Javier's Bride

I know it comes as a surprise to many that I do write hetero-erotic material. "Javier's Bride" is only one of two such stories that I have actually published on the net. This particular piece was written for a friend of mine. I hope that you and my friend will enjoy it as much as I had fun writing it.

Happy reading

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Debra swung her hips around, feeling the freedom of the music that thrummed through her body, surrounded her and vibrated the floor beneath her. Long, thick dark hair swirled around her body as she turned, spinning, twisting. Her tanned form undulated to the sounds that pounded from the amplifiers that hung from the ceiling of the club. Grinding guitars told the story of her tumultuous life, though they had no knowledge of it, nor did a single person there that surrounded her.

Her dress hugged her voluptuous figure, no matter how she moved. Its black length covered her shapely bottom, though barely. Firmly toned legs kept moving, carrying her away with the song. Bare feet stepped in rhythms of vibrating beats, sweeping her long day from her in the moment.

She came to a sudden stop as she turned again, feeling a hard form behind her. Turning to look, she found herself gazing into dark mystical eyes that were surrounded with a thin silver ring.

Odd, she thought to herself, never having seen anything quite so strange before, but couldn't seem to tear herself from staring into them. It was as if her entire soul and being had been captured in them, suddenly.

"Pardon me," he smiled, lifting the corners of his full lips.

It was the moment she needed to pull herself together and shake off the complete abandon with which she had been glowering at him.

"Oh, sure." She pulled at the hem of her dress somewhat nervously, fixated on him once again. This time it was those gorgeous lips that drew her in. Full, luscious lips that appeared to be just too kissable, she found herself desiring them without so much as an ounce of self-control.

"May I have this dance?" The purr in his deep voice, as those very lips formed the words, was intoxicating, showering her entire being with a tangible sensation of titillation.

Suddenly, she realized the song she had been dancing to was finished and a saturating slow-dance piece had begun.

"Oh." Her eyes settled on the bare part of his sculpted chest visible through the partially opened long-sleeved button down shirt he had on. The tailored shirt disappeared into dark pinstriped dress pants girded with a thin black leather belt.

Me—ow, she thought to herself again as her eyes lifted to his once more. That was when she noticed his hair was black, wavy and long. It flowed down the length of his back shimmering with the colored lights that danced over them from a globe above.

"Sure." She recalled she hadn't answered him when the question came again, only this time it softly reverberated in her mind as a mental thought.

His strong arm snaked around her thin frame as a finger came to rest on her shoulder then trailed languidly down her bare arm. As it traveled, the backs of the remaining fingers joined the motion, longing for the enjoyment of her soft supple skin. Reaching her hand, the finger nestled in her palm, lifting the petite hand out from their bodies, where his large hand filled hers, the fingers curling over the back of her hand.

Oh, gawd, she groaned secretly, trying desperately to quell the shiver that came over her as the fingers literally drew it to the surface.

A slow smooth movement began, their bodies moving in unison. His gaze mesmerized her, his eyes continuously on hers. It amazed her how they didn't drift over her body like most men had done, and most of them would usually be focused on her full breasts. But he didn't seem to be that way at all.

The silence between them made her feel a bit uncomfortable. She racked her brain attempting to think of something to say, anything really. It didn't feel right to dance this close and not know something about her partner. How unusual for her to find herself speechless with a man. She never ran out of things to talk about with her slow dance partners, or anyone for that matter.

"You have a lovely smile." The purr in his voice caught her attention, causing her to look up from the one spot on his chest she had been staring at.

"Thank you." She giggled a bit, feeling somewhat like a schoolgirl. "Yours isn't so bad, either." She bit nervously on her lower lip, feeling she had just said the stupidest thing. The truth was that she loved his smile, and his lips. They almost seemed to beckon for attention.

"I'm Debra, by the way," she muttered, thinking to herself that her name alone would most likely run him off.

"Ah, yes. I am Javier." His grin broadened as he spoke.

