthy sensual taste. Then the mattress creaked again as the body unsaddled him.

  Shawn watched for the door to open but it did not. After a time, when his heartbeat settled to a steady pace again and all he smelled was the Downy on the sheets, he knew that whatever it was he‘d just made love to had departed the room but not the house. Even as Shawn drifted to sleep he felt its presence beyond the bedroom walls.

  In a language that transcended the spoken word, it whispered amorous promises that teased his lust and reassured his manhood.

  Cranberry hurdled back over Hillary‘s shoulder. The dog turned twice before rooting down on the mattress between them. Shawn smiled, and for the first time in years, petted the cringing little blockade.

  With a laugh, Shawn turned over and left the dog to monopolize its Mistress‘s warmth.

  Shawn left early for work the next day, happy to let Hillary have her way in preparing the house for her brunch. She was on the phone with the poor movers when he set out and he rather pitied whatever it was the men were about to face. But he forgot them as soon as he pulled the van out of the driveway. There was only one thing on his mind that morning: the anticipation of the coming night.

  His frustrated desire made the hours lengthen. But nothing distressed him -not his foreman‘s report that a bid had been reneged, not the news that the dental coverage for his employees would be droppe
d unless he forked over a substantial rate increase. Even Shawn’s hypochondriac secretary‘s complaining of her latest aches, pains and suspicious moles, was only white noise to his ears.

  When five-thirty hit Shawn left work behind again. On the way home he ventured into the next city and picked up a bottle of wine. It had been four years since he‘d bought any, since before Hillary‘s conversion to her all-consuming brand of religion. He stowed and locked it away in the glove compartment, paper bag, receipt and all, while he drove back home.

  On pulling into the driveway Shawn noticed fresh tire tracks on the front lawn. Upon the front stone porch of the house Hillary stood behind the screen door with Cranberry in one arm. On the outside of the door was one of her church buddies —Michele he thought her name was, though he couldn‘t be sure.

  As he got out of the van and walked toward the door the woman looked his direction and offered a wane but polite smile. Hillary was dressed in her new Kathy Lee teal print chiffon dress, and talking so heatedly to her friend from the other side of the screen door she didn‘t even acknowledge his presence until the other woman said hello to him.

  “You would be late when I really needed you home,” Hillary finally said to him. She opened the door and stepped out and gave her friend a hug.

  “Thank-you, Michele. I just don‘t know how I would have handled this without the support of my friends.”

  Shawn nodded as Michele passed by on her way to the sidewalk.

  “What was that about?”

  Hillary let out an exasperated sigh. “I am sorry, Shawn. I shouldn‘t have snapped at you like that. There was no way for you to know what was going on.”

  He looked at her with an effort of interest. “Well, what is it? No one is in the hospital or something worse? I wondered when I saw those...”

  At his gesture to the tread marks she said, “Oh, no! Come inside I‘ll tell you.”

  Shawn followed her through the door and down the foyer into the living room. Here Hillary plopped onto the sofa with Cranberry in her lap. Her eyes widened as she looked up at Shawn, and her smile was baffling for its mixture of amusement and disquiet.