Finding Dandi Read online

  Finding Dandi

  By Sable Hunter

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright ©Pending Sable Hunter

  All rights reserved.

  FINDING DANDI

  PROLOGUE

  Meet Lucas Dane Wagner

  Lucas at Work

  “I am here to help you, Lana. There is no reason you can’t enjoy your sex life.” Leaning back in his leather chair, he studied the pretty blonde woman sitting in front of him, folding and refolding the hem of her skirt. She was so nervous; there was no need to be.

  “My husband is getting very put out with me. I love his touch, but it’s a vicious circle. The harder I try to please him, the more frustrated I become. He wants me to have an orgasm, and I just can’t. I’m so afraid he’s going to divorce me.” She began to cry.

  This was a sad story Lucas had heard too often. Couples would experience one setback, maybe premature ejaculation or a failure to climax. This disappointment would lead to another episode, and soon the expectation to fail would spiral out of control. “Lana, your husband loves you. He told me so. Let’s get him in here, I have some suggestions for you both that I think will help, I promise.”

  He pressed the call button for his secretary and asked her to send Gary Peters in to join his wife. In a few seconds the tall, sandy-haired male came in, looking extremely uncomfortable. No matter how advanced or progressive society became, people always hesitated to discuss or confess their sexual short-comings. Especially men. “Sit, please.” He motioned toward the other large wing-back chair in front of his desk.

  Lucas loved sex – he craved it. Bringing a woman to orgasm was the crowning joy in his life. His chosen field of work was meant to help other people learn the satisfaction and fulfillment that only sexual intimacy can bring.

  “Hi, Honey,” Lana touched her husband’s hand. He smiled back. Lucas smiled, too. He could help these people.

  “Okay, I want to set your minds at ease. We can fix this. You two are very fortunate. There is an abundance of love and desire in your relationship, all we have to do is get you to relax and let it happen.”

  “We try . . .” Lana began, but Lucas held up his hand.

  “This is what I want you to do tonight.” They both looked at him, anxiously. “I want you to have a relaxing dinner and remind yourself why you fell in love. Laugh together, remember your wedding, or the first time you met. Hold hands on the couch. Gary, give your wife a back rub. Treat one another with respect and flirt a little bit.”

  “That doesn’t sound too hard, but will it work?” Lana cut her eyes at her husband, as if asking him to back up her concern. Unfortunately, most people wanted him to prescribe a pill for what ailed them instead of admitting that the problem was one that required a change in behavior or attitude.

  “I’m not finished,” he assured them. “When you get ready to go to bed, I want you to try this – Gary you sit up in the bed, leaning back against the headboard. Spread your legs and let Lana sit in between them with her back against your front.” He knew the more specific his instructions, the more inclined they would be to follow them.

  “What?” Lana flushed pink and put her hands over her warm cheeks.

  “It’s okay, Darling,” Gary touched her arm. “We need to try.”

  “I know, I’m just embarrassed.”

  “Don’t be,” Lucas sympathized. “This is a common problem, and what I’m asking you to do will work. Gary, Lana’s only role during this exercise is to feel pleasure. And your only role is to give pleasure.” He smiled at the young couple. “Of course, Gary is a man, Lana. Giving you pleasure is going to be a bigger turn-on than anything he has ever experienced.”

  “God, that sounds good,” Gary groaned and Lana blushed anew.

  Lucas continued with his directions. “While Lana is relaxing against you, Gary, what I want you to do, is to begin to touch her. Rub her shoulders and arms. Kiss her neck, put your hands on her breasts and massage them. Take her nipples between your fingers and play with them.”

  “Hell,” Gary groaned. Even Lana leaned forward, hanging on his every word.

  “Lana, you turn your head and seek his lips. If something feels good, let him know. Whimpers and moans of pleasure, compliments to one another – all of these things will fuel your desire.”

  “Sounds like it.” Gary agreed.

  “When Lana is unable to be still in your arms, you’ll know she is aroused. Slip your hand between her legs and massage her vulva. Rub her clit around and around – don’t worry about trying to penetrate her, just focus on making her feel wonderful.” He left it there. If it worked like he thought it would, Lana would be brought to orgasm and beg her husband to make love to her.

  “We’ll try it now!” Gary stood up and held out his hand. He was anxious to get home, and from the bloom in Lana’s cheeks – she was anxious to join him. Lucas watched them leave, wishing he had someone waiting at home for him. One day, one day he would.

  Pushing up from his chair, he went to the window and looked out at the bustling scene. The view from his office was downtown Little Rock. From where he stood, he could see a panorama of the city - the Clinton Presidential Library, the River Market District and the scenic Arkansas River. The whole area was a happening place full of trendy restaurants, museums, art galleries and expensive boutiques. This town had been good to him, but it was almost time to move on. After graduating from Tulane University in New Orleans, he had performed his residency here at the illustrious Anderson Clinic, renowned for its groundbreaking work in psychiatric care and intimacy issues. But his residency was over. It was time for him to make his mark in the world.

