The Fourth Arch

Blair rolled off of Donovan, panting. “I can’t stand it when you don’t come, she blurted. She covered her face with her hands intent on not crying.

“Babe, it is not big deal. You came. Twice if I counted that right. Her husband nudged her in the ribs, playfully.

“It’s not funny. This is the third time. I can’t help but feel, Blair stopped, swallowed hard to keep from crying, “that I have somehow lost my appeal to you. She stood, pulled on her robe.

“Babe. Donovan tugged her down to the bed and kissed her hand. “Enormous stress, a brain that won’t stop, two hours of sleep a night. A lot of things have my wires crossed but none of them have anything to do with you or your fantastical mojo. He winked, kissed her hand again and shoved his hand into her robe and grabbed her breast. Then he twisted her nipple until she squawked like an exotic bird.


“Don! Don! We’re going to be late, she yelled, writhing on the bed and trying to get away. “Come on. Shower and later you can grab my tits again.

“I’ll hold you to that, he said and kissed her again. “And I’ll hold you over that and I’ll bend you over. Maybe fuck that sweet ass¦ He ambled into the bathroom and she heard the water come on.

Blair let herself feel a little bit better. Just a bit. She would only feel all the way better when her husband came. Hard.

“Hard, she muttered and followed him into the bathroom to get ready.


“Ah, the Joneses! Pastor Smiley grinned and came forward to claim Donovan’s hand. He promptly pumped it in a handshake that resembled a man trying to pump water from a well. “So glad you could make it!

*Because you have really deep pockets¦ *Blair tried not to laugh. Pastor Smiley was terrible at hiding his excitement over seeing them at any charity function. She imagined a silent auction had him practically vibrating. She left the two men to wander the tables. The normal array of stuff. A high end basket filled with fancy preserves and candies. A spa day at Marian Davidson’s shop. A two night stay at the Anderson’s bed and breakfast. A dinner at Emerick’s. Then she stopped and her fingers couldn’t help but brush the soft lavender fringe.

*A handmade fan from Jill St. Clair’s private collection. The feathers are wonderfully preserved and the handle is inset with vintage faux gems. Marc St. Clair says this was his mother’s favorite fan, he is unsure of the origin.*

“What’s shaking, bacon? Donovan said, his lips pressed to the nape of her neck. Blair shivered and felt her nipples peak. She smiled at how easy it was for her husband to turn her on. Even on church property.

She turned and spoke into his ear. “Don, isn’t that a¦isn’t that a fan for an um¦performer?

Donovan eyed up the fancy lavender fluff that took up half of the long folding table. It covered the festive turquoise and red plastic table cloth and the placard was practically lost under the sprawl of feathers. “It’s a fan. What do you mean–

But then he squinted and smiled. The smile turned to a grin.

“A burlesque fan, Blair hissed and then giggled. “*he is unsure of the origin¦* It’s a good thing he’s unsure, she snorted. “He’d die if he knew. Or, oh my god! Do you think he knows!

Donovan hustled her to a corner and leaned in, stifling a smile. “Shh, keep it down, babe. I have no idea but I doubt that Marc would put it up for auction, silent or otherwise, if he knew. I mean at church. Christ, maybe on ebay but not under Pastor’s nose. ”

“Oh, my god! Blair blurted again, feeling giddy and girlish and silly. “We have to bid. We have to!

“Go for it. I will go bid on a year’s worth of oil changes from Simon.

“Who does our car anyway, she said.

“Exactly. But it’s all for a good cause. You go bid on the sex fan.


“I mean the memorabilia, he said and dropped her another wink.

The wink shot straight through her and her cunt fluttered. Wonderful images of earlier and her orgasms. If only she could get Don to come as hard as she had, she’d be happy. Her mind supplies a vivid image and her body pebbled with goose bumps. A very, very dirty idea had occurred to her. And if she had her way, it would be more than an idea very, very soon. “Yes. I will. Maybe I’ll do a fan dance for you.

Donovan laughed softly and winked again. Then he raised a hand to a man who yelled, “Mr. Jones! and walked off.

Blair wrote down eight-five dollars and walked off. She doubted anyone else would be interested. She talked to Sierra Baker, wrote down a recipe for dip and held Millicent Stover’s new infant granddaughter. When she returned to the fan, she was shocked to see a bid for a hundred and twenty dollars.

