“Dax.”
He sucked her lobe, then kissed it and blew warm air against her ear. “What do you want, Celeste? You said you knew where you wanted our first time as husband and wife to be. Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you. Repeatedly.”
“The levee.”
He smiled against her ear. “Come with me.”
They exchanged greetings with guests along their way to the porch, where Dax grabbed two thick quilts from the rockers, draped them over his arm, then helped Celeste gather the train of her gown to descend the stairs. Then they circled the large oak that centered the driveway. Cars were parked around the big tree and lined the entire driveway, and Dax guided his bride to the outer edge of them, along the magnolias that bordered the side.
“We’re leaving the party early, aren’t we? We are the guests of honor, you know,” she reminded him with a slight giggle.
“There are plenty of Vicknairs here to keep folks entertained, and tons of champagne,” he said, not concerned at all with his guests, and totally concerned with giving his new wife what she wanted.
Once they were away from the lights of the house, Dax noted the full moon and the nice warm breeze blowing from the other side of the levee, where the Mississippi churned. He grinned. There wasn’t supposed to be a full moon tonight and he wondered…was this one visible to everyone, or was it placed here, for them, by the powers that be? The breeze was warm enough to keep them comfortable as they made love, and the moon was bright enough that he’d be able to see Celeste’s eyes when she came.
“It’s perfect, isn’t it?” she said from beside him, and he saw that she was staring at the picture before them with awe as well. “Did they do this for us?” She indicated the sky.
“I believe so. And it is close to perfect, but it isn’t perfect yet.”
“How’s that?”
He handed her the quilts and, looking at him questioningly, she held them against her chest. Then he scooped her into his arms. “I told you I’d carry you one day, Mrs. Vicknair.”
Laughing, she gathered the flowing length of her dress and piled it on top of the quilts, while Dax carried her down the remaining length of the driveway, then across River Road and up the levee.
He stood her beside him, then laid the quilts on the ground, while Celeste stared out at the water.
“Oh, Dax, look.”
Moonlight reflected off of the water and provided a sparkling backdrop for their first time together as husband and wife.
“I want you.” She unzipped her dress, let it fall to the ground and stood before him in a lacy white thong, white thigh-high stockings and heels. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and her nipples were taut and undeniably aroused.
Dax pulled her against him, pressing her sweet center against the bulge in his pants. “Believe me, chère, I want you too.”
Her hands trembled as she removed his tuxedo jacket, then unbuttoned his shirt. Then she paused. “Dax?”
“Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind.”
She smiled. “No, definitely not. But I’m wondering…”
“What, Celeste?” He waited, and when she didn’t say anything, he brought his knuckle beneath her chin and tipped her head so she looked at him directly. “Tell me, chère.”
“Did you-well, did you bring protection?”
He nodded. “I did.”
Then she smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes, and Dax thought he knew why.
“But…” he started.
“But?”
“But if you’d rather not use it, I can’t think of anything better than having nothing at all between us when we make love.”
Even in the moonlight, Dax could see the green of her eyes intensify. “You mean, just this time? Our first time? Or do you mean…”
“What do you want, Celeste?” he asked, believing he knew, but wanting to hear her say it.
She smiled broadly. “I think a boy first, but a girl would be fine too. And if it’s a boy, I’d like to name him Ike.”
Dax’s laugh rolled freely. “Ike it is.” He skimmed his hands down her hips and slid her panties down her legs.
“Yes,” she whispered as his fingers slid between her folds to find her hot, wet and ready. “And, if-it’s a girl,” she continued, though her words were rasping and hoarse, “Adeline.”
She spread her legs to give him better access, while her hands moved to undo his pants, then found his erection and stroked him tenderly. “You know,” she panted, “it may take lots of practice to get little Ike or Adeline. I wouldn’t want you to get discouraged and give up.”
“Oh, don’t worry, chère. Vicknairs never give up.”
The Naked Truth by Shannon Hollis
1
“SO WHAT’S IT going to be? Sexy secrets? The best lies lovers tell? Or should we find someone with a confession to make?”
Eve Best looked into the faces of the production team for Just Between Us, the afternoon cable show she hosted on CATL-TV. The show that had just been profiled in Vanity Fair. The show that was rocketing up the ratings and making the dreams of everyone in this room come true.
Every Monday at five, they got together in this conference room to hammer out the roster for the following week, with the exception of Fridays, when she invited a panel to take questions in a town-hall meeting format, or she simply did it herself. But for four twenty-two-minute segments, Monday through Thursday at three o’clock, they had to come up with the best in sexy, cutting-edge topics and guests. The funny thing was, no matter how many shows they did, they never seemed to run out of material.
They were, after all, talking about human behavior, in all its wonderful forms and mutations.
Lainie Kaye, the junior of their two segment producers, waved a sheaf of clippings. “If we go for a guest, I got a commitment from Dawn Penney. She’s the actress, remember, who turned a part in that awful horror movie about the beach resort into a career character. Now she writes that column for the Register, ‘Perfect Dates.’ Sex and the City, Atlanta style.”
Eve made some notes in her planner. “Get her. See if she can do Thursday.”
Cole Crawford, their executive producer, looked up from the binder that went everywhere with him. Eve had asked him once if he slept with it under his pillow, and had been immediately sorry. Since his wife had up and left him, the topic of sleeping with anything or anyone was a sore one. Cole had made his kids and his career his whole life-to the benefit of the show and the detriment of any hope of a love life for the poor guy.
“Wednesday would be better,” he said. “Hump day and all. Get people past the middle of the week, right?”
Eve shook her head. Technically he had the last word on programming, but this was her show. And the more popular it got, the more clout she had and the more it was likely she’d get the programming she thought audiences would respond to best.
Not a bad place to be, considering Cole was one of the few who remembered she’d started out as junior weathergirl back in the day.
“Thursday,” she repeated firmly. “When Thursday hits, people start thinking about plans for the weekend. It’s the perfect time to hear about the perfect date.” She sat back, satisfied, as Cole nodded and gave in. Lainie left the room at a jog, as if Dawn Penney would give away the space they needed on her calendar if she didn’t get to the phone this second.
“Okay, three down, one to go,” Eve said. “What are the possibilities for Wednesday?”
Nicole Reavis, their primary segment producer, had her own sheaf of clippings. “I had an idea the other night about male-female communication,” she said. “What if we get someone like Dr. Deborah Tannen, the linguistics expert? She could talk about the differences in communication styles, and how what we say isn’t always what the other person understands.”