Beds and Blazes (6 page)

Lowell grunted and scrubbed his hands through his hair. “Surely not Father,” he murmured in a daze. “Father would never debase himself in such a fashion…or would he?”

“What’s this?” Gavin Rossi boomed from the doorway. “What sort of debasement are you wondering if I’m capable of?”

“Ah,” Lowell began. “That is, um, you’d never… Uh…”

“Put on glamours and skulk about Lowell and his ladylove,” offered Korbin. “Mess about in a human’s laundry and shrubbery.”

“And generally be foolish, just to get under Lowell’s skin,” Brock added helpfully. “Was that pretty much it, Lowell?”

Gavin looked from Brock’s mirth-filled face to Korbin’s irritated one, then turned to his oldest son. Silently, he shook his head, then left the room.

“Was that a ‘No’, I take it?” Brock quipped.

Lowell growled and grabbed the back of Brock’s chair once more. In a swift motion, he tipped it backwards until the back rested on the floor and Brock’s surprised face stared up at the ceiling. “Birdbrain,” Lowell grumbled. “Why don’t you go play with the damn chickens?”

“Any of these ones wanting for refreshies?” Mephita stood, knobby hands akimbo and gangly knees stretching down from her homespun tunic. “Tea, cider?” She leaned in to the library and grinned. “And, oh yes, eggsies cooked up devilish-style. Carmen instructored this old Mephita ’bout how Miss Dora makes them.” She chuckled. “That one’s a good cook, yes, and he knows it, true?” She leered at Lowell, displaying the herbal remnants of her last meal in the gaps between her teeth.

“Out of my way, gnome,” muttered Lowell. Mephita shrank away as he stalked from the room, chased by Brock’s and Korbin’s guffaws.

* * * *

Boom-boom-boom
—and the sweet lilt of the oboe fluttered up over the percussion.

“Figure eights,” instructed Carmen. “No hurry, let’s just try to get them slow and perfect, ladies.” Dora checked out her classmates to her right and left. Beth, Deb, Colby and Bernice, attired in stretchy leggings, hip scarves and tank tops, wore matching expressions of deep concentration. Dora, however, felt nothing but blissful, easy relaxation as she rolled her hips through the motions.

“Really, Dora, you don’t have to make it look so easy,” Bernice complained. “Not all of us were born with hips that will just naturally swish around like this.” The slim, silver-tressed librarian scowled.

“Shhh, Bernice, Dora can’t help it if her hips do all the work for her,” said Carmen. “And you’re doing great! Just relax and enjoy and don’t worry about what anybody else is doing.”

Bernice grunted and turned her back to Dora, then resumed her hip rolls.

Colby flipped her platinum bob and looked thoughtful. “You know, Dora, I haven’t seen you look so, um, relaxed in quite a while.” Dora shrugged as warmth rose to her cheeks, but kept silent. “It’s almost as if there were some romance going on in your life.” Dora smiled and kept her eyes fixed forward.

“She got a haircut and deep conditioning treatment yesterday,” tattled Beth. “She hadn’t passed through the doors of Hippie Chic for at least six months, but she’d called a few days ago and said she needed me to get her in as soon as possible. She even got a bikini wax, you guys, and I saw her going in to the nail salon right after. Clearly she’s getting gussied up for somebody, right? So who’s the lucky man, Dora? Did one of your B&B guests get a little more than a free breakfast with his last stay?”

Dora cleared her throat. “I would never mix business and pleasure, Beth. That is totally unprofessional.”

“Yeah, and it might screw up her TripAdvisor ratings,” Bernice noted.

Deb giggled. “Or send them soaring through the roof…”

“Ladies!” scolded Carmen. “If Dora wants to keep her new romance a secret from us, even though we are her best friends and would never tell anyone, that’s her choice. Let’s move on to some vertical hip circles and head slides. Concentrate on precision.”

For a few minutes, conversation ceased in the gazebo behind Prescott Manor as the six women shimmied, rolled and stepped in the balmy spring air. A dewy layer of sweat covered each woman’s stomach and back as she danced, and the plaintively beautiful Middle Eastern music wended through the gardens. Dora was grateful for the halt to the barrage of questions, but it turned out to be only a temporary respite.

“Out with it, Dora!” Bernice ordered. “Small town like this, we gotta get our kicks where we can, and there’s nothing more thrilling than dating somebody new.”

“Well…” Dora admitted. “I have been on a few dates with someone special.”

Carmen raised an eyebrow and caught Dora’s eye. “Someone on the manly side?”

“Oh, yes, he’s definitely manly,” Dora giggled. “In more ways than one.”

