Molly was standing before a rattling window gazing out at the fierce storm that battered her little house. She was cold and wrapped her arms around herself; All she was wearing was a silk robe that did nothing to protect her from the artic draft that snaked it’s way through the cracks in the ancient windows frame. Being a sensible woman she wondered why in the heck was she wearing the silly robe and standing next to a leaky window. It was not the kind of thing Molly would have done and this fine silk kimono wasn’t at all the sort of garment one could find in her wardrobe. If she was going to be standing around looking out the window in the middle of the night, she had a fleece robe that was snugly warm and covered her sleep sweats in a very practical way. Molly was a very practical woman and proud of it. And just when did any of the windows become unstable? Molly kept the house in very good repair.
Understanding flooded her mind when she felt a warm body against her back. The intensity of the storm threatening to blow away her safety, the robe that failed to protect and left her exposed, everything was explained; this was one of those dreams. Over the past several weeks, she had started experiencing intensely erotic dreams for the first time in her thirty years. Molly was not happy with the disturbance they created in her sleep as well as her waking thoughts. She hadn’t slept soundly since their start and her nerves were beginning to fray around the edges.
Muscular hands came down on her shoulders, hands she had grown familiar with, hands that both burned through the silk of the robe and sent shivers skating down her spine. The fingers started a conflagration within her as they slid down her arms, then caressed their way back up. She felt as if steam was rising from her flesh as his breath whispered across her neck before settling next to her ear.
“Molly my love;” he purred and her knees almost buckled at the sound. “Have you been waiting for me?” Smooth, hot lips captured her ear lobe, sharp teeth lightly bit, and Molly’s body was awash in heat. “I’ve come for you my love. At last, I‘ve come for you.” It was that voice again, that dark chocolate, whiskey voice with the touch of wood smoke. And that was just weird because when she thought about it she couldn’t imagine what chocolate sounded like; or wood smoke. “I have been waiting to make you my own for longer than you can imagine. For 300 years, I have waited for you. Molly, my love, I’ll be with you soon but waiting even these last few hours, being so close yet unable to touch you, it’s making me wild, I need to hold you, to wrap you in my arms.” He did touch her then; she could feel his hands on her shoulders and reaching down her body to slide around her waist and press her form more tightly against his. “I’m come to claim you my love, I am going to wake the ardor that you’ve allowed to sleep all these years. I know it‘s there just waiting for me; because your mine. From your birth and before I‘ve been your destiny. Woe to any man who tries to take you from me love.” He buried his face in her hair breathing deeply. “Good lord I love your scent, it’s like a heady liquor that clouds my senses.” She felt his mouth on her throat; his lips were warm and soft but demanding her response. Her body was only too willing to give him what he wanted. He took a gentle nip at her ear lobe again, then sucked it into his mouth to sooth it with a swipe of his velvet tongue. She felt her head spinning and her heart beating double time. Just when had her ears become so sensitive she wondered?
How could this be happening? It wasn’t real, was it? Of course not, Molly was asleep. It couldn’t be real if she was asleep. But oh lord, it felt real. He said he’d been waiting three hundred years, and that was just crazy Unfortunately, while her mind was telling her these things and trying to be logical; her body was busy betraying her.
Her skin felt more sensitive than she had ever known it to be, she was awake to every sensation as phantom hands stroked over her shoulders and back down her arms. They covered the back of her hands, capturing them by twining strong slender fingers with hers. Once more his hands enfolded her in his embrace, carrying her hands along to lay along his muscled forearms.
How could she know the silky texture of the fine hairs growing on his arms when it was all a dream? Molly would swear to feeling his pulse beating beneath her palms.
“I can feel you waking for me. Every bit of you, your awareness of me is growing in every tiny part that comes together to create the miracle that is my Molly.” He laughed, a deep throaty sound that vibrated in her bones. How could that sound make her want nothing more than to jump on this man and surrender everything? Or perhaps make him surrender.
“I love the ripe fullness of your body. A man could spend an eternity learning to please it. When I truly hold you at last you will never escape; I intend making certain that you never want too.”
