Welcome, dear gals and pals, to your next helping of Smokey goodness, sunshine, warmth and love. (
Technical note:
This story, Saga #94, follows #92 ("Numbers"). I wrote #93 in between (my next odd-numbered and thus BDSM-flavored story—which is not "Seductress," it's a different one), but have elected not to publish it. So on we go, and now that
that
is out of the way...)
Sequel time!!
March 2016 gave birth
to Saga #61,
"Special Deliveries."
You, faithful friends, are about to read
part 1
of "Special Deliveries
II
." It has turned out especially lengthy, and so I'm splitting it in two parts. Like each two-parter I write, I'll be submitting both at the same time, so part two should hopefully come shortly after. Cheers, happy reading.
*****
Kärlek och äktenskap (Love And Marriage)
Thursday, March 24th, 2016, 6:19 a.m.
Spring had officially arrived. Here in Minnesota, it had quite the time tidying up winter's disarray, but always persevered. Vernal clouds were easier for the sun to nudge out of the way. Budding leaflets materialized on branches. Birds sang cheerier and livelier. Pleasant gales caressed houses, cars and citizens. Plough-pushed mounds of snow remained the harsh winter's only evidence. And a fresh dose of daylight spilled up from the horizon, gently awakening the city of Juniper like so many dawns before.
1615 Branderville Street was a two-story Cape Cod-style home which had just recently doubled its number of inhabitants. It belonged to 28-year-old Riley Marla Hutchins, and now as well to 25-year-old Elsa Helena Jansson, both of whom had given and received the title of Mrs. Being the mail-order bride, Elsa didn't know whether to change, hyphenate or keep her name. Riley, who just wanted both to be happy, minded neither way. But these concerns and no others occupied their thoughts for the moment, as they lay in bed, divinely, contently nude, riding out their peaceful sleep. Elsa lay on her back, disheveled but beautiful blonde hair drizzling all about the pillows, soft pink nipples peeking out from the edge of the comforter. Riley lay on her side snuggling Elsa.
It was exactly one week ago, on Thursday the 17th, that Riley'd adopted Elsa and brought her home—"adopt" being the word they preferred. Something about the practice of obtaining a mail-order bride struck Riley a bit prehistoric, and went against the principles she was brought up with. And yet...this had been the
happiest
week of her life, bar none. The fact that Elsa was the foxiest, sexiest, most enchanting creature she'd ever seen just
may
have had something to do with it.
Elsa felt similarly towards Riley since having seen her picture. From minute one, somehow, she
knew
they were pure soulmates. As she kept to herself until Tuesday and then confessed to Riley, Elsa believed in soulmates, and also believed each person had one they were destined to meet. Not necessarily only one on the planet, but one they'd encounter. And their union was a charmed example of how two soulmates could come together even after living across the planet. (Riley thought, but did not voice the double entendre phrase "come together," little as Elsa would've minded. The girl, Riley'd find, was
highly
sexually active, and adventurous to boot.)
Riley had taken the entire week off work to spend and get to know her new betrothed. Elsa was from a city in southwestern Sweden called Gothenburg. (She pronounced it for her in her native tongue. "Göteborg." It was spelled similarly but sounded
nothing
the same to Riley's Anglophone ear.) She loved to be entertained. She'd hardly ever run across a book, movie, TV show or song she didn't like. She was an only child, and had been orphaned at 19. It wasn't the worst age, as she could now work. So she fumbled through a series of jobs before deciding to enlist in the marriage agencies. Maybe it wasn't very ambitious of her, she told Riley, but the truth was, something about her had always wanted to be..."oh, vhat's 'de vord..." domestic, she said. A bit of a homebody at heart. Not that she didn't like going out to do things and have fun. But especially since losing her parents, she'd wanted someone to take care of her.
She also shared a great deal with Riley about her beloved country's culture and traditions. Riley heard it all and appreciated each thing Elsa wanted to tell her, but at times had trouble concentrating. She frequently gazed into Elsa's incredible eyes and face and let her mind wander away with the thought,
...I am the luckiest damn chick on the...well, top of the world.
To think it had taken her this excruciatingly
long
to find love, slogging through so many dates and encounters that aspired to nowhere, all the anguish she put herself through to get her... Elsa was just such a breath of fresh air,
and
a huge relief.
Each day that first week, they shared autobiography snippets, then tried out different ways of making love. Sometimes they talked to each other about random topics
while
making love, which surprisingly did not deter from the passion. Things were still just too new and exciting. Riley wanted to bop, boff, boink, make love to, have sex with and fuck the living daylights out of Elsa as much as she could before the excitement started wearing off. And did Elsa certainly give her her mileage. She gave as good as she got. As Riley upped the ante day by day, Elsa rejoined in kind. The girl was amazing. She was like a machine. She could take everything Riley threw at her and then some. And came up with some imaginative sexual innovations on her own. Riley couldn't say if it was a cultural or geographical thing, but had to ask herself at least once why she'd never tried to meet a Nordic chick before.
Getting to know one another was almost just as pleasurable in its way. The new wives were of one mind, in that—maybe the bewitching beauty of each helped, but also—each new trait was more exciting than the last. Inevitably, differences cropped up among their similarities. Elsa was a social butterfly and had lots of friends growing up, where Riley was a bit of a loner and wallflower. By a somewhat parallel token, Riley tended to get on better with her parents and folks of their generation, and Elsa gelled more with her age peers. Distinctions of several sizes were unearthed. On the lighter side, Riley's favorite dessert was ice cream and Elsa preferred cookies. So they compromised the indulgent night of Wednesday the 23rd, with bowls of strawberry swirl and Oreos crushed on top.
