Southern Girl [ Ariamella & Reydan ]

[Reydan]

RE: Southern Girl ::: {Ariamella & Reydan}

He watched her leave. Outwardly she was the very picture of Southern decorum, prim and proper with just a hint of amusement. If Virgil Abernathy did not know better, he would have been as charmed as Greggs clearly was by her polite removal from the factory floor. But he did know better. He knew Lucy Rayne very well indeed. She wanted him to follow her.

His feet moved mechanically after her, almost without him noticing, down the corridor. His eyes checked each room as he passed but, really, his mind was elsewhere.

In the South.

She had been like this during their early courting. Earlier in their lives the Abernathys and the Raynes had hoped, nay expected, Virgil and Viola to marry. They had grown up together, were of a similar calm temperament, had matching passions and quiet hobbies. Loved reading. Loved talking. Loved walking, arm-in-arm, through the wind-rustled fields of tobacco. Just did not love each other. At least not in the way that husband and wife should.

Still, they had gone through the motions. Decorously sat together, exchanged tokens, walked out, chaperoned from a safe but noted distance. But it had only been to please their parents. And, perhaps, to spend time together. For Virgil did adore Viola. Her absence was hard to bear, even now after so many years. She had been the closest of friends.

And then there had been Lucille.

Lucille had snared his heart early on in their youths, when she had grown out of being a smaller than average child and into a coquettish young woman. She knew she had snared him, loved that she had captivated him. But also hated that he went through the motions with Viola. He had never been sure if it was simple jealousy or rather a complete failure to comprehend duty or decorum. Neither had been Lucy Rayne's strongsuits. She had always stormed off, flounced from the rooms of their youth, to await a passionate visit from him.

He found her in his office, standing by the window, and could see in the reflection of the glass the tweaking corners of a smile on her lips. Yet Virgil was suddenly hesitant. Lucille Rayne was dangerous. Tantalizing and flirtatious, even after all these years, and with a hold on his heart that did not seem to have diminished. But Virgil was married now. He had a wife at home. Would Lucy understand that? Would she comprehend? Or would she chart, as she had in their youths, her own dangerous course?

He stepped up next to her, breathing in her wonderful scent. That mixture of flowers and warm fabric and the faintest whiff of tobacco leaves that were the vestiges of his childhood. He looked at the frenetic street below, criss-crossed by telegraph lines and full of cold and bustle and noise. He had nothing to say on what had happened between them behind the door. Lucy was always the one to set the tone in these meetings, he remembered well. Always liked to stamp her official interpretation on what had happened. Instead, he looked out at the street.

"I fear this world offers little place for people such as you and I" he said softly, meaning it in his heart. "You and I share a different way of life that, whatever its faults or merits, stands in direct contrast to life in the metropolis. We are relics of the past Lucy Rayne".

 

[Chai]

RE: Southern Girl ::: {Ariamella & Reydan}

It wasn't even a full ten seconds until she could hear heavier footsteps enter the room, and Lucy knew without having to turn around that Virgil had indeed followed her. She was glad to see more of what they shared hadn't been erased by Camilla's presence, selfish as those thoughts were. But then, who could erase a childhood together? Five years and a war later, Virgil could still read her like an open book.

"This world already offered a place for you right here, Virgil. It presented itself to you on what seems to be a silver platter. Life seems to have worked out well for you despite leaving everything behind." Lucy replied in such a pensive way that it was almost uncharacteristic for her. "I am truly a relic of the past. No past to go home to, and no future to look forward to. Sometimes I'm not sure where I belong anymore."

She turned to him then, her flirtatious smile replaced with one full of thoughtful memory. "When mother sold the land, and the Hollands invited me here, I was sure I would find myself alone. Camilla's family didn't like us Raynes all that well, and I'm a sure you can imagine why. If I recall correctly, they stopped visiting during the summers just after I turned six years-old. Camilla was never exactly my favorite cousin. She once called me a plump glutton because I ate the last muffin. Plump, Virgil. All over a muffin..." An amused smile finally tugged her at her lips that also reached her eyes. "But I arrived here, and I wasn't alone. I had you."

