Camino del Monte Sol ch. 9 (with OBTS) -- PG-13

[librarian_7]

Author’s Note: This story is a collaboration between OnceBitTwiceShy and myself for Champagne Challenge #128: Reader/Writer II. OBTS provided the idea of Josef visiting Santa Fe in the 1920’s, and running into…well, you’ll have to read the story. The settings are as accurate as I can make them, having been in Santa Fe myself many times, and also using various resources on the City Different, as they call it, and its inhabitants back in the ‘20s. While I could find no record of a hotel located in Sena Plaza, such a place does exist, and who knows? It could have housed a small hotel at one time. The artists’ colony, and their compound on Camino del Monte Sol, are documented. There will be a thread with a set of pictures and links to places, costumes, cars, posted after most chapters. My thanks to OBTS, not only for the idea, but for her encouragement and input as the story progressed. I don’t own Josef, or any of the historical locations and personages mentioned in the story. Any errors or misrepresentations of fact are mine.


Camino del Monte Sol

IX. La Fonda

“Would you care for a drink, babe?” Stephen asked.

Reza looked around at the sitting room of the suite. Dinner had been fine, but now that they were alone, it all seemed a little cold-blooded. That afternoon, up on the mountain, it had all seemed easy, straightforward. Somewhere along the way, a note of awkwardness had crept in. “Oh, God, yes,” she replied. She gave a short laugh. “I’m sorry, Stephen. I don’t know why I’m so skittish all the sudden. It’s not like me, at all.”

He poured three fingers of amber liquid from a glass flask covered in tooled leather, and handed her the highball glass. “Not at all, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and soothing. “I’ve got to tell you, Reza, I’m still not sure this is entirely wise.”

“If you’re trying to use reverse psychology, you know it’s not really necessary,” she said archly, rearranging her skirt over her knees.

Stephen poured a drink for himself and knocked back a stiff swallow. “You don’t know very much about me,” he said. “I—I may not be what you expect.”

She leaned back against the soft cushions of the couch. “Are you telling me you’re jaded and corrupt, and you have strange tastes? Stephen, this may be a long way from civilization, but we do read Elinor Glyn, and even Havelock Ellis. I’m not so easily shocked as all that.” She took a drink of her Scotch, as if to prove her point.

He chuckled. “I’m sure you have, and I’ll make sure and tell Mrs. Glyn that, next time I see her, but that’s not really what I meant.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to question that, to ask if he really did know the infamous author, but she decided the query would only make her look schoolgirlish and naïve, and she couldn’t afford that luxury right now. She took another sip, feeling the glow spread. Whatever else he might be, Stephen really did have very good liquor, she thought. It was miles away from that rough hooch Nash and Shuster cooked up in their still down on Camino del Monte Sol. Smooth. Sophisticated. Just like Stephen Kostan himself.

“Well,” Stephen said, “it seems obvious that I should have seized the moment this afternoon. Found a shady spot, and we could have had it out, up there on the mountain. Would you have liked that, Razorblade?”

“Yes, I think I might.”

“But unfortunately, we didn’t do that.” Stephen stood and walked over to the French doors leading to the balcony, throwing them open to let in the night air. “I love the night,” he said. “I don’t know if I could ever explain to you, how much.”

He circled the room once or twice, Reza following him with her eyes. She’d seen cougars up in the mountains not so graceful. She remembered the strength of his arms around her when they danced, and shivered at the memory. He looked back at her sharply.

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of me.”

“No, no, of course not. I know you’re a gentleman.”

“Question is, Reza, do you want me to be a gentleman?”

“Of course, I—oh, Stephen you confuse me sometimes.”

“Well, life is like that.”

He sat down next to her on the couch, turning a little to fix her with the intensity of his gaze. He didn’t say anything, just reached out, and began to stroke up and down and up and down the skin of her upper arm. She thought she’d never seen eyes that held such depth before. She felt like the only woman in the world, and yet, he was giving her every chance to break away, every chance, and no chance at all.

It was a near thing. He could tell it in her heartbeat, but her nerve held. Then, she smiled, her vixenish face all points and angles, and said, “Stephen, this is stupid. “ And with that, she leaned forward and kissed him. Her lips seemed even fuller and softer than they had that afternoon on the mountain, her mouth working against his, and as she slid forward into his embrace, he could feel the heat of her body burning through her dress.

“You’re so cold,” she said

“Perhaps I have a warm heart.”

“Well, I must see if I can warm you up.”

“Ah, sweet Reza…” he murmured. He moved his hands on her back, until she winced. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry. Just a sore spot.” She shrugged. “It’s nothing.”

“Turn around.”

Reza twisted in her seat, and felt the cool contact of his fingers unbuttoning her dress down the back, the faint tugs as the buttons slipped free, and the slight movement of air across her skin. She was uncomfortably aware that she still bore marks from her father’s discipline the night of the gallery opening. And feather light, she felt Stephen tracing the fading welts. She hung her head.

He turned her back, gently, lifting her face. He stared into her eyes, saying nothing. She was expecting pity, sympathy, maybe even outrage. What she saw was nothing like that. There was heat in his eyes, the beginnings of arousal. It was frightening to her, in a way, but also exciting.

After that, he began what seemed an eternity of kissing, touching…he was oh, so gradual with her, taking her from one step to the next. Drawing her out and drawing her on, calling her need, even as the sliding skin against him called his needs and hungers to the fore. Somewhere along the way, much of their clothing was discarded, but Reza for the life of her could never remember afterwards how it was they got from the couch onto Stephen’s bed. It was sweet, though, very sweet. And then he was speaking in her ear, the low whispered tones intimate as a touch.

