Sean: His to Marry

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Maeve had her eye on Sean O’Malley ever since she made her first communion at St. Patrick’s.

He was an altar boy a few years older than her, and while he had an angelic face, she knew there was more to the tall young man than met the eye.

He had a reputation; at least that was what the older girls whispered about him.

Exactly what that meant, she didn’t quite grasp, but she was impressed just the same.

Anything that caused the nuns to scowl in his direction was interesting.

He always smiled back at them and spoke respectfully, but the nuns would tsk, frown and shake their heads as they walked away.

It was almost as though they wished he would do something they could reprimand him for.

Her fascination didn’t end when he turned fifteen and no longer lit the candles in church. Each Sunday she looked for him. He was absent more than he was present, but that didn’t upset her. She knew in her heart he was a good boy, despite what others might say.

As she grew older, Sean always seemed to be in the vicinity when she got herself in hot water.

He’d either whisk her away or plant his big body between her and whatever threat presented itself.

Sometimes it was other boys, bothering her for no reason she could determine, and sometimes it was something foolish she’d done bringing trouble down upon her own head.

The nuns weren’t fond of make-up. Unfortunately, Maeve was very fond of Strawberry Kiss lipstick.

“Wipe that off,” he’d hiss as he passed her in the hall.

Or “Don’t think I can’t tell you’ve rolled your skirt up.

” One day he herded her toward the row of lockers in the hall and whispered in her ear.

“I could still smell that perfume in the gym an hour after you’d left it.

Sooner or later you’re goin’ to be called to task about it.

Go back to the sweet scent you used to wear,” he demanded before walking away.

Affronted, Maeve sniffed her sweater. Well, maybe it was a bit much, but it was called Parisian Mist and wearing it made her feel grown up.

It was a sad day when he graduated. That summer, before he went off to college, she hardly ever saw him unless she happened to stroll by ‘Woodies’ where he worked. Occasionally he was outside, loading a truck, his white tee-shirt straining across his chest, the muscles in his arms bulging.

It was the early seventies, and while her parents had a fit, she’d still managed to cajole them into letting her buy some of the latest fashions.

Of course, they had no idea the skirts she bought could all be rolled up at the waist until they classified as miniskirts.

Or that the shorts she bought were technically called ‘hot pants’.

Platform shoes added many inches to her height and, wearing them, she felt mature.

Stopping outside the wire fence at the lumber yard, she sent her girlfriends on ahead and watched Sean working.

He looked up and saw her. She smiled and waved.

After wiping the sweat from his brow, he stared at her, his hands planted on his hips before his long-legged stride brought him to the fence.

“Jesus, Maeve, what the devil are ya doin’?” he demanded.

“Nothin’. My friends and I are goin’ shoppin’. Why?”

“Dressed like that?”

“Aye, what’s wrong with the way I’m dressed, not that ’tis any concern of yours?” she asked, slightly stung by his attitude.

“For one thing, you’re advertisin’ somethin’ that’s not available,” he snapped.

“How do you know what’s available and what isn’t?” she challenged, tossing her auburn hair over her shoulder.

“Because I know you’re not yet sixteen, darlin’,” he said softly, leaning closer.

Maeve’s heart raced. Tipping her head back she looked into his eyes.

“I also know that when it is available, ’tis mine. I’ll be leavin’ soon, so you’d better behave while I’m gone. If you don’t, when your Da gets done skelpin’ you, I’ll be waitin’ in line to give you the worst spankin’ of your young life. Do you understand?”

“No,” she breathed, her knees shaking.

“You will,” he assured her with a gentle smile.

“Now go home and wash that muck off your face before I do it with that hose over there,” he insisted pointing to a big hose on the outside of the building.

“And put some proper clothes on or I’ll give you a lickin’ right here.

Those shorts don’t cover much, so I should be able to do a proper job of it. ”

Maeve drew back and straightened her spine with a snap. “I’ll do as I please, Sean O’Malley, and you can go straight to the devil,” she hissed, taking a step back when his face darkened.

“Aye, that may be where I’m headed, darlin’,” he conceded with a grin, “but you’re headin’ home to change,” he insisted, pointing in the direction she’d come from.

