Whiskey Sunrise

by Missouri Vaun

Lovey slowly trailed her damp fingers down the center of Royal’s body until she could reach between them and stroke Royal’s sex.

  “Lovey…” Royal’s eyes closed as she moved against Lovey’s hand. She flipped Lovey over onto her back, straddling Lovey’s thigh. Lovey started to move her hand, but Royal covered her hand, holding it in place. “Don’t stop,” Royal said.

  Lovey pushed inside Royal as she moved against her hand and thigh. It was only a matter of moments before Royal tensed in climax and then collapsed.

  Lovey tenderly stroked Royal’s back as they lay together, spent and breathless.

  Chapter Twelve

  Royal wasn’t sure how long she lay next to Lovey. The sun was long gone and they had not turned on a light. The only illumination in the room came from the moon through the open window. The lunar glow cast surfaces as translucent. She shifted beside Lovey, not wanting to wake her if she’d dozed off. It was hard to tell if she was sleeping. Lovey’s eyes were closed; her long, dark lashes rested on flushed cheeks. Her breathing was slow and even. Royal reached into the bedside cabinet and pulled out a glass. The movement caused Lovey to stir.

  “If that’s a drink, I’ll have some.” Lovey shifted onto her side and her eyes fluttered open.

  “I have two glasses, but all I have on hand is whiskey.” Royal looked over her shoulder as she retrieved the glasses.

  “I’ll try a little.”

  Royal poured small amounts of the brown liquor into two glasses from the bottle. She considered for a moment the raw materials that were combined to create whiskey. As separate elements, they were nothing more than produce, but combined and heated, they were intoxicating. That was the way she felt with Lovey. Intoxicated. Something existed between them, something incredibly powerful.

  Royal handed a glass to Lovey, who propped herself up on a pillow against the headboard. Royal shifted to the other end of the bed, using the other pillow to lean against the footboard. She faced Lovey as she sipped the liquor. Warmth followed the liquid down her throat and to her chest. Royal had dreamed of finding a love, never dreaming that it could actually happen. Pragmatism fought against the idea of happy ever after, but after these past few encounters with Lovey, she could now visualize a faint horizon of hope. As radiant and sharp as a razor blade, paper thin, but a horizon nonetheless. If she stretched, Royal thought she might even see beyond it, her surge of hopefulness allowing her to look farther than she had before.

  It was warm in the room. Each of them was only partially covered by the tousled sheet. Royal reached over and ran her palm over Lovey’s smooth, slender exposed leg.

  Lovey watched Royal watching her as she took a tentative sip of the whiskey. It burned her throat, but after a couple of tiny sips she decided she rather liked its warming effect. She’d never tasted whiskey before.

  In the moonlight she thought Royal was more gorgeous, if that was even possible. She felt like she was adrift in bliss. She never wanted to leave this room. She never wanted to leave this bed. But then she realized it might be later than she suspected, for she had surely lost track of time altogether the moment they’d undressed for each other.

  “What time do you think it is?” Lovey asked. She felt bold and sexy in her state of undress. Her body was barely covered by the rumpled top sheet.

  “Maybe eight o’clock.” Royal shifted off the bed and retrieved a pocket watch from her trousers. “That was a good guess. It’s eight fifteen.”

  Lovey was glad she’d asked because it meant she got to watch Royal’s naked body move around the softly lit room. Just the sight of her slender, nude body sent shivers to private places. She couldn’t help smiling as Royal returned to her spot at the foot of the bed facing her.

  “What’s funny?” asked Royal. She took another small sip of whiskey.

  “I’d say it’s more of a question of who’s adorable. You.”

  Royal crawled up the bed and snuggled next to Lovey and kissed her on the cheek. “Maybe I should take this from you now.” Royal reached for Lovey’s glass. “It’s clearly affecting your vision.”

  “Hardly. But maybe you should take this away from me anyway. I’m not sure I should have too much. I have no tolerance for alcohol.”

