A Sensual Saturday Read online

  A Sensual Saturday

  The Zelda Diaries, Book 6

  By Olivia Gaines

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One- Sorting Through the Debris

  Chapter Two – Welcome Doggone It!

  Chapter Three- Sorting Through the Debris

  Chapter Four – Vamos a la Playa

  Chapter Five – Settle Down...Settle Down

  Chapter Six – The Root of All Anger

  Chapter Seven – A Sensual Saturday

  Chapter Eight – A Rousing Sunday

  Chapter Nine – A Marvelous Monday

  Chapter Ten – Not Yet

  Buckeye and the Babe

  Chapter 1

  About the Author: Olivia Gaines

  Davonshire House Publishing

  PO Box 9716

  Augusta, GA 30916

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s vivid imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely a coincidence.

  © 2018 Olivia Gaines, Cheryl Aaron Corbin

  Copy Editor: Teri Thompson Blackwell

  Cover: Nu Class Graphicz

  Olivia Gaines Make Up and Photograph by Latasla Gardner Photography

  ASIN:

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means whatsoever. For information address, Davonshire House Publishing, PO Box 9716, Augusta, GA 30916.

  Printed in the United States of America

  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 10 9 8

  First Davonshire House Publishing February 2018

  DEDICATION

  For all of my Zelda’s. Tell us your stories. You can heal. You have a voice.

  “Easy reading is damn hard writing.”

  - Nathaniel Hawthorne

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  A special thank you to the Tuesday Sushi Club, Jessica and Hildie, for keeping me grounded.

  To all the fans, friends and supporters of the dream as well as the Facebook community of writers who keep me focused, inspired and moving forward.

  Write On!

  Also by Olivia Gaines

  The Slice of Life Series

  The Perfect Man

  Friends with Benefits

  A Letter to My Mother

  The Basement of Mr. McGee

  A New Mommy for Christmas

  The Slivers of Love Series

  The Cost to Play

  Thursday in Savannah

  Girl's Weekend

  Beneath the Well of Dawn

  Santa’s Big Helper

  The Davonshire Series

  Courting Guinevere

  Loving Words

  Vanity's Pleasure

  The Blakemore Files

  Being Mrs. Blakemore

  Shopping with Mrs. Blakemore

  Dancing with Mr. Blakemore

  Cruising with the Blakemores

  Dinner with the Blakemores

  Loving the Czar

  The Value of a Man Series

  My Mail Order Wife

  A Weekend with the Cromwell’s

  Other Novellas

  North to Alaska

  The Brute & The Blogger

  A Better Night in Vegas

  Other Novels

  A Menu for Loving

  Turning the Page

  Chapter One- Sorting Through the Debris

  Zelda Fitzsimmons sat behind the desk in her corner office lined with glass windows, looking down at the street of busy bees milling in and out of their collective hives. Individual drones carried bits of pollen on their little feet to give to the queens in the hives where they hummed through the days and evenings trying to regurgitate enough honey to satisfy the taskmasters. She was no different.

  A notepad filled with comments, dates, times, images, and backstories held her hostage and unable to move in an effort to add her bit of contribution to the collective. Many of the main stories had already been submitted to her boss Nathan Ridgeway and would come out in next month’s edition of The Hobbyist Magazine where she had worked for the past eight years. Other stories would be added to the company’s blog, and some, she saved to add to her own or sell to other companies and online hobby sites. Curiosity compelled her to go online to scout out the Berger Vent blog and online magazine, and truthfully, it could use some help. She added a note to her planner to speak with Scott about the matter when she would see him next.

  Next?

  Why does it have to be next?

  Why am I not in Kentucky starting my life with this man? It’s simple, stupid lady, he hasn’t asked you to marry him yet. Maybe you are too messed up and he is having second thoughts.