Lucy paused, unsure of where to go from here. It was a dangerous place to be, almost as if she were flirting with the devil himself simply by the direction in which she was steering the conversation. Somewhere in the back of her mind, her conscience reprimanded her for doing this with a married man. Childhood friend and former fiance aside, Virgil was a husband with a wife. A woman tied to him in the name of God. Who was Lucy to interfere? He was a family man now, who had to maintain his reputation as a righteous and morally sound man. There was no doubt in her mind that he'd had to overcome the immense hurdle of the Holland family when he began courting Camilla. Taking all of that into consideration, was she right to risk all of that just to satiate her curiosity?

I never stopped waiting for you to come to me. I wanted you so badly Lucy. Needed you. Don't think you were alone in yearning. I still....

No, he had willingly welcomed her in with that statement. He would have known that she would have thought nothing except, why? But there was only one way to find out what he really meant by it.

Lucy took a step toward him, her blue eyes piercing into his own as her skirts rustled against the fabric of his slacks. "Do I, Virgil? Do I have you?"

It was an obviously loaded question that hung in the air between them, an inquiry that not only would affirm her thoughts on what he'd meant when he caught her behind the factory door, but would also serve as a permanent invitation into his life. And at that thought, that in this moment, Virgil could seal the door to their past, tears watered up her gaze and she was forced to look away, dabbing at the corners of her eyes using her dress sleeve.

"Pardon the tears, Virgil. You know how ridiculously tender-hearted I can be. Some things never change..."

 

[Reydan]

RE: Southern Girl ::: {Ariamella & Reydan}

"Do I, Virgil? Do I have you?"

Lucille Rayne, as always, played dangerous games. He felt her crinolines press against his trousers, smelt her soft scent, and looked down into those saucer eyes. Blue like the sky. Not the smoky grey of the dingy city outside. The sky of their Virginia home. Where soft warmth and lazy days had combined to create a delicate and nurturing atmosphere.

Why had he wrenched himself from their so long ago?

He wanted to chastise her. He had, when first moving North, practiced again and again the speech he would give her if they ever met again. A tirade, practiced out over a hundred long and lonely nights, for her to face. Her selfishness. Her pettiness. Her pride. Her preening. Her....

But it had never been a real prospect. Virgil had never expected Lucy to come North. Those words were just anger and sadness and loneliness all bundled up together in a way that he could not cope with without lashing out at someone. At the ghost of her.

Now she was here and he wanted something different.

He looked down at her. Her words sinking in. "Your....your mother sold the land?" he asked softly. He had not expected that. Not in the least. That land had been, in part, Lucy's dowry. More than that. It had been part of her childhood. And, he realised with a crushing sense of guilt, a part of her future life that he had cruelly snatched from her. The arrangements, never set in stone, had been that both families would parcel up land on the edges of their estate for Lucille and Virgil to combine as their own plantation.

"Every night since you arrived I have dreamed of what might have been" he said in a soft deep voice. "Every night. Sitting out on the veranda with you. Our children playing in our own peach orchard. A whole life that I stole from you."

Every moral fibre in his body was screaming at him, shrieking at him, but Virgil found a strange energy taking hold of his limbs. He stepped a fraction closer as well and snaked an arm around her waist. She fitted so perfectly into his hold. Just like before. Just as though she had been cast in clay with him. And then rudely sundered apart.

His other hand traveled up to her cheek, finger tips stroking the soft flesh. It was warm beneath his touch. From emotion? From embarrassment? He was so far out of line that he deserved the beating of a lifetime from her. But he couldn't help himself. Ever since she had stepped into his life he had been hypnotized by her. His index finger caught a tear with its tip and wiped it away.

"You have always had me, my little muffin" he said softly, arm perched on her womanly hips, and a smile tugged his lips. His eyes, however, were awash with sadness. "But I will not make you..." his throat was dry but he looked down into those big blue eyes swimming with tears and forced his voice on. "I will not make you a fallen woman Lucille Rayne. I love you too much for that".

 

[Chai]

RE: Southern Girl ::: {Ariamella & Reydan}

Lucy almost laughed as a half-smile turned up one side of her mouth, and she brought a hand up to delicately wipe away the wetness at her eyes and then place it over Virgil's own hand. Here she was, making a complete fool out of herself by offering herself to a married man, and all he could worry about was her reputation. He should have been worried about his own reputation, or Camilla's, or maybe even how the Hollands would view him.

In fact, Lucy herself should have been worried about the Hollands as there was no chance of continuing her stay if they ever found out about this type of behavior. But even through her embarrassment and wandering thoughts, she heard Virgil's rejection as something that wasn't a rejection at all. After all, it wasn't concern for himself or even Camilla that prevented him from taking action. It was his concern for her, and somehow that brought Lucy comfort while also planting a seed of smug satisfaction.

