Lisa Wells - Dib

by Lisa Wells

  Covey scanned the surroundings. “I’m not sure. Perfect for what? You haven’t clued me in to your latest fantasy.” Covey leaned against the doorframe.

  Usually, Hazel would be there to greet them, bustling them into the huge kitchen where she would feed them apple pie and hot tea and tell them the history of the Bass’ Centennial farmhouse. Lacey knew because she stayed here as a child.

  This weekend, Hazel would not be around. Lacey and Covey would be flying solo.

  The aroma of French toast drifted through an open doorway. They both headed toward it.

  “Let’s eat and get settled in. Then I’ll let you know my plans.” Lacey pulled the French toast casserole out of the oven and placed it on the table as she talked.

  The table was set for two with an eclectic collection of beautiful old dishes. A fresh pot of coffee sat warm on the stove.

  “If we are not going to talk about the fantasy you have planned for us, let’s talk some more about you as we eat.”

  “You’ve already had your five questions, plus some I’m pretty sure,” she commented.

  “Surely, not. I know nothing about you. I want five more.” Charm oozed out of his pores.

  “Okay, but I get five more,” she pointed out.

  “Deal.”

  “What do you want to know?” Lacey asked.

  “Where do you live?” He took a bite of the toast and smiled his approval for it.

  “I’m an Army brat without the military excuse. I’ve been all over. Currently, I live in Mistletoe, Missouri. My parents are gypsies in disguise.”

  “Currently? Are you planning on moving?”

  “Yeah, I have a hard time staying in one place for more than one or two years. Which is the good thing about my business. I can do it from anywhere.”

  “That’s convenient,” he said, sipping his coffee.

  “It really is. Most couples apply on-line. I design their fantasy package, set it up, and send them the details. If they want to meet, we do. Very seldom, do I ever see them face-to-face. Unless, of course, the woman wants to take the strip aerobics class I teach. A lot of women will take my class before their fantasy weekend takes place.”

  “Why? And, that’s not one of my five questions.”

  “Men like to be stripped for.”

  “Has anyone ever asked you to set up a three-way for them?”

  She laughed. “Yes, and that does count as one of your questions. You’ve got three more.”

  “What do your parents think of your career?”

  “At first, they were appalled. When I explained I only arrange fantasies for married couples, and only teach strip aerobics to my married customer base, they came to accept it as a legitimate moral business.”

  “Morals. Are they big on those?”

  “They want them for me. They may behave like gypsies, but they’ve tried to raise me spiritually. It didn’t completely take.”

  “A churched gypsy, unique hybrid of qualities.”

  Lacey shrugged. “Once I was raised and out of the house, they pursued their passion to travel farther and farther away. And, they have recently decided to let me discover who I want to be.”

  The ringing of the phone interrupted their conversation. Lacey answered it. “Hello, Bass’s Centennial Farm.”

  “Oh, hi Hazel. We’re just getting settled in. The breakfast is delicious.”

  When Lacey hung up the phone, she found Covey busy on seconds.

  “I’m going upstairs to take a shower. You can use the shower down here in the master bedroom. You’ll find it down the hallway and on the right. I’ll use the guest room upstairs.”

  “Separate rooms?”

  “Of course.” She gave him a look of dismay, “What kind of girl do you think I am? We just met.” With that peek into their next fantasy, she turned and fled up the stairs.

  Covey interrupted her departure. “Lacey, I’m too old to play these games.”

  She stopped midway up the stairwell. “Covey, you’re never too old to play.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  With an airy wave, she continued up the stairs at a slower pace, giving him a delicious view of her bottom in her Daisy Dukes. At the top, she paused and bent over slowly to pick up a piece of nonexistent lent.

  A low wolf whistle told her he was still watching from the bottom of the stairs.

  With a little wiggle of her bottom, she straightened and headed down the hall. It was time to prepare for fantasy number three.

