Gabriel

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Young man finally meets an online friend. (Non-erotic)
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The long lean frame twitched, flexed, jerked as a knock on his bedroom door pulled the young man from beneath the surface of sleep. The raven black head burrowed deeper into the pillows, defiantly ignoring the voice that broke rudely through the fragile pane of his morning.

"Breakfast, Sir!"

More knocking. He rolled slowly, reluctantly to the far side of the elegant four-poster bed and, draping long legs over the edge, wedged cold feet into warm slippers. He sat still for another moment, brown eyes adjusting to the flood of light from the windows, the drapes of which he had negligently left open the night before. Tanned tapered fingers spliced through the ebony silk of his hair before reaching for the deep red brocade robe that lay at the foot of the bed, drawing it smoothly onto his shoulders as, at last, he stood.

Scratching his cheek absently, he shuffled lazily to the double doors from whence the pounding emanated, waited for another knock, and then, grinning mischievously, yanked open the doors in a great WHOOSH, startling the woman with the silver meal tray . . . her fist clenched in mid-air.

"Oh!" She gasped, reaching to steady the tray. "That was rather childish, Sir." she grumbled, fighting to repress her laughter.

"I rather thought so, myself, yes." The young man said, smiling as he reached for the tray. "I'll just take this Alexandra, thank you."

"You are going to eat it, this morning, aren't you?"

"Hmmm?"

"Sir, I'm tired of seeing these sent back to the kitchen ice cold and barely touched. You have to eat."

"Of course. In fact, I'm visiting the horses today. On second thought, I'll have my breakfast in the study, this morning. Have it brought down and see that the newspaper is ready and waiting on my desk."

He handed the tray back to the cook and lifted the lid, eyeing the coffee.

"How strong is that?"

"Same as usual, Sir."

"I have some business to attend to, today, Alexandra. Could you whip something up a bit stronger? Cuban, perhaps?"

"Of course, Sir."

Turning he made his way to the bathroom and splashed his face with a bit of cold water he had cupped in his hands. He shook his head, blinking rapidly and studied his reflection. Small drops of water clung to the tips of the long dark lashes that framed his eyes. His nose was slightly too large for his face but many found it endearing.

He looked closer. The dark circles were still there, less pronounced, perhaps, but noticeable all the same. He tried to smile, but it appeared almost like a grimace, lips splitting broadly, revealing a mouth full of large white teeth. He pulled back and stood quite still for a moment before shaking himself from his stupor. It was time to get back out there.

He had mourned Jodie long enough. He brushed his teeth and left the room, trotting briskly down the spiraling staircase to his study on the second floor.

On his desk next to his computer were the newspaper and his breakfast tray, just as he had requested. Alexandra had replaced his usual coffee with a small cup of espresso. The corner of his mouth turned up in a crooked smirk. Atta girl! He thought as he sat down with a sigh in the leather wingback chair.

He switched on the computer and started on his breakfast. Picking up a piece of bacon, he logged onto the Internet and checked his email. After deleting more than a dozen articles of spam, he clicked on his 'favorites' folder and brought up the message board he had recently begun posting on.

As he signed in under his chosen screen name, The Bard, he refreshed his memory as to what he had chosen to reveal of himself to these people he barely knew. They knew his real name, of course, but he had decided to tell them a slightly fabricated version of the truth when it came down to the details. He chuckled under his breath as he read some of the posts addressed to him.

He had told them he was a groom. He found that the truth was not as easy to believe. Gabriel was the 27-year-old heir to a thoroughbred racing dynasty. Some of the horses in his stable had blood that could be traced back to Seattle Slew, Native Dancer, War Admiral and even the great one, himself, Man 'O War. He found that he could still share his love of his horses with the faceless folks in cyberspace if he claimed he merely tended them, rather than actually owning them.

One thread caught his eye, as it was addressed solely to him. Gabriel, please read this! the title read. He clicked on the link and smiled as he read the post. It was from his favorite poster, a woman calling herself 'Viola'.

Hey there, Gabe. I just finished reading the little 'family history' you were kind enough to respond with, and I'll admit, I am fascinated. Did you really spend your entire life working on the same farm? I was impressed with your bravery and devotion, giving up on a college education to take care of your mother after your father passed away. There aren't many who would display the kind of loyalty that you have. Perhaps one day you will return to your schooling? I believe you have a genuine gift with words and it would be a pity not to refine it and use it to some degree in your day to day life. Perhaps you should consider writing a book about your life or the horses you love so much. By the way, Sun God sounds simply breath-taking! I would love to see a picture of him, should you have one handy. Also, below is my picture . . .