She pulled away from him and took a few steps back, the half-smile still on her lips as she turned to face the window once more. "Do you remember the Collins family? They held the other tobacco plantation just north of our families' estates... Of course you remember them; their sons never did like you and your brothers." Lucy tactfully omitted the small detail of their youngest son, Samuel, being her betrothed after Virgil had left. "And do you remember their daughter? What was her name... Alice? She was terribly in love with Tom Hayes, even though she had a fiance. And after you left, she and Tom fled Virginia to build a life together. Of course, things would have worked out better for the both of them if they hadn't so foolishly been caught."

Lucy stepped back in Virgil's arms pressed herself to him. "My point in all this is to show you that sometimes people do absolutely absurd things when they're in love. You speak of ruining me, but I -- and my family -- cannot be any further from disgrace as we are now. You're all I have left of my life, Virgil, do you understand that? Yes, mother had to sell the land. Without... without father, and with the loss of both my brothers, who was going to oversee the plantation? Even if slavery hadn't been abolished, the slaves wouldn't have listened to my mother. They barely did even when my father and brothers were away. My choices were either to come here, or to find a man to marry there. Considering I had endured the loss of not one, but two fiancees, I didn't exactly have much of a choice, did I?"

The blonde, conscious of how close she was to him, ran her fingertips from his shoulders, down his chest and to the bottom of the lapels on his suit. Then tugging the suit jacket to bring him down to her, she stood on her tip-toes and tilted her head up to gently close the distance between them, her lips meeting his in what was a careful and tentative first taste after a five-year period. But the kiss was just as she remembered from their youth, save for the slight tickle of his beard; it was gentle and sweet, and she instinctively wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "The only thing I've ever wanted in my life was you, Virgil... I love you."

 

[Reydan]

RE: Southern Girl ::: {Ariamella & Reydan}

Everything was a whirl in Virgil's mind. The emotions and feelings and...just....the proximity to Lucille were tugging at his consciousness. It felt as if a heavy curtain or veil had descended around them, blocking out all and everything beyond its shade. There was just her. Only her. All of her.

Her words were soft, tender, suffused with a sadness he had never heard in Lucy's voice before. When they were young there were only tears of frustration. Of foot stamping tantrum or exasperated anger. Always he had been there to coax her out of her funk, to tease the life back into that precious little face, watch the smile spread across her cheeks. He loved it, being her one and only, indulged in it as with the sweetest of treats. Enjoyed being her world. The only one able to please Lucille Rayne. And now....now she was something else. Reshaped and remolded by the terrible horror of the war. He saw, in those huge eyes brimming with emotion, the shattering of his entire country. Their way of life, for better or worse, blown away in a muddy terror of blood and bayonet. Saw a life that, try as they might, could never be recovered. Yet it was a life he owed her.

He hadn't, of course, heard of the affair between Alice and Tom. Had known them both, had danced a couple of times with the rather frail Collins girl to annoy both her odious brothers and his sweet little lover at the same time. Yet the thought that they would have eloped hardly seemed real. It was like a strange story, from one of his mother's periodicals, that tumbled down from hearsay and hack writer to the page. Almost too fanciful and emotional to believe. In another world, where they were both young, he was well aware that Lucille knew just how much such news would tickle him. He had always tried to stay aloof from gossip but, inevitably, she had always hooked him back in. They would have stayed up late, side-by-side on the veranda, talking about that one. But now, she was here. His entire present.

She climbed him. Scaled him like a reluctant mountain. His thoughts flickered back, strangely, to the war. When he and his men had pushed up the rocky face of a Tennessee hill, all trees and sharp rocks and unwelcoming facade, to reveal a soft caldera within where they were able to shelter from rebel fire and the howling wind. He was like that caldera. Willing in spite of himself. Slender fingers on his lapels. The creak of the boards beneath a girl who, so unlike his wife, maintained a pleasing Southern curve to her petite frame. The smell of that hair, so familiar, and the soft press of her breasts against the cotton of his shirt.

Her mouth on his. Sweet and sincere. That was different. She had been so reckless before. But this, despite the damnation it might bring on them, was slow and careful. Tentative. Testing. Love me, it begged, please. Please. Don't reject me. You are all I have. She clung to him like a shipwrecked survivor to flotsam.