“No I’m not,” she said, stomping her foot. “I’m goin’ with my friends!”

“Martin, is it lunch time yet?” he called to a man behind him working on loading another truck. “I find I’ve got an errand to run,” he continued, taking off his leather gloves.

“Sure, Sean, go ahead. I’ll cover for you” the man replied with a grunt.

Maeve shivered and took another step back from the fence. There was no doubt he meant exactly as he said. With a huff she glared at him, pivoted on her platform sandals and stomped off in the direction he’d indicated.

Sean laughed. “You can use a little of the strawberry lip paint,” he called after her. “I fancy that one.”

“Kiss my arse, O’Malley,” she yelled over her shoulder.

“Oh I will, with my lips and my hand if you don’t have a care and mind me,” he whispered watching her bottom swing. “Someday.”

* * *

Maeve spent the next three years as a typical teenager.

She went to parties, dances and got decent grades in school.

Her first kiss was disappointing, as was smoking a joint.

Instead of feeling all happy as she expected, she got a little paranoid, wondering if somehow, someway he’d find out.

For some reason, Sean’s threat stuck like glue, and although she only saw him once in a while at Mass when he was home for a school holiday, she often wondered what he knew and what he didn’t.

He’d clearly said he intended to be first in line when she became available, and at seventeen, it seemed he might be a little late.

As her eighteenth birthday neared, she determined he was full of crap.

There’d been plenty of times he could have approached her after church and he hadn’t.

There was also the telephone and any idiot could write a note, if not a letter.

No, he’d been playing with her that day, teasing the naive young girl who obviously had a crush on him.

She blushed, knowing she’d been transparent and decided strolling by his place of employment dressed as a South Street hooker hadn’t been her finest hour.

At the time, she hadn’t even realized how much she worshiped him.

Then the big jerk threatened her. That cooled her ardor.

How dare he act like he could intimidate her?

Well, actually he’d scared the bejesus out of her, she admitted.

The thought of being on the receiving end of a spanking from Sean O’Malley was not something to joke about.

The man had muscles on his muscles and an attitude to match.

She’d never seen him back down from a fight; he had a ‘don’t mess with me assertiveness’ and the reputation to back it up.

On the other hand, he’d always looked out for her, coming between her and disaster many times.

He could be kind, gentle and thoughtful.

On her seventeenth birthday, she’d received a dozen yellow roses with a card that said ‘Enjoy your birthday, but not too much’.

It wasn’t signed, so they could have been from anyone, and she refused to believe they were from him.

Maeve dated a few boys, but nothing serious developed.

She didn’t like being pawed, and for some reason, that seemed to be their main objective.

“What are you saving it for?” was a nasty question she heard more than once and that was usually the last date.

In truth, she wasn’t sure herself. Most of her girlfriends had given it up long ago.

She tried to convince herself she remained ‘a good girl’ because of her religious beliefs, but part of her suspected it had something to do with The O’Malley’s warning, which was just foolish.

He was nowhere around and would probably never know nor care what she did after all this time.

It was a silly school girl’s infatuation, and it was over.

A few days before her eighteenth birthday, she joined some friends to hang out in the field behind the school.

They built a campfire and someone brought along a boom box.

Soon they were partying and attracted another group of kids from a nearby public school.

A cute boy visiting his cousins from the States named Tony singled her out immediately, and Maeve was flattered as her girlfriends looked at her with envy.

From his pack, he produced several bottles of wine which began to make the rounds.

Handing Maeve an unopened bottle called Tickle Pink he announced it was hers alone in honor of her birthday.

Smiling, he opened it and handed it to her.

Taking a small sip, she was surprised how good it was.

It did tickle her nose and tasted a bit like carbonated fruit juice, not at all like the heavy communion wine she was used to.

She shared her bottle with Tony who only took a few sips, and all too soon, she was holding it upside down with a pout on her face.

“Aw, ’tis all gone,” she giggled.

“That’s okay, babe,” he assured her. “I’ve got something else.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a packet of pills and held out his hand to her.

Maeve shook her head.