He scrolled down further and froze in mid-chew. The picture was of a young woman, approximately 22 or 23 with long curly carrot-orange hair, green eyes and flawless alabaster skin. He rubbed his eyes and looked again. The picture was still there and it had not changed. For a split second he considered the possibility that he had seen a ghost . . . she was the spitting image of Jodie; eyes a bit greener, a bit smaller, not nearly as cat-like, yet still the resemblance was remarkable.

He made up his mind. He simply had to meet this woman. Previously, she had mentioned that they lived less than an hour apart, yet he had resisted her obvious invitation. The barrier, however, was now shattered. He posted a quick response:

Stunning picture, Viola. There is more beauty in your glorious visage than a sea after the storm, lit by the setting sun, melting into its welcoming waves.

He laughed, a short burst of sound, as he scanned what he had just written. On this particular board, he had chosen, for some reason, to let the flowery sap run rampant and unchecked. It had worked better than even he could have imagined. The female posters flocked to his threads, hanging on his every contrived word.

Perhaps, he continued, if you are not otherwise occupied, you would permit me to take you out to lunch today and then perhaps you could join me here and I could show you the horses. Sun God, I'm sure, would be eager to make your acquaintance. In case you are interested, I shall email you with my phone number.

He clicked the 'post message' button, sent the aforementioned email and waited. Not 10 minutes later, his phone rang. He let it ring a couple times before picking up the receiver, pausing a moment and then replying, "Hello, Gabriel speaking."

There was nervous laughter on the other end of the line and then, "Hi, Gabriel? I can't believe I'm doing this! This is Sarah, but you know me as Viola. From the message board?" she continued when he did not immediately respond.

"Of course. Sarah. Lovely name. So how does lunch sound?"

"It sounds marvelous! Where should we meet and what time?"

"How about noon, at the little Italian place on Lincoln and 7th? You know the one?"

"Of course. I've never been, but that sounds lovely."

"Great! It's a date, then. I'll see you at noon. Ciao, Bella!"

He didn't wait for her response before returning the receiver to the cradle. He quickly logged off of the computer and buzzed one of the staff to retrieve his half-eaten breakfast. He stood and made his way back to his room, taking the stairs two at a time.

No sooner had he showered and dressed but there was a knock on the door.

"Yes, what is it?"

"Sir, I thought you were going to eat this morning?"

"Alexandra, kindly keep out of my affairs!" he said, but there was no sternness to his voice, which instead teetered on the edge of mirth.

"If I choose to starve myself, it is well within my rights as a grown man, not a child. There is, however, a change of plans. I am going out for lunch, today."

"Oh really, Sir? With whom, might I ask?"

"You may not. Please have Arthur bring the car around."

"Which one, Sir?"

"The Bentley. No . . . the blue Jag. I'll be down momentarily."

"As you wish, Sir."

Her retreating footsteps let him know that she had gone to carry out his request.

He pulled on a tailored black leather jacket and followed two flights of stairs down to the foyer, crossed the room and opened the front door, just as Arthur rolled to a stop at the top of the drive. He proceeded down the front steps and down the curving granite walkway to the waiting car. The middle-aged man inside promptly opened the door, stepped gingerly out and moved to the side, making way for Gabriel's tall frame. Gabriel slid into the driver's seat, thanked Arthur and shut the door, already beginning to roll forward as he did so.

As he drove, he fiddled with the radio, but was dissatisfied with every station, finally deciding he was not in the mood for music and choosing to forgo it, altogether. In truth, he was uncommonly nervous. What would he say to her when finally they met face to face? Would there be long awkward pauses in the conversation where her only recourse would be to stare at his large ears (which stuck out obtrusively from his head). He had always hated his ears, even once considering surgery to correct them.

He glanced down briefly at his hands on the steering wheel, his gaze settling on the ruby signet ring on his right pinky. Women, however, never seemed to notice his ears. They only saw the money and it irked him. Perhaps, he thought as a means of justification, that was why he had lied about who he really was. He was so tired of seeing the dollar signs dancing in their eyes.