“Hot damn! Did you take any pictures?” asked Bernice. “Oooh, or video? Got it on YouTube yet?”

“Sorry, Bernice, no images to share. He’s…kind of old-fashioned and a little silly at times, but he seems quite fond of me.” She slid her head from side to side as she spoke. “A bit self-conscious, but it’s actually endearing in a funny way.”

“Go on,” Deb urged. Her carrot-red curls glowed in the afternoon sun. “As an old married woman, I need to be reminded of how fun dating is. Marcus thinks that the same old incense and massage oil will do the trick every time.”

“What’re you complaining about? I’d love to have a man light some incense and rub on me. Send that husband of yours right over!” Bernice cackled.

“Well, it’s not all perfect,” conceded Dora. “He just gets so flustered and upset that he sort of ruins it every now and then, but then he comes back and he’s just so cute and charming…” She bit her lower lip, remembering, as the music dwindled to a close. “Sometimes bumbling and tripping over his words when he talks, but then he stops talking and, well, there’s nothing awkward about his body, girls.”

“Mm-hm,” Carmen sighed. “Anybody thirsty besides me? I’ve got some peach iced tea. Be right back.”

Bernice turned to Dora. “What’s this bumbling manly man getting upset about?” she asked. “Does he lose his temper?”

“Oh, no, never at me. He just gets mad when, like, something goes wrong, and he’ll blush and fuss and go stomping off.”

“What in the world’s been going wrong?” wondered Colby. “Creepy guests at the inn?”

“No, the guests at Bohemian Rhapsody are fine—the human sort that is. It’s the animals that are causing trouble. You know, when one of those armadillos that are on the prowl digs into my garden, or a rat knocks over the bin of fertiliser, or a bat gets into the laundry.” She chuckled. “I thought his head was going to explode the other day when we got home from a walk and a buzzard had knocked over some of my potted plants, and then there was that turtle…”

“Prowling buzzards and bats in broad daylight?” asked Deb. “Sorry for asking, Dora, but were you the only one to see these creatures?” She lifted her pinched index finger and thumb to her pursed lips, inhaled deeply and crossed her eyes.

Dora punched Deb lightly on the bicep. “Nothing like that, you old hippie, but yes, I’m the only one who’s seen them, and that seems to make him even madder. I don’t know what he thinks he would do with a rat or a buzzard if he caught it, but it kills him that they’re getting away. Every time something’s gotten messed with, he gets bent out of shape that he hasn’t laid eyes on the perpetrator and then goes off in a huff.”

“What in the hell is going on at your place? Armadillos, bats, turtles, rats… Are you starting a damn zoo over there? Bed, breakfast and petting farm?” Bernice chortled. “Don’t think that many kiddos are gonna be interested in petting buzzards, though, Dora, I hate to break it to you.”

“The animals have been going a bit nuts around my place,” Dora sighed, “but what can I do? I’m just chalking it up to spring fever. I guess I’ve been too distracted with this”—she smiled—“little romance of mine that I haven’t had time to care about the critters. A mess or two isn’t going to spoil my fun.”

The side door swung shut and Carmen strode towards the gathering with a tray full of tumblers and a pitcher of tea.

“Well?” Bernice asked. She distributed glasses of amber tea as Carmen filled them.

“Huh?” asked Dora.

“His
name
,” Colby prodded.

“Who is it?” Deb asked insistently.

“Oh, his name.” Dora twitched her hips, raised her arms to shoulder-height and rolled her ribs. “Lowell Rossi,” she breathed. “His name is Lowell.”

Dora caught a glimpse of the mottled brown skin of a hognose snake as it parted the iris leaves and slid out of view between the roses.

Chapter Seven

“Lowell, thank you for another lovely afternoon. I never knew you were such an expert at rowing a canoe. I felt like one of those women in old photographs, being squired about by her beau. You were tireless today, just like you are when you do certain other things for me in the Queen Anne’s Lace room.” Dora cupped her hand around the bulge in his crotch. “Speaking of, would you care to come back with me to my bedroom? I just put some new sheets on the bed and I’d love to”—she squeezed lightly—“break them in.”

Lowell glanced at the red-orange glow on the skyline. “I’m going to have to be going before too long, my dear, but I suppose I’ve got a few minutes to… Ah…” He groaned as Dora slipped one hand up the hem of his kilt and found his erection. “Let’s go check out the thread count,” he growled.

He scooped her into his arms and thumped down the hallway to her bedroom. “You smell gorgeous, woman. What is that scent—rose?”

Dora traced her fingers down the side of his face and raked her nails through his beard. “Nuh-uh,” she corrected. “It’s orange blossom.”