  Lucas was pleased with his progress. So far, his life was on schedule. He had many people to thank for that, one man in particular - Dr. Fredrich Solomon. Dr. Solomon had been his favorite professor, and soon would be his business associate, hopefully. If the creek didn’t rise and hell didn’t freeze over, everything was on track for him to be offered a partnership. The only thing holding it up was his meeting with the board on Valentine’s Day, just over two weeks away. They were so impressed with him that they were flying in from various parts of the country to interview him here in Little Rock. Not many young doctors were afforded such an honor.

  Dr. Solomon had been his mentor and his inspiration. Lucas had tried to live his life based on his wise friend’s words and example. One lecture had really hit home. “Most people are complicated. They war with themselves. Their hearts and minds are torn in two different directions. Some struggle with who they are and who they wish they were. Others battle disappointment in what they have become and who they used to be. Very few people are simple and straight forward. We all harbor natures we have to tame or tendencies we have to control. I am not necessarily speaking of something as radical as a Jekyll/Hyde syndrome; I’m speaking of the ordinary, everyday task of being the master of our fate and the captain of our soul. Only you can decide who you are and what you want to accomplish in this world. Only you can conquer your demons and move forward in the direction you wish to go.”

  He had agreed with every word his mentor said, for he was two people. The first Lucas was the dedicated, determined doctor-to-be. His dream was to be a viable, needed part of a community where he could hold his head up and walk among his neighbors, peers and patients knowing that he was someone they could respect and depend upon.

  Turning from the window, he walked to the coffeepot, pouring himself a strong cup of rich brew. The second Lucas was more complicated, he was vulnerable. A scene fro
m his childhood raised its ugly head. “Keep your filthy hands off of me,” his mother had screamed at his poor father. “I’ll go where I please, with whom I please. I’ll sleep where I want to and with who I want to, and you and this worrisome brat can like it or lump it.”

  Lucas had neither liked it nor lumped it; he had suffered through it and vowed before God in heaven that his life would be different.

  Everyone’s past molds their future. Lucas was no different. Returning to his desk, he opened a drawer, and took out a worn picture of himself and his parents. It was not a formal portrait; there had never been money or opportunity for his small family to visit a real photographer. This casual shot had been taken by his grandmother one Christmas. The man and the woman who tried to smile for the camera only managed to look miserable; and he, sitting between them, had known how unhappy they were. Children always knew. In this photo, he had been seven years old.

  Lucas threw the image down on his desk. Memories of coming home to an empty house every day came flooding back. There would be nothing to eat in the refrigerator except ketchup and bread, and he’d have to pick up the liquor bottles and dirty dishes off the kitchen table so he’d have a place to eat his meal and do his homework.

  He remembered the arguments and the fights his parents had. He remembered the neighbors standing on their porches to listen and watch the spectacle of Della and Wayne Wagner as they hurled insults and accusations at one another. Sometimes their battles would be played out in the front yard. When they had warred with one another, they hadn’t cared who heard or how their child was affected. Sadly, the accusations they threw at one another were true. His mother was blatantly unfaithful to her husband and his father drank himself to death because of it.

  She hadn’t even tried to hide her infidelity, strange men would bring her home night after night and several times he and his dad would be called to come pick her up from strip clubs or bars when she would be stranded and drunk, too broke to call a cab home.

  Lucas had survived. He had even thrived, but he had made the decision early that his life would be different. Respectability, stability and tradition would define his world. Never would he allow a child of his to wonder when his mother was coming home or have to defend her reputation to his friends or classmates. His family would be cherished and adored. To make that happen, Lucas intended to marry the perfect woman – a woman who would put home and hearth above all else, a woman with high morals, whose greatest ambition in life was to make a haven for him and their children.

  “Lucas, your three o’clock is here.” The voice over the intercom was welcome. He enjoyed his job. In a few moments, he was joined by a young man seeking his help for inadequacy issues, and he was determined to give it.

  Meet Dandi Lyn Alexander

  Dandi at Fifteen

  “You are going to have a wonderful life, Dandi.” Miss Etta led the way through the thick pine trees at the back of her property. “I just wish I was going to be around to see it.”

  “Don’t say that, Miss Etta,” she followed along behind the tall grey-haired woman who had been her salvation. “I need you, I’ll always need you.” Beneath their feet the straw and leaves were so thick that Dandi had to jump through it at times. Cockle-burrs stuck to the legs of her jeans. How Miss Etta managed to glide through the underbrush without even getting a twig stuck in her frilly purple sundress was a mystery.

  “Look,” the older lady pointed at a small hill, deftly changing the subject. Her days were numbered, but she still had some time left to spend with Dandi. “Do you know what that is?”

  “No,” Dandi never doubted that it was more than it appeared to be, Miss Etta’s world was full of knowledge and wonder. She covered her eyes with her hand, shading them from the bright afternoon sun.

  “It’s a Native American burial mound – right here, on my property. There are three of them,” she pointed out more small hills in the distance. Her proper, soft voice was filled with pride. Miss Etta had a hint of a southern drawl, but it was tempered by decades of exposure to other cultures, dealing with varied people in cities around the world. “I’ve contacted the government and the Forest Service. I would like for an archaeologist to come and investigate this area.”

