Part Three In A New Three Day Series
Angela Taylor and Jason Banks find themselves two single, out of place guest at their friend's three day wedding celebration. Angela, a romance writer, is ten years Jason's senior but quickly realizes Jason is no child. Enjoy.......
“Georgian Inn sends a warm welcome each time you walk through the door,” Angela read from the inn’s brochure. “Whether napping in the swing on the sun porch or just relaxing in the parlor, you'll realize the southern charm and grace that 'are' the way of life everyday in the South. From its high ceilings, chestnut and heart pine floors, stained glass windows, pocket doors, and the original staircase, the details of the inn provide a glimpse of the beauty of times gone by.” She nodded in approval as she surveyed her surrounds from the front parlor, waiting in the front parlor for any news of her room. “Not bad.”
Couples began filing in but none she recognized. She leaned back in her armchair, took in a lungful on sweet magnolias scented air and waited patiently. This was the South; everything moved slower. “It’s a beautiful time of year for a wedding,” she observed watching the hummingbirds dance in the blooming green gardens just outside the lace trimmed windows.
Another couple and a tall handsome single gentleman arrived and were greeted warmly by the innkeeper’s wife. “I’m sorry for the wait,” she laughed in that nervous Southern way and turned her attention to Angela. “Check-in isn’t normally this chaotic. We weren’t expecting the entire guest list to arrive at once. Please help yourself to the bar. Your room will be ready shortly.” She prompted Angela and left.
Angela walked over the receiving bar and mixed a rum and Coke. Nothing fancy, just something to take the edge off the long flight from Tulsa and the awkwardness of not knowing any of the other guest. She’d only accepted the invitation because Cynthia was an old friend and she desperately needed a vacation.
“The rooms aren’t ready so take your time,” she heard a female voice say into her cell phone as she exited onto the front porch. “They picked a great location. The grounds are beautiful," The screen door closed behind her but her whiny voice carried. "No, Cynthia and Rich aren't here yet. They’re stuck in traffic coming out of Atlanta.”
“Well that explains it.” Angela brushed stray hairs away from her deep cinnamon face, and ran her hand over her white linen sundress before taking her seat. She was beautiful, but not in the ordinary voluptuous manner. No, she had an arresting quality and a velvety laugh that endeared people to her. She was often told she’d missed her calling, politics. She would've succeeded had she put her mind to it however, her artistic side prevailed and she pursued the quiet life of a writer. The sound of other guest walking outside brick patio in the side yard jarred her from daydreaming just when the tall handsome gentlemen entered the room.
“Hello,” he smiled like a young Daniel Craig.
“Hi,” she replied taking in a riff of his cologne. Armani, she’d recognize its aroma anywhere. Out of the corner of her eye she spied him canvassing the bookshelves. His strong jawline was undeniably all-male, and yet his long eyelashes lent a certain vulnerability to his appearance. “I was told to help myself to the bar if you’d like something to drink,” she offered.
“Thanks,” he held up a small half full tumbler. “The innkeeper sorted me out.” He sat and watched Angela perfectly manicured nails tap her glass. “Awkward.” He said reclining.
“Excused me?”
“I was saying how awkward it is being around people you hardly know and trying to strike up conversation to fill the uncomfortable silence.” He remarked disarmingly cool.
“You’re right,” she chuckled. “You sit there wishing they’d throw you a bone—anything to ease the pressure.”
They acknowledged the truth in their statements and ebbed into more uncomfortable silence. Their eyes skirted the room, covertly read one another with a fleeting glance, and then looked away before either was caught. It was just long enough for both to assess that he was at least ten years Angela’s junior.
“By the way, my name is Jason."
“Nice to meet you, Jason. I’m Angela.” She raised her glass slightly.
“How do you know Rich and Cynthia?”
“Cynthia and I grew up together in Tulsa. I haven’t seen her in months. What about you?” she sat her drink down and felt her nerves unwind. “What’s your connection?”
“Rich is my golfing buddy—well he used to be until I moved to Ireland.”
“You came all the way to from Ireland to Greenville Georgia for your former golfing buddy’s wedding!” Angela sounded rather astonished.
“Yeah, I moved to Ireland last year on a whim.”
“Really? How is it?”
“Ireland is amazing. I live in Kilrush, a quaint village with a large harbor,” he mused, his uneasiness dissipated with her ingenuous smile. “I own a small pub near the center of town.”
“You own a pub?”
“Yes, it’s a local watering hole,” He said bashfully, his eyelashes swept across his cheeks. “What do you do?”
Angela sighed and said proudly. “I’m an author. I write romance novels.”
“Romance novels, interesting,” his lips pinched. “Anything I would have read?”
“You read romance novels?”
“No, but I thought it would make you feel better if I’d ask.” He gave a deep throaty laugh.
Angela giggled with a wide smile. Her attention was pulled to the hallway as another couple arrived and was greeted by the innkeeper’s wife. “How much longer is it going to take?” Irritation crept into her voice.
“How long have you been waiting?”
“I arrived about fifteen minutes ahead of you. Which room did you reserve?” Angela inquired before she could suppress her words. She hoped the question had been received in the friend manner in which it was intended rather then creepy.
“I’m in the “Rhett Butler” room. What about you?”
“I’m in the “Georgian.”