She had never desired a mans touch, but she craved his. And that was frightening, but when he licked over her pulse, a jolt ran through her body. She could not stop herself from crying out as a wonderful, painful, incredible, mind altering, electric blast launched from his mouth to her toes and only his arm slipping around her waist kept her from collapsing into a puddle on the floor. He chuckled in her ear. “Ah love, how sweet ye are, so ready for me. Your scent is going to send me over the edge of sanity.”
Ye? Did he say ye? Who in the heck said ye in this day? And did he say that he was going over the edge? Molly felt like she must have taken several long strides into la la land and lost her way. And he licked her; why did that sound so icky and feel sooo good? She was acutely aware of his body pressed tightly against her back. A wall of solid male muscle caressing her, filling every space with heat. She blushed for feeling such a thing, and wasn’t that just like her; blushing because of something she felt in a dream; it wasn’t even real. She was such an idiot sometimes. And another thing, how did she stay so aroused when this crazy monologue was going on in her brain?
Was it because one of his hands had moved to stroke her throat and shoulder before tangling in her hair. He tilted her head, there by exposing more of her throat. Taking instant advantage, his incredible lips caused massive damage to Molly’s dwindling sanity. She wanted him to stop; didn’t she? After all this was insane, she must want it to stop. Oh no. No, she didn’t! Only he could save her! What? Save her? He was the one to create this madness. No, no, no, stop. He stopped! Oh god; don’t stop, not now . Please! She was officially insane.
The blessed torture continued, how long she couldn’t say but as with every other of these dreams, it was never long enough. Though it made her tremble and melt, and feel like she was going to explode, always when she reached the point that she could feel her body about to shatter, she woke with a start. She gasped and began choking and coughing. It was the same each time; her body could only take so much before kicking her awake. That just wasn’t fair at all. If she was going mad, couldn’t she at least enjoy the trip? Instead, she was confined to constant stimulation without any sort of release.
Murphy was not happy about being disturbed and grumbling, lifted his head to give Molly a look. He had a very good wounded look and knew how to use it; it was a basset trait that came with those big, sad brown eyes and with having three times more skin than any one dog needed. “I’m sorry baby, your mommy appears to be going bonkers. Yep, I’m headed for the rubber room, I’m around the bend, off the track, I’m looney toones, crackers, and down right pixilated; but everything is alright. Just put your head back down and go back to sleep.” He did, and was almost instantly snoring.
Molly scooted back up her bed until she was resting her spine against her headboard and turned on her tiny bedside lamp. Something was wrong, she didn’t know what yet, but something had to be very wrong. It wasn’t like her to have that kind of dream. It never had been, and she was content with the way things were. She knew that it wasn’t normal. To be so completely disinterested in sex was at the very least at one extreme end of the human spectrum. But she believed there were others like herself, rare people who had virtually no sex drive at all. She remembered seeing some talk show all about it. It didn’t really matter to Molly if she were mistaken and she was unique in the world. It was something she had accepted without regret of any sort. She didn’t miss what had never been. She was happy and at peace.
Yes, Molly was happy with her life, with her cozy little home. She looked around at her bedroom and felt a smile lift the corners of her mouth. It was her favorite, clear, bright green that put her heart at ease. The soft white trim and abundant splashes of flower shades scattered around in pillows and fuzzy throws always brought to mind spring in a forest. Most of her home was filled with similar shades of green.
She was proud of her gallery. Molly had built The Fauve from nothing but a dream, into a very successful concern. She loved working with the artists; most of them anyway, and giving them a chance to share their vision of the world. Molly was close to her Sister June, even if June did try to boss her around, that was just June, the human steamroller. Then there was June’s husband Max, a true sweetheart. She had her secret art, she would never consider showing it, but it was special to her and a very private pleasure. She had many good friends and together they wove a web of support for each other. And she had Murphy, her protector, confidant, and the center off her world. Molly believed that world complete, she had no need for a man.
Because the dreams had only recently become sexually arousing; she supposed that it could be the stress of closing the gallery for a major remodel that was playing with her mind; but she didn’t really think so. She had made very careful plans; Molly always made careful plans. Moreover, she had learned to trust her instincts in all matters. She studied every question, looking at every angle she could find then left herself open to whatever answer came. When her heart said yes, it was time to act. Her heart had never been wrong, and her heart was happy about this decision, she was also extremely excited about the project. That was another thing about Molly, once she committed to something, she did it with her whole heart and did not look back or second-guess; she thought it was a waste of her time and energy.