“What is it Reza? What is it you want from a lover you haven’t gotten yet? Can you tell me? Do you even know?”

Reza disengaged, slightly, and turned on her back to stare up at the ceiling. “I don’t know. Nash—Nash is a good man, and a good painter, and he’s a tyrant in the studio. I love the discipline, the discipline of holding a pose as long as I can, and fifteen minutes longer. But in bed, he’s too soft. He’s too…kind.”

Stephen leaned up on one elbow, looking at her. “And you want a lover who will be a little bit cruel?”

“Yes. And when we danced the tango, I knew you had it in you, I knew you had all of it in you.” Her breath was growing short, that delicious flush spreading. “I’m not sure why, but I think you can give me what I need. There’s something about you, something…different. Dangerous.”

“I’m a stranger. That’s a lot of it.”

“No, it’s not. It’s much more than that. It’s much more than that. I don’t know what.”

“Reza—you don’t know what you’re asking.”

“And you don’t know what you’ll be getting, so maybe we’re even.”

She waited for him to elaborate, but he was silent after that, returning to his ministrations, focusing his attention on her sensations, on the gathering response of her innumerable nerve endings.

Under his expert hands, Reza felt like her skin was aflame, every touch, every caress, stoking the fire. Whatever else this man might be, whatever he hadn’t quite told her, he had made love to a lot of women in his day. He knew exactly how, exactly where, to touch her. She writhed under his attention, making those animal noises that Nash only rarely elicited from her.

“Oh, God, Stephen,” she said, over and over, moaning against his skin as he drew more and more responses from her with his hands and his mouth. Finally, when she thought she was about to explode with the sheer pleasure of it, he caught both her wrists in one powerful hand, and drew them up over her head.

“Are you ready for me, Razor,” he said. “Are you ready for it all?

She could only nod, mutely. She struggled a little, wanting to caress him, but he held fast to her wrists.

“Open your eyes,” he said, “look into my face.” He was poised above her, and in the dim light of the room, somehow, impossibly, his eyes seemed to change color, glinting silver. “You said you wanted a dangerous man, you wanted a cruel man, Razor. I can give you that.” He smiled, and she saw the deadly tips of his fangs.

“Will I survive?” she whispered. “Will I survive?”

“Oh, yes,” he replied, his voice scarcely more than a breath. “Give me your throat.”

She turned her head slightly, and he struck, moving inside her at the same time. The pain was over almost as soon as her quick gasp, and as he moved in her, she could feel the climax building and spilling over her skin. It was over soon, too soon, for both of them. But when she reached out, afterwards, and pulled his head to her, fearlessly kissing his bloodstained mouth, he knew he had not been mistaken. He knew she was his.

[francis]

Wow!!! Stephen can be dangerous if he chooses to be. He can be tender and loving, but he saw something in her, needing more of something else, and he was not mistaken. Such a great story!

[tucutecats]

Stephan,Josef, what dreams are made of,

[jen]

Ah, Reza.

You have no idea what you are asking here...or do you?

[allegrita]

Oh my goodness. Um... *fan fan fan* that was... definitely...

Wow. And it was all PG-13! You do have a talent for suggesting just enough to let the mind go much farther than you actually describe...

[cassysj]

Oh my that was quite an experience. Reza has entered Wonderland

[darkstarrising]

So Reza is looking for something no one else has given her

Stephen leaned up on one elbow, looking at her. “And you want a lover who will be a little bit cruel?”

“Yes. And when we danced the tango, I knew you had it in you, I knew you had all of it in you.” Her breath was growing short, that delicious flush spreading. “I’m not sure why, but I think you can give me what I need. There’s something about you, something…different. Dangerous.”

Be careful what you wish for, for Stephen is very different beyond Reza's wildest imagination. You also show us a side of Stephen that's rarely seen, perhaps a bit reckless....he's given Reza every chance to back out, and when she doesn't he shows himself, which may have been a bit risky on his part. In the end, the chance he took paid off.

But when she reached out, afterwards, and pulled his head to her, fearlessly kissing his bloodstained mouth, he knew he had not been mistaken. He knew she was his.

You're also showing us a side of Reza that wasn't quite apparent in the beginning. Yes, she's rebellious - what daughter isn't? But does she enjoy the pain her father inflicts on her as punishment? Or is she merely living on the edge? This is quite telling:

“Will I survive?” she whispered. “Will I survive?”

Question is, does she want to?

This is a most thought provoking chapter of the story, ladies, and I have to wonder where do Reza and Stephen go from here?

[librarian_7]

Ah, thank you for the comments!

I do take it as a challenge, Alle, to try and stay on the PG-13 side of the line, and yet convey *ahem* what's going on. I'm very glad if you feel I succeeded!

dsr, yes, Stephen is so experienced, that I think he's quite good as giving his lovers what they need/want. I fully believe he hasn't survived so long without being a really good reader of people. And while he certainly takes pleasure on his own terms, with freshies and lovers, it does seem to be a two-way street. Reza is something out of the ordinary, with him. What, really remains to be seen.

Lucky

[NightAir]

Oh wow! Reza and Josef recognized something special in each other and were drawn together. Neither are disappointed. Neither am I.

[librarian_7]

Glad to hear it, NightAir. I think "Stephen" has a good time wherever he goes....

Lucky

[RangerCM]

try and stay on the PG-13 side of the line, and yet convey *ahem* what's going on. I'm very glad if you feel I succeeded!

Yup, I'd say you did.