Jason’s eyes widen. “You’re in the Georgian? I was hoping to get that one. It has the best views in the place.”
Angela covered her mouth. “Oh I’m sorry.”
“No, please don’t apologize. I’m two doors down from you.”
“Well you’re welcome to peer out of my windows all you’d like.”
He laughed. “I may take you up on your offer.”
“Excuse me,” the innkeeper’s wife interrupted. “Both of your rooms are ready. I’ll show you upstairs.” She led the way up the creaky ornate staircase. “Your rooms are very spacious. Each has its own fireplace, private bath, television, and telephone.”
Angela glanced back at Jason and gave him a ‘well well well, impressive' look. He shrugged and stayed his amusement.
“Miss Taylor this is your room,” she opened the door, allowing Angela to pass. The rooms’ décor featured a tasteful soft floral pattern throughout, lace curtains, an Eastlake marble top chest with an oval shaving mirror, and marble top tables on each side of a 1800's mahogany bed. “You should find it very comfortable.”
“It’s lovely.” Angela placed her purse on the padded bench at the foot of the bed. For a moment she thought Jason would come in from the hallway and checkout her new digs, but he proved to be the perfect gentleman and waited patiently outside for the innkeeper’s wife.
“Thank you,” she said smugly and turned her attention to Jason. “Mr. Banks, your room is this way.”
Curiosity got the better of Angela. She followed them to Jason’s room but kept her distance.
“You’re in the “Rhett Butler”. It’s a popular room, very masculine, but has Miss Scarlett's feminine touches here and there.” She opened the door.
Jason and Angela were impressed by the antique mahogany bed draped in a slate blue duvet and classic rustic elegance of the room however the immediate draw was the brilliant white plantation shutters which opened onto the South lawn.
Jason addressed the innkeeper’s wife. “This is perfect. Thank you…” He prompted her for her name.
“Please call me Ann.” She said warmly. “I understand you were disappointed about loosing the other room…”
“No,” he cut her off. “Thank you, Ann. This room is more…”
“Manly.” Angela finished his sentence.
“Exactly!” he rocked back on his heels.
Sensing her presence was no longer ended, Ann excused herself and left Angela and Jason to chat. They stood looking out of his window onto the grounds below. The catering staff was setting up food stations around the lawn which had taken on the appearance of an Arab tent encampment. Their conversation was effortless. No sexual innuendos, no forced banter, just two individuals chatting.
“Well, I’m going to take a nap before the happy couple arrives.” Angela proclaimed.
“Will you be attending the cocktail hour later this evening?” Jason asked before she slipped through the door.
“Of course! I’m counting on you to be my savior should I fall in the hands of some old uncle or perverted cousin.”
“I’ll be your knight in shining armor if you promise to redeem me should you find me cornered by an overzealous aunt.” He bartered.
“Deal.” She left but reappeared swiftly. “Oh, I forgot. What’s your favorite drink?”
“Tom Collins, why?”
She smiled coyly. “You’ll see.”
*******
After a long nap and shower, Jason leaned against the bar, clothed in a casual evening suit, sipped the last of his drink and hung by his last nerve. Somehow, in the vast sea of people, he’d fallen prey to two of Rich’s spinster aunts with Angela, his redeemer, nowhere in sight. The choice of band was his only crumb of comfort...at least there was something to drown out the constant bickering. He searched frantically for Rich. They hadn’t spoken more than two words to one another all evening as he was having his own family issues.
Jason made a quick study of Rich’s headaches and regretted downing the last of his drink. The tent’s entrance parted briefly as Angela stepped inside. The soft shadowy lights cast a luminous glow against her lavender silk gown but Jason’s unrelenting gaze never wavered from her delicate face. Their eyes met for a second too long. Angela walked in the opposite direction and Jason lost her in the crowd. Minutes later she sauntered towards him.
“There you are. I’ve been looking all over the place for you,” she kissed him on both cheeks and handed him a drink. “Tom Collins, correct?”
“Tom Collins is correct,” Jason did his best to conceal his amusement. A few nanoseconds passed without anyone speaking.
“Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend?” One aunt asked Jason.
“Oh sorry. I assumed you’d already meant…um… Angela, these are Rich’s aunts: Clarabelle and Dorothy.”
“Glad to meet you both. Thank you for keeping him entertained. It took longer than expected to pull myself together.”
“You’re beautiful, dear. We’ll see you later.” The other aunt offered and they left.
Jason turned to Angela. “Thanks for saving me. You look stunning.” He stepped back, taking her in as she gave a playful pose. The band began playing Brian McKnight’s “Love of My Life”. “I love this song. Would you like to dance?”
Angela sat her glass on the bar. “Thanks, I’d love too.” She took his extended hand. “I’m warning you, it’s been awhile since I’ve danced.”
When they reached the dance floor, he stared down at her for a long moment. Angela gazed up into his eyes and no longer saw a man that was too young for consideration. She saw a man…a handsome with his arms encircling her, pressing her against himself and moving her slowly in time with the music. He was a good dancer and moved easily to the rhythm. Angela felt herself go limp and melt softly against his chest.