The thought that perhaps she was looking at it the wrong way had begun swirling around her mind. What if the dreams were caused by something physical? Something going whonkey with her body. That could be the answer; in fact, the more she thought about it the more sense the idea made. She was probably going through some massive hormone explosion, she understood, perhaps wrongly, that it could affect your thinking. Wasn‘t that idea just thrilling. Maybe it was early menopause, or something like it. Oh yeah, that would be great; she couldn’t wait for the hot flashes to start. Well, that had to be it, she needed to call her doctor and get her body fixed. It certainly sounded a lot better than her other option did; that being what she told Murphy. That she was suddenly stark raving loony tunes. She didn’t think that there had been a large number of lunatics hanging from her family tree. Well, perhaps wild hormones were not better exactly, put at least menopause was temporary. When the doctor got her back on track, the dreams staring that man would surly go back to normal.
Yes, he was in her night time imaginings, she had known the man as far back as her memory reached. He had been a presence in all of her vibrant dreams; the ones she remembered. Those dreams were still with her, permanently etched into her memories. He, and his warm voice, had been a comforting constant, he had been her angel when she was little, listening to her woes about schoolyard bullies, helping her face all the scary things like monsters under the bed, lima beans, and spelling tests. She clearly remembered sitting on his lap and leaning against him while he quieted her fears and brought on her laughter. He had mourned with her when her mother became ill, she had cried on his shoulder when her mother died. And again later when her father had turned on her, he was there to comfort and support her. He and Murphy were the only ones who knew just how bad it had been as June had been away at school. He was the one who listened to her dreams for her gallery, and later laughed at her silly stories about the disastrous dates her sister sent her on. In fact, he did in her sleeping world what Murphy did for her in the waking one. Or rather, he had until he turned into Mr. Sexy man. Of course, he would be the one her mind picked out for these fantasies. He was nearly as much a friend as Grant and Bobby, she had known him even longer. He was kind, gentle, he was funny, and supportive; and he was safe because he wasn’t real. Well, wasn’t that a great big old laugh? He sure as heck wasn’t safe any more. The only thing that could make him more dangerous to her happy little life was if he showed up in flesh and blood.
With the dream thing settled to her satisfaction, at least for now, she let her mind drift to the day ahead of her. Mr. Maaki, her contractor, would meet her at the gallery to go over the plans one more time before he started the work on Monday. The meeting wasn’t actually needed, they had laid out the plans carefully and gone over them more than once. That said, Molly appreciated Mr. Maaki’s thoroughness. She had heard enough horror stories about contractors, had even had a minor run in or two with the less than reputable sort, to be upset by his caution.
Although the work would close down The Fauve for the next three months Molly was already under way with planning the party for the reopening. June would cater, of course, the invitations had been ordered, and Max was planning the liquid refreshments. Only one problem remained to be settled, the music.
She knew exactly who she wanted, they would be perfect, if she could only remember their name. She had heard them shortly after taking part in some extensive wine tasting that Grant and Bobby had dragged her into; something she had promised herself she would never do again. After all, Molly was the first to tell anyone that she couldn’t tell a pinot noir from a zinfandel. She had once done just that bringing out a horrified shriek from Grant. She made a mental note to check on the groups name with someone who had actually been sober.
One predicament was looming on today’s horizon and it was something that having committed to in a moment of guilt, (she had disappointed June) she couldn’t now escape. It was Molly’s 30th birthday and June was throwing her an enormous party. Because June had taken the opportunity to look very hurt, Molly had even agreed to let her sister ‘have her way’ with her. Just the thought of what that might mean had Molly wishing she could hide out until her 40th birthday.
She was so deep in thought about the terrors ahead of her that when her alarm went off, she jumped, let out a small scream, and flailed out sending the clock flying across the room where it slammed against the wall and landed with a broken sounding jangle.
Murphy once again raised his head and was looking abused. “Oh baby I’m sorry about the noise. Your mommy is going ever so slightly silly in her old age. But not to worry. Her doctor is going to fix her right up. If not… I hope they let you visit me in my padded room.”
