The Possibilities - Desire - A Collection of Short Stories

TABLE OF CONTENTS

VENUS FLYTRAP

A NIGHT OF LOVE AND BANDAGES

SWAMP DREAMS

SPANISH MOSS AND HONEYSUCKLE

About the Author

VENUS FLYTRAP

TARGET
OF OPPORTUNITY

She took a single look at the man
and felt her temperature soar and her knees turn to jelly.  She literally
had to sit down or fall down.  He had stood up in the street after turning
the CPR he had started on the young girl lying in the street to the Fire
medics.  He had looked in her direction and their eyes made contact. 
The spark was instantaneous and electric.

Nettie Howell had read the word
‘swooned’ literally thousands of times in her life, but she never
really
understood
it until the day she met Scott Neville. The only word she could think of to
describe him later was ‘breathtaking’.  He was the classic representative
of the tall, dark and handsome movie stars of the 40s and 50s.  When he
smiled, the dazzling brilliance of his white teeth seemed to dim the lights
around him.  Every move his body made was sinuous, made with the grace of
a big jungle cat.  Nettie got shivery when she first saw him…a reaction
she’d never had around other men.  Frankly, until she saw Scott the first
thing, she had relegated ‘instant lust’ to the category of a fairy tale that
only a lonely, desperate woman could believe in.  As far as she had been
concerned, it was a fantasy restricted to the pages of romance novels.

His strong, calloused hand touched
her shoulder familiarly, a friendly gesture that was in no way threatening or
sexual, but her skin seemed to crawl
towards
his touch.  “Are you
okay?” he asked.  The car that had hit the young woman had actually
brushed her skirt before the man had shoved her out of its path.  She
managed to nod, the accident forgotten as she fought to control the raging heat
in her belly.

Nettie was a member of the elite of
New York City society.  From an old and wealthy family vaguely related to
the Carnegies, the simple dress she wore cost more than the new car that had
almost hit her. Scott, on the other hand, was a forty three year old retired
soldier who worked with his hands because he loved it.  A beer drinker and
a Jets fan, he was from the opposite end of society’s spectrum from
Nettie.  In spite of the loud voice screaming in her mind that he was
exactly
the wrong type of man for her, her hormones were screaming louder.
Her infatuation was instant and total.

She didn’t answer him quickly, and
he asked her politely if he could buy her a cup of coffee while she
recovered.  It took very little persuading, and she allowed him to take
her arm and guide her to a nearby premium coffee shop. When he touched her she
trembled, and he misread it as a reaction to the near accident.

A mocha latte for her, and a dark
roast without cream or sugar for him, and the ice was broken.  It was easy
to talk to him, and she noticed that he had not automatically catalogued her
clothing and jewelry as everyone else she knew did as a matter of course. He
was completely guileless, and as such, a novelty for her.  She could tell
he had been military; it was in every nuance of his personality, his posture,
and his speech.  Nettie had reacted at first to his physical beauty, and
now she was now being drawn further into him by the raw force of his sparkling
personality.  He was soon talking to her about his work, which was something
she could actually relate to.  Scott was an artist, creating animals and
sea creatures out of driftwood that he collected on his frequent travels.

When he saw she was taking an
interest, he explained that many of his retired friends had moved to coastal
cities or to lakes or rivers.  “There’s something about water that soothes
us,” he said with a distant look in his eyes.  Nettie rather suspected
that he was visualizing the places he had been in recent years, places where
water was scarce, and large bodies of it unimaginable.

“I’d really love to see some of your
work Scott,” she said, inwardly amazed that she was pushing this gentle
man.  She hardly knew him, and she was trying to persuade him to show her
his work…she had no idea if he had any on display in a gallery or if he just
puttered around in his own work area.

“I was just going to one of my
gallery displays when that idiot tried to run over you,” he grinned.  He
seemed very pleased that she was interested.  Nettie was surprised at her
frustration…she had wanted to get him alone.

Jesus
, she thought to herself,
get a grip woman!  You
don’t even know him and you want to get him alone and ravage his body!
She
watched his fluid motions as he stood and paid the check.  That was
exactly
what she wanted.

THE
CHASE

The galley was brightly lit and the
owner, a pretty young girl in her mid twenties showing an incredible amount of
cleavage, squealed and ran to Scott, leaping into his arms and showering him
with kisses.  Nettie went rigid with unreasoning anger and jealousy. 
Her emotions were quickly smothered as the pretty girl climbed down from
Scott’s arms.

“I just sold the Dolphin Uncle
Scottie!” she said exuberantly. Scott looked surprised. 

“At the price you had marked on that
thing?” he asked unbelievingly.

“No,” the girl said, a crafty look
on her face.

“Well,” Scott said, “I thought you
had it way overpriced Daphne, and no matter how much you had to drop the price,
a sale is a sale.”

“I didn’t drop the price Uncle
Scottie,” she said, her dimples showing.  “I had three buyers bidding on
it…the high bid was over seven thousand!”

“Dollars?” Scott gasped. 
Daphne nodded enthusiastically.

“And he’s interested in two more
pieces, along with whatever else you have locked away in that studio of yours,”
she said.  “You’re a hit!”  Nettie felt the green of envy come over
her in spite of the fact that she now knew Daphne was his niece.  She
wanted her own breasts pressed against that massive chest, and those strong
arms around her own waist.  She saw where Daphne’s hard little belly was
pressed, and the weakness in her knees got worse.  The urge to back him
into a dark corner and just gobble him up was intense.

