CLOUD OF HAWTHORNE

Chapter Five

Edith waited on the front porch of the mansion for the group of young people to make their way to the stables in preparation for the two o'clock hunt. Neighbors had gathered around the large red barn as Rodney and Sykes, the two stablehands, brushed and tacked the horses before guiding them out to their prospective riders.
Dressed in proper fox hunting attire; beige breeches, tweed jacket, tightly buttoned pastel shirt, brown leather gloves, and bowler helmet, Henley stood proudly beside Gaspar, his ten year old gelding. His brown field boots, already crusted in mud from trying to calm the horse, spoke volumes. Henley and Gaspar loved the hunt, and had since the time they were fourteen and three respectively, when they were both taken out for the first time. Young Henley had basically helped Sykes raise and train the colt, which was foal to one of his father's best brood mares. Henley remembered the difficulty he had convincing his father that he should have the horse. The horse, his father argued, was too small to race, his stance and coloring not good enough for breeding, but Henley was determined, and his father finally relented.
Next, Rodney brought out White Socks, a deep brown quarter horse with white hooves, who stood seventeen hands high. White Socks was determined as much as frisky, and was a favorite for Wesley when he came to visit. Becky, a gentle but eager filly, was presented for Proberta to ride.

A CLOUD OF HAWTHORNE

CHAPTER ONE

“So, do you have it?” She asked.

Henley Hornbrook III dug into the deep pockets of his brown wool trousers and pulled out a small, square velvet box. A glimmer of light caught the thin gold band that bordered the lid, as the sun streamed in through the open window. The small gift sparkled. Lace curtains stirred from a soft, spring breeze. He cleared his throat, then gently lifted the lid of the box, and thrust it toward his mother proudly. She smiled.

“Ahh, that will do. Yes, that will do perfectly, just perfectly.” She faced the open window, allowing the air to cool her. It was a warm day, and the linen collar of her dress, tightly buttoned around her neck, was not only itchy but it was making her terribly warm. Unless, she thought, it was another one of those blasted hot flushes. 

Edith Hornbrook turned toward her son briskly and brushed his hand out of the way, nearly toppling the five carat diamond engagement ring from it’s nest of purple satin. 

“Enough,” she said sharply. “We mustn’t fuss over matters such as these. Put the thing away.”

“But Mother...”

“It’s fine, Henley,” his mother cut him off. “She’ll be delighted by it, you’ll marry, and all will be well. Now, go and dress for supper. You don’t want to keep your father waiting now, do you?”

TILLATING TUESDAY - SALON ANTICS

CHAPTER 19 - SECOND CHANCES

Frances Del Monte, Vivian Furlish, and Amy Richardson sat in three side by side chairs  at Snippets Salon while Liam and Genevieve applied the appropriate mix of color to each of their heads of hair. Magazines lay open on their laps, but they were too busy talking among themselves to be bothered with catching up on the latest Hollywood gossip. With all the goings on, there was enough scandal of their own to keep them gabbing for a few weeks at the very least. 

Wearing a simple white blouse, thigh-high black leather boots with her signature mini-mini skirt, kohl black eyes and flaming red lips, Genevieve had the appearance of goth vamp meets school girl, which is likely the look she was after. Her newly cut and bleached hair was teased into a beehive up-do. Without a doubt she turned heads, and not because her look was outlandish, but because she was drop dead gorgeous.

TITILLATING TUESDAY

SALON ANTICS


CHAPTER 17 - WHERE SILENCE ENDS

Genevieve, Della, Miguel, and Savannah Porsche sat huddled close together in the waiting room of Cedars Medical Center, waiting for blood work and x-ray results to come back from the lab.  The emergency physician had reassured them that everything would be alright, but there were concerns as to whether the bullet had torn into ligaments in his femur, which would require orthopedic surgery then plastic surgery. They were also concerned the bullet had nipped an artery when passing through his leg. There had been a lot of blood. 

It had already been a long night. They had been awake, on and off, for almost seventy two hours. Miguel snored softly, his head leaning against the seat back of a hospital waiting room chair. Savannah stood and began pacing across the shiny, freshly mopped floor. 

“Boy, could I use a coffee,” she said, glancing around for a beverage machine.

“Me too,” seconded Della drowsily.

“Let’s go find the cafeteria, Savannah. I wouldn’t mind a hit of caffeine either,” Genevieve suggested, ready for a breather.

“I’ll stay and sit with sleeping beauty in case the doc shows up with some news,” Della said, nodding toward Miguel. “Would you grab one for me too?”

Genevieve stood up and the two of them walked toward the elevators. When they got to the cafeteria on the sub-basement level, they each filled a Styrofoam cup with fresh steaming coffee and sat down.

