IN THE FIRST LIGHT OF DAWN

 

I lie in the first light of dawn

Alone, thinking of her

Wishing her next to me

Feeling her breath

Against my skin

Her breasts

Pressed against me

In the quiet of the new day

Hearing her breathing

I ache for her touch

I long for her soft body

Against mine

In the dawns pale light

And in the darkness

I want her

But she is gone

She is mine no more

Never again will my hands

Caress her form

Never again will I hear

Her murmur and sigh in pleasure

She is mine no more

My angel of the night

Has left my side

And dwells now

With others of her kind

Snippets of Downshire Life – On the Finchbottom Express

 

Alex Jackson was on the Finchbottom Express, when a beautiful girl seductively entered his compartment and sat down diagonally across the aisle from him, a tall willowy blonde with outstandingly stellar legs and the first seed of his awakening attraction, germinated, as he gave her the benefit of his silent appraisal.

She was very pretty, a prettiness not diminished by the fact she was very aware of the fact.

The stranger adjusted her posture under his intense gaze and she positively preened as she knew he was admiring her legs, which she crossed and re-crossed slowly and deliberately, so he could marvel at them further, until her manoeuvring exposed a tantalising hint of stocking top and a glimpse of underwear and with each successive mile of tracks the train travelled along, his attraction grew like a blooming flower.

The afternoon sun streamed into the carriage and illuminated her, and shimmered on the white silk of her blouse and as the train ate up the miles of track, racing headlong to their destination.

But not their original destination because although the train would terminate in Abbottsford, their journey would continue to the Regents Hotel where their passions would lead them shuddering and juddering in the climax of journeys end.

 

Snippets of Downshire Life – Seeking Solace

 

In the small but thriving English county of Downshire people go about the tasks of their everyday existence in ways that range from the mundane to the extraordinary as their forebears had done for centuries before, in the varied and diverse landscape, from the Ancient forests of Dancingdean and Pepperstock, the craggy ridges and manmade lakes of the Pepperstock Hills National Park, the rolling hills of the Downshire Downs, to the beautiful Finchbottom Vale and the short but beautiful coastline to the east.

But our story concerns The Hedgerley Court Hospice which was located in the quiet village of Applesford and Lorraine Trapnell was one of the nurses, and one of her patients was Katie Vickers, and it was through Katie that Lorraine met her husband Tim.

 

Tim wanted to nurse his wife at home rather than have her face the end in the one place he most dreaded.

“Why can’t I look after you here?” he asked “It’s a big house and there will only be me, we could easily get a bed in the lounge”

“Why would you want to do that?” she asked

“Because I love you” he replied

“I will need twenty-four-hour care before the end,” she said “and round the clock nursing”

“There is a spare room” he replied, but she wouldn’t be persuaded, not by him at least, so he tried to recruit her sister Anne to his cause.

“Katie will never agree,” Anne stated, “she doesn’t want to be a burden”

“What is it about sick people not wishing to be a burden?” Tim said crossly

“When my time comes I plan on being a burden to all and sundry”

“She’s not you” Anne rebutted

“But I will go and talk to her,”

“We’ll go together,” he said “She’s resting now but we can go later”

“No” she retorted “I’ll go alone”

So Anne went in to see her sister but there was persuading her despite her best efforts.

 

Denied his role as carer, Tim was left in a kind of limbo, and he was unsure what his role was with her in a Hospice and to his great shame he sought solace in the arms of another woman.

Anne would have gladly been that woman, had he chosen her, but he felt that would have been too great a betrayal, so he found himself instead in the arms of his wife’s nurse Lorraine Trapnell. 

 

Their meeting place was a Narrow Boat moored on The Downshire Navigation in Applesford.

The Navigation was part of the canal network which ran between Nettlefield in the north, down through Millmoor and the Oakhams to Northchapel, Abbeyvale and then to its most southerly point, Abbottsford, where it again headed north, this time to Childean, Purplemere and Finchbottom where it joined the River Finch.

