Charles and Diana Ch. 01

Author's Note: The character of Diana Maitland was originally created for a serial story entitled "Encounters with John Wayne" in the Celebrities category. I so love this character that I just couldn't let her story end there...so now, here she is...about to become a "Loving Wife."

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Several weeks after Diana Maitland said good-bye to John Wayne, her big man, in March 1956, she was at an Irish-style Pub with her girlfriends in downtown Los Angeles on a Friday evening. At about 8:30, she noticed a man at the bar who kept staring at her with the same type of burning look that she used to see in the big man's eyes. He sort of reminded her of the way the big man had looked in "Rio Grande," but younger, about the same age as she—around 30-ish. This man had thick, dark brown hair and a mustache, and piercing grayish blue eyes under his heavy, expressive brows. Her pussy started to tingle slightly as she got the feeling he was envisioning things he wanted to do to her, and she was starting to envision things like that as well. Part of her heart stirred as the tingles between her legs started to spread up her spine.

When a couple men approached her and her girlfriends to ask if any of them wanted to play darts or something, she shook her head no but nodded at her girlfriends to go ahead, and she stayed seated at their table and kept glancing at the man staring at her. Her drink was empty so she got up and walked to the bar several feet away from him and set her glass down, and the bartender asked her if she wanted a refill. She nodded, so the bartender poured her another whiskey, neat, and she saw the man staring at her crook his eyebrow at her choice of drink—it looked eerily similar to the way the big man crooked his.

As she went to pay for her drink, the man got up and walked over to her telling the bartender that he was paying for it. She noticed he was a just a few inches shorter than the big man, but he seemed to have a sexy, manly physique—wide shoulders, a large chest and a tapered abdomen under his very business-like suit. He stared at her for a moment and then asked, "Are you here with any of the men you've been talking to tonight?" She shook her head no. "Do you have a boyfriend, fiancé, husband or lover?" Again she shook her head. Then he said in a deep, sexy voice that made her soul stir from a familiar echo, "Good. Then I won't have to beat the shit out of some man for messing with my future wife. I'm Charles Richards, and you belong to me now, pretty lady."

She was taken aback by his boldness at first, so she tried to walk away from him but he grabbed her hand and pulled her back and against him, wrapping her arm behind her back, and then kissed her, leaning her backwards—reminding her of the scene in "The Quiet Man" when Sean first kisses Mary Kate when he finds her in his cottage. Her pussy flooded with wetness when she felt his hard cock pressed against the front of her crotch, and she felt herself melting into him...all except for that piece of her heart that had already been claimed years ago by the first man of her dreams—John Wayne.

Diana put her face on Charles Richards' chest and took a few seconds to recover from the kiss that he planted on her. He had boldly told her that she was his future wife and belonged to him now...who the hell did he think he was? Mary Kate had gotten mad in that scene, and so did she, because she had felt his hard cock pressed against her and she thought maybe he was handing her some line because he just wanted to fuck her. She stepped back from him and swung her arm back to slap his face, which he fended off almost as well as John Wayne had in that scene, so she glared at him and said in her best Mary Kate imitation, "It's a bold one you are! And who gave you leave to be kissin' me!"

Charles looked surprised for a few seconds...ah, a fellow John Wayne fan! He was surprised, however, at her temper; she wasn't a redhead—she had the most beautiful, thick, wavy, golden blonde hair he'd ever seen—just like he'd always pictured on his "dream girl." But, he knew this scene, too, so he played along using his best John Wayne voice. "So, you can talk!"

She almost grinned...he was playing along! "Yes, I can, I will and I do! And it's more than talk you'll be gettin' if you step a step closer to me!" as she backed away from him toward the bar.

"Don't worry. You've got a wollop!"

"You'll get over it, I'm thinkin'!"

"Well, some things a man doesn't get over so easy."

"Like...what supposin'?"

He backed her up against the bar and put his arms on either side of her, bracing his hands on the edge of the bar as he said the next lines. "Like the sight of a girl comin' through the fields, with the sun on her hair. Kneeling in church with a face like a saint."