Another difference surfaced as the cookies and cream were enjoyed. Riley was a bit more a dog person, Elsa a great deal more a cat person. As neither minded a little more cuddly company and as a pet meant more to Elsa, they agreed to make adoption two a young affectionate feline. A few back-to-back cat shelter visits later, they brought home a particularly friendly Abyssinian shorthair boy kitten. Though Riley could see herself grow attached to him, she'd really got him for Elsa. And so as Elsa's cat, Riley saddled her with the seemingly simple task of naming him. No problems, said Elsa.
And so Elsa thought. And she thought. And thought. Then she thought. After that, she thought. Following this, she thought. And
then
... she thought some more. At last, she decided. It came to her one evening over the supper table.
Gasp.
"Tiger heter han!"
Riley arched an amused eyebrow with a mouthful of grub.
"I'm...khawwy?"
"
'Dat
's his name!" exclaimed the beaming Elsa. "'De cat! Tiger!"
Riley swallowed. "'
Tee
-ger'?" she repeated.
"Of course!" Elsa spelled it for her.
"
Oh
," Riley nodded. "So... taiy-ger. Like Shere Khan."
"Right, yes, but på svenska! In Svedish it's 'Tee-gehr.'"
"Oh, I see. Okay, great. Tee-ger it is."
"You call him Taiy-ger if it's easier."
Kept by the Hutchins and Jansson only a few days, simple-minded and months-old Tiger remained in explorer mode. He wandered, poking his head about, sniffing things and finding means to high places. He leapt to the dining table, briefly regarded his Mommies, turned to hop onto the armchair, slunk to the end, looked up, waggled his rump, and
sprang
to the curtain rod. He narrowly missed, grappling and scrabbling like a small monkey to get up. Resting atop his perch, he turned to them and gave a proud, squeaky mew. Riley smiled, feeling her heart warmed by their new feline son's presence. Maybe she was more of a cat person than she thought.
The ice cream was polished off, the bowls rinsed and in the dishwasher. Now after plenty of time spent playing with Tiger, it was time to leave him to his own devices. Literally. So the brides activated a toy that spun a mouse in a circle under a blanket. With a short-term memory and such simplistic cat-fancies, it could keep Tiger entertained for hours. And as much fun as it could be watching him frolic and romp, the girls were due to enjoy their
own
play time.
*****
Ogrundad två-timmars sex-flashback (Two-Hour Gratuitous... Well, You Know)
Wednesday, March 23rd, 2016, 9:05 p.m.
Riley adored Elsa and her styles of lovemaking from the start. She was tender and coquettish, yet passionate and roguishly playful. They took turns tugging one another to the bedroom between preliminary pecks. Elsa was tonight latter to get inside, and quietly shut the door. She sauntered towards a stationary Riley and began gingerly disrobing her. Riley replied in kind. With each additional patch of flesh unveiled, the eager hearts beat and juices raced just a bit faster. Riley couldn't get over it. As unlucky as she'd been in the past, as terribly as love treated her, she'd managed to turn it completely around and become
just
as fortunate. She made herself see that had things worked out with her ex Kellie or anyone else, just
look
at what she would've missed out on.
What Riley failed to anticipate was that Elsa felt the exact same way. Just a hair short of a week ago, in that agency office, she'd learned that Elsa's reaction to seeing her photo was akin to Riley's own. And yet, Riley had so much trouble equaling them in her mind. Cliché though it may've been, words literally couldn't describe her astonishment at Elsa's pulchritude. She just couldn't see Elsa's awe at
her
beauty measuring up. But supposed this could be seen as a good thing. Because... if... well, that was to say...
Elsa's tongue was in her mouth. Riley realized she couldn't think straight. Being that she was gay, this made sense... But also, she noticed in the week they'd been together thus far, Elsa had a way of doing this to her. It was one of the things Riley so genuinely cherished about her. She was 25—younger than Riley—and so remarkably unjaundiced by life. There seemed not to be a single snide or caustic bone in her body. The girl wasn't particularly naïve (well... maybe a touch), but just so pure, innocent, untainted...
wholesome
. It made her even more beautiful than she was on the surface. She seemed acquainted with life's harsh realities—some of them, anyhow—and seemed also able to take them with the proverbial grain of salt. In turn, she made Riley inclined to question how she looked at things. But here this evening, once more in their bedroom, sex was not one of them.
The kisses flowed like wine, postponing their arrival at the bed as if they moved in slo-mo.
God, she's so soft and precious
, thought both. After what was basically a week-long stay-cation "homey-moon," they'd gotten adept at tumbling into bed in tandem. A more or less prerequisite giggle squeaked out as they plopped in and began loving each other up. As they ceased moving for the moment, Elsa ended up atop Riley. She nestled into her for a first bedded liplock, spilling flaxen hair all about Riley's auburn mane, blending a brilliant, delicious capillary mixture. Riley hugged firm, pressing and smushing Elsa down tight on herself, claiming one of Elsa's fabulously leggy legs with both her own. A kiss-muffled groan was coaxed from each as they slowly, sumptuously humped. Elsa broke the kiss first out of need for breath and gasped. They shared a smile, blinking butterfly kisses and nuzzling nose tips.