As he drove out of the parking lot, Molly was staring at her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She knew that something had just happened, something that felt important; but she absolutely refused to examine what ever it was.
Bran watched her without her being aware of the examination. He could plainly see that she was struggling with something and he hoped that his notion of what caused the struggle was correct. She was his Molly and while her belief that she didn’t want a man in her life had been a fantastic thing when he was far away, it was time he changed that notion. In only one evening she had begun to discover feelings and sensations that confused her but were becoming impossible to ignore. Fate was wasting no time. After driving in silence for a bit, Bran asked, “What are you thinking Molly. Such expressions play across your pretty face. It makes me wonder what causes them.”
“What?” She gathered her wits as best she could. “It’s nothing; really, I’m just tired.” It wasn’t a lie, she was tired. She was also tingling all over in a peculiar way. Not something she was inclined to mention.
“That Molly, is not the whole truth.” It was hard not to laugh at her expression; it was such a mix of pretended outrage at being called a liar and real guilt “Your head is full things that are new and strange to you isn‘t it? Do you think of me, Molly? Do I have a place in your thoughts? It is my cherished dream that I do. I tell you now Molly, that you fill mine.” He stared straight ahead, his grip tightening on the wheel.
“What?” Did he just call her a liar? Then did he really say that he dreamed about her? And all she said was what? Molly would be the first to admit that it was a stupid response; but her mind seemed to have fallen out through her ear and it was the best she could manage.
“You heard me Molly; although you have been studiously ignoring what I have been telling you all night.” She saw him glance her way from the corner of his eye. “And you needn’t look so shocked, and innocent, I’ve known just what you were trying to tell yourself from the first time we spoke. So now that I have your attention, listen to me well because I tell you truly my love, I want you.” His voice had become a deep purr that caused her to vibrate. “I want you in my arms. I want you in my bed," Oh god, why did that make her go all tingly and mushy at the same time? "I want to go to sleep beside you, I want to wake up next to you,” Yes, yes that sounded good. “I want to wake the passion in your body and reap the rewards." Why was her body yelling yeah? "Molly I want you in my life for the rest of time. I want your body, heart and soul. And in return; I will love you, protect you, support you, and treasure you all the days of my life.” His whole statement was delivered in a matter of fact way, no doubts, no chance at all for misinterpretation. He hadn’t even looked at her as he said it, but she had been staring at him, with her mouth hanging open. She snapped it shut and went back to staring at her hands. People didn’t talk this way, especially not to Molly. Perhaps she hadn’t heard him correctly; or maybe he was crazy.
Yes, he was crazy; he had to be. It was the only explanation. No one sane would say those things to a complete stranger; and no one could know another after nothing but small talk at a party. She might have blamed her confusion on the wine, but had begun to think that something very different was going on.
In addition, she was stuck in a car with him, going to her home. Good lord, no one expected to hear from her tonight. He had plenty of time to do all sorts of things to her. She clamped down on the thought of him doing lots of delicious things to her. That wasn’t what she meant! This was it. She was dead, but at least Murphy was safe. She kept reciting to herself a long list of horrible things that could befall her at a strangers hands, or she tried to. All the terrible, horrid things insisted on turning into lusty kisses and touching by hands that inflamed. When she should have been developing a healthy panic at being alone with him and helpless, she could only think of being alone with him…and blissed out. Was it still the wine talking? Molly hoped so, but was having doubts. Oh, she was certain that the man was dangerous to her, he just wasn’t the kind of danger that she could call the police about.
Bran was concerned with her quiet. For all his bravado, he was nervous. “Molly; speak to me. Please my love, say something to me. Even if you choose to tell me that I disgust you.” He had never intended to throw himself at her so soon. What had he done? She continued her silence. Bran felt that he had to do something to get a reaction. Any reaction at all. He drove on for some minutes in growing panic. This was bad and he needed to fix it. Bran pulled off the road at his first opportunity, and stopped the car. He didn’t move, sitting straight, his hands nearly crushing the steering wheel and a knot of vipers churning in his stomach. Stupid! He thought. Stupid, stupid, stupid, but it was done. Bran gathered his courage to push on.