  Chapter 20

  Covey watched Lacey until she disappeared. His brain held an imbedded image of her body melting into his. Her soft curves pressing against him caused all of his blood to rush to his dick, which left him so light headed he couldn’t focus on anything but her.

  She used her mouth, her lips, her tongue to taste him with intimate detail, and her hands to explore their own paths. He’d fit so snug inside of her, he could swear she was new to sex. Except, she was so damn good, it was obvious she wasn’t.

  Her breathing patterns, moans, and whispered instructions brought an urgency to their union like nothing he’d ever experienced. The woman was a drug. A highly addictive, illegal drug.

  She didn’t even blink when he asked her to do a 125 with him. With his brain in his balls, he’d forgotten she was a dancer. Her body twisted into positions the average woman’s body couldn’t. She was the first woman ever to gracefully stand over him, bend backward, place her hands on either side of his hips and take his cock in her mouth. A classic 125 done with classic grace. She embraced the position with enthusiasm and promised him she would show off some of her own tricks at a more appropriate time.

  Her eyes, when she talked, promised she knew tricks most men would only come across in a brothel. Part of him struggled with the knowledge that she knew so much. Had she learned them during her extensive research for fantasy material for her customers? Or, did she come by them through extensive experience? Lacey Valentine was a fascinating mixture of innocence and experience.

  She was wild and uninhibited, yet, somehow vulnerable all at the same time. The combination was erotic. He didn’t know if he should pamper her or treat her like a vixen.

  Little Miss Fantasy Coordinator was a smoldering mixture of incongruities. Yet, the incongruities, when added together, felt honest and real. He found himself accepting them as congruent. As a necessary part of his future existence.

  Did Lacey really see him as a Mr. Wrong? And, if so, would she maintain that stance if she knew the real him? It didn’t matter. A deal was a deal. If she asked him to stick around, he would. But, he wouldn’t ask her.

  He grabbed his cell and called to check on his grandmother.

  “Covey, dear, is that you? How charming of you to think of your grandmother while out of town on business.” His grandmother’s voice was as refined and elegant as any southern belle.

  She sounds healthy as a horse. “Grandmother, how are you feeling?” He knew so little about breast cancer. How did it treat its victims while snuffing out their life? He needed to find out.

  There was hearty laughter on the other end of the line. The kind one saves for loved ones. “Darling, I’m well enough to see you settled down and happy. Which reminds me, I had another vision.”

  “Grandmother, stop seeing me in your visions. It creeps me out,” he teased.

  There was a deep sigh. “You are an ungrateful child. If I can’t talk about my visions, tell me what it is that really prompted your call.” There was another deep sigh to punctuate her capitulation.

  Covey laughed. “Grandmother, you are an interfering, busybody, and it’s a good thing I love you.” He joked with her as he always did when she started in on his love life. Hearing her laughter was all he needed to maintain the course he had set for himself. He would search for love in earnest. He wouldn’t lie to his grandmother. He couldn’t do that. But, he could try to make her dreams come true by searching for love.

  “I’m shocked you would call me a
busybody. I told you last Tuesday I had a vision. I’m just helping you open your eyes to what I have already seen.”

  Covey grinned. His grandmother, the psychic.

  “I know Grandmother. You saw me happily married in your vision?”

  “Yes. She was tall and blonde. She was also very vulnerable, and she wasn’t a stick. Are you, by chance, seeing a new woman?”

  Covey groped for air and dropped the phone. His arms were covered in goose bumps and a chill went down his back. He leaned down and picked up the phone. “And if I am, does that mean she is the one and only for me?” He said the words with unease.

  Lacey was vulnerable. Had his grandmother seen Lacey in a vision?

  It wasn’t possible. Of course, she didn’t see Lacey.

  God, his grandmother’s visions were usually true. She’d seen more than her share of things that came true in Covey’s life. Like her vision of him as a country music singer when he was a teenager and scoffed at everything but hard rock.

