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Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Romance/Love · #1382216
A Romantic Short. Just the beginning. This is my first try at writing a short story.
BESTA

“Melton, will you hand me those cigarettes?”  Besta Laine released a long sigh as she looked at her reflection in the mirror.  She exhaled and hunched her shoulders forward, propping her forehead on her palms.  It was getting very exhausting.  Having been trained since childhood to be the best at everything was finally wearing on her.  Her mother, sweet as she was, ignorantly named her Besta, sincerely thinking she wanted her baby girl to have the “best-a-everything”.  “Poor, sweet mama.  Why couldn’t I just be like everyone else, mama?”
         “Ma’am, Miss Laine, here are your cigarettes.” Melton ever so gently tapped her shoulder once to rouse her from her deep thoughts.  She looked like she needed something, someone.  Besta looked up underneath heavy lashes.  “Melton, do you think I am the best?”
“Miss Laine, you are the best performer we have here at The Dancing Dove and there is always a packed house here to hear you sing and see your show.  I would say undoubtedly that qualifies you as the best here!” 
Besta cocked an eyebrow.  “Undoubtedly?  Who speaks that way?” 
         “With all due respect, I do Miss Laine.  I have worked hard on earning an education and am currently in law school.  I can’t help the way I speak.  Does it bother you?”  They looked at one another in a long gaze, her mouth agape.  Besta truly thought this was the first person in a very long time to ask her an opinion, either way.  It didn’t hurt that he came in a handsomely wrapped package, either. 
         “Um, no, I’m sorry, how rude of me.  Why are you here, working in a place like this late at night if you are in school?  Don’t you have better things to do with your time?  Don’t you have other women to entertain and look after?”  She reached for her lighter and pulled a long cigarette out of the case.  She gave him a teasing look and wet her lips as she lifted the cigarette to her mouth.  With barely a motion, the cigarette was lit.
         “I work here because it helps me pay for my books.  I get to eat dinner for free.  Before you come off stage, I study and tend to my assignments.  And no, I do not have any women to attend to, but you, that is.”  She paused mid-puff and looked up at him.
“When I hear the roar, I know you are coming and I wait for you.  I close my eyes and smell you as you pass, inhaling your essence.  I wait for you to settle and open your door slightly.  I know that is my cue to come in and retrieve your show costumes for laundering.  Forgive me for saying so, but it’s the best part of my day.”  Melton stepped back, even at arms length he felt too close and could feel the heat radiating from every pore in his body.  He couldn’t help it.  In his six months of tending to Besta Laine after her show, she barely knew him.  But he knew her.  He knew what she loved to eat.  He knew her favorite perfume.  He knew whom to allow back to her room, even if he sometimes didn’t agree with her choice of company.  He knew she sighed deeply every night and felt a loneliness that he longed to ease.  Today was the day he could no longer bear to hear her sigh.
         “Melton, I had no idea.  Why didn’t you ever say anything to me?”  Besta’s eyes welled and she spoke in such a soft, delicate voice.  She felt overwhelmed with feelings of tenderness and vulnerability and she melted inside.  Melton seemed to see her as she saw herself.  Without words he gazed into her and she felt it.  She longed to be just “B”, the name she called herself.  She didn’t want to be the best, she just wanted to be loved, be herself.  The business of show business was wearing on her.  Pleasing everyone, all the time is an extremely exhausting job.  In that moment, none of that mattered, none of her notoriety, none of her fans, none of the money, just the connection, mattered.
         “What could I say?  I’m just the help.  And today, this time I am not interested in your laundry.  Let me help you out of your sorrow.  Submit to me, and let me take you somewhere that it’s all about you.  Somewhere that it’s all about you getting the best, instead of being the best to everyone else.”  Melton stepped closer and held out his hand, trembling with fear of rejection.  He knew it was a chance that could explode in his face, cause chaos and great problems.  That didn’t matter to him now.
         “Where-“  B laid her cigarette down in the ashtray and nervously placed her hand in his.  “Just take me, it doesn’t matter where.  Take me.”  She silently followed as he led her out of The Dancing Dove, being sure they wouldn’t be seen, to his car.  What was she thinking?  She didn’t know Melton well enough to go anywhere with him.  He could be a crazed, obsessive fan.  But she did not feel one ounce of fear or regret.  She felt like a young girl, nervous, butterflies in her stomach.  She felt something she hadn’t felt before, she felt adored, loved, for who she was, for B. 
         They drove in silence and she looked at Melton who returned her gaze with a warm and tender smile.  They reached the motel and he stepped out.  “I will be right back.”  As Melton walked away, she expected to feel compelled to run, but she didn’t.  She felt light as air.  She had left Besta Laine in the dressing room.  This was about a man and a woman, and love and desire. 
         He opened the door and helped her out of the car.  Words were barely necessary, although to B, Melton’s words sounded like a song.  They walked into the room and he turned on just one lamp.  She sat on the bed.  He disappeared into the bathroom and heard the bath turn on. 
         Melton stepped towards her and knelt before her.  He put his head in her lap and she caressed it.  “Call me B, please, not Besta.”  Her words were petal soft and feminine.  He longed to raise her skirt then and there and taste her, love her.  But it was not time yet.  That time was soon to come.  Melton was not a stranger.  They had exchanged pleasant conversation before.  But she never knew he was really listening.  He led her to the bathroom and gently removed all of her clothing.  He sat her in the tub and began bathing her, in the most respectful way, washing away the songstress exterior, revealing B in the living flesh, undisguised by clothing and make-up.  As he caressed her for the sole purpose of cleaning and soothing her, be began to speak.
         “I love you.  I love you for everything no one else sees.  I love the way that before a show you hum and sing childhood songs.  I love that you read the paper.  I love that you call your Father every evening to say goodnight, no matter how much is going on.  I love that you pray and thank God every single night before you go on.  Such humility and grace I haven’t seen in many in this industry.  I love that it impresses you more when a single flower is delivered than a dozen bouquets….that’s why I kept sending them.”  Her eyes widened but he didn’t stop talking.  “And then I watch, and as the door opens, in a split second, you fade, and Besta appears.  She is glamorous and stunning.  She is wanted by every man in the room, she is envied by every woman, but she is not YOU.”
         He leaned in swiftly and kissed her slowly, lovingly on her moist lips.  She reached for him to kiss her more deeply, but he pulled away.  He grabbed a towel and helped her out of the tub.  He dried every part of her body, respectfully.  Every touch sent tingles over her body and when he reached her sensitive parts she heated and her knees threatened to betray her.  She held his shoulder and he lifted her.  He laid her on the bed and massaged her from head to toe with moisturizer.  She was amazed that he wasn’t probing, prodding, stroking or in some other form, sexually taking her.  But she loved every single minute of it.  She writhed because of the increasing moisture in her feminine place. 
         “I have loved you for months now and I think you are ready to be loved.  May I show you how I want to love you, how you deserve to be loved?”  His words were melodic and sensuous.  She wanted to feel every bit of anything he had to offer her.
         “Yes, Melton.  Please, love me.  Make love to me.  Take my body, my heart, and me.  I need you.”  To her surprise, emotion took over and her eyes welled.  She really did need him and if she weren’t feeling it herself, would have doubted that you could love someone you have known for some time and not even know it.  “I love you.”
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