From Rum to Roots by Lloyd G. Francis

Author:Lloyd G. Francis
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-9892161-2-8
Publisher: Marway Publishing

It was still dark outside and Daisy wasn’t sure how it got started. All she knew was that Miles’s touch felt wonderful and, for the first time, made her hunger for more. He was loving her, kissing, licking, and nibbling all over her body, exploring, until overcome with desire, she pushed him down on the bed and in the inky darkness, responded to his needs. To their needs. His hands, capable of such violence, gently caressed her body as she straddled him, moving up and down, urging him to completion. He responded both quickly and with restraint and now, changing the dominance of their positions, entered her swiftly, softly, deeply, leaving her breathlessly gasping for air.

It was happening so fast. She held onto him, his broad chest covering her as his thrusts intensified, back and forth. This was what she so desperately desired: to make love to her man, feeling him inside her, sharing the communion of flesh. She heard herself cry out, enjoying the privilege of raw, untamed passion. Her mind went blank, she felt herself slipping into a trance, when suddenly she moved beyond control and her body trembled, shook with spasms of pleasure.

Looming above and within, her lover became rigid, his arms wrapped securely around her, as he sought his own summit, his muscles contracting and exploding with potential life and sublime gratification. Afterward, they held each other, suspended in time, the sheets soaked with sweat and the strong aroma of sex permeating the room. Daisy did not want this moment to end. But dawn was coming and the children would soon be up. She sat up and looked into her lover’s eyes. What she saw made time stop, and her lips opened in a silent scream.

It was Wilbur.

Daisy awoke abruptly. She felt a deep disgust. Her body had betrayed her. She looked over at the bed. Miles was gone. It had only been a dream. She got up and dressed, then prepared to take care of the children.

Wilbur had died one year ago, but he continued to live on in Daisy’s dreams. He had passed away in agony, curled up in a fetal position on his deathbed, racked with abdominal pain and vomiting blood. It was never determined what exactly killed him. In the face of her mother’s grief she comforted Rose but took secret pleasure in watching Wilbur suffer. Seeing Rose fret and spend money trying to find a cure upset Daisy, making her pray for Wilbur’s death which came, mercifully for him, in 1948. Daisy rejoiced, thinking she was free, but the memories remained, to wander the corridors of her mind. Even now, four years after he raped her, the slightest provocation could set her trembling.

After getting the children dressed, she took them to Rose, and went to church for Confession.

The aroma of incense filled the church and initially she’d felt reassured. She looked at the other parishioners, here for confession. Most were old, dark-skinned women, bent with age, but there were few young people in the motley group.

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