Always

As told to Jezebel Jorge

This story was channeled to Jezebel from her
spirit guide Odessa, with a little help from her Beloved.

Copyright 2014 by Jezebel Jorge

Cover art by Jezebel Jorge

Published by Jezebel Jorge at Smashwords

Discover other titles by Jezebel Jorge
at:

http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/jezebeljorge

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enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to
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Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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

Pro wrestler, Graham Edwards, takes his mom
out for a belated Mother’s Day lunch to introduce her to his red
haired witchy mistress, Odessa. As if that is not shocking enough,
the recently widowed Mrs. Edwards also learns her favorite son’s
tumultuous affair with an empathic medium has resulted in something
she never saw coming… a seven-month-old granddaughter.

Table of
Contents

Blurb

Message from Odessa

Always

Message from Jezebel

Preview Fly Away

About the Author

Dear Readers,

If you've read Jezebel Jorge's Ring Dreams
series, you might perhaps remember a character named Odessa. Those
stories were conceived and written before I introduced myself to
Jezebel and informed her that I am her spirit guide.

That's right, I was once a real person who
walked among the living. I was born on a full moon Samhain in 1944
and succumbed to a horrible death in August of 1985. When Jezebel
was writing her first story she happened to stumble across my
tombstone in a cemetery in Raleigh, North Carolina. She saw my name
and instantly knew that Odessa was the perfect name for the ghost
in her Ring Dreams series.

The whole Ring Dreams series is fiction. I
fed Jezebel little tidbits of my previous life which did work their
way into these hot witchy tales. An example of this would be
William Fletcher. William is the embodiment of the two men I loved
most. You're going to be introduced to both these men as my real
story unfolds.

Amalie really was my daughter. As in
Shattered, she was raped and impregnated, possibly due to my
irresponsible parenting. I suffered a mental breakdown over the
loss of my Beloved that horrid January. The rest of the story –
Rowan's birth, the Daltons, the Fletchers, Paul Bryson. That's all
total and complete fiction.

Little did Jezebel know that I would appear
to her in March of 2011 and slowly begin to tell her my real story.
Names have been changed to protect those I loved along with the not
so innocent. You know, that whole liability thing. Some of you may
not believe in ghosts. That is your choice. But, I am determined to
have my true story told.

I'm going to regale you with what will most
likely be a three part full length trilogy. Along the way we're
going to drop in some juicy little tidbits as these short stories.
These stories won't be told in chronological order. Channeling a
spirit doesn't work that way. Just consider it random little doses
of naughty fun.

So, sit back, get comfortable, and pour a
glass of your favorite adult libation. Believe as thy will...

Odessa

PS… This one is set on the day after my
first Mother’s Day in May of 1970. In this story I am allowing my
Beloved to come through and speak. I thought y’all might enjoy
hearing from him.

Graham

“Eyes off the boobs and back on the road,”
Dess snipped, and grabbed at the front of her dress, all of a
sudden trying to be modest.

“I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t put the
top down.” Graham tightened his grip on the steering wheel and
pretended to focus on the highway.

“It is a bit chilly today, she said, all
modesty forgotten while switching the baby to her other
breast.”

“Want me to turn up the heat?” he asked.

“Not if you’re going to keep driving this
fast.”

Graham glanced at speedometer, surprised
that he had the car pushing eighty. He’d forgotten how easily the
Mercedes convertible flew over the road. For a moment he regretted
giving the car to Odessa. He’d love this car like no other he’d
ever had, even splurging on the custom gold paint job.

The gold sure did suit Odessa though. It
really brought out the fire in her red hair. She’d worn it up
today, knotted behind her head in an elaborate maze of braids that
some how looked elegant with a navy blue polka dot dress that
played up her new motherly curves.

“Have I told you how gorgeous you look
today?” he said, reaching a hand over to squeeze her knee.

“I’m a mess,” she said, not looking up from
the baby suckling at her breast. “And I’m getting fat as a
pig.”

“Nonsense.” He snuck another peek at the
fullness of her breasts. She’d quickly dropped most of the extra
weight she’d put on through the pregnancy, but now that she was
eating better, what with nursing the baby, her titties were
spectacularly lush. “You’re just as beautiful as the day I pulled
up behind the arena in Lauderdale and saw you there waiting for me
all those years ago.”

Dess pulled down her oversized sunglasses
and gave him a wry smile. “That seems like a lifetime ago.”

He moved his hand a little further up her
thigh. “How about we get a babysitter and you make Lauderdale with
me Friday night?”

“I could use a date night.” She put the sun
glasses back in place to where he couldn’t see her eyes, just her
jutting lip below the dark shades. “But this little monster has to
eat.”

“She’s the one getting fat as a little
piggy.” He tweaked the baby’s toe and Amalie stopped feeding,
moving her head to look at him.

Baby Amalie giggled and babbled, “Da da da
da.”

“She said daddy.” Graham’s heart about
melted. “She knows who I am.”

“Da da da da,” Amalie repeated.

“She’s been babbling like that for days.
You’d know this if you spent a little more time with us.”

“I’m sorry I had to work this weekend.” He
tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “You know, to put a roof
over your head and take care you and our child.”