She could feel the imprint of his hands burning through the fabric of her gown straight to her flesh as they slowly roamed across her back. His heart pounded beneath her hand resting against his hard chest. He wasn’t unmoved by her—at least not physically. Note by seductive musical note, she became more conscious of his muscular contour, of his arms wrapped around her, of his thighs brushing against hers, of how he held her tightly to him as if molding her to fit.
Her arms reached up and snaked his neck, while his locked around her trim waist, holding her lusciously curvy body flush with his. Involuntarily, her fingers moved easily through the back of his perfectly trimmed sun-kissed hair. She looked up into his eyes as he peered down into hers.
The song tailed to an end. The band announced they were taking a break to the party goers’ applause. Angela and Jason clapped seconds later.
Angela looked around the room and swallowed. “I’d better go…”
“Yeah, I’d better go too. See you tomorrow.” He said, more of a question rather than a statement.
“Yeah…um!” Angela couldn’t think of anything else to say. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Good…goodnight.”
“Goodnight.” He bought a couple of seconds before she left. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her as she walked leisurely out of the tent.
The next morning
“Golf at Callaway Gardens is nothing less than awe-inspiring,” Jason read from the guest activity program clandestinely slipped beneath his room door. “The superbly designed and meticulously maintained Georgia golf courses at Callaway Gardens feature woodland borders and mountain lakes accented by the dramatic beauty of the Gardens. No other golf course in Georgia can deliver this combination of a magnificent natural setting and a rich golf tradition. Founder Cason Callaway believed that “playing golf should be a pleasant experience in beautiful surroundings” - his vision has been surpassed by the Callaway golf experience.” He gave the other activities passing attention. “Well I know what I’ll be doing today.” He dropped the program on the dresser and went to shower.
Standing in the mirror brushing his teeth, Jason’s thoughts drifted back to where they’d been most of the night: Angela. He hoped his behavior hadn’t offended her. Maybe it was for the best they’d parted way when they had, he mused, massaging the sudden pain to his right temple.
A couple of hours later Angela lay staring up at her ceiling listening the other guest clinking flatware against their breakfast plates below. “Eight o’clock in the morning. This isn’t happening.” She closed her eyes and whined. Her writer’s schedule never saw her awake before ten o’clock but as a guest she felt obliged to get an early start, mingle. And for a fleeting instant she wished she could revisit the seconds before she walked away from Jason. Not even she was skilled enough to deny there had been a connection between them. Whirling from the bed she brushed those thoughts aside and concentrated on the day ahead.
Out of the corner of her eye she noticed the guest activity program lying on the floor, she retrieved it and read it on the way to the bathroom. “Whether you yearn for a quiet time to take leisurely strolls and spend time just observing your surroundings, or you prefer a full day packed with adventure and discovery, you'll find the Gardens to your liking,” she read, admiring Cynthia’s choice of location more and more. “The natural woodlands and shimmering lakes accented by wildlife and plants too numerous to name set the tone for a quiet experience to relax and inspire you, and at the same time, provide a stunning background for a day of adventure.”
“Callaway Gardens it is!” she trotted off in an unusually good humor for this time of morning.
******
A cheerful ‘good morning’ from Ann, the innkeeper’s wife and the rich aroma of brewing coffee met Angela when she stepped into the kitchen. The other guests were seated in the formal dining room, the front porch, and side porch devouring their breakfast. Angela was offered the choice of a sit down for formal service in the dining room or self-service at the buffet in the kitchen. With no sight of the happy couple or Jason, she wisely chose her meal from the buffet and headed for the secluded screened in porch where she could enjoy writing and gardenias in relative peace.
“Good morning!” she called briskly from the doorway. “I didn’t know you were out here.”
“Good morning,” Jason replied from his relaxed position on the cushioned wicker settee. “I’m so glad it’s you. I’m officially hiding from the aunts. If they find me again, I’m done.” He flicked his paper and went back to reading. “They’ve been force feeding me all morning. I don’t think I can eat another bite.”
“They mean well,” Angela laughed and sat in the chair opposite from him with a cup of coffee and a plate of assorted fruit. “And here I was going to offer you some of my breakfast.”
Jason raked a narrow-eyed look around his paper sending Angela into open laughter. “Looks good. Is that all you’re eating?” he retreated behind his paper.
“I never eat breakfast.”
“Why?”
“I’m not a morning person,” she curled her legs under her. “I’m rarely awake before ten o’clock. That’s a perk of being a writer---you set your own hours.”
“That’s reason enough. I was hoping you weren’t watching your weight.”
Angela’s mind went into hyper mode trying to grasp the meaning of his last statement. Jason felt her waiting for him to expound. He folded his paper and set it on the coffee table. “You don’t need to watch your weight.” His gaze caressed her, and suddenly he grinned. “You’re perfect just the way you are, if not a little too skinny. I like a woman with meat on her bones.”
“Do you think that goes for all men?”
He gave a short snort. “The smart ones, yes. A woman with more substance to her looks as if she’s enjoying life; not worried about what others think of her. Confidence is what makes a woman sexy, not the amount of hours she puts in at the gym.”
Angela took up her journal and pen. “Say that again.”
“What?”
“Repeat what you just said slowly. I need to remember those words for an upcoming story I’m writing.”
“Is this how you come up with your characters? Listening to men babble on aimlessly?” He went for her journal but she moved it out of his reach. “Let me see what you’re working on.”