  Could it be possible that Lacey was the woman he was meant to fall in love with? If so, how was he going to backtrack and make her see him as a viable husband?

  “Covey, I could answer that, but you never believe my visions where you’re concerned. All I’m saying is - I wouldn’t be interfering quite so much if you weren’t so damn stubborn when it comes to falling in love.”

  “What’s wrong with not wanting to fall in love?” This wasn’t the first time he’d asked her about the thrills of love.

  “Darling, that is an answer you won’t understand until you have experienced love for yourself. You made a foolish contract with your brothers to avoid love. It’s a ludicrous agreement. My dying wish is for you to break the contract.”

  “Why can’t you wish for something simple like world peace? I know you want what’s best for us, but Grandmother you’re asking a lot.”

  “Well, if it’s too much for me to hope for…”

  Covey couldn’t stand the disappointment in her voice. “I’m going to try to find love Grandmother. That’s the best I can promise you. Love doesn’t just appear because I’m suddenly in the mood to feel it.”

  “Oh, you’d be surprised how quickly it appears once you let the universe know you’re looking for it.”

  Is that why the universe dropped Lacey in my lap? “I’ll just have to trust you on this.”

  “As well you should. Have I ever led you astray with one of my visions?”

  “No.”

  “Covey, dear, I know you tease me about getting involved in your love life. But darling, you have no business being single for the rest of your life. You have too much to offer the world in the way of a family man. You didn’t answer my question earlier. Are you seeing someone?”

  Shit, he wanted to lie; he couldn’t. “Grandmother, to you and to you only, I’ll admit that I’m seeing someone who is unlike anyone I’ve ever been around before.” He so wanted his grandmother to be happy in her final days on earth. He would give her hope if nothing else.

  “Aha!”

  “Don’t you breathe a word of this to my brothers. They’ll think it takes them off the hook. They can get their asses out there and search for love like I am.”

  “Darling, your secret is safe with me. Now, tell me more.”

  “Are you kidding? You know too much already with your visions.”

  “Just follow your heart. That’s all I ask. Bring this woman home so I can do the ring test and we’ll know if you’re wasting your time.”

  “Grandmother, don’t get your hopes up,” he warned. “But, for you, I’ll keep my options open with her. That is all I can promise.”

  “That’s all I ask sweetheart. That’s all I ask. And be careful darling, I see an accident.”

  “Grandmother, I love you.”

  “Of course you do dear, just as I love you.” She paused and then said, “Covey?”

  “Yes?”

  “Love is not a business arrangement.”

  “Grandmother, I know that. Do me a favor. Tell my brothers, I’m going to kick their asses when I get home.”

  “Covey James, you leave those poor boys alone. They’ll have to answer to me soon enough.”

  Covey was silent.

  “Covey, I love you.”

  The line went dead before Covey could respond. He would miss her greatly when she was gone. He could always count on her to speak her mind and tell him when he was wrong. Just, as she never failed to encourage him and his brothers to follow their spirits, wherever that might take them.

  Walking inside, he heard Lacey singing at the top of her lungs. The noise practically drowned out the sound of running water. He grimaced when she hit a high note that didn’t quite come out the way the artist intended. She didn’t waiver; she just continued belting out her song. He wondered if she knew he could hear. Did she care?

  Picking up his luggage, he went in search of the downstairs bedroom. He was glad to find it a simple, yet comfortable room. No frills or girly stuff to deal with. A mirror on the dresser gave him a good view of himself. It was time for a shower and then more of Lacey naked and underneath him.

  He was suddenly feeling like an addict going into withdraws. The woman certainly got into his blood in a very short amount of time.

  Chapter 21

  Lacey knocked shyly on the bedroom door, then draped herself brazenly against the frame and waited for it to be opened.

  Nothing. Damn.

  This wasn’t how it was designed to unfold. What if he fell asleep? He better not be asleep. He’s supposed to be anxiously waiting for me to show up for our next fantasy.