He pressed just a bit harder on the gas pedal, noting that time was quickly slipping away from him. It would be absolutely inexcusable for him to arrive late. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the scenery blur by as the miles vanished before him.

Almost before he knew it, he was pulling into the parking lot of the quaint little restaurant. Scanning the row of parked cars, he wondered if she had already arrived and was waiting for him inside, and if she had, which car was hers. He remembered her wild mass of red curls and decided on the vintage red VW bug. So sure was he of this, that he parked the blue '68 Jaguar beside it and exited the car.

He stood for a moment, drawing in a deep calming breath, and started toward the door, hoping that if she had already arrived he would not have to look long for her. He was not disappointed; as soon as he entered, he spotted her. She was seated in a corner booth, her eyes focused intently on the menu in front of her, urgently, almost; as if it held the secrets of the universe. He smiled and strode forward, closing the distance between them and cleared his throat just before he reached the table.

She looked up with a start, green eyes widening and her face lighting up with her smile. She stood and greeted him with a handshake. He studied her as they both slid into the booth. She was shorter than he had thought she would be, topping out at just over 5 feet; shorter than Jodie. Her hair was also not as brilliant a red as Jodie's, though it had appeared so in her picture (a trick of lighting or PhotoShop, perhaps?). She did, however, have a lovely smattering of freckles that dusted her face, neck and arms. He wondered with the faintest shadow of a smirk just what else she had that was freckled.

"So, Gabriel . . . " she started, yanking him from his train of thought. "It's great to finally meet you."

"Likewise." He said with a grin. "You look amazing. Just like your picture." Only a small lie, he thought. She did look amazing.

She blushed prettily and dropped her head for a moment (embarrassed, perhaps?) before angling back up and meeting his gaze once more at an upward slant.

"You know," she said in an almost conspiratorial whisper, "I'm quite the envy of the other girls because of this. Did you stay online long enough to read some of the responses to your post?"

He shook his head to let her know that he had not, but remained silent, waiting for her to continue.

"There were several marriage proposals and one telling me to burn in hell."

They both laughed at that.

"I'm flattered . . . I think."

"You should be, but tell me something."

"What's that?"

"Now that I see you here, those clothes, that fabulous ring . . . you don't look much like a groom."

He sat back and regarded her silently for a moment before responding.

"Ah. So the shoe drops."

"The shoe?"

"Yes, that. I am not a groom."

"So I had gathered. Would you mind telling me, then, just what it is you do, in fact, do?"

He cleared his throat.

"I race horses. I own a racing stable about 45 minutes from here. It has been in my family for generations. I am the current 'heir to the throne', you might say."

"Ah. So Sun God does exist?"

"He does. He is my pride and joy. I was there for his foaling and oversaw his training myself. He is, however, just one of the beautiful creatures I have at Foxwood."

"Foxwood." she repeated, rolling the name over her tongue like a note of music. "The family estate, I take it?"

He nodded.

"To the manor born, hmm?"

He smiled, almost shyly. "I'm sorry for the deception. I did not think, given the nature of the beast you could say, that I would be believed, had I been up front."

"Honestly, you may be correct. I don't think I, myself, would have believed you." She giggled and fiddled with the menu. "Shall we order?"

He glanced quickly at his own menu as their waiter materialized beside the table. He listened absently as the young man rattled off the specials and then they both placed their orders, shooing him away with very little patience.

They chatted animatedly until their food arrived, then continued in short spurts. By the time their plates were cleared, they had fallen into a contented silence.

He studied her closely for another moment.

"Would you like to see it?"

"See what?"

"Foxwood. Would you like to see the horses? My home?"

Sarah hesitated for a brief instant and then said, "You know what? I'd love to."

"Great!"

He tossed some cash on the table and reached for her hand. She took it without hesitation and followed him out into the parking lot. He walked her to his car and she stopped for a moment.

"This is your car?"

"Yes. And that one . . . " he pointed to the bug, "is yours, I gather?"

"How did you . . .?"

"Trust me. I know cars and I know people."

She shrugged and stepped away. "I'll follow you out."

"Why don't you ride out with me? I have some business to attend to up here this evening, so it's no bother at all for me to bring you back. I'd appreciate the company."

She agreed and he practically ran to the passenger's side to open the door for her. She smiled and slid neatly inside. A moment later, he had seated himself beside her and was quickly pulling away.