“No!” she protested. “No one sees my work before it’s finished.”
“Well, at least read me a snippet.” He kicked his feet up on the table with the air of a man without a care in the world.
Her playful frown gave way to an arrogant sneer. There was nothing more she disliked talking about than her work. “Fine,” she conceded and began reading from her upcoming release.
Jason sat quietly watching every word fall from the softness of her lips. He longed to coil his fingers in the raven waves that fell about her smooth bare shoulders and draw her lips to his. He had to force himself to concentrate on what she was saying because he was thoroughly entranced by the provocative shape of her mouth.
“So, what did you think?” Angela asked.
Still he only stared at her, mutely, unable to think, to feel, to talk. Her words spun around him and he struggled to focus.
“Earth to Jason. Come in Jason.”
“Lovely.” He finally murmured. His singular word held more than one connotation.
She sensed his meaning and quietly closed her journal as she held his steady gaze. She was sure of his sincerity.
“I don’t mean to interrupt, however Rich and Cynthia are going to be in Atlanta most of the day; something about the wedding dress…I don’t know---I couldn’t make heads or tails of it. They’ve sent word for the guests to continue on without them.” Ann instructed from the entryway. “You have the activity programs I slipped under your doors?”
“Yes,” Both Angela and Jason answered.
“Good! I’m sure they wouldn’t want y’all sitting around here all day looking at me.” She gave big laugh. “I’ll be inside if you have any questions or need directions.”
“No, we’ll be fine. Thank you.” Jason stood collecting his paper. He turned to Angela. “Shall we go?”
“Where do you have in mind?” she gathered her belongings.
“No, honey, leave your plate and cup.” Ann sprung into action. “I’ll take care of it. You two enjoy your day.”
Angela offered her thanks.
Jason placed his hand on the small of Angela’s back and led her off the porch out on the herringbone designed brick pathway leading to his car. “I was going to Callaway Gardens for a round of golf.”
Angela’s face lit up. “I was thinking of going there myself.” She said suddenly aware that his hand was still lingering on her back, warm atop her crepe top. “Wait, um...”
“What?”
“I…I forgot my purse. I’ll just be a minute.” Angela darted off in to the inn, dumped the contents of her purse into a day bag along with her journal and pen, a quick glance on the mirror to pull herself together and she raced back downstairs.
Jason stood crossed legged at the end of the car, smartly dressed in khakis and a light polo…typical golf gear. He opened the door for Angela and again his hand went to the small of her back.
Once at the garden, Jason encouraged Angela to have a swing at a couple of holes. He was a patient teacher but soon realized his pupil was fundamentally hopeless when she flung his nine-iron across the sand dunes and marched off. Frustrated with her failure, Angela sought the comfort of the wide walking paths and arched bridges of the Azalea Bowl. There amongst the colorful palette of pinks, reds and whites she took up her pen and went to work.
They broke for lunch at the Mountain View clubhouse just off of the driving range. Angela found herself wholeheartedly listening to his incessant talk of golf and, but in the end, vaguely understood the nuances between that thing she flung and a pitching wedge. He spoke of his pub, his village, and his travels and obliged her by listening to her talk of her writing, day-to-day life and global explorations.
Neither could scarcely remember a time when they’d felt as comfortable with a person of the opposite sex. For Angela there was no need to ‘dumb it down’ with Jason as she would have expected when dealing with someone younger than her. She could be exactly who she was, ten dollars words and all.
With Angela, Jason found a lady with interest that ranged outside of the physical. Her thoughts and feelings ran deep; her personality was rich and vibrant with the colors she lent her writing. It took more than sexual bait to tempt a man like Jason, and she’d found it. He longed to touch her, to hold her.
It was well into the evening when they returned to the inn. The other guests were enjoying the evening’s entertainment inside the various tents and several sat lazily swinging under the dimly lit gazebos. Angela and Jason parted ways and went to freshen up before heading downstairs to meet Cynthia and Rich.
Angela arrived dressed in a stylish cranberry silk v-neck dress to find Cynthia surrounded by her in-laws and thought it best to steer clear of that train wreck. She stood bobbing her head to the band’s musical selection while scoping the room for Jason. “Surely,” she thought, “if I find the aunts he will be nearby.” In short order she spotted the aunts chatting up another young gentleman, but no Jason. The band changed genres twice before she felt a warm hand on the small of her back just as the female singer began a slow rendition of Frank Sinatra’s “The Way You Look Tonight”.
As she turned, Jason stood smiling down at her. She felt her heart skip a beat when she saw him standing clothed in a navy jacket over a white shirt, looking even better than she remembered.
“Angela….” Her name on his lips was low and husky, and he knew she sensed at once his change in sentiment. She knew he wanted her. “Would you like to dance?” He offered his arm.
She took his arm and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor. He held her gently against him, stroking a sensual path along her back. She felt so small and feminine against his sculpted body; he wanted to savor this moment, them dancing, them touching, them exchanging hushed acknowledgement of their mutual attraction.
They swayed to the harmonious melody, one of her favorites that never failed to bring a tear to her eye. But not tonight. Looking up into Jason’s blue eyes tearing was the last thing on her mind. Her arms encircled his neck while his hands caressed her tenderly, gently falling to the curve of her hips. His heat seared through to her smooth skin under the flimsy material. Jason’s impassioned gaze devoured her, sweeping slowly downward from her lovely upturned face, down the curve of her slender throat, to the chocolate silkiness of her bare shoulders. He buried his lips in her hair, kissing the sensitive place beneath her earlobe until she melted into him.