"Saint indeed!"

"And now come into a man's house to clean it for him."

"But...that was just my way of bein' a good Christian act."

"I know it was, Mary Kate Danaher. And it was nice of ya."

"Notatall." And though she couldn't escape through a door behind her, she stretched up and kissed him quickly, and then just stared at him, breathing heavily, as several people around them started to clap for their performance, and they grinned at each other.

She noticed his smile right away; he had a sexy, crooked grin with a dimple in his right cheek that made his grin look more boyish than John Wayne's—and she flashed on a distant memory of a boy with a dimple that she'd seen years back...but she couldn't remember where or when. She'd noticed his eyes while he'd been staring at her; they were almost exactly the same color as her own—sparkling, grayish blue that deepened in color slightly when a look of desire came into them. And now she noticed that he had the nicest eyelashes she had ever seen on a man; they were longer, thicker and curled more naturally than her own short, sparse, straight lashes—she envied his eyelashes.

Then he stepped back from her and took her hand as he glanced around at the people clapping for them and said to her, "Take a bow!" as he started to bend forward, so she curtsied a couple times. He turned around and picked up her forgotten drink on the bar and then led her over to the table she'd been sitting at and sat her in the chair she had been occupying most of the evening. He sat next to her on her left, and stared at her for a few seconds and then said, "Now, why did you try to slap me? You could've hurt your hand!" as he chuckled slightly.

Now she wished she didn't find herself so attracted to this man because he was really starting to irritate her with his smugness. She frowned at him and said, "You seem awfully sure of yourself and of me when you know nothing about me! How can you dare to presume that I belong to you and am going to be your wife? What makes you think that we would be suited for marriage when we know nothing about each other?"

He grinned smugly at her and said, "I know more about you than you may think, and I think you've seen enough in me to make you at least interested in getting to know me." When she frowned questioningly at him, he continued, "I know you're not originally from L.A. You have a slight southern accent that you haven't quite been able to get rid of, but it lends itself nicely to an Irish brogue. If I had to guess where you're from originally, I'd probably say Virginia...eastern Virginia...and you've probably been in L.A. for about...10 years now. Probably came all the way out here with stars in your eyes and wanting to get into show biz...but you changed your mind for some reason, even though you seem very talented.

You seem to be a sexy, confidant woman now, but you're still wary of some men so I know you've been hurt in the past, and something about your wary vulnerability tells me you've never been married before, but you have been in love...probably only once. You obviously have a specific qualification that you've been looking for in a man, and I think you've seen something of that in me from the way you've been looking at me since you noticed me staring at you. I think you're a huge John Wayne fan and that I remind you of him somehow—I can live with that because I'm a big fan of his, too.

I can also tell from how you try to keep your innate sexiness in check that you've had a bit of experience with sex, despite never having been married—but I don't care about that. I'm not looking for a nice, pure, chaste little wife—I want a woman who enjoys sex as much as I do and who knows what she wants and what she's doing in bed...or wherever! And I can tell from the way you're breathing heavier, how your face has flushed and how wide your eyes are that I'm pretty damn close, or maybe even hit the nail on the head."

As she listened to him describing her almost perfectly, she became nervous and wondered what, if anything, she should tell him about her relationship with the big man. She confirmed to him that he was, indeed, very accurate in his assessment of her and asked him how he could possibly have known that much about her from just staring at her across a crowded pub.

He explained that he has degrees in psychology and psychiatry and works as a special agent for the FBI specializing in observation of human behavior. During interrogations, he studies suspects' behaviors to determine whether or not they're lying and it helps lead the interrogation in knowing what questions to ask. He can tell a lot about a person just by observing them and their mannerisms closely, which was what he'd been doing with her all evening.

