Summary:   Plain grub and a lumpy bed were all Ben Cartwright expected when a storm prevented his return to the Ponderosa.  Set in 1882, this is an Alternative Universe story.

Rated:   MA (Mature Audience)  Warning:  Explicit language of a sexual nature.  If you are easily offended by the subject, read at your discretion.

Word Count:  3000

A Blissful Night in Harmony

The storm came on suddenly, surprising driver and passengers alike with its ferocity.  When the Overland Stage pulled into Harmony, California, the station master announced that thru service to Carson City was cancelled due to downed trees on the Kings Canyon Toll Road. It would take at least a day to clear the debris, he said, quickly adding that the stage line would cover the cost of an overnight stay at the local inn including dinner and breakfast.  For passengers who lived in or near Harmony, the point was moot, but the Ponderosa was more than fifty miles away and Ben Cartwright saw no other alternative.  With nothing to be done for it, however, he accepted the offer, resigned to an evening of plain pub fare and a lumpy bed.

Whenever he traveled on business, he did not like to stay away from the ranch longer than required for he worried about what changes his sons might make in his absence or what trouble might come up while he was gone.  Granted, Joe was forty now and Jamie in his mid-twenties, but that did not preclude a predilection for mischief on the part of either.  Besides, he had been looking forward to a quiet Sunday night at home before the pressures of the week began.

Ben raked the back of his white hair with his fingertips, smoothing the strands into place.  Who am I kidding?

 It was his sons who did not approve of his travelling alone at his age; sons who would worry when the stage did not arrive on Sunday afternoon as scheduled.  He did not fool himself.  Long gone were the days when he would be absent for months at a time, selling furs or negotiating the contracts that kept the Ponderosa solvent.  That time was past, and he was past his prime.  Oh, they would not say it.  No, of course not.  But he saw the looks that passed between them when they thought he was overdoing it, taking on too much for a man in his seventies.  It’s time for you to take it easy, Pa.  Here are your pipe and slippers.  No need for you to worry, Pa.  We can take care of everything. 

He shook his head and heaved a deep sigh. The responsible thing to do was to notify his sons of the delay and assure them he would be home when the roads were clear.  Instead of taking immediate shelter at Harmony’s Bliss Inn as the station master had suggested, Ben asked for directions to Western Union and exited the stage office.

The frigid air took his breath away.  He turned up the collar of his coat and looked skyward at the roiling gray clouds shrouding the crowns of the stately pines that surrounded the hamlet.  Tugging his hat lower on his brow, he hunched his shoulders forward against the wind.  He had gone only a few steps when big drops of rain plopped on the dusty wood planks, leaving brown splatters on his black boots.  By the time he arrived at his destination the ensuing downpour had washed his boots clean.

He did not know what possessed him.  Maybe it was his now-shiny boots that said nothing was permanent, or a reminder of the inconsequence of man’s plans in the face of Mother Nature, but suddenly the allure of some quiet time away from the ever-watchful Hop Sing and his boys was a welcome—if unexpected—opportunity.

Guilty thoughts wormed their way into his conscience as he stared at the blank paper the clerk had handed him.  I am entitled, aren’t I?  A few extra days to myself with no decisions to be made; no ledgers or contracts to review; no disgruntled employees; no familial discord to mediate.

Resolved, he filled out the form advising the family of his delay.  Not to worry, he wrote, he would be home by Tuesday.  Wednesday.  His hand hovered in mid-air.  Saturday.  Saturday at the latest—and handed the slip to the clerk with the requisite coin.

Telegram sent, Ben stepped onto the boardwalk and breathed in deeply, invigorated by the crisp pine-scented air.  Not the ponderosa pines he was accustomed to, however, as the scent was vanilla.  Jeffrey pines.  With a sure foot and determined stride he set off towards Bliss Inn.  The rain had slowed to a fine prismatic mist bathed in the colors of the rainbow.  Perhaps the food would not be as bad as he had thought.

*****

He was both pleased and a little disappointed to see that the Bliss Inn was a proper hotel.  If truth be told, the idea of a roadside saloon with all-too-willing females available to occupants of the upstairs rooms had crossed his mind.  It had been far too long since he had last enjoyed the pleasure of a woman. It was not the actual sex he missed so much.  If that were all he wanted, there were any number of women in establishments from Denver to San Francisco to San Diego who would be delighted to service him.  No, not that.  What he pined for was the simple touch of a woman. Her scent.  The warmth of her body next to his.  That was what he needed . . . to again be the object of a woman’s desire.  In his experience, few women had had his third wife’s insatiable appetite for, and enjoyment of, sex.

Since Marie’s death there had been other women who had shared his bed—some who might have even become the next Mrs. Cartwright if not for circumstances beyond their control—but none of them had fanned the flames the way his hot blooded, creole French wife had.  Just thinking of the way her hands and mouth had caressed his body sent waves of desire rippling through his loins.  He despaired to ever feel such ecstasy again.