A shallow hush of air passed between Angela’s lips.
“……the way you look…tonight…” the vocalist sang the last line of the song and the melody whined to a silken end.
They stood breathless, both seeking to prolong the delicious feeling, yet neither knowing the next step.
“Excuse me, honey,” Rich’s aunt interrupted kindly smiling. “…but I’m stealing him away from you.”
Angela stepped aside, beaming. “He’s all yours. Be gentle with him.”
“Come on auntie,” Jason teased. “Let’s see what you’re made of.” And they danced as he watched Angela gracefully retreat outside.
His hands stroked her warm body, removing her satin gown, caressing her breasts, teasing her nipples so that they swelled in taut erection beneath his expert fingers. Blood seemed to flow hotly in her arteries as his hands roamed downward to explore the silken inner flesh of her thighs.
Suddenly she felt the pressure of his lips against her skin, skillfully tongued her navel, licking her softness until she moaned with pleasure. She stared down at the thick hair buried against her stomach. Then his lips moved lower, and a tiny thrilling shockwave swept her as she realized what he was going to do.
As he made love to her with his lips, her will to resist him slowly flowed out of her; his mouth touched all the private places of her body, tasting her as though she were a delicious fruit he had lived too long without. Her deepest emotion stirred by the erotic conquest of his lips. She felt warm and wet, aching with a tumultuous need that only he could satisfy. Yet he drew out the moment, kissing her again and again, kneading her softest flesh with his lips as though he were starved for her. His hands gripped her hips. He held her so close that she felt fused to him utterly, the two of them alone in a brilliant haze of golden mist.
Angela’s eyelids fluttered open, vaguely conscious of the stillness in the room. She reached across the bed half expecting to feel Jason but there was nothing more than a tumble of cold sheets. “Oh balls!” she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Her and Jason’s flirtation had weaseled into her dreams and taken root. “Time for a cold shower.” She swung her feet from the heat of the bed and tramped to the bathroom to shower.
More than a little ashamed of his presumptuous behavior the night prior and in effort to avoid Angela, Jason had purposely risen early and taken breakfast with the aunts in the formal dining room. Listening to them bicker and rant about missed opportunities was the price he paid to save face…and pay he did. They piled his plate with enough food to feed three men and then debated whether he should add more fiber to his diet or cut out carbs all together. He swallowed his last shred of patience with his final gulp of orange juice and politely excused himself. He’d rather take his chances of running into Angela then suffer one more second of them discussing his dietary requirements as if he weren’t present.
“Good morning,” he heard as he entered the foyer. Angela, whose abrupt unexpected presence churned his emotions with the brutal violence of a tornado, bounced down the stairs.
“Hi! I was just going for a…um drive.”
“Were you going to leave without me?” she sensed his ill ease. “That was a joke. I was kidding.”
“Ah,” he rocked back on his heels. “Got it.”
“So, where are you headed again?”
He nodded nonchalantly. “I was just about to go for a spin; nowhere in particular. I had breakfast with Clarabelle and Dorothy….”
“Both aunts!” she teased at his expense.
“Yeah,” He looked around warily and his eyelashes kissed his cheeks. “My nerves are pretty fried right now”
“You went through all that trouble just to avoid me?” Angela said, finally his eyes meet hers full on.
“Look, I’m sorry about last night. My behavior was unacceptable and uncalled for. It was wrong of me…” Jason apologized before Angela cut him off.
“No need. We shared a moment and um…”
“Is that what it was to you? A moment.?” He moved closer to her, watching the curve of her lips soften into a shy smile.
For some reason she felt very vulnerable beneath his steady, intent stare, and a race of coward’s panic would’ve sent her into hiding had it not been for the aunt’s boisterous interception.
“There you are Jason,” Dorothy, the older more pliable of the aunts said. “Since Rich and Cynthia are preparing for the wedding, we thought we’d gather everyone together and karaoke.”
“The bandstand is already setup in the back and we have plenty of music.” Clarabelle sweetened the pot.
Angela wrapped her arm around Jason. “We were about to drive into town. What did we have to pick up?” she asked Jason who stared on like a deer in highlights.
“Balls.” He said flatly with no further clarification.
“Balls?” Dorothy repeated.
“Yes,” Angela chuckled. “Balls…golf balls. Callaway Gardens has a signature line of golf balls.” She scoffed at Jason. “How did you forget those?”
“I…I don’t know,” he muttered, clearly stumbling his way through the second stage of Stockholm syndrome.
“Come on, let’s go,” Angela pulled him to the door and called to the ladies. “We’ll see you at the wedding.” Once out of earshot she snorted, and took his keys.
“Thank you,” Jason said a few miles down the road. “So, where are we off to?”
“I have no clue but we have to make a trip to Callaway Gardens before we head back.”
A long moment of comfortable silence passed between them as the unspoiled Georgia landscape in full bloom rushed by as they drove towards town center.
“I want to stop in town and pick up a new journal.” Angela finally said.
“What’s wrong with the one you have?”