REVIEW: CHAPTER 8 - MITCH

RE-POSTING  CHAP 8 BEFORE POSTING CHAP 9 ON TUESDAY

Miguel was waiting at the door when Liam arrived to open the salon. It was ten o’clock.

            “Morning, Miguel. What are you doing here so bright and early? Not in need of another haircut already, are you?” Liam said sarcastically, as he turned the key and opened the door. Miguel didn’t seem to notice.

            “No, I have a date with Genevieve,” he said. Liam looked amused.

            “Really? Why are you meeting her here? It’s her day off. Why not pick her up at her place?”

            “I don’t know,” replied Miguel, who seemed to be realizing this for the first time. “She just said she had some unfinished business at the salon, and to meet her here, that’s all.”

            Miguel walked straight in and sat down in the waiting area. His tight white t-shirt showed off his naturally tanned skin, as well as his taut muscles. At thirty eight, Liam was fifteen years older than Miguel, and more than fifteen pounds heavier, and had long ago given up hope of ever sporting a body like that. He had always been taller and broader than most of his peers, which, over the years, gave way to a look which suited him, and that he felt comfortable with. He looked neither fat nor out of shape, just big, and he liked it that way. Although he wasn’t an athletic man, he did spend two hours a day, Monday through Friday, at the gym, and walked the seven blocks to work. That, he felt, was enough to maintain a healthy lifestyle.  

            He took off his lightweight cardigan and draped it over the back of his desk chair, revealing tattoo sleeves on both arms.

CHAPTER 7 - AFTER THOUGHTS

For the first time since Genevieve had started working at the salon, she was late. Liam tried calling her cell but she wasn’t picking up. Meanwhile, he managed to keep Amy Richardson somewhat entertained, which was no small feat.

            Amy was twenty five, had married into money, and was extremely entitled. She drove around town in a canary yellow mustang convertible, flaunted expensive bebe t-shirts that invariably showed her midriff, wore three inch wedge or spiked heels, and kept her wrists and fingers covered in finely cut diamonds. However, her high maintenance regime included weekly visits to Snippets, which basically paid the rent on Liam’s seven hundred square foot salon, so despite urges over the years, to tell her off, Liam bit his tongue, and put up with her many demands.

LIAM GETS LUCKY

            Della’s presence brought an eerie hush in the room. She had walked in from the side door when one of the bouncers clued her in to what was going down backstage. She knew she was needed.

            “So, Dom, what seems to be the problem?” Della was staring directly into his eyes, her hands firmly planted on her hips. Dominic looked annoyed.

            “Fucked if I know. I saw this schmuck sneaking into sweet little Savannah’s room, and, well, it just stinks, that’s all. I don’ like it. Nobody messes with my girls, that’s all I’m sayin’.”

            Della thought for a minute before responding.

            “Your girls? Really? Have you asked Savannah how she feels?”

            Dominic shifted restlessly from foot to foot. He didn’t like confrontations at the best of times. He knew he was a loose cannon, and could snap at any moment, but he held fast.

 “Listen, Della. That is your name, aint it?” He looked at her, nonplussed. Della nodded. “So, here’s the deal. Since I now own this joint, I’m the one looking out for things, got it?” He glanced around the room to show who was in charge. “These here my girls, this my stage, this my show. Aint nobody telling me how I do things, even you.” He glared at Della who stood her ground. There was a long silence. Women’s eyes peered out from behind doors cracked just enough to get the gist of what was going on. Those brave enough to have remained standing out in the open hall, kept as still as statues. Images of how this would all end up raced through Liam’s head. Would Dominic win, therefore gaining even more unnecessary power to fuel his gangster ways. Liam hated the idea. Tension hung in the air like a fuse ready to be lit.

CHAPTER 5 - DARK AND DIRTY SECRETS

By the end of the week, the small riot was already a distant memory. The club was cleaned up, a few new bouncers were on staff, and things were as they should be.

Liam returned to The Foxy Lady the following Tuesday, and the Tuesday after that. Della kept him from prying information out of her about Genevieve, by telling stories of some of the other girls. She disliked gossip of any kind, although it was difficult not to get sucked into a little bit now and then. Some of the stories she heard were enough to make even Della squirm, and she was one tough cookie. One thing she did tell Irish, however, was that Genevieve was different than the others. She kept to herself, wasn’t there to steal the limelight from any of the old timers, and minded her own business. The other dancers seemed to like her well enough, and she was no trouble for the club, although she often arrived just in time to go on, which by Della’s standards was pushing it.