"Oh, that's an interesting name you don't hear every day." Her expression livened, then she realized he was executing a waltz with her.

She had not waltzed with anyone since, well, she couldn't remember when the last time it was. To her added surprise, he nudged her away, beginning to spin her around him like a graceful ballerina. She ended up in a dip that made her laugh outright, until she saw that wanton look in his eyes. The way he supported her arched body—his leaning somewhat over hers—she could readily feel his desire against her thigh.

He gently lifted her, engaging her in the waltz again, only now it was clear they both felt a hunger for a dance of a more feral kind. It wasn't her practice to engage in that sort of mambo with just any stranger. Although she had been experimenting with a few freedoms she had read about in articles in the past year. However, this guy just rippled through her like nothing she had ever experienced before.

He was obviously from some foreign country, especially with a name like Javier—and seemed to know how to treat a lady. That, in itself, made huge points with her right off the bat. But then there was that smooth accent of his, and the resonate voice that absolutely made her shiver every time he spoke. Oh, and he was just one fine specimen of the male gender that she certainly wanted to get to know.

"So, where are you from?" she ventured to ask.

"I am from Italy, love. Rome to be exact."

Those luscious lips curled up into a broad grin once again, this time giving her the oddest feeling she had seen him before a long while ago. The familiarity of him began to plague her mind as to when and where she had seen him. It had to have been some years ago for her not to be able to recall it. Her curiosity got the better of her then.

"Did you just come from overseas? Or have you been here a while?"

"I come and go often, love." Javier knew what she was after and eluded the point a little.

"Wow, you must be well off to be able to travel like that. How long have you been here this time?"

Javier chuckled, seeing that she wasn't going to be brushed off so easily. And he was enjoying her tenacity. "If I told you, you would not believe me," he explained briefly.

"Why? Did you just get here an hour ago or something?"

He laughed outright. She was indeed a delight. He was very partial to women with a quick wit and insatiable curiosity. This one, he had been watching—studying—for quite a few years.

And she had seen him before, although he was not inclined to allow her to recall that moment. She wasn't ready to know, right off, just who he truly was. If she did remember the night she had seen him, it might just blow her mind. He had no desire to send her spiraling into the abyss of insanity, though the life he wanted to introduce her to was an existence of just that type of proportions.

He stared into her greenish-brown eyes, recalling that evening when she had been so young, a straight-line little girl who was lost and alone. The sound of her girlish voice came back as she made her heart-warming proclamation, setting him on a course of unseen protection and assistance.
But she had grown into a lovely young woman, a voluptuous, shapely young woman, petite with long tresses of dark hair that curled around her shoulder. Her eyebrows, trimmed, perfectly framed her expressive gaze. He found himself in love with even the straight line of her nose that turned up just right on the end. Her lips, sweetly curved and well proportioned with soft supple texture, produced an aching desire within him to possess them.

Unfortunately, there was another with great interest in his future bride, so he was forced to make his move sooner than he had wanted to. It would be up to Debra to receive him and the existence he offered. His wish was that she would not turn him away and lose her completely to the other unknown suitor who had already befriended her while he was away from the States, visiting his homeland to take care of his business.

He had spent years studying her, guiding her, helping her when times were so hard she could barely manage to feed herself. His help was always anonymous, and she never realized where the help came from at the time, but it was always there, none-the-less.

"So when did you get here from Italy this time?" Debra asked again, seeing he apparently was off in some dream world of his own making, or appeared to be distracted somehow. His eyes had a distant gaze in them that told her his thoughts were contemplating some sort of plan, or he was lost in some past memory that she would only know if he told her of it.

"Love, it is of no matter, I assure you." He smiled patiently at her, stating this with some finality.

Humph, Debra thought. Of no matter, you say, huh? Well, we'll just see about that.

He chuckled, overhearing her thoughts. "I assure you I come and go as I please. I have been here long enough this time to have settled for some time."