  “So, you have tasted whiskey before? I thought all you Baptists were teetotalers.”

  “Most of us are. And no, I haven’t tasted this particular liquor before. I’m more of a champagne fan. I tried some a few times with friends in Chicago.”

  “What was Chicago like?” Royal set the two glasses on the nightstand and settled farther down on the pillow so that their bare shoulders were touching. She pulled Lovey’s fingers to her lips and kissed them.

  “Chicago was magical. Like your lips against my skin.” Lovey leaned over and kissed Royal softly. The taste of whiskey still on her tongue mingled with the flavor that Lovey was beginning to recognize was all Royal.

  They kissed for a few minutes and snuggled closer together. Lovey slid her thigh over Royal’s and snuggled into her neck. “I should go soon,” said Lovey.

  “How much time do we have?” Royal pulled Lovey closer.

  “Enough.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  It was almost ten by the time Royal dropped Lovey back at her house. It took everything Lovey had to pull herself out of the car, away from Royal, and go inside to face her father. She’d been devising a cover story for her outing during the drive home. She knew she would not be able to exist with Royal in this private bubble forever, but she hoped to make it last as long as possible.

  Her father was in his study. The door was ajar as she walked down the hall toward her room.

  “Lovey? How was your evening?” He called through the open door. He was at his desk, surrounded by open books and papers.

  “It was nice.” Lovey leaned on the door frame of his study for a moment. “I’m tired. I think I’ll turn in.”

  “Okay, see you in the morning.”

  “Good night.” She’d avoided questions for the moment, but as she settled into her nightgown in her room she knew that the questions would eventually come. Who had she been with? Where had they gone? What had they done?

  What have I done? Sensations of her time with Royal washed over her like a rogue wave. Feeling unstable and a little light-headed, she crawled under the covers and pulled a pillow to her chest.

  Creeping sadness swallowed her up like quicksand. The more she tried to redirect her thoughts to struggle against it, the deeper she sank. What did it matter if she’d discovered the most wonderful thing in the world if society wouldn’t allow it to exist? She knew her father would disown her if he ever found out she was involved with a woman.

  Maybe if Royal dressed or looked in such a way that she could blend in. Would that make a difference? No. Part of what Lovey found so attractive about Royal was her disdain for convention. She knew this, and at the same time she feared it. For all her elevated discourse about women’s roles and modernity, deep down she knew the conservatism she’d been raised in had deep sunk roots. Until she could fully exorcise those deeply ingrained origins she would never be truly free. She was afraid she wasn’t brave enough to exist openly with Royal.

  Even as she thought these things, even as she mourned the loss of what could never be, she started planning a way to be alone with Royal again. Even though part of her psyche knew she was setting herself up for heartache by doing so.

  ❖

  Lovey held the coffee cup in both hands and sipped. Her father sat across from her, coffee in hand, reading over his notes.

  “So, who were you with last night?” He asked the question without looking up.

  “Just a friend from church. What is your topic for the service this morning?” Lovey usually liked to hear her father talk about his chosen message. She felt a certain sense of specialness getting to hear the raw message before anyone else. However, this morning her agenda was to distract him away from his questions about how she’d spent the previous evening, or with whom
.

  “Service of others.”

  “Sounds promising.” Lovey watched him pore over his notes. She knew he was only half in the room at the moment, practicing his sermon delivery in his head. She watched him stand absently and refill his coffee.

  “You should get ready. We’ll be late.” He spoke to her while his attention remained on the open Bible in his hand. He left the room, carrying his coffee as he turned into his study and pulled the door shut.

  Lovey held her head in her hands. She was a grown woman, but at the moment she felt like a teenager attempting to keep some secret from her parent. Shouldn’t she be able to spend time with whomever she chose at this point? She rinsed her cup and moved with leaden feet down the hall to bathe and get dressed for church.