He felt the truth fall from his lips, moisture pricking his eyes, and looked down at her. "If only I had persuaded you more. If I only took more time. You...you were all I wanted. All I needed, Lucy, I...I threw away the most precious thing in my life".

It was his turn to kiss her, a soft incline of the head to press down against those tender lips. Soft but more insistent than her kiss. A proper courteous return. A promise of protection and affection. I will be your rock, his lips seemed to say. I will anchor you now. Your journey is at an end.

He broke the kiss, arms around her waist, faced flushed a little. He was forward, with his thoughts, but there was no going back now. He would shatter every commandment of God and man for Lucille Rayne.

"Will you come to me tonight Lucille?" he asked softly as footsteps began to echo down the corridor as one of the foremen approached the closed office door.

 

[Chai]

RE: Southern Girl ::: {Ariamella & Reydan}

It was near the end of December 1860, and snow coated the ground all around the Rayne Estate. It was an unusually cold winter, reflective of the beginning struggles between the North and the South. A fire crackled in the parlor of the house, but it barely warmed a shivering Lucille Rayne, who sat silently, clutching a parcel in her lap. One of the maids, a black woman named Betty, came with a blanket and draped it around the seventeen year-old, and then tried to take the package from her.

"N- no!" Lucy exclaimed, her frozen fingers holding on to the box covered in brown wrapping paper.

"Sweet pea, you been out in the cold for an hour. I got mittens that you can warm your hands in. A delicate young thing ain't s'pposed to be sittin' out that long."

Christmas had come and gone, but every day Lucy had sat in the front porch, waiting for Virgil to collect his present. He was going to come back. He had to.

Viola looked up from her book, her hazel eyes settling on her younger sister's own blue. "Luce... I don't think he's going to come back. Please, listen to me." It was the same message she delivered for the past two weeks.

"Yes, Vi, but--"

"There are no buts, Lucy!" The elder Rayne daughter closed the book and loudly dropped it on a side table. It was rare to see her upset, but it was more than just anger in her eyes. Sadness, sympathy, and pain for Lucy were etched on her face, and she raised her voice for the first time in months. "That day at the station, he said you didn't understand. He said you had to understand. He's left for the North, and with all that's going on right now, he won't be coming back." Then she picked up her book and stepped out of the parlor, leaving Lucy to find her closure.


Virgil kissed her, and the memory came to the forefront of Lucy's mind, although she didn't know why. Normally it brought only pain, but now she smiled at the thought. It was like a horrible nightmare that never came to pass, instead replaced with a dream. A dream so wonderful that she could have died right there in his arms!

"Mr. Abernathy," Lucy murmured as she gently extracted herself from his arms, looking up at him from under long dark lashes. With one eyebrow arched and a familiar smirk on her lips, she said, "What would your mother say?" But the question was harmless, and even though she hadn't actually said yes, the words still carried an air of confirmation. Hearing footsteps coming toward the door, she turned away from Virgil to look at the bookcase, running her fingers over the spins as she inspected the various titles. Many of them were business related or were financial records of the company, and a few literary pieces were scattered within.

"Mister Abernath -- may I ask what you're doing, miss?" A stranger, another foreman, switched his attention from Virgil to Lucy after he opened the door and saw the girl idly picking at the books.

"Hmm? Oh, nothing really. Just curious as to how this all functions. This is all new and exciting for me, and Mister Abernathy was so very kind enough to indulge my... request."

The foreman laughed, shaking his head slightly. "Don't you worry your pretty little head over this. In any case, this is much too complicated for a woman like yourself to understand."

"Yes, I'm sure it is," Lucy replied turning to face him, a polite smile situated on her face. Only those who knew her would have noticed the slight tone of annoyance in her voice or the cold glance from her eyes. She had noticed, from the few weeks of living with the Abernathys, that men in the North had very set expectations and ideals on what a woman should be like. She would have rolled her eyes if not for the fact that the action would reflect on Virgil as well.

"I'll be waiting outside, Mr. Abernathy," she said softly, striding past the foreman and back down the hall.

 

[Reydan]

RE: Southern Girl ::: {Ariamella & Reydan}

She was still very much Lucille Rayne.

Defiant.

He had to stifle a smile as the young woman brushed past his assistant and made her way out of the room. He watched the fabric piled up around her bustle as she sashayed out of the office, closing the glass-windowed door behind her.

Watched her little behind.