"Oh?" Her curiosity was getting the better of her now. She couldn't help but think that he might be some sort of ambassador from his country, or some important autocratic that liked to get what he wanted when he wanted it. "So you have a house of your own here, then?"

"Yes, love. That I do. I would be pleased to show it to you, if you are so inclined to see it," he offered, hoping she would take the bait.

So inclined to see it, she mused. Where the hell did he say he was from? Have to admit I do like the way he talks. He seems to be a really smooth character. But I wonder if it would be proper to just go flittering through his new home having only just met him—or have I? I swear, he looks so familiar to me.

"I don't know, Javier. I have to work tomorrow. And I don't want to impose…"

"Indeed," he scoffed, cutting her off. "Tomorrow is Sunday, my dear. You haven't worked on Sundays in many years. And I have invited you; therefore, you would not be imposing in the least. You are also welcome to…rest. I have plenty of rooms for you to choose from, if you are so inclined."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Javier realized he might have opened a can of worms he wasn't so readily prepared to explain. None-the-less, he had said it and now could not retract it.

Debra’s right eyebrow went up instantly, hearing that he knew she hadn't worked on Sunday in so many years. She now knew that she had met him somewhere else and wondered even more about it. It seemed the night would prove to be an interesting one, just to figure this puzzle out. Her first thought was to immediately decline his offer, but the more she thought about it, the more curious she became about this man from Rome, Italy.

"How the hell do you know I haven't worked on Sunday for a long time?"

"Forgive me, Debra. But I have been interested in you for quite some time. I should like to court you, if you are so given," he admitted, though vaguely.

"Interested in me?" Her mind was a sudden buzz of thoughts. "Well, that is so sweet, Javier. But, honey, you only had to ask me the first time you met me."

He chuckled again, knowing she was fishing for more than he was yet willing to divulge. "Again, I must apologize, my dear, but I was a bit afraid you would decline my offer," he informed her.

"Well, I can be determined to reject your offer now, but—" she halted before she stuck her foot in her mouth.

"Then you will accept?"

She felt such pleasure in the perk in his countenance and the tone of excitement in his voice at only the prospect of her agreeing to see him on a regular basis. At this point, she wasn't sure if she really wanted a steady man in her life, but how could she refuse his almost boyish charm.

"Tell you what, I'll make a deal with you," she began, thinking out her proposal thoroughly before saying anything at all. "Let's take this slow, ok? I'll come visit your place tonight, with the option to leave when I get ready to. I'm not making any promises to anything right now. I'm not even sure if I want a man constantly around yet or not."

"That is quite understandable, my dear. And I am pleased to only have the opportunity to change your mind, if that is possible." He beamed with a broad smile, though he desperately tried to contain his sheer joy at hearing her accept his offer. For now, she was his, no matter what any other man desired—even if only from the admittance of her own mouth.

"Well, I'm glad you're pleased." She still couldn't place the time or day that she had met him before. It was beginning to bother her that she couldn't. She never forgot a face, only she couldn't remember when it was that she had met him, and it was driving her crazy.

"Then would you care to join me for a night cap?" he ventured, hoping he could get her alone for a bit.

"That would be nice, Javier." She grinned at him approvingly.

He slipped his arm about her, placing his hand in the center of her back and led her off the dance floor. She grabbed her sweater and other personal affects, and they ambled out to the parking lot and to her car. He opened the driver's side door for her, then closed it when she got in, then rushed to the passenger side, getting in, as happy as any man could be on his first date with the woman of his dreams.

"Ok, where are we goin'?" she asked simply after turning the key in the ignition.

"Just take a right on the main highway and follow it up to the West Manor," he informed her, knowing she knew where it was.

"You bought the West Manor?" Her head snapped in his direction. Her tone was more than a little surprised.

"I did. You know the place?" he asked.

"Everyone knows that place, but didn't know it had been bought. It's rumored that it's haunted, ya know." She backed out of the parking spot and pulled onto the street starting toward the main drag through their little town.

"If it is, I have not seen the first ghost, except myself, that is," he jested with a chuckle.