The Barge belonged to Lorraine’s sister and they lay quietly in the darkness when she made a confession

“When I walked into the room this morning and you were lying on the bed next to Katie, I felt jealous”

“Jealous?” he said surprised

“I know it’s silly” she said “I had no right to, but I did”

“Why?” he asked

“I don’t know really,” she said with a shake of the head “I’m a married woman after all, who loves her husband, what I have with you is a bonus, and with no strings attached”

“But there is love too” he said

“You feel that too?” Lorraine gasped

“Oh yes” he replied and she sighed and looked down at her lap

“I think that’s why I was jealous of a dying woman,” she admitted, “because I wanted to feel your tender embrace”

 

 

THE ABERGELE ROADS

 

At dusk we walk slowly by the shoreline

The waves lapping at the sand break gently

While children play among the craggy rock pools

Or happily skimming stones on the sea

Dogs chase balls as we stand to consider,

The tide is it in, or out, no matter

The setting sun lights up the western sky

Illuminating stray clouds with gold strands

Then surrounding them with bright bursting rays

This sunburst silhouettes the beachcombers

Then blinds us all as it hits the wet sand

As quickly as it burst on us it was gone

Until we are blinded by the next one

Before the horizon swallows the sun

LOVER (CINQUAIN)

 

Lover

Warmly, Cosily

Holding, Comforting, Caressing,

The All Embracing Joy

Lover

Uncanny Love Tales – (023) The Girl in the Lavender Dress

 

Amanda Campbell was a statuesque young woman of twenty something, she was tall and straight backed, which in itself was quite an achievement for her to stand upright when you considered the size of her breasts which were enormous, huge in fact.

They were so large that short people could have sheltered under them when it rained and as if her round globular mammary’s didn’t attract enough attention in their own right they were surmounted by very large nipples in an almost perpetual state of arousal, which was why she was known around the office as “Miss pencil rubbers”.

But despite her particular attributes, that would normally stir the blood of any self-respecting red bloodied man she was not given a second look in that regard, because she wore horn rimmed glasses and her red hair was scraped back severely from her face, which itself bore no makeup.

Her clothing was of good quality, though lacking in style, and her footwear was functional rather than aesthetic and she exuded a mannish air.

So Ian Palmer thought on the whole that Amanda Campbell, the office manager, was quite sexless, and she wasn’t a very popular figure in the workplace, although she was very efficient, she had no one she could call friend among her colleagues, and to say the least Amanda was aloof.

So it was with some surprise that Ian Palmer found himself one day casting his eye over her in a lascivious manner.

 

Ian Palmer was an accountant, fast approaching his thirtieth birthday and was a confirmed Bachelor.

He was not by any definition, a ladies man, but had not been completely unsuccessful in the pursuit of women, despite his Batchelor status.

He had no particular “type” when it came to women, he was not so successful with the opposite sex that he could afford to discard possible companions based on something as superficial as hair colour, body shape or breast size.

But not by any criteria imaginable did he ever think that the sight of Amanda Campbell would cause a stirring in his loins. 

She was no longer wearing glasses and her red hair was no longer swept back off her face, but hung in soft curls with a delicate fascinator balanced on her head and above her ear was a small floral arrangement.

When he first saw her standing there he did a double take, and stared quite hard until he was convinced it was her.

Instead of her drab office clothes she was wearing a lavender dress which showed a shape he had never noticed before, he knew obviously she had a massive breasts, it was impossible for her to conceal such wonders, which were now more exquisitely defined in the bodice of her bridesmaids dress, which was open at the back and plunging at the front, the result of which was that he spent more time than was strictly necessary just staring at her bust confused as to what exactly was holding them up.

 

He hadn’t noticed it was her in the church, well he’d noticed her, as he always gave the female guests, bridesmaids and even the bride a full appraisal, although he didn’t appraise the bride on this occasion as it was his sister Jane.

It was outside in the June sunshine as he waited for the photographer to complete his play book that he spotted her while he was indulging in another spot of appraisal.

She now wore makeup on her face and something he had never seen before, a smile, and the addition of that smile made her pretty.

Amanda suddenly became aware Ian was watching her and as their eyes briefly met she blushed, then she steeled herself, took a deep breath and walked gracefully towards him, not on her usual functional items of footwear but on stylish stiletto heeled shoes.

“Hello Ian” she said avoiding eye contact

“Wow Amanda” he said “you look stunning”

“Thank you” she said and blushed again

Just then the photographer started barking orders again and she said

“Here we go again”

 

It was another ten minutes before they resumed their conversation

“So you’re related to the groom?” Ian asked

“Yes” she replied “He’s my cousin Sean”

“Well your cousin has just married my sister” Ian said

“I know” she confessed

“So you knew Jane was my sister, before today?” He asked

Amanda nodded

“And that we’d both be at the wedding?” he asked

“Yes” Amanda said

“Why didn’t you say something at the office?” Ian asked

“Because at work I’m “Miss Pencil Rubbers” and not the girl in the lavender dress” she said

 

As they walked into the hotel for the wedding breakfast he felt rather shamefaced.