She had breathed so delicately that night, her little chest heaving with effort as she settled back onto the rug beneath her. Her legs had been shaking as they spread, gently before him. He had been as unsure as she, fumbling and unable to hear anything over the pounding of his heart.

Slowly, incredibly slowly, he had removed the soft cotton of her underskirt. It had come away with a sliding ease, edging over her knees and down her calves until it came free in his hands.

They were looking at each other, eyes blazing away. He had wanted to pause, wanted to ask if she was sure, if she wanted to stop. But he couldn't. Every movement, every flicker of her face, seemed to captivate him. He leaned in. The soft skin of her legs, edged with the slightest tone of fat, were beautiful. He could feel the pulse raging in her, matching his own, a ragged and insane rhythm.

Virgil leaned in and placed his lips to the inside of her knee. It seemed to taste of her. Exactly how he had imagined her to taste. Of roses and something else sweet, like caramel.

He had breathed her in, sinking further into her lap with his lips.

They were silent in the cab on the way home, the vehicle jolting through the streets below them. Everything over dinner was mechanical, basic and ordinary, and he tried to avoid making prolonged eye contact with Lucy. Everytime he did he seemed to break out into a wide smile.

Finally, after so long, it was the evening. Camilla had already left for bed, leaving an icy wake behind her as she stalked to her room.

Eventually, all that was left for Virgil to do was to wait. A fire crackled in the grate, as he stood, in his shirt and trousers, by the fireplace. Staring at the dancing flames. Orange and yellows and reds danced across his vision. He worried. He was about to break one of the solemn commandments of God. About to betray a wife who, although not particularly warm to him, had never hurt him outright. He frowned. Why did this feel so right? So natural?

He waited, fitfully, for the knock at the door that would signal her arrival.

 

[Chai]

RE: Southern Girl ::: {Ariamella & Reydan}

Ding! ... Ding! ... Ding! ...

Lucy heard the floor clock from down below chime 11 times, the ringing echoing through the house and dying off as it reached her upstairs room. Was it 11'o'clock already? She had just stepped out of a bath, careful to keep her hair dry as she had pinned the golden locks up messily on the top of her head prior to stepping in the water, and walked slowly over to a dresser on the opposite side of the room. Tendrils of baby hairs escaped their bindings as she slid a nightgown over her head, feeling the cream silk settle over her skin. Every nerve ending was on fire—from much more than the hot bath—and she shuddered involuntarily, feeling a tingle run deliciously down her spine. Virgil was probably waiting in his room, and her face warmed at the thought. Her mind drifted back to earlier in the day, when he had asked her to come to him. She wasn't under any illusions as to what was meant by it; the meaning of the offer was clear as the Virginia sky in summer. But why had she agreed to it?

Perhaps it had been the sweetness of his kiss, or the way she felt secure in his arms... Or maybe it was the way she got lost in the blue eyes that matched her own, swimming with the affection and love that she had yearned for since the day he left. But whatever it was, it had been strong enough to make Lucy give in to the desire, evident even as she carried herself to the door of her room, silently opening the heavy oak and stepping outside. She was careful in letting it close behind her, and she leaned back against the door after hearing the soft 'click.' Turning her head, she looked down the hall to Camilla's room, her stomach feeling as if it dropped through her toes as a sense of regret and shame washed through her.

Propriety dictated that she was to turn right back into her room, lock the door, and go right to bed. Her mother had not raised her to be a whore, and while Helena Rayne had been ecstatic at their pairing, she likely would not have approved of Lucy becoming Virgil's mistress. In fact she would have told her daughter that mistresses were those women who were poor of morals and character, with nothing better to do in their lives than prey upon the married men of the world. But for all the mental anguish and conflict, Lucy knew in her heart that she would risk losing everything for the man who sat waiting for her. Camilla was family, but Virgil was closer than her cousin could ever be.

Lucy quietly padded in her slippers over to Virgil's room and raised a hand to knock on the door. Her breath caught in her throat as she hesitated momentarily, but she managed to bring her small fist to the wood and rap on the hard surface three times before gripping the handle and turning it. It only occurred to her then that she should have waited for him to open the door and invite her in, but the letting herself in seemed so natural. Briefly her mind took her back to their youth, bringing up images and memories of sneaking in and out of farmhouses, late nights spent laying by her best friend and soon-to-be husband, and romantic trysts that always started out much like this one did now: Lucy, in her mischief and desire, coming to find her lover to see exactly how much she could get away with. But there was no guessing this time. They had both committed themselves to each other, emotionally and physically, in the back office of Virgil's factory.