Molly didn’t move, in fact she didn’t seem to notice that they had stopped. She didn’t notice when he released his restraint. Only when he twisted in his seat to take her by her shoulders and turn her to him, did she lift her face. She looked confused and a little afraid when he stared into her eyes, but he didn’t stop. He found that he couldn’t let her go for any reason.
Bran brought his mouth down on hers in a tender kiss. He wanted very much to attack her mouth with all the pent up passion he had been waiting so very long to show her. However, this was his Molly, his sweet virginal Molly who had no idea at all of what fate was coming for her. For a long time it was only a gentle kiss; then he began changing it, learning every tiny move that brought any reaction, and as she began to relax a little, he deepened the kiss. This slow progression was torture, but it was heavenly torture. Although he wanted more, he thought that he could stay with her, just as they were for the rest of his life. She was incredibly sweet; and her lips were softer than he had dreamed. And, she was responding. When he ran his hands down her naked arms, he felt her tremble, his hands wrapped around her and she sighed. Then, after what felt like forever, what he had waited for. Molly’s hands found his shoulders, slid to his neck then up to wind themselves into his hair. She was holding him in the kiss. More than that, she had a death grip on his hair. And Bran sent a silent thank you to every deity that might be watching for that sign. And especially to Bacchus for the champagne that had left her open to this kiss.
He moved to the next level and slid the tip of his tongue along her lower lip. He repeated the move gently coaxing her lips to part, until they did. She was hesitant, unsure, and he moved slowly, not demanding but asking. She was blooming for him, and giving back what she received, tentatively. As he grew more aggressive, she followed his lead and he felt his heart swell in his chest. When his lips left hers and she made a little sound of distress, he laughed to himself and started kissing the rest of her face, working his way to her ear. He gave her ear lobe a nip and a tiny lick and then began to suck on it and she rewarded him with a groan. When he started on her neck, her shudder almost undid him. He kissed and nibbled, and worked his way down to the hollow of her throat, then back up to her lips where they waited, ready for his return. Her skin was so very soft and fragrant, so tempting; he knew better than to allow even a tiny slip in his control.
He pulled her as close to his body as he could, but the cursed corset was in the way. He was not averse to corsets in general, they could be quite entertaining, and he had enjoyed their changing styles over the centuries, but just now he wanted her body without the encumbrance of stays. He wished he could feel her breasts crushed against his chest.
The next time his lips were on her throat she finally said it; no, she cried out. “Oh Bran “
Bran leaned back and laughed, he had waited a long time to hear his name on her lips. “Finally love. I knew that you knew my name, although you have been long enough in saying it. But that was lovely, feel free to cry it out any time you want.”
Stopping his attack, if only for seconds had been a grave mistake. It broke the trance she had been under. Instead of melting back into a new kiss, she put her hands on his chest and pushed. Or at least, tried to, it was like pushing on a rock the size of a house. Surrender had turned to panic in her eyes. “No, no, oh no. I don’t know why I did that. I shouldn’t… I can’t… I …am sorry. I think I’ll just walk the rest of the way. I’m Sorry.” She reached for the door handle, but it refused to open. She yanked at it repeatedly without success then beat weakly on the window before turning back in defeat and slumping into the cushions.
He had caused the door to lock, He wasn’t about to let her escape. Bran just stared at first, he could see her trembling, her lips were swollen from his kisses, and her eyes seemed a bit too bright. Exasperation finally gave him back his tongue. “What in the hell do you mean that your sorry. There is not a single blessed thing to be sorry about. I’m not, I enjoyed every second of it and I know by your reaction, that you did as well.”
“No I didn’t!” She sounded panicky.
“What do you … I don’t … Liar!” He looked more exasperated than angry.
Molly was trembling, tears running tracks down her cheeks when she told him, “I never should have done that, I never do that. Never, ever.” She could not look at him, and a deep blush covered her cheeks.
“Done what Molly? You never should have kissed me?”
At first she could only nod, but with a struggle she finally spoke. “More than that and you know it. I acted like a… a… a STRUMPET.” She wailed the word and sobbed as she continued. “I led you on and knew all the time that I didn’t intend to take it further. I’m sorry. So sorry. It was cruel.”