He strode into her room and tossed her on the bed, where her body sank into the puffy loft of her down mattress topper. Dora giggled. “But I don’t care if you know what I smell like, lover, as long as it turns you on.”

“Aye,” Lowell nodded, eyes glimmering. He pulled his T-shirt over his head and chuckled. “That it does, that it does.”

Dora beckoned him closer to the side of the bed. “C’mere, I haven’t admired that chest of yours lately.” She spread her hands over his expanse of rippled muscle and flat belly, then pressed her face to his stomach. In between kisses, she whispered, “I love the little tufts of hair right here…and the curve of your muscle right here…and the ridges over your abdomen…and your sweet little belly button…and I especially love this part that’s under it…” She fumbled with the buckle of his kilt, then let the garment drop to the floor.

“Oh, yes, there it is.” Dora gripped his erection in both hands. “Have a seat, Mr Rossi. I have a little present for you.” Lowell scooted back onto the bed, cock pointing up at attention.

She opened her bedside table and drew out a white and black box. “Look what I bought at Stoner’s Drug Emporium,” she said. “These are the biggest ones they had, for men of maximum length and girth.” Dora drew her lower lip between her teeth and stepped between his knees. “I hope I’m not being presumptuous, but you’ve been on my mind a lot”—she touched the head of his shaft with her fingertip—“and, well, we haven’t, you know, done everything there is to do together, and I’ve been thinking that perhaps it was time…”

Lowell picked her up and placed her in the middle of the mattress. “You’re a brilliant woman, Dora,” he said. “I love the way your mind works.” He tugged off her sneakers and socks and tossed them to the floor, then set to work on her sundress.

“You can just slip it over my head,” Dora told him.

“Shush. Can’t you see I’m busy here?” Button by button, he opened her dress down the front, exposing her deep cleavage, soft stomach and lacy panties. He slipped the dress from her arms, hardened cock bumping against her legs as he worked, then reached behind her to unfasten her brassiere. A deep growl emanated from his throat as her breasts fell free—Lowell placed one wet kiss on each thickened nipple. “Now these,” he muttered, “have got to go.” He slid her panties down over her hips and threw them over his shoulder.

Dora chewed on her thumb as he tore open the box and withdrew a crinkling square of plastic. “Extra-large, huh?” he muttered. “Might be big enough, I suppose.”

She plucked at the cotton cover on the down mattress. “Given what I’ve felt with my, you know, mouth, and the fact that it’s been a little while since I’ve welcomed a man to my bed…”

“You’re thinking it’ll be a bit of a stretch, are you?”

Dora pressed her lips together and nodded. “Okay, yes, and I’m a little nervous.”

“Hmm, then, we can’t have that,” Lowell noted. “Why don’t you rest your pretty head on the pillow and think happy thoughts, and I’ll see what I can do.”

Dora fell back and exhaled slowly. “When it’s just you and me, with no distractions, it’s pretty amazing, don’t you think, Lowell?” She stretched her arms over her head and searched for words. “It’s like we’re wrapped in a little cocoon that we’ve made, growing into something beautiful together.” Lowell kissed the inside of each of her knees. “Sometimes change hurts a bit, though, you know? Growing pains and all.”

“I’ll be gentle, don’t you worry, my poetic lady,” he assured her. “We’ll turn into butterflies or moths or whatever winged bugs you have in mind, and you won’t feel anything but good. I’d never let anything hurt you, I promise.”

Dora felt the bristles of his beard scrape her inner thigh and squirmed, giggling. “Shhh…” he insisted. “Be still.” He planted kisses up one thigh, stopping at the juncture of her legs, then started at the other knee and worked his way to her centre. Dora willed her trembling, ticklish muscles to stop moving and took a deep breath.

She cried out when his lips met the rumpled folds between her legs. He licked her skin slowly, unfurling her lower lips with the tip of his tongue. Dora combed his dark hair with her fingers as he kissed her, then gasped when he sucked the edge of her labia into his mouth and tugged. Lowell chuckled. “Feeling a bit more at ease?” he asked.

Dora hummed in response and tilted her hips towards his face. He found the nub of her clit with his tongue and eased two roughened fingers into her sheath. “Oh, yes,” Dora breathed.

Even though his fingers filled her, Dora began to yearn for something thicker inside her. She placed both her hands on his head and urged him to come up from between her legs. “I’m ready,” she whispered. He kissed her inner thigh—she felt the dampness left by his beard on her skin—and knelt between her legs. A tremor of excited nervousness fluttered in her stomach. He tore open the foil pouch and unrolled the condom on his shaft—his very
thick
shaft.