*****

It began innocently enough.   Two solo strangers having dinner in an otherwise empty dining room at the Inn.  It seemed silly to stare at each other across the room, so he rose, begged her pardon, and asked if he might join her.  As anonymity suited both of them, no formal introductions were made.  Polite conversation ensued over a dinner better than either had expected.  The lady ordered prime rib; he had venison as good or better than anything Hop Sing could prepare.  She was a widow; he a widower, both with grown children, but no grandchildren.  They talked of the weather, politics, the price of cattle, the theater, and what they were currently reading.

When he accidentally brushed the back of her hand as they both reached for the saltshaker at the same time, an electric shock coursed through his veins. Too startled for words, he mumbled an apology but did not immediately remove the offending hand.

He held his breath.  She flushed.  Their eyes locked.  She stood.

“A delightful evening, sir,” she announced to anyone within earshot.  “Thank you for the dinner conversation, but it’s been a long day.”

“Room six,” she whispered as she excused herself from the table.

Ben signaled the waiter for more coffee and waited until the uncomfortable bulge in his pants eased before standing.

*****

He tapped lightly on the door of Room 6, unsure if he understood her meaning.  He barely heard her husky response over the blood rushing in his ears.  Tentatively, he opened the door and gaped.

“Lock the door.”

She stood in front of the small fireplace.  A dressing gown—oyster to match her gray eyes—caressed the curves of her body, slightly thick around the middle but still firm.  With one hand she undid the tie that held her robe together allowing it to fall away revealing lacy lingerie that did little to conceal the body it covered.  The firelight played on her alabaster skin making it appear almost translucent.

With the other hand, she removed the comb that held her long, white hair in place.  The relaxed curls tumbled down over her shoulders brushing against her erect nipples.  His pulse quickened as the lacy bodice strained against the rising of her ample bosom.

He did not recall crossing the room.  In the next heartbeat she was in his arms pressing her lips against his.  His right hand moved instinctively to cup her breast.  She murmured, opened her mouth, seeking his tongue with her own.  Her breaths quickened.  She threw back her head exposing her long, elegant neck and Ben smothered it with biting kisses.  When he felt the thrust of her hips against his hardening member, he reached to turn down the kerosene lamp on the bedside table.

“No!” she said, licking her lips.  “I want to see you.”

He kicked off his boots and removed his vest swiftly before her hands stopped him.

“Let me.”

Ben paused, uncertainty in his eyes.

“I insist.”

Her breathing now under control, she began undressing him at a pace that drove him mad with desire.  After she unknotted the green neckerchief, she drew it slowly across his neck, watching his brown eyes turn coal black as the pupils dilated.  She let the scarf float to the rug and turned her attention to his face, skimming his features with her fingertips—forehead, sideburns, eyebrows, lids, his broad nose, his lips. A shiver ran through him.  He inclined his head forward for a kiss, but she tilted her head sideways and nibbled his ear, running her tongue round the inside before blowing in it.  He shuddered.  And then she did something he did not expect.  She inserted an index finger into her mouth and sucked on it.  Hard.  About to explode and desperate to kiss her again, he lunged forward, but she rubbed her wet finger against his lips and whispered, “Not yet.”

With the necktie out of the way, she started on his shirt.  As she undid each button, she pulled the cloth gently aside, planting kisses across his collarbone and licking the sweat which trickled down his breastbone.  A low growl rumbled in his throat when she threaded her fingers through the hair on his chest and flicked her tongue against his nipples.

He protested weakly when she unbuttoned his pants and nearly lost all control when she reached inside.  He pulled her hands away and pinned her arms to her body drawing her to him, lifting her off the floor until they were eye to smoldering eye, chest to heaving chest up against the bedroom wall.

“Down, big boy.”

He buried his face in her neck inhaling the scent of her hair. When her feet touched ground, he slid his fingers under the straps of her gown and pulled down sharply releasing her breasts from confinement.  She silenced his groan with a sweet and tender kiss.  He ached for more, but she was not yet ready for him to have his way.

Slowly stretching as if she were a coaxing feline, she took hold of the hem of her gown and pulled it seductively up her body and over her head exposing her nether regions. She stood there naked, allowing him to drink in his prize before she sank to her knees in front of him, pulling his pants and long johns down to his ankles.  He did not remember kicking aside the unwanted garments; it was all his quivering legs could do to remain willfully still while she held his member, massaging, licking, and sucking until it stood resolutely firm.

Ben lifted her once again and carried her to the bed, never taking his lips from hers.  His hands and mouth wandered the unknown territory of her body, thirsting for knowledge.  She did not lack desire, that was certain, but what did she want?

Ben forced himself to concentrate on every sensation so as not to come too quickly.  His fingers stroked her outer thighs, marveling at the musculature. A horsewoman.  His hands felt the weight of her curved breasts and the firm roundness of her bum.  He savored the saltiness of her skin.  He teased and pinched her nipples, causing her to whimper and begin to grind harder, harder against the weight of his body.