  She hadn’t seen him in a nearly a month, but he called often with no changes in his voice or attitude towards her. That was a good sign, but he also was not making any moves to come see her or have her come see him. Until he offered or suggested it, she wasn’t planning to impose on his world although she missed him more than a dog missed its favorite bone. She was missing his bone as well. It would take almost everything in her willpower to not drop his trousers and gnaw on it when she did get the chance to see her big hairy hunk. Zelda felt like permanently attaching herself to it, tugging it around as she went about her day, but that would be awkward for them both. They wouldn’t get anything accomplished if that were the case.

  Unlike Pip, who had attached herself to Zelda’s world and seemed to be everywhere Zelda went like aspergillus, silently clogging up her lungs and prohibiting her ability to breathe freely. She loved having a new BFF, but honestly, a break was needed from the ball of positive energy. Zelda craved an upbeat, positive hiatus from her work life, as well as a break from her world and a definite break from her home life. The home, which had once been her refuge from the world, had been transposed into a war zone between her grandmother, Pip, and Wilke.

  It was a shock to her system when she boarded the plane from Vegas to Houston to also see Pip boarding the flight for Zelda’s hometown. Diamond, the quickly growing little puppy given to her by Scott, sat in the carrier in Zelda’s lap, quiet, afraid, and listening to all the hullabaloo of humans trying to find a seat while shoving carry-ons in the overhead compartments. Pip’s presence felt the same way as if Zelda was being shoved into a tiny hole with a letdown top, stowing away for a free trip to Zeldaland. Thankfully, they were not seated together. Tons of frequent flyer miles allowed Zelda to upgrade her seat to first class to give herself a modicum of distance from the red-headed ball of energy.

  The two, however, shared a Lyft back to the house, and both rode in silence, observing the devastation left by Hurricane Harvey. Entire neighborhood streets were lined with contaminated debris from water-damaged sheetrock and molding carpets, and furniture pieces adorned the long streets down rows of sidewalks and lawns. Bit and pieces of individual lives and livelihoods were exposed to the world by sitting outside, the visible damage to daily life from a rushing of water that left tons of pain and confusion. It all seemed so surreal to Zelda. The saddened faces mourned the loss of items and cutaway half walls soaked by water inside of the places which these busy bees called home. To her, the physical damage of losing the interior of a home was easier to quantify than the loss or lack of a mother’s love. The therapist in Vegas had told her that.

  In two months of therapy with one Whitney DeNoid, PhD, MD, and overly judgmental pain in her ass therapist, Zelda was informed of this as well as other tidbits of knowledge offering insights into her trauma that she never really bothered to qualify, let alone quantify, as if pretending it didn’t exist made the agony invisible. It wasn’t invisible or able to be cut away by the physical stains left by a floodtide of fetid water, but very real. In two months, she had an opportunity to address the issues head-on, but the healing would take much longer. She realized this much, even with having the psychiatric label of maternal deprivation to define her issues, it didn’t do much good. Avoidance of personal relationships is how she’d lived her life until Scott came along with his “in your face, you will love, and adore me” stance.

  She did love him as well as adore him, pushing herself beyond the limits of acceptance of the pain, by being stronger than she ever realized. However, that strength faltered when the car pulled into the driveway and Grandma Lula was standing on the front porch. A cup of condemnatory tea was in Lula’s hands as she eyed Pip and her two suitcases, one which held her Pip doll and the other changes of clothing for her stay. Zelda had no idea how long the ventriloquist carrying, Pippi Longstocking's afficiando, planned to be in Houston, but with the two women sharing one roof, she prayed it wouldn’t be an extended stay by either of them.

  “Hello, Grandma,” Zelda said, giving the old Bible thumper a brief smile, but Lula’s eyes were on Pip.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Lula asked the fiery redhead.

  “In the house to spend time with the man that I haven’t seen in nearly three weeks. How are you, Ms. Lula?” Pip asked. She stood in front of Lula with her shoulders squared, her bright blue eyes challenging the old woman as her thin, low cut blouse showed off her pale, almost translucent skin over her breast. The jeans she wore were skin tight, giving an obvious impression of her woman parts.