“Bastards, she muttered and then felt her face flood with heat. “Shouldn’t be cussing in church, Blair, she said to herself. She waved to Donovan and then bent and scratched out one hundred and ninety dollars. “Top that.

Her mind supplied a very vivid image of her riding her husband. Sweat pooling between her breasts in the low red evening light of their bedroom. Her head tipped back as his thumb rolled over her clit and her orgasm swept through her. Hands slid around her waist and she jumped. “Oh, you look guilty. What were you thinking about?

“You fucking me. Or actually, me fucking you, she said right against his earlobe. He squeezed her hips and his fingers bit into her flesh. Fingers that had been deep inside of her only hours before.

They went to the dessert buffet and Donovan brought her some coffee. “Ready to head out? I know how much you hate these things.

“Let’s stay. I want to see if I won.

“The fan? The dirty fan? he laughed.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, we’ll be ending the auction in five minutes. Time for that last minute bid, Pastor Smiley’s secretary said over the loudspeaker. “Hurry, hurry!

“Be right back, Blair said. Suddenly, she was terrified that someone had outbid her. She needed that fan. Really, really needed it. At least it felt that way.

The small white square of paper read two hundred and forty-nine dollars. Blair scribbled. Four hundred dollars and then planted herself there. Right in front of the fan and the bid sheet. Let someone outbid her now. She fucking dared them. If it came to a smack down in the middle of the church’s silent auction, so be it.

No one came to outbid her.

“That’s it, ladies and gentleman, Mary the secretary sighed in a nearly sultry voice. “The handlers will be around to collect the sheets. We’ll announce the winner shortly. In the mean time, visit our dessert bar and mingle, mingle, mingle.

“You look manic, Donovan said and walked her behind the stage curtain. The hall was full of people but the stage was bare.

“I want it. Blair tapped her toe and waited.

“Wow. A lot, hunh? Why?

Blair shrugged, unsure of how to explain. “Might as well write them a check, Blair said. She rubbed her thighs together at the thought of the fan. The silken texture of the feathers. The sultry shade of light light purple. The huge swooping curtain of fluff that would hide her. The long, slow reveal, showing her naked body to Don one inch at a time. It all played out in her head perfectly as they waited.

She was still lost in thought when he patted her bottom subtly and said, “Well done!


“You won! Come on! After all that weren’t  you paying attention? I’ll go pay them, you collect your loot.

And she did, practically scurrying to the front while Don paid at the table set up by the door. He glanced at her and smiled but it wasn’t an innocent smile. It was a smile like he planned to eat her for dinner. Like she was on the menu and he was starved. Blair felt a hot beat start between her legs and she held her breath as Mary handed over the fan that was now wrapped in protective plastic.

Mary leaned in conspiratorially while Blair stroked the tiny tuft of feathers that had escaped the wrapper. Her nipples rasped against her lace bra cups, so sensitive she thought she would die. “No one had the heart to tell Pastor what this really was. He thinks it was a decorative fan for the wall. Like those peacock feathers people keep in vases in their living rooms. Just for show. She winked and Blair let out a soft sound of surprise. “Thanks so much for buying it. I didn’t think anyone would bid at all. Let alone get us four hundred dollars! You are a dear.

Blair glanced at her prize. She was something all right, but she wasn’t sure if a dear was the right term. Donovan was coming her way and her heart sped up and her stomach felt fluttery. It was as if they had never been together before. Surely she wouldn’t act on her little fantasy. Would she?

She wasn’t a hundred percent sure until she whispered, “Meet me in the fourth arch, when he hugged her.

Donovan looked startled and then curious and then a slow sly look spread over his face. “It’s almost dark, but still¦

“Just do it. Blair hurried out the side door and across the courtyard. She stepped carefully through the overgrown patch of lawn that was the cemetery and snuck into the old section of courtyard on the other side of the church property. Once upon a time it was home to lots of outdoor functions. Now it had fallen by the way side since St. Mark’s had gone and built a whole new outdoor section directly in front of the hall. Now the twelve arches were barely ever used and the law was usually overgrown. Blair found the fourth arch, her favorite arch. The archway dedicated to John the Apostle. Atop the archway was carved a chalice with a snake inside, representing the legend that John’s enemies had tried to poison his wine. Her first kiss with Don had been inside that arch. Now she positioned herself there, under the snake, she shucked her dress and her lingerie. She felt pretty sinful but in a good way.