She frowned in disbelief at him when he said he was an FBI agent, so he pulled his ID and badge out of his inner jacket pocket and showed it to her. Then she noticed he was wearing a very official-looking dark suit with a crisp, white shirt and a non-descript tie; other than the mustache, which made him look very sexy, he did have the look of a government agent. Then she looked at him curiously and asked, "Why me? You couldn't find anyone else more interesting in here this evening to study than me?"

His eyes smoldered at her as he leaned toward her and answered her question quietly, "No. Because you are the first woman I have ever seen that...please pardon me for saying this...made me want you the second I saw you, and made me imagine doing all kinds of...unspeakable things to you," as he ran his eyes down her body and then back up to her face, his eyes now burning hotly.

Her pussy tingled as more wetness flowed between her legs, her breathing got even heavier and her eyelids lowered as the flames of desire came up in her eyes. He was trying to speak to her so...gentlemanly...even though the look in his eyes betrayed how badly he wanted her. Then she grinned sexily as she leaned even closer to him and said provocatively, "If we weren't in a crowded pub, would you tell me about those 'unspeakable things' you want to do to me? The one man I've ever been in love with was able to make me cum the first time just by talking dirty to me, telling me what he wanted to do to me...think you could do that as well?"

He raised his eyebrows and looked at her slightly shocked. While he'd figured she was sexually experienced and enjoyed sex, he hadn't thought about just how sexy and sensuous she might be. Her outward appearance was that of a sexy, but reserved, woman who would play the part of a proper lady in public but turn into a total sex kitten in the bedroom; and here she was telling him that some man had made her come just by talking dirty to her and she was asking him if he thought he could do that to her! He'd never talked dirty to a woman in his life, except once when he'd been very angry at his ex-wife just before they split up—he wasn't sure he could do it again!

She saw a look of slight shock come over his face; so he hadn't been able to read her completely...thank God! She'd hoped to be able to surprise him somehow! Then she sat back in her chair again as she continued to grin sexily at him and said, "Oh, damn. Now I've managed to shock you—I thought you said you knew me well. The big man tried to warn me about being too aggressive, and now I've probably scared you and you're re-thinking whether I'd make a good wife. Just to let you know, you're the first man since the big man to stir my heart and soul enough to make me consider marrying you—if you're still interested in me, that is."

Now he was frowning in confusion. She'd thrown him slightly when he realized she was even more sensual than he'd thought; and now she was telling him that he was the first man since "the big man" to stir her heart and soul enough to consider marrying him if he was still interested in her. Hell yes, he was still interested, but—who is this "big man" she's talking about? He looked at her with questions on his face and said, "I'm just a little shocked at how...sensual you are, and no, I'm not re-thinking wanting to marry you. But who is this 'big man' you keep referring to?" he asked curiously.

She took a deep breath and thought to herself, "Here it goes..." as she exhaled slowly, then said, "John Wayne. The only man I've ever loved. I call him 'big man' and he's been the man of my dreams since I was 15 years old. I had an...encounter with him a couple years ago that ended up being the most incredible experience of my life. He fell in love with me too, and we had a very special relationship...still do actually, though we aren't in contact any more since he's married again and his wife just gave birth to their first child. I went to his last movie premiere because he invited me, and we discovered that it was just too dangerous to be around each other any more because we still love and want each other, so we agreed to not be in contact any more.

We were together for only one weekend in April of '54, but we loved a lifetime's worth in those 3 days and I'll never forget every moment with him. He owns a piece of my heart still and always will, so if knowing that doesn't bother you, then I think I could love you almost as much as I do him."

By the time she finished telling him that, he was frowning in almost total disbelief. He couldn't tell whether she was telling the truth or not because there was such a dreamy look on her face at times that he was inclined to think this was more of a dream or fantasy that she was describing rather than something that could actually have happened. Then he laughed shortly and said, "Oh, come on. You actually expect me to believe that you had a weekend affair with John Wayne and that he fell in love with you? If that's true, then why didn't you marry him?"

"Marriage wouldn't have been good for us."

