Free Short Story Fiction: No Wedding Night by Neale Sourna

No Wedding Night

by

Neale Sourna

_Las Vegas NV USA; Today

Fisticuffs, as my Great Gran would say, broke out at our wedding; just before our vows were done. It was my bride’s brother against my best brother slash best man; then her sister slash matron of honor against my favorite girl cousin teamed with that cuz’s favorite BFF.

A groomsman, with valiant stupidity, waded into the fray—with the unladylike womenfolk—and got promptly damaged, slightly.

The police were called, by someone. No one’s admitting it. The cops settled everyone down. Thankfully, no one went to jail, or the hospital.

All right the hard part.

She cried, out of frustration, out of disappointment, out of embarrassment, while locked in her vestry dressing room, and she finally let me in, and finally let me talk her back to the altar to say our I do’s.

And we did, but the bad vibes hung there, I guess, contaminating everything, festering beneath our façade of happiness.

My family doesn’t like her family and ditto with her family’s feelings toward mine.

It seems that our making them both one family wasn’t working out. Isn’t this why old countries used to marry off their royal kids to their rival warring kingdom, in order to make blood peace? I must be the only one who loved history class. Of course, blood peaces resumed many a blood war.

We went to the reception, we had a peaceful meal and sweet toasts and teary eyed toasts and funny toasts, and we had our first dance, but the open bar’s prepaid liquor was fueling fires in those still burning with discontent. Did I mention countries at war? Yes. I did.

The police were called again....more on the brawl's aftermath

3 Free Short Story Chapters: Raj by Neale Sourna (soft romantic erotica)

Raj

by

Neale Sourna

A great Indian lady chooses a British Raj officer from the crowd for her amusement; but discovers her choice may bring her more than she expected.

-------

The tiresome British have been here for some time and find our ceremonies "fascinating" in a "quaint manner"; believing we are their British India. They do love parades in pretty clothes. And that is when I saw him, standing among the crowd of the faithful with two other "redcoat" officers kept back behind my official guard, as I entered for my official duties.

Our gazes locking upon the other caused a feeling as palpable as one's skin in an electrical storm.

Upon my exiting the temple, he was still there, just beyond the iron gates, separating us from them.

I spoke to my man and kept on, and the Britisher was collected and brought the secret way to my private apartments.

He was stripped—a fine figure from my hidden vantage—as he was washed and redressed in silks and finest linen, with only a few protests of good-natured curiosity from him, but no excessive, disrespectful attitude of superiority, or entitlement, so often rampant in one of his nation and race.

"What is your name, sir?"

He was startled by my appearance, and his eyes bulged, so did his linen trousers, when he beheld me in my simple gown, cut low between my generous breasts. He appeared unable to speak, or think.

"Sir. Your personal name, nor more."

"Sutton Palm—. Sutton. Ma'am." Hm. Very respectful, and attractive.

"Tell me what you thought, and felt, as your gaze first met mine. Exactly." He blushed, rather terribly.

"It wouldn't be proper, ma'am. Great Lady."

"Tell me, or I'll send you away, this instant." A look of distress distorted his fine, honest features. "Exactly, sir. Now." His gaze met mine in challenge, and then fell away.

"Nothing. My mind blanked, but I-I felt as one when caught in an electrical storm which makes the hairs upon one's body stand." Ah. Good answer.

* * * *

I took him by the hand and led him to a soft bed of pillows, and we reclined together...http://stories.neale-sourna.com/Raj.html

Free Short Story online_The Veil: 1846 by Neale Sourna

The Veil: 1846

by Neale Sourna

Gretna Green, Scotland

His mother hates me, fears that I'll take him from her, or, well actually, neither he nor I know for certain what she holds against me. But he understands this hindrance; that she wishes to post the banns for his marriage to … that other person.

So we ran, he and I, with my aunt's tacit approval, including giving me a gift before our late night journey began northward, to Scotland's nearest border and the famous Blacksmiths of Gretna Green, who forge both metal and legal marriage.

We were soaked from the rain's downpour, literally steaming in the hot work shelter, leaving me unable to wear my aunt's fair gift, as the smith was hot of foot to close and splash through cold puddles and slick mud to dry home and warm supper, and so we'd married without our rings, too deeply buried in my love's valise for safekeeping, as the smith impatiently waited to legally bind us.

And we runaways were forged together, man to woman, husband to wife, with full intent to double secure our matrimonial with a visit to a somewhat distant, but well-respected, ordained minister—in insurance against my new mother-in-law's contrary wishes and any possible suit of that other's frail love and family, in desiring to forever bind him in law, and with child.

We'd been hard pressed by possible pursuit and by our own leaping hearts to be forged together as one, over the tongs of Scotland's generous law. Now, it was done.