But there was something lingering that Della could not put her finger on. Liam wasn’t surprised. Genevieve had proven to Liam that she was someone he could trust, and that went far with him. She was eccentric and edgy, that was for certain, but that wasn’t the issue. What bothered him was her reserve, like she was hiding something, and Liam felt whatever that something was, it was big. She definitely had some deep, dark secret and it bothered him that he didn’t know what it was.

CHAPTER 4 - SEEING THINGS

Liam Irish settled into his usual seat in the back corner of The Foxy Lady strip club. He didn’t like being up close. There were too many loud mouths and creeps pounding back Jack Daniel’s and yelling profanities at the dancers, for his liking. Besides, Liam preferred to be alone with his thoughts.

Savannah Porsche was just finishing her show. Liam liked Savannah. Using ribbons as her dance prop, she slowly unwrapped herself, like a package, creating an elegant frenzy of color around her curvy, near naked body. The grace in which she unraveled herself, then the final flutter of ribbons around the stage, made Liam think of the tails of kites flying freely in the breeze. There was a spacious field near a lake, where, as a boy, he used to fly kites with his grandfather. He remembered the freedom he felt when the kite finally got picked up by the air current and was carried away. How it made his heart lift, like he was the kite itself. The colorful ribbons caught in the sunlight, quivered and swirled in the wind. Liam thought it was beautiful, then and now. Then he remembered having to return home to his hard-drinking father and prostitute mother, the poverty and misery. His grandfather had been his only mentor, his only friend, and then he had died.

            The house lights dimmed to almost black as the music stopped, and Savannah Porsche disappeared into the darkness. Without a break, another song started. It was soft and sensual, an R&B piece, not the usual raunchy songs most of the strippers played. First he only saw a leg, long and lanky, move with the music. The dancer was in shadow at the very back of the stage. Whoever was attached to that leg had to be gorgeous, Liam thought to himself. He wasn’t familiar with this piece, or, he thought, with this dancer.

CHAPTER 3 - MODERATION

           “All I’m going to say is, you have exactly four, maybe five minutes to get up off the floor and make yourselves decent before Mrs. Furlish walks in. She’s stepping out of her car as I speak. The scowl on her face makes me think she’s not in the best of moods, but then, she’s a tough one to read at best. She might just be struggling with the seatbelt." Liam stared out the front window intently. "Okay, she closed the door. The only thing you’ve got going for you is she’s elderly and slow. Now get moving.”

            The two careless lovers jumped up off the floor. Miguel followed Genevieve into the staff room, a pile of clothes covering up what they could of their exposed flesh. Liam plopped himself down at the front desk and waited, surfing new messages on his iPad. Nothing. His life at the moment had slowed to a snail’s pace given he was not out and about socially these days. As he watched Genevieve and Miguel tiptoe back into the salon’s main room, he began to have second thoughts about this Lent thing. He was definitely missing out, although, he mused, sex should really have nothing at all to do with drinking. The fact that he had neither in his life was what really worried him.

CHAPTER 2 - OH, MY!

Genevieve left her new client with a magazine and cup of coffee and walked to the front of the salon. She wasn’t about to leave Irish with her crazy ex, nor was she about to allow Dominic to think he could come waltzing into her place of work threatening and intimidating her whenever he pleased.

Miguel watched Genevieve with interest. Not only did he think she was smoking hot in her short skirt and see through blouse, but she intrigued him. In the few minutes he’d spent around her, she came across with sexy confidence and girlish naivety all in the same package. He liked the fact that she was complex yet vulnerable.

            Miguel had always found it easy to peg people. He had a nose for it, which he considered a gift. When it came to women, he knew what he liked and what he wanted, and when he found it, he got it. So far that instinct had proven right. Although he hadn’t met who he considered ‘the one’, he knew he would when he was ready. He didn’t let little things like waiting for Ms. Right bother him. 

SALON ANTICS

Chapter 1 - JUST ANOTHER DAY

Liam Irish was bored. A week into Lent, he hadn’t had a drink in over a week, therefore, he hadn’t gone out to The Foxy Lady strip joint, or to his favorite fetish club, Down Under. Although he considered himself an Atheist, he had been raised Catholic. Some rituals were ingrained in him, so he used the more familiar rites and holidays as a time to challenge his will power. This year he was quitting alcohol for the duration of Lent, which, he discovered, also included his personal indulgence of biweekly visits to sex clubs. It seemed he couldn’t manage one without the other.

At the onset, Liam had not considered the forty days of restraint to be difficult, but it was day seven, and he already found himself surfing internet porn sites to quench his thirst for voyeurism. Somehow, and in true Catholic form, Liam didn’t feel this indulgence fit into the category he had given up – thank god!