“Nothing. I collect them. Every time I visit a new place or start a new chapter in my life, I purchase a new journal.” She glanced over to Jason returning her grin. “I know. It’s a silly habit.”
He touched her hand resting on the gearshift. “No, it’s not silly. You’re an author; that is understandable. I collect golf balls from each course I play.”
“Really?” she asked aware that his thumb was slowly rubbing the back of her hand.
“Yeah, I have them on display in the pub right next to all my battered clubs.” He said garnering a hearty laugh from Angela. “I have small collection of clubs that I’ve thrown or beat into the ground.”
“I guess you can add your nine-iron to the collection now. Sorry about that.”
“Nah, it’s no big deal.” He unfastened his seatbelt as they pulled into a parking space. “What time does the wedding start?”
“Seven o’clock. The sun should be setting by then.” She exited the car and checked her pockets for cash and credit cards and met Jason on the small sidewalk.
Without provocation he took her hand. He stood grounded showing her that he wasn’t going to pull away, his soft eyes traveled slowly up soft lines of her body until they rested on the gentle features of her face. Angela stared back at him silently. Her heart pounded in her throat and she felt a grasping urge to feel his lips moved across hers, wishing they were back at the inn snuggling beneath the sheets, sated in their own world.
“I hope you don’t mind.” Jason’s lips twisted cynically.
“No.” she replied in short for fear of sounding ridiculous.
“Good,” he started walking. “Because I hadn’t planned on letting you go.”
They spent the rest of the day walking, roaming through local mom and pop stores of Warm Springs and Greenville before trekking the grounds of Callaway Garden. Astonishingly enough Jason was amazed by what he’d missed while he played on the golf course. Angela took him on a tour of the Azalea Bowl with its winding walking paths and secluded pavilion where they talked for an hour, and the Vegetable Garden where they bought a basket of fresh area grown fruits for the aunts.
“Can I ask you a question?” Jason lay on the grass staring up at the tops of the trees.
“Sure.” Angela reclined beside him.
“Why aren’t you married?”
Angela shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I never put my mind to it. It was never a pressing issue.”
“You’re perfect. Well, you’re not perfect.” He corrected himself. “No one is perfect.”
“Is that what most men want? Perfection?”
“No. Perfection is boring. Would you ever create a character that wasn’t either emotionally or physically flawed?” he studied the sunlight coming through the leaves and branches.
Angela thought for a second. “No. You’re right. Flaws in a character adds to their sex appeal.”
“And what about the men in your life?” Jason leaned over and rested on his elbow looking down at Angela with smoldering want. “Do you expect them to be perfect?”
Angela gazed through the delicate fans of his lashes into the Jason’s desire-darkened eyes. Time stood still between them and she was determined not to look away. “No.” She whispered plainly. “Like you said ‘Perfection is boring’”
The blistering alarm of his watch sounded and they smiled at one another.
“We’d better get back.” Jason lightly kissed the tip of her nose, stood and offered her a hand.
It wasn’t long before they realized the hour and headed back to the inn. Several of the other guests were congregated on the lawn for the cocktail social while the band played. Jason and Angela retreated to their rooms to shower and dress and agreed to meet downstairs in the foyer.
Jason tugged at the tie of his tux while patiently checking his watch and staring out into the yard as guests began to take their seats. His jaw dropped and he swiftly stopped fidgeting as he watched Angela gracefully descend the staircase in a silk chiffon empire waist dress finished with a pair of silver strappy sandals. Her every movement was provocative and sexy, revealing the sleek curve of her legs and her waves of dark hair fell loosely about her shoulders. Not a breath of air stirred the impractically sexy gown she was wearing. Whispers of sheer plume cloth clung freely to her and accentuated her shapely curves, enhancing the dark honey tones of her skin.
Angela walked toward him smiling until she stood returning his knowing stare.
With surprising gentleness he placed both hands on each side of her face and said with all sincerity, “You are very beautiful tonight.” His low gravelly voice flowed over every inch of her skin bringing her to life.
“Thank you,” she crooned arrogantly. She knew what she was working with, but she wasn’t unaffected by Jason standing there looking like a million bucks. She could have drug his young ass upstairs right then and then. There again, cooler heads prevailed and he escorted her to their seats.
The wedding ceremony proved to be the longest in recorded history. Even under the haze of the evening sun and beautiful plush surroundings even the most patient of guests began squirming after the first thirty minutes. Not that it mattered to Jason and Angela. The ceremony merely provided a backdrop for their hand holding and flirtation.
Once liberated from the shackles of the frankly overblown nuptials ceremony, they and the other guests were evacuated to the air conditioned holding tanks of the reception tents. All in all the wedding went off without a hitch: The happy couple was giddily receiving their well wishes, the music, grounds and food were second to none, and the company was all either Jason or Angela could have hoped for.
After a lovely dinner Cynthia and Rich opened the floor for dancing. Angela took turns around the floor with the uncles and male cousins while Jason squared off with the aunts and nieces. They danced, partied and laughed well into the night. As the night went on the band’s selections slowed and couples graced the floor. Angela stood nursing a drink and giggling as Clarabelle and Dorothy jostled for Jason’s attention. Rich’s uncle Pete asked Angela to dance and she happily obliged. He wasn’t as good a dancer as Jason but not many men were. She and Uncle Pete twirled and swayed, turned and dipped but her eyes rarely left Jason, dancing with Aunt Clarabelle. Uncle Pete caught a glimpse of them eyeing one another and when the song ended and Martina McBride’s “Valentine” began, he delivered Angela to Jason and whisked Aunt Clarabelle safely across the floor.
