Vincent sipped his coffee. Today was the big day. Why didn’t he feel nervous? Maybe because everything was right. He opened the living room curtains. Sunlight just kissed the treetops, making it look like they were glowing. He glanced at the clock. 5:15. Sitting in the chair by the scanner, he turned the volume down then flipped it on.
‘…repeat. Forest Base fifteen come in, this is Mike. Wayne, are you there?’
That guy sounds panicked.
‘Yes, Mike, this is base. How are you this morning?’
‘Not bad, for nearly being eaten.’
Eaten? Vincent leaned forward.
‘What? Repeat that please. Over.’
‘I got an early morning wake-up call by a bear.’
‘Are you all right? Where are you?’
‘Yeah, I’m fine. I was camped near the top of Clark’s Grade when it came after me. I gave it a blast of pepper spray, and it took off into the brush. Over.’
‘You’re sure it was a bear?’
‘It was before dawn, and I didn’t have my glasses on, but it was about the right size. The roar it gave sounded like one too.’
‘You sure you’re okay?’
‘Yeah, not a scratch. It headed into the brush along Skyline toward Sugarloaf Mountain. We’d better get the word out to local enforcement. Over.’
‘Hopefully it was just curious, but yeah we’d better. I’ll get right on it. Hey, I’ll put the coffee on for you. Over.’
A laugh came through the speaker. ‘I’ll see you in about thirty minutes. Over.’
‘Ten-four. Over and out.’
Vincent flipped off the scanner and sat back. Lousy way for a guy to start the day. A rogue bear. What’s next?
He carried his coffee to his bedroom. It sounded like Jule might be up, but he couldn’t be sure so he took care closing the door. Time to get moving. He set the coffee on his nightstand and changed out of his karate pants and t-shirt.
He looked at his stack of neatly folded clothes again then at the two matching swords and the harness to carry them on his hips. Could he wear swords at wedding? He smiled at the image. No, that won’t work, unless… Now he pictured himself in full Japanese regalia, with Jule as a kimono-wearing bride taking little steps on platformed geta. A chuckle joined his smile. That really won’t work. But he had to take them somehow. He wrapped the weapons and harness in the long thin trench coat he usually wore when carrying them. Placing the neat package in his duffel, he put a pair of tan wool slacks and a light blue dress shirt on top. That should do it. He looked at his wedding clothes and pursed his lips. A dark blue wool blazer and dress shoes would have been nice. Gotta remember to pick those up in Vegas.
Satisfied that he had secured everything, Vincent checked the side pocket for toiletries and cologne then felt his chin. Vincent, hello, you shaved ten minutes ago. Picking up his duffel, he walked to the door and was about to open it when he happened to glance down. He was still in his boxers and t-shirt. Yeah, not nervous at all, are ya Vincent?
***
Jule stood, looking at the long, white satin dress hanging on her door, then the lingerie she planned to wear under it. She glanced at her knives and leg sheaths. Shopping in the Village sure had been interesting. After leaving Vincent, they’d strolled down the sidewalk arm in arm. Mom always knew how to calm her down. She’d just let her…be. Halfway along the block her mom had pointed out a small shop named The Merry Widow.
‘Would you like to get a nice negligee for your wedding night?’ her mom asked. ‘I hadn’t thought of that, good idea.’ She chewed the inside of her lip. ‘Is it okay if I go by myself?’ She and Mom talked about almost everything. But what she planned to wear while turning Vincent into a heap of quivering manflesh wasn’t at the top of the list today…or maybe not any day.
‘Sure,’ Mom said, patting her arm. ‘I’ll find your father and we’ll meet back at the car.’
‘Thanks Mom.’ She slipped into the shop to the tinkling of a tiny silver bell hanging at the top of the door. After looking at various long silky items, Jule plucked one off the rack and held it up to herself, looking imaginatively in the mirror. ‘This is the one,’ she said to herself.
The woman working there glanced up from where she had been arranging a display of panties. She looked as if she might have been a model for the merchandise. Eyeing the black see-through baby-doll for a moment she pursed her lips and ran her eyes over Jule. ‘Good choice, it’ll look great on you. Someone will be very happy.’
Jule smiled. ‘I hope so.’
‘With that on, there’ll be no need to hope.’ They giggled and walked to the counter. As they did, something on a mannequin caught Jule’s eye.
‘Excuse me, what’s that?’ she asked the woman.
‘That? It’s what the store is named after, a merry widow.’
Jule gazed over the intricate layers of silk, lace, ribbons and dangly straps.
‘You’ve never seen one?’
She shook her head.
‘I’m Lisa, by the way. Welcome to my shop.’
‘Nice to meet you.’ She walked to the beautiful red contraption.
Lisa cocked her lips. ‘I guess, growing up in the era of pantyhose, you wouldn’t have seen one. It’s like a corset.’
‘A corset? Like in romance novels to make women have skinny waists? Do they even make them still?’
‘They sure do,’ the owner said. ‘We have some lovely ones, and you don’t have to lace them tightly.’ She spun her finger, indicating Jule should turn around in a circle as she gave her figure a closer look. ‘You wouldn’t need any cinching at all. We have matching garters as well.’
‘Garters?’ Jule asked.
The woman reached into a drawer retrieving a black satin corset and set it on the counter. She indicated the straps at the bottom. ‘These hold up your stockings.’
‘Oh, like thigh highs?’ she asked. ‘I bought some striped ones at Thrifty’s for Halloween.’ She felt the luscious satin.
Lisa smiled. ‘The ones you bought probably had elastic tops, right?’
She nodded.
‘Those just stay up on their own, but silk stockings need a garter,’ she said.
‘Silk?’
‘Would you care to see some?’
‘Please,’ Jule replied, a part of her warming to these luscious new playthings.