And there he was, standing in front of the fire place, looking almost expectant even though is back was turned to her.

The fire was the sole source of light in the room, bathing the walls in warm hues of orange. The rhythm of her heart seemed to match the flickering flames, erratic and energetic, almost as if she was going to spontaneously combust herself. She said nothing as she sauntered forward, clearly aware now of how alive every part of her being was—goose-flesh appeared on her arms, skin and nerves underneath still sensitive from the bath and now from the heat. She could faintly smell the rosewater scent that she had carried into the room with her, and she wondered if Virgil could smell it too... He had always loved the way she smelled and loved whatever perfume she put on.

"Virgil," Lucy called out to him softly as she took a seat on his bed, knowing that action was extremely forward. It reminded her of yet another time when she had asked for his affection, and he certainly hadn't disappointed her. She remembered soft lips against hers, stealing her breath as his tongue explored her mouth... She remembered his lips at her neck, teasingly nipping at the soft flesh near her shoulder... And she remembered his lips down there, kissing her as he had never done before, awakening in her a lust and desire that she never imagined she possessed.

Lucy tore herself from the memory, eyes cast downward and cheeks flaming pink as the same lust and desire coursed through her once more, making her body sing even from under the silk nightgown. She had worn nothing underneath, and light from the fire danced across her body, bringing attention to the nipples poking ever so slightly against the fabric. A ragged breath tore from her throat. For something that she knew was incredibly wrong, she couldn't help but feel like her life was finally falling into place. This was where she belonged.

 

[Reydan]

RE: Southern Girl [Ariamella & Reydan]

A fire burned within Virgil as her crimson lips pressed to his as he leaned in for the first kiss. She was sitting on the soft cover of the bed, even smaller than usual, and he had to bend down to kiss her, carrying her back slightly as he pressed forward. He was not forceful but he was insistent, any uncertainty banished from his mind as the guilt over what they were about to do was subsumed by the actual doing of the deed.

"Lucille" he whispered, the name slipping effortlessly from his lips as he kissed her again. He was off centre now, his lips finding the soft corner of her mouth. He closed his eyes as he did, not from shame but from pure longing. The exquisite ecstasy of the moment, so long denied, washed over him. He breathed her in, relishing the soft smell of the small Southern woman. She was floral, as always, but with a hint of something else. A deeper tone that danced, tantalisingly, at the edge of his senses. Something and nothing and something again, always hints but never fully there. Something of the old country.

He was just in his dress shirt, loosened at collar and cuffs, and the slightly faded trousers of his dinner suit. She was.......a vision. Her small, curvy, form, so different from the cool, tall, waiflike appearance of her cousin, was wrapped in a silk nightgown. The material was beautifully soft beneath Virgil's fingers as he stroked her side, hand moving up and down the soft, willing, flesh.

He half knelt, half climbed onto the bed, bearing her down onto the mattress. Onto her back so that her long tresses splayed out around her head like a halo. He couldn't help but notice the small peaks of her nipples, the rich fabric lifted on both breasts, and realised with a flush of embarrassment that he was stiff within his trousers. It wasn't anything she hadn't seen before, in all those stolen moments in half-shadowed rooms and fields, but there was a sudden newness to it all nevertheless. This was different...so different...with her cousin sleeping down the corridor.

Her cousin. Not his wife. Her cousin. When had he distanced his wife so.... Virgil paused, suspended above her, looking down at that face he knew so well. That face that, in his little world, could cause the launch of two thousand ships and still be bored by the end of breakfast. That face that had so obsessed his youth and so haunted his war years.

"I want you Lucille" he said softly, realising that truth within his heart, "but I will not cheapen you. I want this to be as it should have been all those years ago." He caressed a soft cheek. "Let this be our wedding night" he whispered.

 

[Chai]

She hadn't heard him turn away from the fire and stride toward her, yet she could feel his presence approaching like the early June breeze that heralded the coming of summer. With her eyes cast down to the floor, she hadn't seen him walk to stand in front of her, yet she knew he was there; she could feel his loving gaze on her, the very same gaze that reminded her of warm Virginia summers and stars that danced across the night sky. She had an overwhelming sense that she was coming home somehow, and when she finally looked up to Virgil's blue eyes, she knew he was taking her there. His lips were gentle against hers, soft but unyielding in a way that demanded her attention and spoke volumes of the way he felt about her. It was a kiss that consumed her even more than the one shared in his office, and Lucy instinctively reached up to wrap her arms around his neck, pulling him closer even as he pushed her down on the bed.