Bran gaped at her. What in the hell? “First of all Molly, stop saying that you are sorry, damn it. You have no reason to repent anything, and it is insulting to me that you should feel so.” Her cringe nearly stopped him; nearly. “Second, the term for someone who leads a fellow on without intending to follow through is, cock tease.” She gasped at his use of that word. “Is that what you are Molly? A cock tease? Look at you, your blush alone would tell anyone that you had no such intention. As for the third thing, you had no intention or strategy of any kind did you. You were only enjoying the kiss, as was I. You weren’t planning a damn thing!” He lifted her chin from where it rested on her chest and turned her face to his. “Molly, look at me and listen carefully to what I tell you. All we did was kiss, and we were both involved, though I do admit to starting it and moving it along. I liked it, I liked it so much I have every intention of repeating it as often as I can. There is nothing wrong with it; and I will be kissing you again at every opportunity. Indeed my love, my intentions go much farther than kissing you. Now; only the truth Molly because I will know if you lie, did you enjoy kissing me?”
He held her chin so that she couldn’t look away, and looking into his eyes, she found she couldn’t lie. With a tremble in her voice, she admitted, “Yes, I liked it, very much.”
His only response was to fold her into his arms and resume her lessons. She tried, at first to fight him, but it was a halfhearted effort with no real strength behind it. Kissing this man, Bran, was unlike any kiss she had ever known. It felt exciting; it made her pulse do a mambo, it made her want to shout “Yeah!” at the top of her lungs. And she was so embarrassed she felt like she would melt into a quivering mass of Jell-O. She thought, if this was what June was talking about, she was in serious trouble. That was the last thought she had for a while.
Bran kissed the tears away from her face and out of her heart. He kissed her until her tremble turned into a shiver of excitement. He kissed her while she melted into him in complete surrender.
Bran finally stopped kissing her only because he feared he might not be able to stop at all. The need to take it farther was growing almost beyond his ability to control it. He held her for a little while but found his will being dangerously tested when she snuggled into him and snaked her arms around his neck without knowing she was doing so. He then drove her home in silence all the while fighting himself to keep the car on the road and moving toward it’s destination. It would have been so very sweet to stop for another bout of lip wrestling, and so very dangerous. He insisted on carrying her to her door because of her lack of shoes, at least that’s the reason he gave to her. Molly hadn’t the will to prevent him, he kissed her once, on her forehead, opened the door for her, and left.
When Molly was at last alone in the safety of her home, she fell face down onto her sofa. She lay there, exhausted and confused. It had been an interesting day; in the same way the Chinese cursed their enemies by wishing that they live in interesting times. She would happily go a long time without having another such day, but had the feeling that the interesting times were only just beginning and it was all June‘s fault. Well, June’s and that man. Thinking of him as ’that man’ was safer than using his name. Being away from his overwhelming presence was weakening the effect he had on her.
Right now, she needed to get to her bed. If she waited much longer, she wouldn’t make it. She already felt weak and more than a little wobbly. Molly got up, or tried to; all she managed was to fall off the sofa. Perhaps collapsing on the seat instead of sitting like a lady had been the wrong choice for her to make. The curse of the corset had struck; and now that she was down, she couldn’t get up. Of course the first thing that popped into her head was that awful TV add. The elderly woman in the Commercial was replaced by fat drunken female crying out that famous line, “Help, I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!” She immediately began giggling. Wasn‘t this just perfect; her life was turning into a poorly done commercial. She rolled around a bit, more giggles ensued, grabbed onto the couch trying to pull herself up, and discovered she was simply too tired (and O.K., alcohol impaired) to keep up the struggle. She tried to get her dress off, but she wasn’t able to find the buttons in her still champagne befuddled state. Actually, she found them; she just couldn’t feel the little loops that fastened them, and there were a lots and lots of them. It wasn’t long before she was ready to call curses down on her sisters head. Unfortunately, the dress and corset were such a close fit that she couldn’t get even a finger between them. If she could only get it open to her waist, she would be able to bend and get up. She gave it all up and rolled over to Murphy’s bed. Fortunately, as her boy had developed the problems that came with his advanced years, she had begun keeping them all over the house, Molly made herself as comfy as she could and with little trouble, drifted off to sleep.
