New York, Summer, 1921 . Your new neighbor across the lake is the mysterious bachelor , Dutch. His reputation for excess and extravagant parties precede him in the prohibition era. But after an invitation to one of his soirees, you discover your...
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Tom's cologne was the first thing to strike you. It wafted through the air and into your lungs like a tempting serpent. It was earthy and familiar and you wondered how someone who seemed so different could smell so much like your Tom.
His musk awakened your body in a manner that startled you. The skin on your arms prickled. You felt the hairs on the back of your neck spring up and most shamefully, your nipples became completely erect.
You inhaled deeply, breathing in that scent with the rush of a memory:
Tom gathered apples on your family's orchard, his sun kissed skin shimmered in the early autumn morning. He noticed you watching him from the window and glanced up from his crate. Your sister warned you about the new hire. She said, "He's bad news, Vi. Doesn't even come from proper stock. An orphan, I'm told."
"How sad," you murmured. You couldn't take your eyes away from the mysterious boy. His own eyes entranced you, compelling you to continue to stare from the kitchen window. Your cheeks suddenly felt very hot, as if you succumbed to some sort of fever. Surely, it must be sickness. The air was too cool to feel this kind of heat.
Charlotte's eyes remained on you.
"Isn't Father waiting to take you to town?" she asked sternly.
You quickly closed the curtain and wrung your hands together. Your palms were clammy and moist and the collar of your dress felt too tight as you swallowed.
"Yes," you said with a tremble in your voice. You dared glance at the curtains and could see the boy through the sheer fabric. He was still staring at you, but now his face was wearing the most handsome smile. Your heart gave an unnatural leap. Maybe you should ask Father to purchase a tonic at the druggist while in town, something to calm this pounding in your chest.
"Violet, Father is waiting," Charlotte said in an irritated tone.
You quickly gathered your coat and gloves and raced outside, eager to escape Charlotte's judgmental glare. Father was settled in the driver's seat with a pleasant smile on his face. He always insisted on driving even though your family employed a chauffeur. Father loved his automobile too much to have another drive him around.
"Ah, there you are, petal," he said in his thick Scottish brogue.
"Sorry to make you wait, Father," you said with a kiss on the cheek as you took a seat next to him.
"Petal, I've got three daughters and wife, I've grown accustomed to waiting," he chortled.
You giggled but that ended instantly when you saw the boy approaching the automobile.
"Ah, Tom!" Father shouted, "Hop in the back, lad."
Tom wiped his hands on his pants and in a single, graceful move, hoisted himself into the back seat of the vehicle. You felt the seat shift from his weight and an excitement stirred inside of you. His scent enveloped you, a mixture of sweat and dirt and something so appealing, you couldn't quite place it. But you found yourself taking a deeper breath and that excitement inside you grew.
"Tom, this is my youngest daughter, Violet," Father said as he started the car.
"Tom's going to be helping us with the orchard," he said to you.
"Why is he coming to town with us?" you whispered through gritted teeth.
"To help your father haul his purchases," Tom interjected from behind you. You turned around to give him a haughty look. Tom gave you a cheeky grin and you quickly turned back around and stared straight ahead.
How insolent, you thought, to just interrupt our conversation. Charlotte must have been right about him not coming from proper stock. He certainly didn't have any manners. Your cheeks started to burn again.
"Ah, Yes," Father agreed, "if only God blessed me with more brawn than brains. Come to think of it, he didn't quite bless me with the brains, now did he, petal?" And he gave a good natured laugh. You laughed along with him and so did Tom. When you heard him, you stopped and shut your mouth quickly, but that scent of his invaded your nose still. Deeper, again you breathed, closing your eyes.
"It's nice to make your acquaintance, Violet," Tom said in your ear. Your eyes fluttered open and your head turned to be struck by those beautiful brown eyes, only inches away from yours. His hand leaned over the seat like he wanted to shake yours. You looked at it and wrinkled your nose.
"Your hands are filthy," you said and turned back to look straight ahead. Your heart seemed to skip about your chest like some jester, flipping here, cartwheeling there. Hopefully there was some remedy for this ailment in town.
Tom pulled his hand away without any sign of defeat.
"I like getting my hands dirty," he said, holding them up in front of his face to inspect them. "It's dirty hands that make the most beautiful flowers bloom."
His words made your fever boil in your veins. Your mind flashed to an image of his hands, smearing dirt all over your pristine skin. They soiled your undergarments and gripped your face in a passionate kiss.
You smiled to yourself and clutched the hem of your coat without realizing it. The fever had moved its way to your unmentionables. You squeezed your legs together and pressed yourself against the seat.
Thankfully, Father didn't notice.
But Tom did.
His finger traced a line down the nape of your neck and slightly tugged on a loose strand of hair.
You looked down at your lap and hid a smile.
You reminded yourself what Charlotte said. No family. No money. No chance with someone like you...
"Pleasure to meet you, Dutch!" Richard said in a friendly tone that ripped you from your memory. Your back was still to Tom, still breathing him in.
"This is my fiancé, Violet," Richard said, grabbing your arm to turn you around.
"Thank you for having us. It's quite a wingding!" he continued with a raised glass.
You were silent and kept your eyes downcast. Maybe if you shrunk into the ground, no one would notice and you wouldn't have to look at those eyes. You simply couldn't bear it.
"The pleasure is all mine, Richard. My apologies for not extending the invitation sooner. I've been meaning to ever since I found out I had new neighbors across the water. Then when I ran into Haz here, literally I might add," Tom clapped Harrison on the back, "I knew I just had to have you over."
There was a second of silence that felt like an eternity. Without looking up you knew Tom's eyes were on you. They bored into you, searching for something. A flicker maybe, a spark.
"Violet is it?" Tom extended a hand. Your eyes lifted up only enough to see it. His nails were well manicured and a diamond cuff link peeked out from his sleeve, catching the moonlight. This wasn't the hand of an apple picker. You suddenly doubted everything you thought you ever knew about this man and if he even was your Tom.
Richard nudged you.
"Don't be rude, my dear," he growled in your ear.
Your held a gloved hand out, careful to keep it steady.
"That's right! Don't be shy, Violet," Tom chuckled. His fingers closed around yours, pulling your hand to his lips. Your eyes traveled down your arm, across the top of your hand and to your knuckles where Tom laid his lips.
And then you saw them. Those eyes that paralyzed you in your youth and you began to quiver.
"I can assure you," Tom said, his lips still on the satin fabric. You wished you could feel those lips against your skin, feel that fever once more.