She sank into the mattress, eyes closing and lips finding his in the quiet glow of the moment. Small hands wove into his dirty blonde hair, grasping the strands near the roots as Virgil's hands roamed her body; the silk of her nightgown felt like almost nothing at his touch, and her body, already warm from the desire running through her veins, seemed to buzz at the feel of his fingers running ever so softly against her side. He had started at the sides of her breasts and continued to her waist, pressing down slightly on the material as if trying to reach her skin from over the gown. An unsteady breath shook Lucy as she felt has hand travel even lower to her hips, and she arched her body up as if offering herself to him, urging him to take more than he already had.

"Let this be our wedding night," he said above her; she barely heard anything else over the sound of her beating heart, but she had heard those words loud and clear. Her eyes snapped open, innocent and wide, as she searched him for confirmation. He likely knew that he was asking for a lot. An impure woman had no place in society, especially if she was a woman who was already a stranger to the city, and Lucy felt a thread of guilt tug at her heart as her sky-blue orbs stared into the man in front of her. But whatever guilt she had quickly dissipated as her hands travel their way down to his loosened collar, her fingers gripping the cotton tightly, and tears pricked at her eyes when she quietly murmured, "Yes. Yes, Virgil."

The few tears fell freely now, though they were tears of joy, and with renewed passion she pulled him down to her, wanting to feel his body against her own. The silk fabric against the lower half of her body pooled around the top of her legs as she wrapped them around Virgil's waist, and the familiar feel of hotness at the apex of her thighs suddenly gripped her with intense need. When was the last time she felt like this...? It was only Virgil that ever had the ability to call forth the primal instinct within her. Even Samuel, her second fiance, hadn't been able to get her hot with need. The young woman was impatient to finally have her moment, but she also wanted to savor the moment after the five longs years she had waited.

A breathless moan left Lucy's mouth as she wiggled underneath Virgil so that the swell of her breasts were under his hand, the warmth of his palm touching the sensitive peak of her nipple sending a delicious shiver down her spine. "Come," she said with a soft smile playing on her lips, tugging him with her to be more on the bed. And with that cheeky tone and a playful sparkle in her eyes, she pulled the dress shirt from under his trousers, letting her eyes linger on the obvious bulge within his pants, then popped open the first button of his shirt. "Entertain me tonight, Mr. Abernathy."

 

[Reydan]

Entertain her.

Entertain her.

She was still the same. Still the same coquettish little tease she had always been. And, in that forbidden night of passion, he was still the same young man so eager to cater to those teasing whims of hers. His body burned for her, a feverish passion gnawing at him. He could almost hear the thump-thump of his heart in his hears, could definitely feel the flush of red on his cheeks.

She shifted so that her nipples were under his hands, the sensation of his palms on the hard flesh causing her to shiver. No. They were not quite the same as before. She had had another fiance. Virgil did not think of his wife asleep down the corridor, but instead reflected on the other women he had shared these carnal trysts with before this night. There had been a couple of whores. Hookers, the men had called them after one of the Generals who had allowed them into the camps. Just two, separately, at different times in that awful conflict when Virgil thought he was going to die or otherwise had no way of numbing the pain. Those fumbled moments were a world away now, but the lessons learned were still lessons learned.

He pinched the hard nipples, not too firmly but just enough to evoke a reaction from the woman beneath him. She was teasing him, tugging his shirt up and letting her slender legs begin to wrap around his body, and he gave as good as he got. Leaning in he let his bulge press against her sex through the silk nightgown, rubbing and brushing up against her in a tantalising way. His lips captured hers, tongue on tongue, and he closed his eyes for a moment. Savored her. Drank her in.

Then, slowly, he sank between her legs. He grinned up at her, seventeen again, and slowly rolled up the sheer material of the gown.

Her sex was exposed, moist and beckoning, and he blew a gentle flow of air onto it to give her the shivers. He had tasted her below once before, beneath the rustling trees of her father's plantation, and he knew she remembered the moment as vividly as he did. The closest to intercourse they had come. His hands were on her silken thighs now, holding them gently apart, and he slowly dipped his head into her lap and touched her sex with his tongue.

Sweet. As he remembered. Though, truly, could she be any other way?