Pamela Morsi (26 page)

“Well, I hope it won’t be the worst,” he told her as he retrieved another coin from his pocket. He was already moving in toward her when the quarter clinked in the jar.

This time he took her chin in his hand, angled her head slightly and put his mouth on her own. Her lips melded against his as if they were meant to be together, firm but yielding. There was a gentle tugging and a joining that touched more than the physical. Gussie was drawn into its sweetness, giving as well as getting. Suddenly she could no longer hear the people around her. She was no longer aware of being on display. The world beyond the two of them faded into obscurity. With eyes closed and hands at her sides, there was only the scent of him, masculine and almost tangy, that surrounded her. It was the most alluring fragrance ever known to womankind, finer than the floral gifts of nature or the most luxurious of perfumes. And a taste that completely defied description. It was not sweet or piquant, but rather a zest of jewels, without flavor yet lingering, unforgettable. His mouth pulled at hers. It was as if he were drawing her inside, as if she were now not so much herself anymore as a part of something totally new. Something that was part him, part her and completely neither of them as well as both. Without hesitation she gave herself up to it, willingly transformed.

He began drawing away, but she was not quite ready to release him, not quite ready to give up that sweet suction that so pleased her. As he moved back she leaned further toward him, reaching out to grasp his shoulders.

It was only when she heard the hoots and whistles of those around her that she recalled her public exposure.

Gussie jerked away from Rome. Her face was flushed with embarrassment. How could she have forgotten where she was and what she was about? This was no romantic tryst; this was a business maneuver. At least she’d intended it to be so. Or she’d thought that was what she’d intended. A flutter of tiny magical
wings set off within her midsection, letting her know that it had been more, much more. She lay her hand atop her chest, hoping to still those flutters. Such a feeling would not be so easily caged. “Oh, my,” she murmured.

Rome’s heart was in his eyes. There was apology and determination and … and something else that Gussie didn’t immediately recognize. It was something fiery and ardent. She couldn’t help but wonder if it was the same strange ailment that suddenly plagued her.

Everyone there was looking; everyone was laughing. Gussie Mudd had made a spectacle of herself and she was somehow beyond caring.

“Akers should have to pay extra for that one,” Pete Davies called out.

His words were followed by some hearty guffaws and a lot of backslapping.

“A kiss like that’s worth six bits if a penny,” Clive Benson agreed.

Gussie was blushing furiously now. She glanced over at the reverend and Kate. They too were eyeing her as if she’d just swallowed a mule as well.

She was unsure of what to do or what to say. The kiss had been meant to make Amos jealous. Gussie didn’t see him anywhere and what she was afraid had happened was that she had managed only to make herself look foolish. As she glanced through the crowd, almost every face was turned in her direction.

She was drawn to the one that offered the most comfort and understanding. Rome was smiling at her, looking a little chagrined, but content. He was obviously not worrying overmuch about the gossip swirling around them. If he did not worry, she decided, she would not worry.

He pulled two quarters out of his pocket and dropped them in the jar.

“I don’t mind paying a little extra to kiss the woman of my dreams,” he said.

There was some cheering and good-natured ribbing that accompanied that statement. Gussie felt almost giddy. The phrase
woman of my dreams
somehow skittered across her skin, raising gooseflesh. She reminded herself that he was only pretending, that she was not at all his ladylove. That she was his employer, he her employee. For one moment she felt a distinct stab of envy. How wonderful it would be to actually be loved by such a man.

Perhaps it was that thought alone that emboldened her. Or maybe it was just the high jinks of the moment. Gussie reached across the narrow counter and grabbed Rome by the shirtfront. Angling her head slightly, she pulled him to her, this time kissing him with a brazen abandon that was all passion and no purposeful plan.

He did not preempt her control, or what control she had. She felt foolishly exuberant and completely willing to go with the moment. When the moment passed, she moved only inches away to look into his eyes. The smoky response she saw there told her what she knew already. This was a dangerous game they played. And they were playing it far too well.