SALON ANTICS

Read about our main man, Liam Irish, originally from London, England, the lovely and exotic Genevieve, sexy, smart, and perhaps too sweet, Miguel, and the handsome gangsta Dominique. They are just a few new peops you'll learn more about and get to know over the coming weeks. Love 'em or hate 'em, they will undoubtedly become your new best friends.

Chapter 1 of the next novella starts tomorrow on Titillating Tuesday with this fresh cast of characters, plenty of excitement, intrigue, and lots and lots of steamy scenes. Join us July 12th, with SALON ANTICS.

...Stay Tuned...

CHAPTER 16 – NEW BEGINNINGS

Jake Roberts. She’d forgotten how he could kiss!

Their clothes were halfway off by the time his front door closed behind them, their quickened breath filling all twenty-five hundred square feet of his stylish apartment with anticipation. She let herself be thrown down onto the king size bed, and allowed him to finish undressing her one item at a time until she was lying on top of the down-filled duvet in only her pink lace bra and thong. He kissed her forehead affectionately then moved to her warm, rosy cheeks. He nibbled at her ears before he worked his way downward. Sensitive to her vulnerability tonight, but assertive enough to be gloriously erotic, he parted her legs. They opened with ease. She shut her eyes and moaned, feeling an urgency that had been burning inside her since her rescue, moreover since they first met. 

CHAPTER 15 – AFTERSHOCKS

It was strange for Joanie, being back at the office. As she sat down at her desk it occurred to her the last time she had sat there was when she was fantasizing about Peter. Peter Thompson, her old buddy, her old flame, was now pent up in some asylum waiting for a psychological assessment. Pleading insanity would be the best course of action for him to take, Joanie reasoned, but still, it stung her heart thinking of him locked up, possibly for the rest of his life.     

While paperwork and post-it notes sat piled on her desk, most of Joanie’s morning was spent daydreaming about Peter. But this time, the daydreams were not the least bit erotic. She went over and over in her mind all the things he had revealed to her that fateful day in her apartment. His strange behaviors, his need to torture, and his ability to push the limits with people but not go all the way, all this fascinated and confused her. How had things gotten so out of control? Thinking back, she should have seen it coming. Peter was right. They had been living a fantasy that, during their lives, never blossomed into a reality. When he hadn’t made more definitive advances toward her, and had married Clarice, Joanie went to New York to try to move on from the emptiness she was left with. He had let her down. But even more recently, when he had become so moody and irrational, she had still been unable to admit that Peter – her Peter – was losing control. What had made this friend of hers become such a monster? And more, what made her want to protect him?

CHAPTER 13 – COMPROMISING

           Joanie lifted her head from the warm pillow and looked around. Even with the curtains drawn, the room was bright. Her eyes focused on a dark figure sitting on the love-seat in the corner of her bedroom. Was it Peter? She blinked to clear her vision, not believing what she saw. Shoulders slumped, he looked worn and tired. Hollowed cheeks and the dark circles that framed his eyes made him look emaciated. His hair was a mess. Not the tousled, handsome looking mess she was accustomed to with him, but dirty and un-kept. His skin, once clear and blemish-free, was dry and chafed.

            “Peter! What are you doing here? What’s going on?”

CHAPTER 12 – SECRETS REVEALED

Joanie awoke to birds singing and the bright light of sunshine streaming through the window. She covered her eyes, then slowly opened them and looked around. Things felt familiar to her. It smelled like home, but she had no idea how she got there. Her bed felt safe and warm, and she was happy to be under her own covers. But before she was able to get too comfortable, memories from the previous night began filtering into her head. She closed her eyes again, hoping this would stop the recall, but it didn’t. It only made it worse.

            “Well hello. Look who’s awake.” Joanie jumped, but relaxed when she saw who it was.

            “Oh, Ruthie, I’m so glad you’re here,” Joanie sighed. “What happened? Where is everyone? Where’s Jake?”

            “Which question do you want me to answer first?”

            “Sorry.” Again, Joanie closed her eyes. All she could see was Jake’s face, sullen and stricken with pain. Then the vision faded into an image of Peter looking cocky and pleased with himself. He sneered at her from across the dance floor. She shook her head in an attempt to get rid of this frightful picture, but it wouldn’t go away.

CHAPTER 11 – AN UNEXPECTED GUEST

Joanie sat backstage, alone. All around her the hustle and bustle of show preparations were in full-swing. Stylists with clothing piled over their arms were racing around, orders were being shouted. It was total chaos. But in Joanie’s private corner in the stage-left wing, she was able to find a moment’s solace. Carlyle and Ruth had insisted on it. Jake had said nothing.