He stared at her in disbelief again. "Why would you think you couldn't make a good marriage with John Wayne? It couldn't possibly have been that the sex was bad because you said it was the most incredible experience of your life—or was it just that? The only thing you had going for you was that the sex was incredible?" Charles felt slight stirrings of jealousy as he thought about that, and wasn't sure he wanted to hear her answer—but she didn't answer.

"Just suffice it to say that we wouldn't have been good for each other in the long run. I've told you all I'm going to tell you about him and me. Either you believe me or you don't...it makes no difference to me as long as you don't try to hold it against me...if you still want me," she said quietly.

He sat back and tried to study her again to see if he could tell whether she was telling the truth about her brief encounter with "the big man"—as she had called John Wayne. It was obvious she had a big thing for "the big man" since she said he was the only man she had ever loved and dreamed about since she was 15 years old. But he still couldn't quite buy the story that she'd actually had sex with the man and that he'd fallen in love with her and then just let her go—that didn't sound like something he thought John Wayne would do!

He figured that she'd been candid about her feelings for John Wayne right away because she wanted him to understand that she was a HUGE fan and would want to go see every single one of his movies. Maybe she even had a shrine to the man in her home so she didn't want him to think she was crazy...maybe that's why she made up a story like that, so he wouldn't think she was just nuts because of her adoration for "the big man." That sounded like the most plausible explanation to him; he could live with her being crazy about a big star like John Wayne...as long as she didn't let it rule her life and it didn't get in the way of their future intimacy.

She'd been watching him studying her and trying to figure out if everything she told him was true. She could see on his face that he believed she was telling him the truth about her feelings for the big man, but he was having trouble with believing she actually had a relationship with him. Well, it didn't matter to her whether he believed her or not—she'd told him the truth, and if he didn't believe her, then she couldn't help that—and maybe it would keep him from asking too many questions about what had happened between her and the big man.

She had no intention of ever giving Charles Richards any intimate details about what had happened; if she actually ended up marrying Charles, what good would it do for him to know how incredible it had been between her and John Wayne? She felt his knowing that would only interfere with building any intimacy between the two of them. If Charles could satisfy her just half as well as the big man had and make her feel something of a connection with him, she would be thrilled. The few times she'd had sex over the last year or so had been just routine sex, but she needed more and Charles was the first man who'd stirred her at all since the big man.

He saw her looking at him like she was waiting for him to make up his mind on whether he still wanted her or not. Yes, he definitely wanted her...he'd never wanted another woman the way he wanted her from the first moment he laid eyes on her...no matter how crazy she might be over John Wayne. Her eyes were beginning to burn into him as much as he felt his were burning into her. He leaned toward her, handing her the glass of whiskey she hadn't touched yet and said firmly, "Finish your drink, pretty lady. I'll take you home before things heat up between us too much, too fast—we need to learn more about each other before we just jump into bed."

She grinned regretfully at him and sighed heavily, then threw her couple shots of whiskey into her mouth and gulped it down as she stood up with her purse on her arm, then held her hand toward him and said, "Lead the way, Kirby."

He'd stood up as soon as she had, and when she held her hand toward him and told him to lead the way and called him "Kirby," he frowned in confusion wondering why she called him that, and he saw her chuckling silently...she obviously wasn't going to tell him why she called him that. She was going to make him figure it out—if he could! Wait a second...she's a huge John Wayne fan and he'd said he was, too—she was challenging him to figure it out!

She hadn't denied that he reminded her of John Wayne in some way—probably one of his movie characters...which ones were named Kirby? Suddenly he remembered the movie "Rio Grande" in which Wayne's character was Col. Kirby Yorke, the same cavalry officer from "Fort Apache"; he'd had dark hair and a mustache and Maureen O'Hara had played his wife in that movie as well—her name had been Kathleen. And he recalled a scene where Kirby had entered his tent after returning from hunting some escaped Indians and found Kathleen waiting for him in the dark; he had grabbed her and kissed her passionately, spinning her to the side as he crushed her body to his and his lips to hers. Then he'd released her and said he was sorry and then told her he'd take her home.