  When did attending a worship service become such a chore? Was it only because her faith had failed to explain the events of her life? Was that even the role of faith? She’d been taught that God’s hand was at work in all things of this world and that believers were to trust in the infallible workings of his deeds. If that were true, if God was at work in all things, then why had this incredibly strong attraction for Royal developed? Was God testing her ability to overcome temptation? If that were the case she’d already failed the test miserably.

  What happened to a person’s faith when it seemed to have no relevance to their actual life? She had no answers to any of her questions, and the path her mind had taken was doing nothing but increasing her annoyance level.

  Lovey pulled a dress from her narrow closet and tossed it onto the bed so that she could begin to get dressed for church.

  ❖

  Lovey sat in her usual spot in the second pew, near the aisle. She schooled her expression so that her face gave the impression of rapt attentiveness, when in reality she was anything but attentive. Her body was at rest, her back firm against the stiff wood; her mind was in bed with Royal. Heat rose to her throat and décolleté as she remembered Royal’s hands on her skin.

  Stop. Focus. She forced her attention back to her father in the pulpit.

  “The more abundantly I love you, the less I be loved. Second Corinthians, chapter twelve, verse fifteen, talks of Paul’s willingness to love without thought of reciprocity.” Her father paused for effect and shifted from behind the pedestal upon which his Bible rested. “Paul was talking to all of us who claim to be Christian. His challenge was for us to love others so that they may come to know Christ.” His voice grew solemn. “Natural love expects something in return, but not Christ’s love, not Christian love.”

  Lovey shifted on the stiff pew. Every time her father said the word love she flinched, as if she were taking each utterance of the word personally. As if each time he said it he was looking right through her. As if he somehow knew where her mind had wandered.

  “Christ calls us to serve him by serving others. This is his great command.”

  Lovey’s mind drifted during the last part of his sermon. Her foot twitched to be free of this forced stasis. She fanned herself as the air around her seemed to grow thick with the heat she felt sure was emanating from her entire body. The words closing hymn called to her through her fog of distraction, and she sighed with relief knowing release was soon at hand.

  “Walk in love, as Christ has loved us. Let us turn to page sixty in our hymnals.” Her father signaled for the pianist to begin to play. “And let all those who are burdened come and kneel at the altar and I will pray with you.” He nodded again at the pianist and she began to play “I Surrender All.”

  The congregation stood. Some with raised hands swayed and sang the tune from memory with closed eyes. I surrender all, I surrender all. The emotion in the room rose to a crescendo as a couple of people came to the front and those closest left their seats to lay hands on those kneeling. “Praise Jesus,” was uttered barely above a whisper from those kneeling near the front.

  The ballad insinuated itself in the recesses of Lovey’s brain. Now I feel the sacred flame. Any mention of flame just rocketed her mind back to the heat she’d felt with Royal. Standing as she was, she had to grab hold of the back of the pew in front of her to stabilize herself. How could one encounter have such a lingering, powerful effect on her?

  She opened her eyes. Those gathered at the front seemed to be in a thrall under her father’s spell. Lovey marveled at how her father’s sermons could move people. Did he really believe his own words? His conviction seemed sincere. Had nothing ever shaken his faith? Even when he sat at the bedside of her mother in her last hours? Lovey wondered why she had never asked him. Maybe she didn’t really want to know the answer. Maybe she’d needed to cling to his belief at the time. But after what she’d gone through losing George and now, confronted with feelings for Royal, that some would label unnatural, doubts were rising for her again.

  Chapter Fourteen

  After the service, Lovey stood at the fringe of the small crowd as the congregation exited the narrow wooden church. Her father stood at the exit, greeting each parishioner as they left. Lovey smiled politely and shared a word or two with some of the families as they departed. As the crowd thinned, anxious to leave and find some time alone with her thoughts, she was just about to walk to her father’s dusty black Model A Ford when she heard his voice behind her.