"Cute, Javier." She giggled at his attempt at a little humor. The more time she spent with this man, the more she liked him, and, that could be a dangerous thing.

They made small talk along the way, about the weather in Rome these days and the vineyards his father had owned when he was a small boy. He answered her questions about winemaking back in the days his grandfather had owned the vineyards and how it had changed over the years.

"Although many of us still insist upon doing things in the ways it was done when my parents were still living," he explained.

She found his reminiscing to be quite enchanting and interesting the more he talked about it. Hearing him tell her about how wine used to be fermented and how it's done now made her realize how and why he was so well off. Yet he didn't seem to be one of the types that liked to flaunt his money around, or to use it to buy his way in or out of anything. He appeared, just from what he was telling her, to be a hard worker, when he was growing up and on into his young adulthood. But he had not given any indication as to how old he truly was.

She was about to ask him when she pulled up into the driveway of the West Manor and started around the circle drive. She stopped at the walkway that led up to the steps and onto the front porch of this huge edifice. The last time she had seen it, it was pitch dark and she couldn’t see the magnificence of the place.

But as she gazed over the structure, it was lit up with colored lights on the outside that focused attention upon different parts of the small-sculpted gardens and hedges surrounding the house. The concrete pedestals lining the walkway and steps, which once stood alone, were now topped with busts and sculptures of different important people of the past. The columns supporting the roof of the porch, which led up to the double French doorway, were decorated with a sort of vine that wound around them.

Her door opened and she came to her senses, having been glowering over the tranquil setting of the house. She took Javier's offered hand stepping out of the car, and he led her toward the door on his arm.

"This is really nice, Javier. The last time I was here, it didn't look anything like it does now. You musta paid a fortune to get it fixed up like this," she commented, impressed with his discernment and recalling the broken windows, and poor decay of the house.

"Thank you, Debra. It took much patience and determination to reclaim it," he returned with a certain glow about him.

Before they even reached the double French doors, and a butler opened the doors wide and bowed to his Master and company. After giving the butler orders for the evening, Javier led her through the vast foyer to the stairs across the way, up to the second floor and down a long corridor to a very large room decorated with what appeared to be lavish antique furniture from France, Italy, Greece and some other places she had never been before. He seated her graciously in one of the two overstuffed winged chairs in the center left of the room.

"Would you care for a glass of wine?" he asked, the purr in his voice rippling through her once again.

"Yes, I would," she affirmed with a glowing expression, then sat back looking around the room while he poured wine from a small bar across the room behind her.

It was Javier’s chance to slip his essence into her drink, thereby warding off every other creature with the propriety to leave her well enough alone. Discretely pressing his fingernail into his wrist, he observed as a few drops to fill the bottom of the glass before he poured the wine. Taking up both glasses, he brought them and the bottle so they could sit, relax and have a nice long conversation.

He handed her the glass containing his blood before setting the bottle on a nearby short table, then sat across from her and lifted his glass slightly before taking a sip. She followed suit, savoring the flavor of the wine he had given her.

"Is that your label?" she asked, noticing it to be one she had never seen.

"Yes, as a matter of fact it is," he returned, his expression brightening once again.

"It's very good, Javier," she said, taking another few sips of it, finding she almost couldn't help herself.

"You may have all you desire, love. Enjoy yourself, please." He nodded as if to grant her the right to indulge herself a little.

"Well, thank you. It's so good." She couldn't believe her taste buds, really. The wine was a deep red, smooth, not too sweet, but not too tart or dry either. It was perfect and she loved it.

They talked for a couple hours, drinking wine and relaxing. She couldn't help but study him as they talked. Those lips were beckoning again. It made her want to simply get up out of the chair she sat in, park in his lap and devour them without constraint. Then there was that patch of his chest he so flagrantly left visible that she wanted desperately to explore, trailing her fingers along his flesh if only to know the power of his musculature. Of course, she was completely drowned in the curiosity of what the rest of him looked like—without clothes on, that is.