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

Short Story: Iraqi Honeymoon by Neale Sourna

Iraqi Honeymoon

by Neale Sourna

My lady's on MP duty, that's Military Police, policing the dangerous, dusty streets of Fallujah, Iraq. Yep, Iraq; honeymoon capital of the world. Absolutely not.

We married three days ago, said, "I do." Kissed. Partied a little, until interrupted, as my special logistics liaison unit pulled out, in answer to an emergency and, short staffed at the present, we all left, including me, her brand, new husband; with the promise to get me back to her soon—AFTER our assignment, of course.

She's great.

When we're together there's no fear, but apart she worries about my "secret" forays into unknown places, among the hardest of enemies. And I go mad knowing she's on dangerous streets that make the roughest gang street in America a block party in comparison.

I get the best equipment, the best intel, the best training, and she gets a cheesy, ill-fitting safety vest, a hummer without armor, and a rifle that's a Cracker Jack® toy prize compared to the hardcore one I carry.

We're foreign here. And there's sand everywhere.

I should be caressing her soft skin, not alone, oiling my weapon—no pun intended. It gets into everything, like "fine time sand, windblown from a broken hourglass." Her mom, MY new mom-in-law said that. Well, actually, her mom said the fine sand part, and my baby added the rest.

She's so smart. She's so beautiful to me. I do love her. I do miss her. I do plan not to be blown or shot to bits before holding her again. Holding her forever.

Her last voicemail to me, in her bubbly voice, said she'd stay away from cafés and open markets—prime targets for a disgruntled types blowing themselves and their neighbors up, and she promised that she'd keep her....http://www.weddingnight.com/stories/iraqi-honeymoon.html

Outback Honeymoon, Part 3 by Neale Sourna

Outback Honeymoon, Part 3 by Neale Sourna [romantic fiction]

Coober Pedy, South Australia; 1920

Nude, sun- and wind-kissed skin impregnated by improper, desirous thoughts and naked feeling.

That's what I was having, wasn't I? But, love of spirit was good, and love of heart was good, so shouldn't the open love of the body, especially the naked body of a man, who belonged to me, be as well?

"What's wrong, Maddy love?" Even his voice warms me.

"Nothing. Just stupid fluff in my brain," I said, without enough breath in me.

"Ah, congestion of the mind, eh?" He smiled too sweetly, looking terribly smug about something.

"Y-Yes."

"Well, let me help. What's the culprit obscuring your fine, clear thoughts, girl?" I can't lie, not to an honest face like that, with eyes…. But, I couldn't really just say, "You," could I?

Pete tilted his head, silently encouraging me to proceed. I tried to swallow what felt like a dry, spiky rock. The "culprit," the object of my open desir—.http://www.romantic4ever.com/romantic-fiction/081125-outbacklove-03.html

Outback Love, Part 2 by Neale Sourna_short story

Outback Love, Part 2

by Neale Sourna

Coober Pedy, South Australia; 1919

Green. I miss the color green. Green trees, both evergreen and deciduous, and green azalea bushes ready to spring bloom, dripping with rainwater or glistening with morning's kiss. There is no green or dew kisses here because in this dry, hard place, "like the lifeless moon, after Armageddon", we never had our honeymoon, Pete and I.

"I'm not him, I'm not Joe, Maddy, not the man who sent you those letters that brought you here, but … but, if you'll h-have me—?"

"Yes. Without question," I'd said, and he'd blushed horribly, nodded mutely, and we were betrothed.

We were married by a great talkative preacher on hostile and diligent mission to convert and subvert the kind aborigines to his God. Then, Pete and I spent an uncomfortable, unconsummated wedding night lying side by side, and then he'd risen early, but I'd finally convinced him to sit still for breakfast only to have him seem increasingly guilty about dawdling his day away with me.

So, a half day into our honeymoon week, he returned to mining the opal, and that lonely way was our way for too long.

"Are y'happy here, Maddy, with me?" I'd wanted to say a bold, unquestioning "yes" again, but my nod was not so doubtless.

He's a fine man, but this is a daunting new world—this post Great War, Australian outback, this barren place of castaways. Pete was clearly avoiding any marital intimacy with me; a fine start that. Shouldn't a man be happy and take relish in his new wife, especially if he truly loved?

Still your mind and heart, Maddy girl. Mama always said I should curb such harsh, unfeminine thoughts and keep all such masculine tones of disappointment or...http://www.romantic4ever.com/romantic-fiction/081125-outbacklove-02.html

Becca's Faux Honeymoon, Part 4 by Neale Sourna

Atlantic Ocean near Ireland, 1680s

Faux honeymoon. That was the phrase scurrying around her mind; this time together, sailing, locked in his quarters, lying flesh to flesh in his bunk. Curse him, smirking whenever she called a wall a "wall" not bulkhead, the window "window" not port, and his comfy bunk a "bed."

"Are you listening? Aidan?" He stretched his big body and quirked one drowsy eye open.

"I'm happy and contented, woman, can yah not leave it at that?"

"But I-I know so little about your world, and it is quite a different world, fascinating, all open air and freedom. Granted, I've not been … 'topside,' is it? But…. Oh! What do your men know? Not that I care, as they're not gentlemen, and really, aren't sailors a kind of servant, except those the crown holds in service as virtual slaves, but they'd…. What? Why do you stare at me so?"

"You're quite energetic after bed-ridin', aren't yah?" She shrugged.

"Well, saucy sir, it HAS been a while, since…." Her incredible face saddened, and a part of him

was jealous of her hidden, longing memories of another man.

"You never took a lover, after you were widowed?" She frowned, plainly he'd hit a sore point.

"No. Not 'after' or 'before' nor during. My love, when given, is quite chaste. Surely you understand. I saw the relief on your face when I returned your silver cup."

She saw him wince, then she glanced at it now, it sat across the room in the place of secure honor, where he must plainly be able to see it directly before him whenever he sat to work. Was there another term for a sailor's desk, she'd have to ask, but later, as the cup practically sang in the light that reflected brightly off it like a fierce angel's....http://www.romantic4ever.com/romantic-fiction/becca-04.html

NEW Fiction Short Stories by Neale Sourna

Stories just posted to
two new websites: Samurai (2) and Australian western romance published here:
http://www.romantic4ever.com/romantic-fiction/index.html
and four of my wedding night stories are now here: http://www.weddingnight.com/

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