Amanda was perfectly correct he wouldn’t have paid her any attention in the office or welcomed any approach from her.

As luck would have it, or so he thought, he was not only on the same table as Amanda but was seated next to her.

One course followed another as did the glasses of wine and as the deserts were arriving Ian asked

“So how come, there are two totally different Amanda’s?”

“Well I’m quite shy” she confessed “and I don’t make friends easily”

“But today you’re bubbly and confident” he said

“That’s because I know everyone and they know me, the real me, I don’t have to pretend and I don’t have to hide” Amanda said

“So why do you hide?” Ian asked

“It started when I got promoted” She said “and I did it in the beginning so people would take me seriously”

“But it didn’t work” Ian said

“No, they ended up hating me” she admitted “then it was difficult to undo what I’d done without looking silly”

“Oh I see” he said

“It has its compensations” she said “at least I’m not a target for unwanted sexual advances in the workplace”

 

The speeches followed and more wine, then champagne and after which came the free bar.

So it was with a light head and a lascivious eye that Ian was led onto the dance floor by the statuesque vision in lavender that was Amanda Campbell and then she held him to her and they danced.

They danced three slow dances together and when the tempo of the fourth indicated it was not another one.

Amanda steered Ian towards the terrace, fresh air and moonlight.

“You know I think you should show everyone at work the real you” he said

“Because I’m sure they’ll like you as much as I do”

“I’m not interested in what they think” Amanda said standing very close to him

“I only care what one of them thinks”

Ian was staring at Amanda’s bosom illuminated by the moon as he said

“It was very fortunate we ended up on the same table”  

“Sean and Jane intended that we should be sat together so they engineered the whole thing” Amanda confessed

“Why would they do that?” Ian asked

“Because I asked them too” she confessed, after all she couldn’t rely on his drooling over her in the gardens to do the job.

“Why?” he began and then as they stood together on the terrace in the moonlight she kissed him.

When Ian came up for air he asked

“So if your cousin is married to my sister, does that make us related?”

“No” she replied

“Good” he said and kissed her again.

A WISH FOR ALICE

 

I stood in a strange village

Or rather a village

Where I was a stranger

Stood in front of a cottage

In need of a lick of paint

It was the home of my aunt

An aunt, not unknown

But not spoken of

Except in hushed whispers

Because of a love

The love that dares not speak its name

In a different time

A less understanding time

She had lived her twilight years

In a nursing home

Frail of body but sharp of mind

She had long out lived

All her family and others

Who had shunned her

“Something to be said for a deviant life style”

My father would have said

And now she was no more

But she had left me her cottage

Aunt Alice, my godmother

So I stand on the threshold

Key in hand which I put in the lock

On opening the door, I enter

Although dusty and stale

The house bears all the marks

Of a person loved

So she found happiness then!

I move from room to room

Looking for Alice

Feeling like a burglar

But as I search

I feel less and less like a stranger

Familiar faces in the photos

My mother and other aunts

Older than they should have been

They did not shun her totally then

Finally, I reach the kitchen

I unbolt the back door

And pulled it hard

It opened reluctantly

To reveal the garden

Where the photos were taken

It was clearly once well cared for

But no longer,

Shrubs and trees

Have broken the bonds of cultivation

To create a wilderness

Through knee high grass

I followed the path

Un trod for many summers

Past remnants of the old garden

Glimpses of ornamental masonry

A birdbath, a sun dial

The vague outline of a bench

At the bottom of the garden

Rotting In one corner

An ivy clad shed stood

In the other Barely visible at first

Hidden amidst the foliage

Of nettles and tangled brambles

I see on closer inspection

A wishing well

First to appear was the roof

Cloaked in a cascade of ivy

In its eaves silken web’s

Fine spun like lace

Hold prisoner drops of dew

Which glint in the morning sun

I can see, as I get closer

The crumbling masonry

And the flag stones at its base

Fractured by tree roots

To one side Lies the wooden bucket

Rotting in the grass

Its metal bands rust brown

I thrust my hand deep in my pocket

Taking out a coin

And turned it slowly in my fingers

Before tossing it into the well

And I made my wish.

Then after a moment I turned

Then paused when a thought crossed my mind

When Alice stood on this very spot

In the dappled sunlight

Of her cottage garden

What did she wish for?