  Dandi was fascinated. She walked slowly around the gentle rise. “Are people buried here? Really?” Visions of chiefs in war, colorful bonnets and squaws tending fires outside their wigwams sprung from her imagination.

  “Perhaps,” Miss Etta’s voice changed. She was going into story mode. Dandi loved it when Miss Etta taught her things. “There are many theories concerning these mounds. Some feel they were part of rituals, others think they were sanctuaries. We don’t really know, and they can’t be disturbed without being destroyed. I want them preserved and recognized.”

  As they walked together, Dandi spotted a small arrowhead. “May I pick it up?”

  “Yes,” she was given permission, so she reached down to get it and handed it to the other woman. “This would have been used to hunt birds, perhaps by a child no older than you.”

  “Did girls hunt also?”

  “Sometimes, I think. These people would have done whatever was necessary for their survival. Let’s sit and imagine what their life might have been like. Take out your sketch pad and draw what your instinct tells you.” Dandi took her bright orange backpack off and drew out her precious paper and pencils. Plopping down beside her friend who sat on a stump worn smooth by time and wind, Dandi drew her knees up and steadied the pad. As Miss Etta talked, she drew. “This land was populated by Native Americas as far back as 2900 B.C., almost four thousand years ago. Soon, I will take you over to Poverty Point near Vicksburg and let you climb the Bird Mound. But for now, picture the families – hunting, fishing, making pottery and laughing as they cooked around the campfires. These were real people, who loved and lived and bore children and died – right here.”

  That day, Dandi decided she wanted to be an archaeologist when she grew up. Dancing and painting were wonderful hobbies and she enjoyed trying to do what Miss Etta taught her, but discovering the past and learning about people and places long gone struck a chord in her that nothing else had ever done.

  When she was out and about with her friend like this, Dandi could forget what her home life was like. Since her father had passed away, her world had crumbled. Her mom had worked so hard – leaving Dandi alone most of the time. And when she had remarried, a whole new set of problems had emerged. She had even been forced to give up her dear father’s last name, LeBlanc and take her new stepfather’s name – Alexander. She hated it.

  Home wasn’t safe for Dandi anymore.

  So, she clung to Miss Etta. Every day she escaped into worlds that she would have never known if not for this gracious woman who shared her time and life with Dandi. Ballet, modern dance, art, music – Dandi was like a sponge, absorbing everything she was offered. Most of all, she absorbed the love.

  “Remember, Dandi,” her mentor patted the ground beside her, and she scooted closer to the older lady who was kind to the young, gangly teenager. “No matter what the years bring, you will know what you are capable of accomplishing. You are talented, more so than any young woman I have ever worked with.” Her words brought warmth to Dandi’s cheeks. Miss Etta was classy, a retired professor who still longed to impart tidbits of wisdom to those who would listen. “One day, you’ll have a family and a man who loves you. There is nothing in this world that is not within your grasp. My wish for you is this: always remember who you are and always remember you have great value. Never let anyone make you feel less important than you are. You are an amazing girl. You, Dandi Alexander are worthy to be loved.”

  As Miss Etta spoke her tender words of encouragement, Dandi dreamed about what her life would be like. She wanted to make a difference in this world, and she wanted to be loved. Surely, that was not too much to ask.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “It’s your choice; you can go to jail or strip in my club.”

&nbsp
; Dandi hugged herself tightly, her body was covered with goose bumps and very few of them were due to the icy cold that seeped through the cracks in the window behind Romero’s paper strewn desk. For a moment she stared at the window, it looked as hopeless as she felt - the glass had been painted a dirty tan to keep people from seeing into the building. She wanted to cry, but she refused to give these idiots the satisfaction. “I didn’t steal your damn money.”

  “The evidence says otherwise,” drawled Officer Cahill, who was so overweight that just walking across the room winded him. He grinned at Tony Romero, who was lounging back in the oversize chair, his feet up on the rickety desk. Some women would probably consider Romero good-looking, but Dandi thought he was disgusting – slick and arrogant. His swarthy complexion and close-cropped dark hair reminded her of the typical villain in every gangster movie she had ever seen, and here she was living out the familiar plot-line in full cinematic color.

  Dandi’s skin crawled as she felt Romero’s gaze slither across her body. The near-to-nothing sequined blue uniform he required the waitresses to wear left little to the imagination, consisting only of a halter top and short-shorts. Could stripping be much worse? Still, the idea of baring her body to every leering Tom, Dick or Harry that slunk into Club Tonga made her sick. “Your evidence was planted.” With more courage than she felt, she raised her head and stared the crook in the eye.

  Romero didn’t comment upon her accusation, instead he turned to Cahill and lifted one eyebrow. Cahill was on Romero’s payroll, she knew it and so did everyone else who came into the club. Now, he did Romero’s talking for him. “Do you want to explain that to a judge? We know you have a record.”

  Knowing when she was beat, Dandi dropped her head and closed her eyes. Why did life have to be so hard? Nervously she rubbed her hand over the small tattoo on the back of her neck. Just knowing the tiny phoenix was there usually gave her strength. She had risen from the ashes more than once, but this obstacle appeared to be insurmountable.