DISTRACTIONS

By Eva

"Ned, you wrote me a poem?"

"Well, it's not Keats, but…."

Veronica kissed a blushing Malone on the cheek. "But, you wrote it for me, Ned. I'm sure it will be every bit as good as Keats. Bring a candle over here so I can read it."

"I thought Roxton and Marguerite were out here."

"Well, I don't see them now. Oh…Marguerite left her mending."

"And, Roxton left his cigar."

"And, it's still burning. What's he trying to do, burn down the treehouse?" Veronica started to stub it out in the ashtray.

"No, wait." Malone removed it from Veronica's fingers and puffed on it until the red ember ash began to glow. "No reason to let a perfectly good cigar go to waste."

"Ned, I didn't know you smoked."

Malone's chest seemed to expand as he said, "Oh…well.…yes. I've been known to smoke one every now and then."

"Can you blow circles like Roxton?", Veronica teased.

"Whatever Roxton can do, I'm sure I could do just as well."

"Why Ned", Veronica said with renewed admiration, "…. I've never seen you like this before."

With pride in his voice, "Wait till you read the poem I wrote you."

**********

Inside the treehouse, Marguerite and Roxton descended the stairs to her room seeking that place of privacy they both desired and needed. Not once since they'd left the balcony had their bodies left the touch of the other, holding on to one another in that loving, possessive nature that said…'you belong to me'.

Once there, even though Roxton had visited her room many times, he had the grace and good manners to pause and wait for Marguerite to make the first overture. After all, it was her bedroom and he the guest, a designation that would change once he made her his wife. And, even with the refutation he'd received tonight, his goal was still to marry this woman…..this woman who haunted and controlled his every thought.

While Marguerite lit the candles, he sauntered aimlessly around the room, always moving closer to the bed. The room began to glow with an enchantment more alluring and seductive than even the moon could produce. Watching her move gracefully around the room, bringing a flame to each candle, the love and aching for her began to surface within his body.

The small room shimmering to her satisfaction, Marguerite slowly edged up to face him, stopping just inches from his face. "Now that we're here, John…in this more private setting…was there anything special you had in mind…." John's eyebrows arched and his arms reached out to take possession of her small waist. "…to discuss?" Her hands resting on his upper arms, "I mean besides the topic of putting you in a more relaxed mode of dress."

Their bodies leaning warmly against each other, he said in a low voice, "You're not still thinking of having me go shirtless for the rest of our stay on the plateau, are you?"

"Well, I must admit the idea is an appealing one." She moved a slight distance back, just enough to allow room for unbuttoning his shirt. "Although, if you were to shed your shirts…it's very doubtful I'd get much else done besides watching you."

Enjoying the attention from this beautiful seductress intent on baring his chest, he grinned down at her flushed face. "Why Marguerite Krux…you are becoming bold. Maybe I should ply you with wine more often. Would it really please you if I…uh….were to bare my upper torso? Don't forget…I'd be visible not only to you, but to Veronica, Assai, or any other female on the plateau."

Buttons completely undone and shirt open to his waist, Marguerite's determined hands sashayed inside to glide smoothly over his firm, warm, well-tanned skin.

"Mmmm…yes. It's the 'any other female on the plateau' that worries me." Squinting her eyes, "On second thought, maybe we should reserve that style for these private times."

Hands still touching his bare skin, she stood on her tiptoes to nuzzle her nose against the underneath part of his chin. "Wouldn't want to put any undue pressure on you to impress those 'other females'."

His hands tightened around her narrow waist and with much effort, he opened his mouth to speak, although at the time he was having just as much trouble breathing normally.

"Um…uh…that could be…a very…wise decision." He pushed her away…albeit just a few inches. "Now Marguerite, I thought you brought me down here for a quiet evening of conversation," he chided. "If you keep up this kind of behavior, I won't be responsible for what might happen."

Suddenly removing her hands from his chest, she backed away and said nonchalantly, "Oh! Well, then I suppose I'd better stop."

In the fashion of that sweet dance they'd both enjoyed for the past few years, he grabbed her arm and pulled her back to him and toward the bed. "Uh….let's not be too hasty."

In a chaste voice, she replied, "Oh, no John. I would never want you to compromise your code of honor…"

Pulling her down on the bed and whirling her onto her back, he growled, "Marguerite Krux, you…are a tease."

Breathless from hearing the huskiness and longing in his voice, her eyes flashed as she said, "John, it's only teasing if one doesn't intend to carry through with their promises."

"And, do you….intend to carry through…?"

"You have to ask?" She pulled his head down to meet her open lips, kissing him hard and fervently, exploring his mouth expertly with her tongue.

The kiss spoke volumes. Fulfillment of all promises was within reach. Lying snugly against her, he cast his right leg over her lower body and while kissing her, one hand plunged deep into her silky dark hair…splaying, caressing and twining the curls through his fingers. The other hand began releasing the buttons of her snowy white blouse. Covering the smooth delicious curves of her upper body with kisses had been on his mind all evening, since he'd first found her curled up on the chaise.

Pulling his lips away from her mouth, he let them travel slowly down her long, graceful neck pausing at the top edge of her lace camisole to concentrate on the soft flesh, cresting now with each raspy breath.

"John….kiss me again."

"Whatever my love wants." He lifted his head and while holding her face began molding his lips around hers, lifting and pulling at her lower lip with each kiss. Her hands holding his upper arms, she could feel the muscles flexing each time he moved toward her. She felt herself being transported to some magical place of ecstasy as her stomach tightened and the rest of her body weakened.