“I definitely think that Miss Gussie should have to pay for that one,” Joe Simpson declared.

The titter of nervous laughter seemed to agree. Though not even that could break through the spell that had fogged up her clear thinking.

Gussie reached down into her skirt pocket for her purse. With a feeling of unreality, she retrieved two bits and gladly added them to the jar.

237 * *

The afternoon had been a resounding success. The clink of quarters had gone on and on, until the fireworks extravaganza was absolutely guaranteed. Rome’s own private fireworks seemed equally as certain to explode.

He sat on Miss Gussie’s front porch with her at his side. Ostensibly she was helping him total the contributions, but every time their hands accidentally brushed, they both trembled.

Joe and Perry had stayed late to take down the booth. Rome was grateful to leave the job to them. And they had been very happy to take it on. Laughing about the good time they’d had and reliving the most exhilarating moments of the afternoon.

Rome could simply not get his thoughts in order. He’d spent the most pleasant hour of his life kissing Gussie Mudd and he couldn’t get back to the way they had been before, the distance they had always maintained.

He stopped the counting as he laid his hand atop hers. She looked up at him, her eyes and heart so open. He kissed her. It was a kiss almost tentative, very tender, testing. She did not turn him away. She kissed him back so lovingly, so willingly. She kissed him back as she had done for the crowd. But there was no coin involved here. No performance to be done. She kissed him because she wanted to and for no other reason.

As their lips parted, she too had a momentary look of confusion. What were they doing? What were they thinking? He’d pushed those questions from his own mind and now watched her brow furrow and then smooth as she did the same.

“I’ve lost count again,” she told him, indicating the money.

“I don’t think we’re going to get it right,” he said. “At least not tonight.”

She nodded, wordlessly agreeing to the obvious. She made no move to commence counting again. She only looked at Rome. She looked at him as if she had never seen him before. What she was thinking, he did not know.

For his part, Rome was trying not to think, trying not to plan. He only wanted to be with Gussie. He only wanted to be with Gussie, alone.

The evening shadows covered the porch, making their unchaperoned presence there a little bit scandalous. They had been alone so many times before. They had been on this porch so many times before. But it had never been like this. It had never felt like this.

“Come sit on my lap, Gussie,” he said.

It was a shocking suggestion. The sort that should have got his face slapped.

Instead she rose from her chair and hurried toward him. She hesitated beside him as if uncertain what to do or how to proceed. Gingerly she lowered her backside to his knees.

Rome refused to allow her such reticence. He was sure that at any moment they would both come to their senses. He was not willing to waste these few fleeting moments by faltering.

With one hand on her hip and the other upon her thigh, he pulled her close against him. It felt right. It felt perfect. So naturally her arm slid around his shoulder. The side of her bosom was against his chest. Her round, firm buttocks were atop his erection. This was how it felt good. This was how he wanted her in his arms.

“Kiss me,” he told her. “Kiss me like it will cost you everything that you might ever possess.”

She did. After a long afternoon of practice, their mouths sought each other with welcome and confidence. She tugged and playfully bit at him. He answered with equivalent urgency.

Rome wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close in a way that he could not have done in the park. She didn’t show any reluctance. In fact, as the kiss deepened, she pressed herself to him.

Lovingly he ran his hand upward from her waist to the side of her breast. He wanted to touch her, but he dared not. He smoothed his way back to her waist again, only to retrace his journey once more. Finally, as she opened wider for him, allowing his tongue its will to exploration, he moved his hand across the top of the smooth roundness of her.

In truth, he could feel virtually nothing. There were so many layers of clothing between his hand and her flesh that he had no clue to her shape or size, the warmth of her skin or the site of her nipple. But she gasped, from modesty or pleasure he did not know, but the sound of it went through him like fire, stirring his loins.

Gussie ended the kiss, hiding her face against his neck.

He squirmed in the chair.

She sat up. “Am I too heavy for you?” she asked him.

“Oh, no,” he answered truthfully.