            Oh, why did Peter have to do that? Joanie thought. She let her head fall into her hands, careful not to smudge her make-up but not really caring if she did. It had been one of the most embarrassing moments of her life – the unbearable silence that followed her reading that damn card out loud. Why did I have to broadcast it to the world? she had cried to Ruth and Carlyle after everyone else had left to find their seats. It was awful. She ran over the sequence of events in her head once again, the look on Jake’s face when she finished reading. He had turned a bright shade of crimson, tried to produce a natural smile as he said, “Wow, you sure do have some secret admirer.” But he knew, and so did she. Joanie had taken his arm to steer him away from the crowd then, to grab a moment and try to explain, but he had quietly pulled away.

            “Listen, Joan,” he said. “We’ll talk about it later. Let’s just get through this night, okay?”

            She had nodded, in agreement and in defeat. She could feel the coolness coming from Jake, the hurt. It was at that moment Ruth came by to try to help smooth things over, but she only made matters worse.

            “Hey Jo Jo, we should get you backstage. You’ve got a show to do.” Jake had looked at Joanie with pain-filled eyes.

“I guess Jo Jo is the nickname your closest friends…your loved ones call you. Who knew?” He was sullen and broken. Joanie felt sick.

“Well, break a leg,” he had said, eyes diverted, then gave her a little kiss on the forehead and walked away.

“Joanie? Joanie, there you are.” Joanie arose from her trance and looked up to see her friend, Ruth, standing before her with a brave, supportive smile on her face.

“C’mon girl, you can do this. I know you can. Hey, things have been worse, right? Just remember, Jake adores you. He’s just hurt right now, and can’t express it. You can explain everything afterward, but he’s right. You’ve gotta get through this evening.” Joanie took a deep breath.

“You’re right, Ruthie. Of course you’re right. Since when have I let a man run my life or ruin it?”

“Since forever, but never mind. It’s never too late to change.” She gave Joanie a hug. “Now get out there and watch those girls strut your stuff.”

CHAPTER 9 – BACK IN NEW YORK

           It had been two weeks since Joanie had returned from Charleston. According to her mother, Joanie’s father was back at home and doing fine. She hadn’t heard a word from her brother Kevin or from Peter however, she had waited almost ten years to really talk to both of them, so she couldn’t be too expectant.

            Meanwhile, Jake was showering her with attention. Fresh flowers were sent to her office every other day. Ruth was delighted, since Joanie could only fit so many vases on her desk at one time. Jake, or sometimes his driver, picked Joanie up after work each evening. Knowing how important it was for a perfectionist like Joanie to get her work completed swiftly and to the highest level of quality possible, Jake gave her a lot of space to work freely in his apartment, which was where they now spent most of their time. While she fussed over dress designs and detailed sketches, Jake cooked them meal after delicious meal; seafood pasta with tomato, bocconcini and fresh basil salad, braised pork chops with caramelized onions simmered in vodka, accompanied by garlic mashed potatoes and grilled asparagus with toasted almonds, or sautéed scallops wrapped in bacon, set atop endive tossed in a light olive oil and lemon dressing. They would eat late dinners so Joanie could finish her work before having a glass of wine, which, once she indulged in, set her into such a relaxed state that no work could be accomplished afterward. But Jake was patient and understanding. He knew that once she called it a night, she was all his.    

CHAPTER 2 - More than Just Friends

Re-read Chapter 2 before Tuesday's posting of Chapter 3...

 

Joanie slipped quietly into her cubical, the office a hive of activity around her. She was late, she knew that much. But the dream that had kept her tied to her bed had been worth it. She turned on her computer and listened to the soothing whir of the motor. Worn out from her restless sleep and the delightfully disturbing dream, she flopped down in her office chair resting her head in her arms on the desk, while her computer booted-up. How could she possibly concentrate?

The screen came to life, temporarily blinding her as it brightened from gray to vivid blue. Although she was performing her usual morning work routine, her brain and body seemed suspended in another time and place. She’d had fantasies before, but nothing like the one she had that morning. It was other-worldly and she wanted to get back to that place, to relive that moment as quickly as possible.

But why, after all this time had passed, was Peter cropping up in her dreams now? Sure, over the years he had come to mind every now and then, but with time, her thoughts of him had diminished. Certainly nothing like this had occurred in ages. She hadn’t allowed herself to revisit her obsession with Peter, or to indulge in pleasurable fantasies about him since she last saw him during her trip home to Charleston ten years before. That was another lifetime, she thought. However, in her heart of hearts she knew, hers was more than an obsession with Peter, and this morning’s dream was just another reminder of that.