The woman handed the samples to Jule. ‘What do you think?’
The silk was like liquid in her hands. Oh yes, her legs, sheathed in these, while Vincent ran his over them. ‘They’re wonderful.’
‘Is this for a special occasion?’
‘I’m getting married tomorrow.’
‘Then let me show you some items you’ll both enjoy.’
***
Jule looked at her knives once more. Stockings, they’d sure be cuter with her thigh sheaths than pantyhose. And way more practical, but would they snag? Trying them on had ignited a fire in her belly that radiated south. She’d keep a steady supply of them on hand. This needed testing. She ran her fingers over the white satin corset and garters on her bed and smiled. When she had chosen the set, the shop owner nodded approvingly, ‘Yep, that should make for a happy husband.’
Jule smiled. He won’t be the only one. The thought of wearing them made her tingle, and her mind started to wander, thinking about their wedding night, then she saw the clock. 6 a.m.!
***
Tatter-ear stayed motionless on the tree limb as the prey and the other soft ones entered the wheeled thing. If their pattern continued, the metal box would return them at some point. Patience was the key to any good hunt, and he was willing to wait as long as it took. With them gone, he could once again find food. Another of those gray fluffy-tails sounded delicious.
***
As the Rover pulled away from the cabin, her mom tuned the radio, looking for road conditions. She found a local station that predicted a cloudy morning with possible snow flurries by nightfall. They also mentioned a bear alert for the Sugarloaf area.
Vincent frowned, looking over at her. ‘Jule, I heard about that earlier. That’s here, right?’
‘Yeah it is.’ She patted his hand. The poor guy.
‘I figured they’d have all migrated to less populated area,’ Knife said from her other side.
Flea, sprawled in the back jump seat, chimed in. ‘Not at all. Bears love easy food and there’re few species on earth that toss food out more than humans. All those cabins and weekenders are probably like a smorgasbord.’
‘We’ll be fine though,’ her dad said.
‘Oh, sure we will,’ her mom assured. ‘Bears around here keep to themselves. So, when we get back, your father and I will stay in the village at an inn. We’ve arranged a room for the boys too, our treat.’ She turned to look between the bucket seats.
‘Wow. Thanks, Ruth and Paul,’ Knife said.
‘I kinda wondered how it was going to work.’ Flea mentioned.
‘Mom, you guys didn’t have to do that.’ Jule said.
‘It’s your wedding night, and we want you to enjoy it.’
‘Ruth, you savage!’ Flea said.
Her mom blushed and stammered, then she looked back again and waggled a hand at Flea. ‘You know what I mean.’
‘We sure do.’ Flea continued to tease.
By this time, they were all laughing.
‘We’ll stay there the next night too. And let you have a little honeymoon,’ Dad said.
‘A nice fire, all alone at the cabin,’ she said. ‘I like the sound of that, what do you think sweetie?’
Vincent’s lips curled in a way that made her want to climb into his lap. ‘Sounds fantastic.’
The twisty drive down Highway 18 and then onto the 247 proved pleasantly uneventful. They fueled up in Barstow then hopped on Interstate 15 across the desert. The conversation drifted to last night’s game session with her parents, where they’d both proved to be naturals. Mom dove into the story elements and Dad’s mathematical mind spun the stats of his character in unforeseen ways with interesting results. They chatted about the family’s love of driving and all things Porsche, travel, and Vincent’s talents in the kitchen.
‘It’s a good thing you can cook, Vincent,’ Mom commented.
‘Yeah, you might starve otherwise,’ Dad added with a chuckle.
‘You mean Jule’s not the Betty Crocker type?’ Flea asked.
‘Not exactly,’ Jule said. ‘But hey, I make great spaghetti, and cookies.’
Knife snickered. ‘I see what you mean. Who wants cookies in their spaghetti?’
‘Hey!’
‘Precisely,’ Dad said.
‘Dad!’
Vincent grinned at her. ‘It’s okay. I love cooking but hate doing yard work. So, you mow the lawn, and I’ll make the food.’
‘Deal, just keep your hands off the laundry.’
‘Happily, but can I vacuum?’
‘As long as I get to dust,’ she bantered back.
‘Or…how about we just hire a maid and a gardener?’
‘Then what will I do?’
‘Look cute,’ Vincent said.
‘Well, that is a full-time job.’
‘She could do the dishes,’ Flea suggested.
‘Yep, she has the feet for it,’ Knife said.
‘Feet?’ Vincent’s voice reflected her own curiosity about the comment.
‘Sure,’ Knife nodded. ‘It’s natural, part of the genetic progression of humankind.’
Vincent leaned forward, to look past her. As a pre-med student, Knife learned some interesting stuff.
‘Really? How so?’ Jule asked.
‘Well, smaller feet allow women to stand closer to the sink…thereby taking their natural place in the home,’ he deadpanned.
Vincent snorted as Flea guffawed.
‘Knife,’ Mom exclaimed, her voice betraying the laugh trying to escape.
Jule rolled her eyes. ‘Men.’
Mom went on, ‘You can’t live with them and —’
‘You can’t kill them,’ Jule finished. She shoved her shoulder against Knife, giggling.
‘Just get her a maid’s outfit,’ Flea interjected.
Hmm, a short, black and white maid’s outfit? That worked for her. She whispered in Vincent’s ear. ‘Now that sounds like something you could get behind.’ She ran her hand along his thigh, looking over with heavy-lidded eyes.
He matched her gaze and whispered, ‘It could be arranged.
The group laughed, bantered, read, and played word games. Before it seemed possible, they pulled off the Vegas strip into the circular drive at the entrance of the Flamingo. She caught sight of Vincent’s watch, 11:56. Dad had called it almost on the money.