Stopping long enough to gaze into her face, he whispered hoarsely, "I could kiss you all night. I love kissing you….I love making you smile…the way you're smiling right now."

"Oh John….don't you know you make me smile every time you look at me. Every time I think about the way you kiss me….I smile." Contentedly she sighed, "It scares me how well you know me, John….how well you know what makes me happy."

"I'll spend my whole life with you, Marguerite…and still never know everything I want to know about you. You're a mystery and a bewitchment to me. But, if my kiss is what puts that smile on your face, then maybe I need to kiss you again."

Brushing his lips sensuously over hers, he shifted his body to cover her legs with his, pulling her closer and tighter still into his arms.

Unable to breathe except in short breaths, Marguerite moved her hands to his bare chest slightly pushing him away. She shifted her body against his, raising up to turn John onto his back. Lowering her face to his, her hair fell in ringlets around his head. Kissing him repeatedly around his eyes and ears, she whispered, "I love you John…..I love you…."

"John! John!"

Marguerite stopped and turned her head. "Did you hear that?"

"Marguerite! Challenger! Help!"

"Oh, yes….I heard that!" The sound of Malone and Veronica's voices was unmistakable

It took a moment or two to untangle their legs and bodies, but both John and Marguerite were off the bed at the same time rushing for the stairs.

"Do you smell smoke?", John asked running up the stairs to the main room.

With a sudden realization, Marguerite shouted, "Oh John….you left your cigar burning on the balcony."

Roxton groaned at the thought he might have set the treehouse on fire.

Reaching the main room, they almost collided with Challenger sprinting from his lab toward the shouting.

Smoke was indeed coming from the corner of the balcony where Marguerite had been doing her mending and John smoking his cigar. Bright orange flames were licking upwards to the overhanging trees, and Veronica and Malone were bravely beating them down with a blanket.

John ran back into the house and yanked the water container from the kitchen counter. Returning to the balcony, he tossed the contents into the flames. Challenger made the same trip to the kitchen bringing back a large canister of flour. Between the water, flour and the blanket, the fire was finally quelled.

Black smoke was still filling the small corner of the balcony as Veronica sank onto the nearest chaise. Coughing, she managed to speak. "Whew….where were you two? And, what took you so long?"

Before they could speak, she took one look at the disheveled appearance of both John and Marguerite and smirked, already knowing the answer.

Marguerite looked down to see most of her camisole showing beneath her unbuttoned blouse.

John's face turned a blushing rose color when he realized his shirt was still open to the waist and the shirttails were hanging from the top of his trousers.

He sputtered while trying to button his shirt, "Well, we were getting ready for bed…." Realizing the verbal blunder, he quickly covered with a lie. "…in our own rooms, that is….not in the same room…..not together….but in…."

Heading back inside, Marguerite leaned over and whispered, "John, maybe you should stop while you're ahead."

"Is everyone all right? All in one piece? How the devil did this fire start?", Challenger asked.

Assembling back inside the treehouse, Roxton started to apologize. "I'm afraid this is all my fault. I left a lighted cigar on the balcony. Sorry, Veronica. Something must have distracted me…and I forgot it was still burning."

"Well, you left it there, but the fire's not your fault. Malone found it and smoked it for a while, but somehow he managed to knock it and the candle off the table."

Malone spoke for the first time. "Uh….sorry. Something must have distracted me too."

"If the excitement is over for the night, maybe it would be a good idea if I return to my lab and start working out a formula for a fire extinguisher. Wouldn't be a bad idea considering we live in a house made of such flammable material. Although, we didn't do too bad a job with what we had….now did we?"

"Challenger," Roxton patted him on the back, "good thing you weren't distracted like the rest of us. It could have been a disaster without your quick thinking."

"Without yours too, John, " George grunted. Finally noticing Roxton's mussed up hair and unbuttoned shirt. "Distractions…eh?", he chuckled as he left the room.

"It's late and I think we should all try to get a good night's sleep. We can clean up this mess tomorrow morning," Veronica sighed.

"Sounds good to me. I could sleep like a baby right about now," Roxton said.

Malone plucked the charred remains of the shirt from the ashes and carried it back inside, handing it to John gingerly. "Sorry, Roxton I know it was your favorite. Looks like you won't be wearing this again."

Taking the blackened shreds from Malone, Roxton shook his head. "No, probably not." Turning to grin at Marguerite, "But then maybe our resident seamstress can design something more…uh…liberating for me instead."

Leaning against the table, arms folded across her now buttoned blouse, Marguerite looked at Roxton with raised eyebrows.

As the other couple in the room were saying their 'platonic' goodnights, John moved closer to Marguerite and whispered, "What do you say, we continue our….uh…quiet evening….later when everyone's asleep?"

Marguerite smiled teasingly. "Same place, same usual time?"

He nodded and repeated, "Same place, same usual time. Oh…" his voice lowered "….and….be ready for more than conversation this time."

Crinkling her nose, she whirled around tossing her hair over her shoulders as she headed back down the stairs. "Oh…too bad. And, just as it was becoming interesting."

Whistling softly to himself and grinning from ear to ear, John walked briskly back to his room. He could already envision that which be awaiting him in a couple of hours when the treehouse became dark and silent. Marguerite…his Marguerite…would be in her small room, naked beneath the sheets of her small bed, her soul and body waiting for him….just for him.

He sighed audibly and said quietly to himself, "Life is good."

The End