He ardently alternated from fondling her breasts to rubbing her mound to gripping her buttocks, but he did not hear the same moans that had earlier punctuated her passion.  When he inserted his fingers between the folds of her womanhood and found her wet, he decided the time was ripe whether she was ready or not.  But again, she had other plans.

In one swift, sure move she pushed him off, rolled him over and straddled his loins, teasing the tip of his cock with her muff, promising full penetration but withdrawing before he could come.  Just when he thought he could not endure anymore, she slid down his body forcing his legs apart in order to kiss his inner thighs.  His breathing became more ragged with each touch of her lips as she inched her way up towards his navel and settled into position again before guiding his throbbing member into her slick honeypot.  She moved her hips in slow circles, tightening and loosening her pelvic muscles around his engorged cock, rocking back and forth, up and down, rhythmically increasing the urgency of the moment.

They climaxed together as she arched her back and cried out.

That is what she wanted:  Control.  

*****

Consciousness returned incrementally.  Ben became aware of sounds first, the chiming of a clock tower, the clopping of a milk wagon; then the dusky light permeating the room through drawn curtains and sleep-caked lashes; then, awareness that his body ached in places it hadn’t for a long time; and finally, heat.  He rubbed his eyes and when his vision cleared he saw the fireplace had gone cold.  Still, the sensation of heat persisted.  Where?  My back.  He twisted and there she was, curled up against him.  His heart leapt.  It wasn’t a dream!

He watched her as she slept, aware of the soft snore, the noises her stomach made, the scent of her.  He drew a fingernail down her arm and watched the goosebumps rise.  After a time she stretched languidly and turned toward him.

“Good morning,” he whispered.

“Too early,” she muttered.

“Do you want to go back to sleep?”

“Mmm.  Do you want breakfast?” she asked.

He rubbed his thumb across her lips.  “The only thing I want to eat is you.”

This time they made love slowly, side-by side, taking their time in the light of day to explore each other’s body, not embarrassed by age spots, stretch marks, or wrinkles for those were the marks of a long life, well lived.  They took turns pleasuring each other and lay locked in an embrace, content to bask in the afterglow as their beating hearts returned to a normal cadence.

She had quite literally conquered him; he could deny her nothing.

*****

In the evening, they supped with other guests at a large table in the dining room, making only cursory eye contact with each other.  The titillation of a clandestine affair added to the anticipation of what the night ahead held in store for them.

Ben made a show of dismay when he learned the stage to Carson would not be running again until Thursday, but inwardly he rejoiced.  Two more days in Bliss!

Over the next two days, she could not get enough of him, and he often awoke fully aroused, her hands on his manhood demanding its attention.  Nothing was out of bounds.  Every fantasy, every desire materialized.

Marie, I have met your match. 

*****

When it came time to depart, both lovers felt revitalized and decidedly younger than the septuagenarians they were.

The westbound stage to California arrived first.  The gamut of emotions Ben experienced when Marie’s son stepped down from the coach nearly knocked him over.

Joe grabbed his father’s elbow to steady him.  “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, son.  What are you doing here?” He laughed nervously. “You weren’t worried, were you?”

Joe looked over Ben’s shoulder to see a handsome woman in a lavender dress with a bemused look on her face.  Her white hair, neatly contained in a snood, contrasted starkly with the blush of her cheeks.

“Worry?  Me?  That’s your job, Pa.”

“All aboard for Sacramento!” the station master called out after the last of the bags were loaded and secured up top.

When Ben assisted the woman in boarding, Joe noticed that she slipped something into his father’s coat pocket.

“I don’t believe I ever caught your name, sir.”

“Benjamin.”

She nodded, her eyes twinkling. “Safe journey to you, Benjamin.”

“And you are?”

“Victoria.”

The conqueror.  “The same to you, Victoria.”

When the stage jerked forward, Ben reached into his pocket and pulled out an ivory and gold hair comb.  On the inside she had written a date and the words “until we meet again.”  He rubbed his thumb across the smooth ivory before placing the comb in his breast pocket close to his heart.  He then waved with all his might as the stagecoach turned the corner and disappeared.

This exchange had been keenly observed by Joe.  He had been the youngest in the family for nearly three decades before his Pa adopted Jamie.  He had learned early on that the only way to intuit what was happening around him was to watch, listen, and keep his mouth shut.

The conversation between his Pa and that woman had been perfunctory, but carnal heat radiated off both of them.  Gone were Pa’s stooped shoulders and weary voice so prevalent over the last year.  His back was ramrod straight, his eyes bright, and his face flushed.

Of course, it could be the cold weather that made Pa’s cheeks ruddy, but Joe did not believe it for a minute.

The End

September 2020

Author’s Note:   Written for the 2020 Bonanza Brand Anniversary R-Rated Challenge.  The challenge words were ivory and gold.