She heard Donovan’s hurried steps and her heart felt like it would burst free from her chest. She put her new fan at the ready, stray tendrils of soft feather tickling her neck, her nose, her nipples. Her pussy was so wet she thought she was dripping but that would be good. All she really wanted was for her husband to come like he used to. Loud and long and hard because he loved her and she turned him on. That wasn’t much to ask at all.

“Babe? But then he must have seen her because she heard his startled inhalation and then his footsteps stilled. “God. Let me see you.

Blair fought the urge to drop the fan and rush the fucking. The catch in his voice, the pure need she heard made her crazy. She took a deep breath and fluttered the fan, trying to remember the brief snippets of burlesque footage she had seen. All Don could see was her heels and her fan. The stroke of soft feathers over her naked skin was intoxicating. She revealed a shoulder and a leg, moving the fan so that he could never see too much of her.

“You’re gorgeous, you know that? Don said and she could hear him advancing, coming toward her.

She moved the fan upward, exposing a thigh, a bare hip, and thrusting out her leg, a hint of her ass cheek. Donovan growled and a slick flutter echoed in her pussy. She moved the fan to show her face, to take a peek at him. His face set in a dark expression that she hadn’t seen in a while. Like he may be a bit rough with her when it came time, without even realizing it.

“Show me.

Coyly, she shook her head and moved to expose a breast. Then the other. Then the bare swell of her belly and cunt. Quickly, dodging behind the fan, she stretched out a sleek calf, pointing her toe. She exposed a shoulder and the slope of her breast while keeping her nipple hidden. She did all of this with a growing sense of excitement that made her body feel tingly and airy.

“Blair, Donovan growled and her nipples went taut and her skin pebbled with goose bumps. His hands were in the fan and he pushed it down onto a stone bench behind her. His fingers slid into her in an instant. More than one, pressing, pressing, pressing her G-spot already and her knees went weak. “God, baby. I want you so bad.

He pushed her against the stone arch, forcing her thighs apart with his knee. He wrestled with his pants, freeing his cock with a series of grunts and low sounds that made her realize how very intent he was. How much he wanted to fuck her. And her pussy flickered and danced at the realization alone. He was so hard, she felt it as he leaned in to bite along the soft slope of her throat. So hard, pressing hotly against her thigh. Blair hooked her leg around his waist, the phantom feel of feathers brushing her skin as his fingers dug into the soft flesh at her hips. “Open for me, Don growled and she did. Sprawled her legs a bit more as he bent for a second and slammed into her. His cock hard and hot and the best thing she had ever felt.

“Baby, was all she could manage as he thrust so hard she felt her back scrape and start to bleed along the arch. But it was good, that bite of pain. How hard he was being. She liked when Donovan was rough with her. It was a secret thrill deep inside of her when he was like this. “Harder, she said, egging him on.

Donovan pinned her to the stone, his pelvis banging hers. His hipbones smacking hers in a painful little dance of flesh and bone. He pinned her hands above her head and the backs of her knuckles succumbed to the pebbled archway. She would be bruised and scratched and that was fine. She pulled him in harder with her leg as her cunt bunched up tight for an orgasm that would make every drop of blood spilled well worth the effort.

“Jesus Christ. I’m going to come, Dom ground out. His cock slammed her harder and harder, touching the deepest parts of her so that she felt the warm slow unraveling in her pussy.


“Come for me, Don. Come for me. She managed all of that as she came hard and loud the way he liked it.

Don followed suit. He bellowed, holding her hands hard and steady, thrusting high until his voice was nothing but a growling rusty noise in her ear. His teeth clamped into her flesh and he came. The way Blair had wanted. Rough like an animal. Hard like he’d die if he didn’t.

Voices carried across the overgrown expanse from one part of the church to the other. Donovan shielded he with her new treasure as she hurried into her clothes. “Best four hundred bucks ever, he said. His face was flushed but happy. Her face had stubble burn and her knuckles stung. Blair grinned.

“I have to get some peacock feathers in a vase for the living room.

“For what? Donovan took her hand and they walked lazily across the lawn that had been the site of their first date twenty four years before.

“Oh, I have plans, mister. Trust me. I have big, big plans.

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