  “Lovey, we’ve been invited to Sunday dinner.” She turned as he stepped near her. The last thing she felt like doing was having lunch with some family she barely knew.

  “You know the Dawsons? Joe here has extended the invitation and I’ve accepted.” Her father motioned Joe Dawson over so there was nothing she could do but smile and graciously accept. Joe was near her age, maybe a year or two older. He was handsome in that outdoorsy, farm boy sort of way, tall and fit, with neatly cropped dark hair and brown eyes. Joe had an easy self-confidence about him as he shifted his stance and fingered the felt hat he was holding.

  “Hello, Miss Lovey,” Joe said. “You look fine today.”

  “Thank you, Joe.” She shielded her eyes from the midday sun as she looked up to meet his gaze.

  “Well, then, Joe, we’ll be along shortly, I just need to close up the sanctuary.”

  Joe nodded, replaced his hat, and left them to their tasks.

  Lovey was tired and wanted to go home, but there would be no quietude now. They’d be lunching with the Dawson family, and she felt sure that would be an all-afternoon affair.

  ❖

  Lunch with the Dawsons hadn’t been as painful as Lovey had feared. The conversation was cordial and easy. The food was very good—fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and fresh green beans, followed by apple cobbler. Joe’s mother was obviously a talented cook. Even still, Lovey struggled to remain in the present. Her thoughts were continually drifting to Royal. What was Royal thinking about their time together? Did she also attend church today? Where was Royal having lunch? When would they be able to see each other again? It was during this last rumination that she heard her name, which pulled her back to the moment at hand.

  “I’m sorry, what?” She refocused her gaze in Joe’s direction.

  “I was just asking, if you’ve finished, would you like to take a walk?”

  For a moment she didn’t know what to say. She wanted to say no, but that didn’t seem like an option, given everyone at the table was waiting for her response. “Oh, thank you, but I should help clear the table since your mother prepared such a fine meal.”

  “Oh, don’t you worry about that, Lovey. Elaine can help me with the dishes. You go on with Joe and have a nice walk.” Joe’s mother stood and nodded for Joe’s younger sister, Elaine, to help her as she reached for an empty dish. Well, that was it. There would be no getting out of it now. How many times in her life had she been called upon to do the right thing, the thing expected of her? And she was required to do it politely, without complaint for her own needs or wishes. Lovey stood, smiled, and thanked Mrs. Dawson for feeding them and then followed Joe outside. Her father and Mr. Dawson moved to the front porch with tall glasses of i
ced tea. She gave her father one last look over her shoulder as she and Joe struck out across the broad, flat front lawn.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Each crisp snap echoed in Royal’s ears as she sat with the large pan of beans in her lap. She sat cross-legged on the porch breaking the beans into small pieces so that her mother could can them. She’d gotten up early with the notion that she’d get all her chores done and head into town in the hopes of seeing Lovey. And if she didn’t happen to bump into her there, she’d already decided to drive out to her house. She ached to see Lovey today.

  All day Sunday she’d done nothing but think about their night together, and she was as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, pensive about how Lovey might be feeling. Was she regretting that they’d slept together? Royal sure hoped not, because she certainly wasn’t. But she knew all of this was new to Lovey, and as far as she knew it might just be experimentation on Lovey’s part. It didn’t feel that way when they were together, but the demands of family could close in on you and push you in other directions. Royal had seen it happen.

  Royal had been through that before with women who wanted to be with her, but only until they met the right man. Then they were off to start a family of their own. They were always nice about breaking things off. Mostly, they just didn’t take a relationship with a woman seriously. It seemed that it was a placeholder until they found something real. The thought of those old hurts gave Royal’s stomach a sour turn.

  She snapped the last handful of string beans and stirred the large bowl to make sure she’d gotten them all. Then she carried them to the kitchen where her mother was boiling glass jars for canning.

  “I’m thinkin’ of going into town after I clean up.” Royal leaned against the kitchen sink, watching her mother work. “Do you need anything?”