  “Feeling sick to my stomach,” Lula told Pip, curling up her lip at the sight of the suitcases.

  “Well, maybe you should add a few eyes of newt to your cup as well as dust off your broom so you can get moving about your day,” Pip said, walk
ing by her. “I brought you back a small gift from Las Vegas and once I unpack, I’ll make sure I give it to you.”

  “What makes you think I want your sin-covered gift purchased from a city reeking from one end of the street to the next avenue in debauchery? It’s like a modern-day Sodom and Gomorrah,” Grandma Lula said, following behind Pip. Truthfully, she wanted to see what the girl had brought her back. Zelda traveled often and never brought her back anything from various conferences and cities. Pip wasn’t that way. Each time she came for a visit, she always brought Lula a small token.

  “It is Las Vegas, Ms. Lula. Sodom, as well as Gomorrah, are long gone cities along with many of your antiquated beliefs. However, I brought you a tchotchke to let you know I thought enough of you to take the time, look for a unique present and spend my hard-earned money to buy you a gift. Thank you would be nice, even if you don’t like the item,” Pip said.

  “Hmmpff,” Grandma Lula said., following her down the hall to Michael’s side of the house.

  “...In everything give thanks,” Pip said to Grandma Lula, who sputtered her mouthful of tea. “See you are not the only one who knows the Bible.”

  “Satan knows it inside and out, too,” Grandma Lula spat back.

  “I’m sure you do, but if you are going to hide behind the Word, at least pretend you actually understand it by living and showing it in your actions,” Pip said, stepping inside into Michael’s bedroom, sighing at the sight of the vibrating chair he’d purchased. The bed was a welcome sight and she wanted to flop down on it and sleep until he got home, but she couldn’t.

  It would be a few hours before Michael came in from work and Pip was intent upon starting him a nice dinner, turning down the bed, and preparing for a night of becoming the man’s personal sprinkler hose. Pip hummed as she went about the business of putting away her things, then heading to the kitchen and waiting to see what was taken from the freezer for dinner. She frowned at the selections Grandma Lula had laid out. None of the foods went together, making her put back several items and selecting others to balance out the meal.

  “I took out what I planned to cook my grandson for dinner,” Grandma Lula said indignantly.

  “I know, but he said he had a craving for what I’m going to make tonight, so I’m sorry, Ms. Lula, I didn’t mean to step on your toes,” Pip said, still humming, still putting away the items, all the while moving around Grandma Lula as if she weren’t in the room. The old lady stood in the middle of the kitchen floor like a broken oven, heating herself up, ready to burn whoever touched her, but Pip, accustomed to the stubbornness of her own mother, saw Lula as only a mild nuisance.

  “If you think for one minute I’m staying under this roof with the two of you fornicating in my face, you have another thing coming!” Grandma Lula said.

  “Oh wow, you found somewhere to live already? That is great news,” Pip said, looking at the carrots taken from the pantry that she planned to simmer in brown sugar and Bourbon for dinner.

  Grandma Lula puffed up her chest at the sight of the Bourbon, her calico plaid shirt straining against her righteous indignation. Lula yelled at Pip, “You ain’t putting no evil spirits in the vegetables, you redheaded Heathen!”

  “I am making these carrots just like I planned and you can eat something else. I sent Michael this Bourbon all the way from Kentucky for him to enjoy on special occasions. Tonight is a special occasion for the two of us,” she said, stopping to look at Grandma Lula. “Do you have some pickled bat wings, frog legs, or lizard gizzards you want to simmer in your stew pot?”

  That was just the first day of Pip’s arrival. It had been a week of misery and snarky comments between the two, each becoming cleverer each day in their barbs. Zelda even caught Pip one day writing down potential insults with biblical references to sling at her Grandmother and Lula, each morning after prayers, seemed to go into physical training preparing for her daily bouts with the redhead. At the end of the week, when Pip had to leave, Lula seemed disappointed, taking a well-placed jab at Pip’s gut.