“My house is paid for.” Odessa snorted. “If
you left your wife that would be one less family you’d have to
support.”

“Don’t you think she’d sue me for alimony?”
Not to mention that a divorce will kill his carefully built
reputation with the people who mattered in their community. “That
would cost me an arm and a leg.”

Just as if she’d read his mind, she said,
“And having a bastard baby is so good for your clean cut good guy
image? Please.” She yelped as Amalie latched back on to her breast.
“I don’t know why you insisted on me having this child.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little too late to
go worrying about that now?” He countered.

“I can’t do this all by myself.” Odessa
yanked Amalie away from her breast and the child started screaming.
Odessa screamed louder, “Why is this kid so damn needy?”

“She’s just hungry, that’s all.”

“Then how about you fucking feed her.”
Odessa shoved Amalie into his lap. “My nipples are sore and she’s
getting too big for this breast feeding nonsense.”

Graham grabbed hold of Amalie just as she
teetered toward hitting the floorboard. Steering with his free
hand, he bounced her around attempting to shush her without pulling
over the car. Trying not to shout in his daughter’s ear, he asked,
“Did you pack a bottle or maybe a pacifier?”

Odessa reached into the diaper bag and
pulled out a bottle of gin. She took a shot straight from the
bottle before offering it to him.

“Not that kind of bottle,” he said.

She took another drink and licked her lips.
“Now that’s better.”

“You’re not supposed to be drinking.
Carmella says the alcohol contaminates your breast milk and,” he
bounced Amalie against his knee, “makes her fitful.”

“Well, it makes me feel a lot better.”
Odessa took another drink before reaching back into the diaper bag
and pulling out a pacifier. She took a cup from the holder and
drizzled the gin over the pink nub before offering it to Amalie and
then downing what leaked through into the cup. Amazingly enough the
kid instantly stopped her crying. “From the way she’s been gnawing
on my tit she’s got to be teething.” Odessa took another more
ladylike sip of gin. “The sooner she gets her teeth, the sooner she
starts eating on her own.”

She tucked the liquor bottle back in the bag
and acting as if she had all the time in the world went about
zipping up her dress. She applied a fresh coat of lipstick and
smiled at her reflection in the mirror before reaching to reclaim
her daughter.

“See, I’m much more motherly with a bit of
gin in me.” Odessa smiled at him, her dark mood seemingly
passing.

The sunlight from the passenger window made
her hair light up as if it were on fire and Graham couldn’t help
but think about how damn gorgeous she was all dressed up like that
with his daughter in arms in their matching polka dot dresses.
Odessa was quite the seamstress, having whipped up both the dresses
herself, probably sometime over the weekend while he’d been on the
road.

“That dress really suits you,” he said. “My
girls look cute as can be all matched up.”

“Your girls?” Odessa’s lips curled into a
snarl. “Such a shame you didn’t get your girl anything for her
first Mother’s Day after giving birth to your child.”

“Maybe I was waiting to give you your
present after dinner.”

“What did you get your wife?” Odessa
sniped.

So much for her change of mood. “Flowers,”
he mumbled.

“I’m so glad you didn’t kill any flowers on
my behalf.”

“I know better.”

“I wonder what Roger got his wife de jour?”
She pursed her lips as if disgusted by just saying his name.

That name on her lips always felt that way
to him. “As far as I know he’s still happily married to Debbie, but
then again you always seem to keep yourself up to date on all
things Roger Rohde.”

“Roger always did have exquisite tastes in
jewelry,” she said twisting her pearl necklace around her
finger.

Were those the pearls he’d gotten her for
Christmas or was that an earlier gift from Rohde? Graham wasn’t
sure. He hadn’t exactly been sober when he’d bought two pearl
necklaces at the last minute on Christmas Eve. If Dess had known
that she and his wife had gotten identical gifts he never would
have heard the end of it. All of a sudden that gin in the diaper
bag started to sound mighty appealing. He ran a hand through his
hair, fighting the urge to reach for that liquor bottle.

“No,” she said, at first making him think
she’d read his mind. “No, no,” she said, prying baby Amalie’s
fingers away from her necklace.

Taking a chance, he asked, “Are those the
pearls I got you for Christmas?”

“Of course,” she said, glaring at him with
one of those ball-shriveling looks of hers. “Roger never gave me
pearls. They’re a little too matronly for his liking.”

“I think they suit you.”

“You would.” She unclasped the pearls and
dropped them in her purse before pulling out her pentacle pendant
and slipping the thin silver chain around her neck. “I’m a witch.
It’s who I am. If your mother can’t accept me the way I am, then so
be it.”

“Now, Dess.”

Before he could say anything else she
reached and turned on the radio, flipping through the stations
until she came to Patsy Cline singing
Always
. She turned up
the volume and proceeded to butcher the song as only Dess could.
For a girl as pretty as she was, Dess had a horrible singing voice
under the best of circumstances. Mocking the sentiment of the song,
made her screeching just about unbearable.

Amalie must have been just as annoyed since
she started squalling right along with her mama. Graham looked over
and saw that her face little face was beet red and twisted up in a
determined frown. He smelled the shit right before Odessa belted
out her last always.