There was no need of shy glances or reserved demeanors. They both willingly embraced the undeniable: there was a deep connection beyond this moment or moments past. It glittered and glistened and demanded acknowledgement.
“Hi,” Angela said returning to their nightly positions: her arms around his neck, her body pressed flush against his, and his arm encircling her while tracing up and down her back.
“Hey, beautiful. I’ve been waiting to dance with you all night.”
“You’ve been busy.” She rested her cheek upon the hard heat of his chest, closed her eyes and listened to his heartbeat thumping to the melody. Angela felt the warmth of his breathe move across her scalp. He held her close and moving effortlessly, gently stroked his hand through the flowing masses of her hair. Her every nerve was attuned to his masculine presence and there was a part of her that didn’t want this feeling to end.
“Our song.” Her soft eyes met his as “Love of My Life” began. “Did you do this?”
Jason smiled sheepishly as she returned to resting on his chest. It was of no concern, she was grateful for his forethought, her desire to run receded as she listened to the steady beat of his heart. A feeling of infinite peace enveloped them as they held one another. He cradled her head against his chest and prayed that the songs impassioned words would speak to her.
Like all things the song tapered to an end as did their dance. Angela leaned away from Jason, putting space were there had been none. He shook his head.
For a long moment of suspended time they stood kissing and slowly dancing, lost in the glowing depths of one another.
An hour passed and Angela found herself alone after her shower after having parted ways with Jason; he in his room, and she in hers. They agreed any physical response to what they were feelings would have been rushed and ill-timed. Both seemed more than happy to leave things as they were. Angela sat in bed working on a new story idea loosely based on her trip. She couldn’t have imagined that a three day trip to a small town in Georgia could yield a bounty of useful material.
And then there was Jason. Passionate and mature beyond his years and more man than she’d had in years. “Why did we stop?” she thought tapping her pen against the pages of her new journal. The same journal she’d purchased earlier with Jason…her new chapter journal. “Damn it! I’m never going to get this chance again.”
She climbed from the bed, threw on her robe and slippers and marched to the door. She swung it open just as Jason was about to knock. Their eyes locked and he moved inside.
“I can’t stop thinking about you.” He moved closer towards her, tossing the door closed.
“I can’t stop thinking about you either.” She stepped to him and they met toe to toe. “So, what do you want to do about it?”
His lips found hers in a kiss that was slow and sensual, arousing and deepening until he gained the whimpering response he sought. Her bones reduced to pudding under his intense oral prowess. She went weak in his arms. He lips burned a trail of kisses down her soft throat and shoulders and wandered beneath her plunging neckline, and tongued the sheer fabric concealing her nipples.
Angela gasped and bit her bottom lip to keep from crying out. He held her, his hard hips molding hers to his.
“Oh my God,” she gave a tiny sound of blissful anguish as the stiffing bulge behind his thin sleeping pants pressed against her.
Jason regained control of himself. “I want you, Angela. I want to sleep with you tonight,” he muttered hoarsely. “But that’s not all. I don’t want you to think that this is just sex. I like you, I like you a lot. I don’t know how to do “just sex”. Even if nothing comes of this other than friendship, I want you to know that you have mine.”
Angela dropped her head and then she felt his strong fingers caress her chin, lifting her face, staring deep into her eyes.
“I’m serious, Angela.”
The earnestness she saw in his eyes spoke to the sincerity of his words. He left her breathless. Unexpectedly she felt his arms gently slide around her waist, and cradled her against him. “It’s not simply about the sex for me either.” Without another word he took possession of her lips and removed her sleep attire and she graciously returned the favor.
Angela pushed him back into the bed and looked at him like a cream filled éclair. She climbed atop him and kissing his lips, and down his chest. He stopped her mid stride and with a yelp he flipped her over flat on her back in one swift move.
“When was the last time you made love?” he asked into the side of her neck, his erect cock pressed into her stomach and she ached for him to do something, anything with it.
“It’s been almost a year.”
He lightly licked and sucked her right nipple. “That long ago?”
“Yeah.” She gasped when she felt his hand reach between her thighs and over her wet lips.”
“It’s been longer than that, Angela.” He gave her a naughty smile. “I want you to lay back and let me take care of you.” He said keenly aware that she was watching his mouth having its way with her breast. He sucked her left nipple and released it. “Let me take you to places you’ve never been. Can you do that?”
“Um….um,” she stammered as he pushed her legs up at the knees. And there it was---her dream. She stared down at the thick mane buried against her stomach. Then his lips moved lower, and a tiny thrilling shock wave swept her as she realized what he was going to do. “Yeah, I can do that.” She never imagined his touch would’ve felt as exquisite as it was traveling though every pore of her body. “Aahh, damn, Jason.” The first sizzling touch of his mouth on her pussy lips sent her reeling, setting a precedent for what was to come.