* * * *

We'd arrived at this lovely, gabled inn, a room was provided, warm meal and warm blankets, too, and our clothes had gone to be cleared of travel mud and dried.

All we wore were scratchy, woolen blankets.

We ate in mute happiness with nervousness underlying our delicate, new bond. Words of power had been spoken in that forge's rainproof shelter, the smith's apprentice a witness to acknowledge our new status in sacred mutual agreement; and the minister's extra weight of rank and piety would hold till floods ceased.

Our meal was eaten, with only bodily consummation the next surety to our bond of runaway love as yet left undone. We put aside food and wine for later, in case we hungered and thirsted in the night, during our first night alon‑.

I ran, with nerves too heightened, to the window and stared out, and stated, "The rain slows." He came and stood behind me, he in his blanket and I... http://www.weddingnight.com/stories/the-veil.html

Free Short Story, Wedding Night & Honeymoon: No Touching by Neale Sourna

No Touching

by Neale Sourna

No touching. That's what we'd decided, before truly realizing, as we do know, how hard this would be.

We've lived together for two years and our wedding's in two days, and we haven't "touched," I mean REALLY TOUCHED in two months. A brief, pecking kiss here; a quick hand squeeze there, yes, but not more. Pretty much just like business associates or brother and sister.

So, no lingering embraces, no handsy petting, not even lengthy handholding because, with this promise to ourselves, all of that becomes unbearable at a point; all those handsy, lingering, touchy-feely things clearly lead a woman and a man far astray to break from the kind of celibate pledge we've made to each other, and ourselves, after two and a half years of close, physical intimacy.

But we'd decided, in full mutual, sober agreement, to refrain from "close, physical intimacy" these last long, frustrating months. Two entire months. Sixty-one days. One thousand, four hundred, sixty-four hours. Infinite minutes. An infinity of seconds.

Not that we haven't had intimacy, still...http://www.weddingnight.com/stories/no-touching.html [abstinence]

Free Short Story: Empty Nest Honeymoon by Neale Sourna

Empty Nest Honeymoon

by Neale Sourna

Australia and Pradesh, India

Our youngest had flown from our nest, to try life on her own terms, leaving us, alone, together, for the first time, since before the children; and now, since Lal's retirement, we'd managed to argue constantly, getting on each other's raw nerves, because he'd never spent so much time home before.

So, I escaped to my sister Anila's, for a break from him being forever under my foot, walking behind me, throughout my house and gardens; criticizing—but no, he calls it "being helpful," to "help" me "streamline" my workload, etcetera, as if, after the many years of birthing and caring for his children and of his many short notices—.

"Didn't I tell you? We're to be having a business dinner party in three hours. I must have told you, Asha. Just unthaw something, do your magic, and put on a nice dress. No wait! Wear the dark purple sari—you look so very lovely and regal—."

I could have, should have killed Lal many times, justifiably. And a jury of twelve tired wives would free me. Tiresome man.

* * * *

Our eldest and middlemost child, surprisingly, met me at Anila's...http://www.weddingnight.com/stories/empty-nest-honeymoon.html

Free Short Story: Outback Love, Part 1 by Neale Sourna

Outback Love, Part 1 [an Australian Western]

by Neale Sourna

Coober Pedy, South Australia; 1919

I'd come from a lush place, of trees and wide rivers, and had sailed a long, exhaustive time, thousands upon thousands of miles from my home, a half a world away, after receiving his letters and deciding I'd be his wife; even though I'd never met him face-to-face.

Pete'd waited several days at the port, her ship was late, and he'd wondered what she'd actually be like. People often weren't like their letters. He'd read every one, more than once.

I sighed; there wasn't a tree for miles round, not even a decent bush, as Pete drove the wagon into the interior. My God this is a large country, and barren. And my future brother-in-law seems a nervous sort, as he fidgets beside me and barely speaks to me.

The woman made Pete speechless, this soon-to-be sister-in-law. Just being beside her made him nervous. She wasn't beautiful, but she was a fine looking woman, fine enough that—.

"Ma'am?"

"Pete, we're to be brother and sister, call me Maddy." He didn't touch her name, as if it were too intimate a thing for him.

"Why're you here, ma'am, a … a fine lookin' woman like yourself, and smart too, well spoken, you could have anyone. You even read and write, but you come all the way HERE?"

"For your brother." Pete was silent a long while, then quietly asked.

"His letters that good?"

"Well, I...." I was alone with this work-hewn stranger, hundreds of miles from any other person, whether friend or foe, so my lot was cast, as I stared at his strong, and possibly deadly hands. I'd never....http://www.romantic4ever.com/romantic-fiction/081125-outbacklove-01.html