His movements were more an opportunity to press himself against her than to relieve himself of her weight. Relief was not what that offered. The more pleasurably he sawed himself upon her, the more need for relief was required.

They kissed once more, expressing with their
mouths the things they were afraid to say in words. Rome loved the taste of her, he loved the feel of her. She had become his in a way he had not expected. It was a dream and he didn’t wish to awaken from it.

He continued to caress her breast. But the frustration of all the clothing began to grate upon him. With his other hand he began undoing the buttons at the back of her dress.

“What are you doing?” she asked him, her lips against his neck. “Are you removing my clothes?”

She hadn’t told him not to. She’d simply asked if that was what he was doing.

“Of course not,” Rome assured her. “I’m … I’m simply going to loosen your corset a little.”

“You’re going to loosen my corset?”

Once more it was not a protestation.

“Yes, you … you are breathing heavily. I can’t have you fainting as you did that day in the park.”

“I don’t feel like I’m going to faint at all,” she said, bringing her lips eagerly to his once more.

Her enthusiastic passion was so unexpected, so lustful, he feared he might faint himself. His whole body seemed to have turned to jelly. That is, except the part that was a throbbing, aching ramrod.

Once the buttons on her shirtwaist were dispensed with, he began peeling the garment down her arms. He’d had enough experience with women’s clothing to know that while a corset could be loosened from the back, it could be done away with entirely if a man could get his hands upon the front hooks.

Naturally she would never allow him to do such a thing, he reminded himself. And she certainly shouldn’t If he were a true friend or even just a gentleman, he should stop right now. He behaved as neither.

He pulled the pretty blue dress down off her shoulders,
baring her arms. Her corset cover was virginal white, lacy and pretty. Nothing sensual and seductive about it. The sight, however, had him adjusting in the chair once more.

She looked down at what he had done. And then looked up to meet his gaze. In the dim light he could see her lower lip tremble and the glow of perspiration upon her brow. But it was the expression in her eyes that held him. An expression of both desire and doubt. She wanted him, but she was afraid as well.

“I should let you go in, Gussie,” he said. “Someone could come by and see.”

She didn’t even glance toward the road. “We should go in,” she told him. “You should take me. Take me, Rome.”

He did not need to be asked twice. With one arm beneath her knees and one behind her shoulder, he rose to his feet in a swift, sure motion. She wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging to him closely as if to protect her modesty from the eyes so intent on assailing it.

When they reached the door, it was her hand that opened it. He crossed the threshold with Gussie in his arms and then slammed the door loudly behind him with his heel.

She was trembling again, this time clearly in fear. Either of them might awaken to good sense at any time. It was paramount that he reassure them both while they were still so foolishly out of their minds. He kissed her. Long and lovingly, he kissed her. She returned the gesture with equal fervency and pressed her bosom to his chest.

“I have never … never felt like this,” she whispered.

“Neither have I,” he answered and realized as he heard the words that he spoke the truth.

He glanced toward the stairway. He wanted to take her up to her room, to lay her across her bed and show her such pleasure, she would never see the end of it. But he didn’t want to scare her, or to presume too much. Undoubtedly she would call a halt to his advances soon. She had not said she would allow such liberties and certainly she shouldn’t It was best not to behave as if he thought that she would. Instead he carried her into the front parlor, the most formal part of the house. The room where circumspect young women would meet gentleman callers who were not so much as allowed to unbutton a coat without permission.

He lay her on the wine velvet fainting couch in the near corner of the room. Rome sat beside her as she reclined in the darkness. He touched her lips with his own, lightly, gently, three times. Then he kissed her again, this time with the passion they’d shared on the porch. She met him, his equal in devotion and desire.

He smoothed the thin, girlish corset cover over her breast, swallowing the desire it evoked. He wanted to see her bosom. He wanted to kiss it, caress it. He had no right. He knew she would not let him, should not let him. The past hours had been time out of time. They had not been reality. They must come to an end. But in his heart he pleaded that it would not be so soon.