The time flew by as they continued their conversation. How long had it been, he wondered, since it had been Jodie beside him like this . . . eagerly chatting away? A year, perhaps? He mentally tallied the days and months. Yes, it had been quite nearly a year.

As they pulled up to the gate, which opened as they neared it, her mouth dropped open and her eyes widened.

"Oh, Gabriel, it's beautiful!" she exclaimed.

"That it is. It's nice to see it through fresh eyes. I get so used to it. To me, it's just home."

He honked briefly as he pulled to a stop at the top of the drive. An instant later, one of the front doors burst open and Arthur appeared . . . ever on his toes. Gabriel smiled and got out of the car, coming around and helping Sarah to her feet. She watched Arthur get into the car. "A redhead." she said. He chuckled.

"Not as rare as you thought, huh? Come on. I'll give you the grand tour."

He led her into the foyer, noting her expression of awe with a certain measure of pride. They walked, side by side, up the grand staircase and he took her from room to room. When they reached the third floor, Alexandra greeted them on the landing. Gabriel felt Sarah stiffen beside him.

"Ah, you're back, Sir!"

"Yes, Alexandra. I'd like you to meet Sarah."

"Nice to meet you, Sarah." Then to Gabriel, "She looks rather like . . ." she stopped mid-sentence when she saw his expression.

"I'll just go see about dinner."

And then she was off.

"Are Arthur and Alexandra related?" Sarah inquired.

"No, why do you ask?"

"Her hair. She's also a redhead."

"So she is. Shall we see the horses, then?"

She remained silent for a moment, but agreed. They left the main house and followed the path through a wooded area and then a short clearing before coming to the first of the sprawling paddocks. Sarah paused every few steps to admire the many brood mares grazing on either side. They finally reached the farthest paddock and there before them was Sun God. Gabriel watched her face as she took in the sight.

"Oh," she breathed. "He's beautiful!"

"Yes, he is. You'll find many beautiful things, here. I like having them around me. I'm somewhat of a collector, you might say."

"Is that so?"

"It is. Just a moment. He's due for his feeding. I've got to bring him inside."

He left her at the gate and entered the paddock, whistling softly. The golden chestnut stallion turned eagerly and greeted him with a soft nicker. Gabriel strode toward him and took hold of his halter, leading him out and toward the first of five stables. Sarah followed at a short distance. Before they could reach the entrance, a groom dashed out with a lead shank and led Sun God the rest of the way inside.

Gabriel turned to find Sarah standing stock still several paces behind him. Her eyes were wide and her feet were firmly planted.

"What is it?"

"That boy . . . he's . . . he's a redhead, too."

"Yes. I only employ redheads."

She looked at him as if he had suddenly sprouted a second head.

"You find this odd?"

"I find it very odd, frankly."

"I told you, I was rather fond of red hair."

"Don't you think that is a little . . . extreme?"

"Nonsense. It's just eccentric. When one has the means, one can be as exceedingly eccentric as one pleases."

She shrugged and looked to have dropped the subject. He seized the opportunity and went quickly to her side.

"May I show you something, Sarah? Something very special?"

"What is it?"

"It's my most beautiful collection. Come. Let me show you."

She regarded him cautiously, but soon relented; grinning as she took his hand.

"Sure, Gabriel. I'd love to see. Won't you tell me what it is?"

"Shhh. I don't want to ruin the surprise."

He led her past the stables to a small building that looked as if it could be a guesthouse. There were several padlocks on the door and he produced a large ring of keys from his coat pocket. He made quick work of the locks and then ushered her inside.

The smell of incense was so thick as to be almost unbearable and Sarah let forth several gagging coughs.

"Sorry about the smell." he said. "I've found it's quite necessary."

All the curtains were drawn and the room was quite black. Gabriel reached behind Sarah for the light switch and she heard the faint click of a lock before light flooded the room. The sound made her freeze. And then she screamed.

Gabriel appeared beside her, graceful as a cat, and clamped a hand over her mouth.

"Sarah . . . I'd like you to meet Jodie." he whispered, ignoring her flailing arms and her attempts at biting his hand.

Before them in one corner, seated on a throne-like chair, was a partially decayed corpse. Gabriel dragged Sarah forward and lovingly stroked the brittle red curls that still protruded from greenish flesh that still clung precariously from the gleaming white skull that peeked out at them from the large sections where the skin had already fallen away.

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