  “Did they put out an APB for you at the trailer park?” Grandma Lula asked, holding the prayer cloth in her hand that Pip had given her.

  “Yep. Three-toothed Bubba, Cyrus, and Jimmy Joe all are missing the ride on the redheaded fun train. Since I know you’re going to miss me too, I’m going to call you once a week just to make sure you aren’t poisoning anybody with your cooking or scaring off the neighborhood kids with that taut face of yours. More importantly, I just need to make sure no one drops a house on you when you fly out to get the mail,” Pip said, giving Lula a warm hug and a kiss on her cheek.

  To Zelda’s surprise, her Grandmother returned the affection. It was weird watching the two interact as if they had a secret language for some exclusive club that Zelda didn’t comprehend. Even worse, she wasn’t a part of the comradery. Somehow, the two women managed to find a system of communicating without either giving any grounds on their stands. She prayed she would be able to do the same with her mother-in-law to be, a woman she had yet to meet.

  ZELDA CLICKED HER MOUSE to send the last file from the conferences in Vegas to the editor. Staring at her phone, she willed it to ring, hoping that Scott would call, telling her to pack a bag for the weekend. An entire scenario ran in her head of him whisking her away to some little remote spot on an island, just the two of them for a weekend of love. She was grinning so hard that she barely noticed the vibration of her phone. Holy shit! It was Scott!

  Sound cool.

  Sound detached.

  “Zelda Fitzsimmons,” she said as she answered the line, her heart hammering in her chest from the excitement of knowing he was calling.

  “Hey Zee, how are you doing?” Scott said calmly as if he were about to give her the bad news.

  “I’m doing great. What’s up, Big Guy?” She tried desperately to maintain her cool façade, but it was about to shatter. She silently prayed that he wasn’t calling to break up with her and tell her to meet him so he could politely let her go. No Scott Berger! You are calling me to whisk me away for the weekend to a remote sunny beach, where we can spend the next four and a half days loving each other! This was her free weekend. Once she left the office today, she didn’t have to be back until Wednesday. Scott knew the schedule.

  “It’s your free weekend, and if you have no plans, I was planning to steal you away for a couple of days,” Scott said, listening to the silence in the line.

  “Sounds good. Tell me when and where,” Zelda said, pumping the air with one fist in excitement.

  “Uhmm, did you bring Diamond?” He asked softly.

  “Yes, she is here playing with a ball in my office,” Zelda said, wondering where this was going.

  “Grab your purse, puppy, and your hmmm, and bring them to me, Baby,” he said, lowering the octaves in his voice.

  “Why, Scott Berger, is that your attempt at talking dirty to me?” she asked, running her nail along the edge of the desk, her nipples hardening at the thought of his mouth on them, sucking, bringing them both pleasure.

  “I plan to do a lot more than talk. Look up Zelda. Is Chandler walking through the door?” Scott asked.

  Zelda’s head popped up from behind the computer screen, looking at the elevator as the doors opened. No one stepped out but a maintenance man. She took it as Scott’s attempt at humor. He was trying to be funny.

  “Not funny, Scott, plus I have no clothes, nothing packed, and no extra food or treats for Diamond,” she said, bordering on disappointment that Chandler wasn’t stepping off the elevator.

  “Seriously, Chandler will be arriving at any second to pick you two up. Don’t worry about the clothes− I will treat you to whatever you need for the weekend,” Scott told her.

  Her eyes were down on the floor watching the adorable puppy Scott had given her two months ago as a therapy dog. She wanted to ask where they were going, but instead, she relinquished the need to have control over the moment he was attempting to create for them. Today was a new day. Zelda Fitzsimmons planned to walk in the light, hold onto the moment and enjoy life as it evolved.

  “I will be ready when he arrives,” she said with an upbeat note in her voice.

  “Zee? You haven’t told me that you miss me or that you love me and can’t wait to see me,” Scott said.