This story is derived from a similar story I wrote on under the same pen name and I feel it should have a rating of PG-17 because of the content. So this is just a warning before you read the story. I wrote this story because I felt I wanted to.
A Love Story
Her smooth, milky, white skin lolled beneath the warm, soapy water. A marble Jacuzzi bathtub housed her naked hourglass figure. Filled with a void, her over-active imagination played out scenarios of what she planned to do when her lover finally returned from the horrors of war. The wife of a soldier, she was fated to pine for him. When would he return?
She had beauty and power. Something that most women of her judicious age would never achieve, but something that all women most certainly desired. Yet it was the basic of needs that all women pined for which she also had. She had fallen in love with a man who had captured her heart at a young age and had swept her off her feet to the alter. A man who showered her with affection beyond comprehension. But he had not married her because of her money. He loved her as if two souls has finally found each other and had become one!
"Oh James, you're too good to me," she spoke softly, referencing her husband and lover.
She closed her eyes for just a moment and dreamt of the perfect world where war did not exist and had never been conceived. Where the leaders of the world united in unity for the common good instead of fighting futile wars that cost brave men their lives. She was part of an aristocratic family, but no amount of money could buy her peace. Wars raged on land, sea and air. And they fought against themselves over wealth and power.
Her husband was one of the few who was called to action. An axis of evil had arisen from the depths of an International power and it was the duty of all those who had the ability to fight to rise up against them, and defeat this unification of evil. James chose to heed the call.
He was commander-in-chief of a Squadron of battleships that was sent to the Pacific.
It had been two months since he had left to fight and already the loneliness without him was unfathomable. She loved him so much that her every waking moment was filled with horrific thoughts of what if he never came home? What would she do without him?
The maidservants that stood idle in the royalty deco bathroom caught her eye and they advanced to the Jacuzzi with towels in hand as she stood up. Soap caressed her body and enveloped her silky, white skin with lovely persuasion. The afternoon sun that shone through the windows glistened with the water and bathed her body like a second skin. She had a beautiful body and was pleased at how well she maintained it. She was somewhat ego-centric when it came to her figure, but James had often told that he would love her even if she was fat and ugly. Because he was in love with her soul. James was so sweet!
She wrapped a towel around her voluptuous breasts and it clung to her like skin-tight vinyl. Her wet, limp hair dropped down below her slender shoulders like a black knights conquest.
"You may go," she told her maidservants, and they exited her private bathroom. And thus she was left alone with her thoughts, whims, desires and pleasurable ideologies.
Dropping the towel to the floor, she walked out of her spacious bathroom and into her regal looking bedroom and crossed over to a walk-in closet, where she ruffled through her wardrobes and outfits and well-known designer clothes. A woman without a closet filled with clothes is a woman complete naked, she thought. Neglecting her nakedness, she chose a beautiful dress and laid it out on her queen sized bed with silk sheets. Then crossed over to an oval shaped dresser mirror with a carved horse motif and sat down on the silk lined, cotton stuffed chair cushion. She then combed her hair with an elegant looking brush. She was very fastidious about her hair and she wanted to look perfect for when James came home.
The Allies were winning the war and James had sent her a message a few days ago that he was coming home for short interlude. A vacation of sorts. And today was when his message said he would be arriving.
She combed her hair with one hundred strokes and finished by blow drying it with pressurized air suited to a regulated temperature she programmed into the hairdryer. The blow dryer fed her naked neck with the warm air of a man's breath and for a split second she felt that James was with her and beside her, blowing on her neck with his warmth. But he wasn't.
Oh how she wished he was here right now to make sweet, passionate love to her. To fulfill her womanly desires. His soft, gentle hands pressed against the curvaceous of her naked flesh, his hot breath against the nape of her neck. His strong, muscular arms wrapped around her delicate features.
A droplet of cold water fell from her hair and cascaded down and between her breasts, pushed its way through their firm fix and streamlined down her smooth, sensual stomach, tickling the tiny hairs, and down to where she dared not say, sending her body into a frenzy of sexual elation. But relenting on her womanly desires she did not express her deeply needs and allowed her passion to burn deeply for when James retuned.
Before he shipped out, he had given her a Tanzanite blue-purple opal pendant, surrounded by shimmering diamonds in a floral design to symbolize his love for her. He had bought it with his own money and it must have cost him a fortune. She knew it was too expensive to her to keep, but he wanted her to have it anyway. She took it out of its silk-lined box and gently slipped it around her neck, and laid it just above the cavity between her breasts. And she smiled and looked in the mirror, knowing she was the luckiest woman in the world.
"Return to me soon, James. I yearn for your gentle touch." She said, gazing at the pendant in the mirror, with a passion for her husband that equaled no other.
She heard the doorbell ring. He's home! She thought.
She quickly got dressed and ran downstairs to the main floor like a giddy school girl. But the Butler had gotten to the door before she could. She stopped in the threshold of the hallway and there standing beyond the entrance was a man in uniform. But it wasn't James. In the soldier's hands was an American flag wrapped nicely in a triangle shape.
Suddenly the clasp on her pendant broke and fell, and shattered on the floor, breaking into pieces.
She knew he was dead.