  “Hello, anyone there?” Her voice was slightly higher than a whisper.

  Nothing. Shit.

  Could he actually be asleep? She would kill him if he was. Of course, she would have sex with him a few more times before she killed him. No sense in killing the hand that feeds the kitty until the kitty’s full.

  Meow said the feline to the tom.

  Breathing in deeply, she twisted the wooden doorknob and slowly opened the door. She took care not to open it too wide. Just enough to peak in and scout out the room.

  He wasn’t there. The bed appeared empty from her vantage point and the room had a vacant feel. Was he still in the kitchen?

  “Dammit,” she said, and stepped inside the doorframe to see where her plan went wrong.

  The view, without a man, made her scowl.

  Not, that it wasn’t a nice view. It consisted of a fairytale, four-poster bed dressed in shades of white. The walls were painted in a lovely shade of blue. A good background color for her skin tone. Antiques were displayed sparsely throughout the room, and they gave the sleeping chamber a feel of intimate luxury. Why isn’t he here?

  It was a good room, scratch that, it was a great room for her next fantasy. When did Hazel buy the bed? Lacey didn’t remember seeing it at Christmas. Walking over to the bed, she tugged on one of the posters to test for sturdiness. Satisfied it could hold her weight, should she decide to dance for him, she turned her attention to the connecting room.

  He’s taking a shower.

  Damn, it would have been so much simpler if he’d just opened the door when she knocked.

  She twisted her lips and tried to think. Thoughts were scarce. Obviously, she needed to improvise. But, how?

  She did a mental check of her options. After discarding the first two, she settled on the third. It wasn’t without flaws. The steam is going to ruin my hair. She allowed herself one more moment of vexation and then stomped to the door.

  With another deep breath, she stepped into the room, ready to play the part of a new girl at Big Mama’s Bawdy Brothel.

  The nerves and excitement, of someone doing something naughty for the first time, engulfed her. Her hands were shaking and she almost dropped the goody bag of lotions and sex toys she was carrying. The bag should have been left on the bed. It would have been less to initially deal with.

  It’s hard to look sexy with your h
ands full of stuff. Even if it’s very good stuff.

  She slowly peeled back the shower curtain and sucked in her breath at the view. A Playgirl Magazine will never impress me again.

  When he noticed her, she asked the question Big Mama made all of her clients ask when they were meeting a client for the first time. “Hi Stud. I’m Lacey. Do you come here often?” The question came out breathless, her nerves causing the words to shake ever so slightly. She held the bag of toys out of sight, behind her back.

  Soapsuds ran down his tanned body in rivulets outlining his chest and rigid muscles. She marveled that a man who made a living singing in country bars was endowed with razor cut muscles.

  Where’s his beer gut?

  Lacey thanked her lucky stars she’d discovered a Mr. Wrong so finely built.

  For this fantasy, she wore a short silk robe—a trashy red one with fur trim at the hem and at the cuffs. She acquired it on-line. Her five-inch mules, purchased at the same time, were artistically embellished with matching fur along their tops.

  She wore the robe cinched tightly at her waist to make it even shorter. She liked her legs. She wanted his attention on them as much as possible.

  Her hair was pulled up in a loose ponytail; tendrils of hair fell softly around her face. A nice disparity to the rest of her appearance. Her lips were painted red, her blush was heavy, and her eyelashes had three healthy coats of mascara. If I shut my eyes, I’ll probably never get them back open.

  She wore a pair of black, fishnet stockings and a black garter belt for contrast underneath the robe. Her bra matched the garter. Underneath the push-up bra, were red rose petals pasted to her nipples. Her pubic hair was shaved—M.I.A. Missing in action.

  I hope I don’t live to regret that decision.

  On her head, tilted at an angle, was Covey’s tattered cowboy hat. The river drenching gave it character. He apparently didn’t think so, because she found it in the trashcan. It was a sassy addition to her attire.