He tasted her with gently lingering efficiency; planting slow dragging kisses over her labia that caused her to shudder under him. Right when she thought he’d taken her to the pinnacle of oral pleasure he pushed her further, pulled her to him, demanding more. She gave him more, she gave him everything she had and more. He nibbled and he flicked, he teased and he titillated, and she rewarded him with the arch of her back, the tremble in her thighs, the raspy calls to him, and her fingers in his hair.
The wet slippery smoothness of his kitten soft tongue dislodged her from all reality. In those uninhibited moments she became nothing but what she felt: the light broad strokes up and down her pussy lips, the sweet and all too brief sucking of her clit, the sounds of her arousal, the feel of his grasping hands on her thighs. She soared because he willed her too. She came repeatedly because her pleasure was his. Her own happiness waned between her Zen-like break of consciousness and surrender.
“Jason, I’m cumming.” She tightened her fist. She’d never cum orally with any man, yet Jason’s suckling mouth she saw her orgasm encroaching. Her hips rose and fell slightly eagerly seeking his mouth.
“Cum for me, Angela. Cum as much as you’d like.” He spread her labia, pulling back the skin around her clit, freeing it for his exploration. He took it between his moist lips and sucked feather soft pulsation until her entire body shook.
Her orgasm was so intense; she bounced back and forth between convulsions and open tears. Jason held her until she lay still and satisfied. It was only then that he reached into his pants for a condom.
He settled between her legs and held her head in his hands while studying her eyes, and with a heavy groan he pushed passed her pussy lips and they were overcome by a fleeting moment of nothingness, of pure existence unencumbered by narrative. Jason’s hips gyrated between hers. The head of his cock drove deeper and deeper into her. Each thrust sent them both into a benign netherworld of sensation.
“Jason,” she gave into him. His weight pushed her further and further, closer and closer to cumming. Deeper and deeper he stroked, the further he went, the more intense his brow became. “Jason, please…” she attempted to form a proper sentence but thought better of it. She pulled his lips to hers and prayed that the other guests weren’t able to hear the squeaking bed and grunts. He was a passionate lover, he knew her every want and desire. He had calculated correctly, she didn’t have move a muscle. He knew her in every sense of the word.
Wave after wave of thickness moved inside of her. In and out, in and out…until she came with a hushed scream.
“Angela,” he buried his face in her hair, his breathing uneven. “Angela,” he groaned.
“Oh shit, baby!” she said just over the sound of her pussy being lovingly manhandled. He brought her to orgasm repeatedly without thought of himself. She tightened her walls around him, quietly urging him to cum.
He pumped and pumped. “Damn, I’m cumming,” she finally heard him say. He thrust and came while kissing the most sensual woman he’d had the pleasure of bedding. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her as she came locked in his gaze.
For a long while they lay there scanning one another’s face, grappling with the thoughts of their next move. After disposing of the condom Jason returned to Angela’s side and held her in his arms. She flung half of her body over his and hugged him tightly. There was no need to wrestle with “what next” nor “what are we”. All that mattered was the here and now.
And right then everything as it should have been. Perfect.
The next morning the guests had breakfast and began filing out. Jason and Angela awoke groggy but thoroughly satisfied with what they’d done. If nothing, they’d made a lifelong new friend. They took their breakfast in the privacy of Angela’s room so she could continue packing and he could watch her doing so.
They emerged downstairs just as the aunts were leaving and said their goodbyes with a twinge of sadness. Being that their flights left an hour a part, Angela rode with Jason to the airport. After check-in they sat waiting at Jason’s gate. She rested on his shoulder and he played in her hair…their separation was becoming all too real.
The attendant made the finally boarding call.
“This is it.” He ruffled her hair and stood. “I’d better go before they close the doors.”
Angela stood but averted her eyes. “I’m not very good at goodbyes. I’m normally the one doing the leaving.”
“This isn't goodbye,” Jason pointed out. “It’s ‘see you later’”
Angela gave a short laugh for his benefit. “I’ll see you later then.”
“You will,” He smiled and handed her neatly folded note. “Read it when you see the plane’s wheels leave the ground.”
“How do you know I’ll be watching your plane take off?”
“Because I know you,” he kissed her deeply. “I’ll call you when I get home.” With another quick peck to her lips, he slipped through the doors.
Angela walked to a nearby window and spied Jason’s plane pushing away from the gate, and easing unto the runway. Within minutes the plane went from taxiing down the tarmac to full power throttle. And just like that---he was gone and Angela felt it through to her bones.
Without a second to lose she quickly opened Jason’s note and read:
If you’re ever in Ireland and find yourself in need of a good pint and familiar face, you know where to find me.
Your Friend,
Jason
“Ma’am,” a female voice with a heavy Irish brogue said as Angela closed and folded Jason’s note some nine months later. “We’re preparing for landing. Please place your seat in the upright position.”
“Thank you,” Angela gave a polite grin.
The flight attendant left and returned a few minutes later. “Ma’am, I know people approach you all the time, but can you please sign my copy of “Taking Chances”? I’ve read it countless times as you can tell by the dog-eared pages.” She handed the book to Angela.
“Sure.” Angela quickly scribbled her signature and returned the book to the attendant.
“If you don’t mind me asking, are you in Ireland for business or pleasure?”
Angela fingered Jason’s note and smiled.
“Both”
The End