Daphne had him by the hand and was
leading him to the cash register to wave the check in front of Scott’s disbelieving
eyes, and Nettie was no longer in the spotlight. The huntress in her was
aroused now, and her natural abilities were smoothly coming into play. 
She was a suave urban sophisticate, though not one used to being behind a job
or a niece when vying for the attention of an eligible male. By the time the
pair had returned to include her in the conversation, Nettie was composed and
ready to do battle…on her own terms.

Nettie begged off their planned tour
to see the rest of his work, pleading a just remembered appointment.  She
made him promise to show her his work, and perhaps join her for a drink first
at a popular club just off Fifth Avenue.  Scott, beaming with his recent
success, agreed happily, and Nettie raised herself on tiptoe to give him a
thank you kiss. The quick peck on the lips turned into a searing kiss that
surprised both of them in its intensity. They separated quickly and reaffirmed
their date for the evening before Nettie, flushed all the way to her toes from
the intimate contact, fled with as much of her dignity intact as she could
muster. She was wet.

“That one wants you Uncle Scottie,”
Daphne mused.

“Don’t be silly Daphne,” Scott said,
“she’s just grateful.”

“For what?” Daphne snorted. 
Scott reluctantly told her about Nettie’s near accident, and even then he
minimized his participation, and never mentioning saving the young woman’s life
by performing CPR until the medics arrived.  “Whatever you did Uncle
Scottie, that woman wants you.  I see her kind in here all the time. 
Just be careful, please?  She’s not like us…”

Scott whistled happily on the way
home.  Daphne’s warning was well intentioned but unfounded.  He had
survived for years while some really nasty people had tried to kill him…he
could take care of himself.  Nettie was, after all, just a woman. 
The words ‘friendly fire” never crossed his mind, though they had taken out
more of his close friends than he would have cared to be reminded of.

He wore a tailored blue blazer, not
from some sense of fashion, but because his massive upper body and lean, narrow
waist couldn’t be fit by off the rack clothing. The soft gray trousers were new
and fit perfectly.  The Seiko Chronometer Diver’s watch was one he had
purchased years before because of its toughness and reliability, and he had felt
no need for a dress watch.  He was feeling dapper and in truth, he looked
marvelous.  The moment he entered the club more than one set of female
eyes latched onto him, and soon they began to drift his way. Scott didn’t
notice the predatory females, as usual, and he was busy searching the crowd for
Nettie.  He finally spotted her at a small, dimly lit table in the
rear.  She was wearing a delectable ‘little black dress’ by an Italian
designer that screamed ‘fuck me’ in every unspoken language on earth. A single
strand of small but perfectly matched pearls draped around her neck and slipped
into the valley between her small but perfectly formed breasts.  There was
a great deal of her bare skin visible in the deep cut, backless halter
dress.  Four inch heels completed her outfit at the end of a pair of
spectacular legs that had been all but hidden in the business dress she had
been wearing earlier.  Scott’s reaction to her appearance was instant, and
embarrassingly noticeable.

Nettie managed to conceal her own
reaction to the swelling in his trousers, though she was having a very hard
time not squirming in her seat.  The package was every bit as enticing as
the rest of him, and several of her more predatory acquaintances had spotted it
as well.  Nettie drew him down into the chair close to her and quickly
pressed her lips to his in a kiss that promised
everything. 
She
had marked him publicly as
taken
as clearly as if she had spray painted
it on his forehead.

All but a very few of the predators
recognized her act for what it was, but the very few were ‘polite’ enemies
within her circle of friends.  They came panting up to the couple and
exchanged ‘air kisses’ with Nettie and pushed for an invitation to her friend.
Scott stood up, and to the dismay of the predators immediately fastened the
buttons of his blazer before shaking the preferred hands.  Undeterred, the
ladies bent low in front of Nettie, speaking in low tones and making sure Scott
got a good visual of breasts inside dresses designed to reveal rather than
conceal.

Nettie girded herself for battle,
put on her most beautiful smile, and placed her delicate hand on his thigh…
very
high on Scott’s thigh.  His smile was strained.  After the
introductions and some very coquettish exchanges, they were alone again, though
they were watched.  “That was interesting,” Scott said drily, though he
wouldn’t voluntarily stand up for any reason at the moment.  Nettie
couldn’t help herself; she had to laugh at the expression on his face.

She wave to a waiter, who obviously
recognized her, and indicated two drinks by displaying her forefinger and
middle finger.  The waiter headed for the bar with a nod of his
head.  “I ordered champagne for both of us,” she said quietly to Scott,
hoping it was acceptable to him.  Scott’s smile never faltered. The
waiter, instead of bringing two flutes of champagne, brought a magnum of Dom Perpignan
’90 in a bucket of ice on a small cart, and two Waterford Crystal flutes. 
There were starched linen napkins on the cart, as well as a tray of bite sized
watercress and creamed cheese sandwiches, as well as a smattering of other
hors d
'oeuvre
.  Scott barely gave it a
glance.  The waiter opened the bottle and poured for them before leaving
without saying a word.