turned on. Her full breasts, nipped in waist, and that tiny triangle of red hair that makes me salivate for a taste. All these things are physical reminders of her beauty but it’s her essence that drives me mad. Surrounding her form is something majestic that calls to a place deep inside me. Like now, I can feel her close as I make my way to the opposite end of the mansion. My mother’s wing.
One of the double doors is open and I enter. The scent of lavender, with a tiny hint of vanilla, invades my nostrils as I make my way through the open, living room area. Mother always smelled of lavender or flowers. The vanilla, that’s my woman . I could pick her out of a line-up while blindfolded; I know her scent that well.
I can hear whispering as I get close to Mother’s sleeping quarters. Again, the door is ajar, and I peek inside keeping silent. My bare feet curl into the carpet as I stare at her. Gillian. She’s kneeling at the side of Mother’s bed as if in prayer. I wait holding onto the door digging into the wood with my fingers so that I don’t instantly go to her. The fact that she left on her own is important. It’s the first step toward healing but why Mother’s room. What called to her?
And then she speaks. “Ms. Davis…um, Colleen”—she dips her head down toward her hands that are in prayer and sets her lips on the tips of her fingers—“we laid you to rest today. I hope that means you’re at peace.”
From my position I can see a tear trace down her pale cheek and it almost catapults me to her. Seeing Gillian cry breaks me. Every tear seems like a failure on my part, proof that I’ve not done my job making her happy.
“Chase is okay. He’s hurting, but I don’t know what to do to help him.” Her voice cracks on the last part, and she sniffs, wiping her nose and wet eyes on the sleeve of her robe. I stifle a laugh. The women who came before her would never do such a human thing. No, they always had perfect manners and plastic bodies. Gillian is real, and seeing her now, on her knees praying to my mother fills me with a love so strong I’ve no doubt it will survive the test of time.
“I’m sorry that you’re gone, for Chase and for me. I wanted the time to prove to you how much I love him, how I’d never forsake or take advantage of his love. And now you’ll never know. Worse, it’s my fault you’re gone. How will he ever forgive me?” Her voice shakes, and a sob fills the room as her head falls onto the bed, her shoulders wracked with the weight of her sorrow.
I can’t handle it. I fall to my knees behind her caging her body with my own, sheltering her, giving her the protection I wasn’t able to give her two weeks ago. “There’s nothing to forgive.” I nuzzle the side of her hair near her ear. “Hear me; really hear me. It’s not your fault.” She shakes her head and the sobs take over. I turn her around, and she scrambles into my lap, legs wrapped around my waist, head in my neck. Using the bed to help steady us I stand, gripping her ass and her back.
While she cries, I walk us back to our room. We pass Phillip on the way, and he opens his mouth to speak, but I shoot him with a hard gaze and shake my head sternly. He closes his mouth and backs against the wall getting out of our way. Smart man. Right now, I’ll take out anyone who tries to breech my woman. She’s right where she needs to be, and I will be the one to comfort her, to bring her back to the happy, confident woman she is. Me. The man who’s going to spend the rest of his life loving her.
We enter our bedroom, and she lifts her head with the click of the bolt going into place. Through her tears, her eyes are as green as shamrocks and just as wild. Her lips are moist, tears having coated them. I bring her to the bed and slowly lay her down. Then, I take her mouth in mine, tasting her sadness; her grief. It’s beautiful and heartbreaking. She doesn’t hesitate to open for me, and I dip in for a much more
One of the double doors is open and I enter. The scent of lavender, with a tiny hint of vanilla, invades my nostrils as I make my way through the open, living room area. Mother always smelled of lavender or flowers. The vanilla, that’s my woman . I could pick her out of a line-up while blindfolded; I know her scent that well.
I can hear whispering as I get close to Mother’s sleeping quarters. Again, the door is ajar, and I peek inside keeping silent. My bare feet curl into the carpet as I stare at her. Gillian. She’s kneeling at the side of Mother’s bed as if in prayer. I wait holding onto the door digging into the wood with my fingers so that I don’t instantly go to her. The fact that she left on her own is important. It’s the first step toward healing but why Mother’s room. What called to her?
And then she speaks. “Ms. Davis…um, Colleen”—she dips her head down toward her hands that are in prayer and sets her lips on the tips of her fingers—“we laid you to rest today. I hope that means you’re at peace.”
From my position I can see a tear trace down her pale cheek and it almost catapults me to her. Seeing Gillian cry breaks me. Every tear seems like a failure on my part, proof that I’ve not done my job making her happy.
“Chase is okay. He’s hurting, but I don’t know what to do to help him.” Her voice cracks on the last part, and she sniffs, wiping her nose and wet eyes on the sleeve of her robe. I stifle a laugh. The women who came before her would never do such a human thing. No, they always had perfect manners and plastic bodies. Gillian is real, and seeing her now, on her knees praying to my mother fills me with a love so strong I’ve no doubt it will survive the test of time.
“I’m sorry that you’re gone, for Chase and for me. I wanted the time to prove to you how much I love him, how I’d never forsake or take advantage of his love. And now you’ll never know. Worse, it’s my fault you’re gone. How will he ever forgive me?” Her voice shakes, and a sob fills the room as her head falls onto the bed, her shoulders wracked with the weight of her sorrow.
I can’t handle it. I fall to my knees behind her caging her body with my own, sheltering her, giving her the protection I wasn’t able to give her two weeks ago. “There’s nothing to forgive.” I nuzzle the side of her hair near her ear. “Hear me; really hear me. It’s not your fault.” She shakes her head and the sobs take over. I turn her around, and she scrambles into my lap, legs wrapped around my waist, head in my neck. Using the bed to help steady us I stand, gripping her ass and her back.
While she cries, I walk us back to our room. We pass Phillip on the way, and he opens his mouth to speak, but I shoot him with a hard gaze and shake my head sternly. He closes his mouth and backs against the wall getting out of our way. Smart man. Right now, I’ll take out anyone who tries to breech my woman. She’s right where she needs to be, and I will be the one to comfort her, to bring her back to the happy, confident woman she is. Me. The man who’s going to spend the rest of his life loving her.
We enter our bedroom, and she lifts her head with the click of the bolt going into place. Through her tears, her eyes are as green as shamrocks and just as wild. Her lips are moist, tears having coated them. I bring her to the bed and slowly lay her down. Then, I take her mouth in mine, tasting her sadness; her grief. It’s beautiful and heartbreaking. She doesn’t hesitate to open for me, and I dip in for a much more
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