0 comments/ 15814 views/ 2 favorites Ireland Romance By: matcher1 So that was Ballyshanasy Castle. To “Blue” it looked like it was growing out of the craggy cliffs that overlooked the sea on the Dingle Peninsular, grey-brown in the mist. It was what the Irish called a “soft” day. The incessant light and shade play of the showers coming in from across the vast Atlantic, had given way to a pearlescent mist that made the scene seem mysterious even romantic. She would not have been surprised to see a unicorn coming over the grey green fields with a garland of flowers about its neck. She stopped the Honda bike she was driving and pulled over by the side of the road to better appreciate it. She cast her proffessional eye over the scene and thought what a challenge it would be to capture the constantly changeing light of this country on paper. It was a watercolour world. Sometimes still and misty; sometimes changing from sunshine to shadow with the capricious will of of a leprachaun. She could hardly wait to get her watercolours out to try and capture the romantic scene she saw before her. It was funny how things just happened to you sometimes. How strange life is less than a week ago she had been sitting in her studio at home in Attwood Avenue Madison overlooking the Lake just wondering how she was going to do the artwork for that new brand of toothpaste. They wanted something sexy and romantic. How the hell do you make toothpaste romantic and sexy for chrissake? For a second she conjured up an image of a tube of toothpaste attached to a battery with a cap like a rocket ship’s nose. “Peppermint dildo!” She’d love to see the face on the prissy director of the agency when she opened up the folder. But she had her job to keep. Pity though. It’d probably sell like hot cakes. Then the phone rang. “Ah Blue. If it isn’t me favourite Colleen.” The voice was deep, strong and had Irish blarney written all over it. And that’s just what she felt like at this moment. She knew the voice. It was Brendan MacPherson. He was an executive in the finance department of one of Ireland’s new booming software development companies. She had met him briefly but memorably when she was attending a graphics convention she had attended in the Big Apple. He had been attending his own convention, and she had met one night after the seminars were over in the bar of the hotel they were staying at. His eyes smiled when he did, and she liked that. He had dark curly hair that framed a face constantly creasing up in a smile that spelt devilment. But most of all....the voice...that accent. Oh it would charm the pants off a 90 year old spinster. How could she resist. Next morning, facing another round of seminars and small talk, Blue could feel everyone looking at her. Surely everyone could see her satisfied smile and the rings under her eyes. Damn trying to stay a wake. She could hardly walk!!! She left at the lunch time break and just lay in her room, thinking how lucky she had been and reliving the night before in her memory. Then she slowly drifted off dreaming of Ireland and of one Irishman in particular. She woke at 8:00 PM. God she felt like a Korbel and Coke! She dragged herself down to the bar again and there was Brendan. “I’ve been waitin’ for ya me darlin’. Don’t think I could stand another night like that!” But his grin told her he could. And his eyes convinced her that she could too. And that’s how it was for the rest of the week. This was an advertising convention that she would never forget. And one that, if she was asked for a report, she could never remember. They said their goodbyes at Idlewilde and she convinced herself that the departure only added a piquancy to a relationship that was too hot to last long anyway, and left writing off Brendan as a pleasant memory. And here was his voice again. Her heart leapt un-nervingly even after all this time. “Hi Brendan. Long time no see!” “Ah you’ll live in me memory forever you spunky thing. But I was wonderin’. You said you’d like to come over to Ireland one day. Well here’s a chance for you, me darlin’. I’ve just bought this small property on the West Coast, and I need someone to look after it for a while. I thought I might “do it up” and open it to American tourists who still can’t forget their Irish heritage. But I’ve got business in Europe. Getting pretty busy what with the EEC and all. Won’t be able to do much for a month or two. Need a caretaker. Pay you well.” “Why me?” Blue didn’t want to appear too anxious. “Oh you’ve got taste me darlin’. I thought at the same time you were lookin’ after the place ya might be able to develop the sort of interior decoration that would get all those compatriots of yours racin’ over the Atlantic and makin’ me a heap o’ money. You know kitsch but authentic.” “Well I...this is such a surprise...” “O’ course if ya aren’t interested........” Three days later Blue was on the Concord and hours after that she was landing in Heathrow. She had flown to Dublin on a local commuter craft, and there found to her delight that she could hire a Motor Bike for the rest of the Journey across Ireland. She could have hired a car. Brendan had not stinted on expenses. But she preferred to drive down the Irish lanes with the wind and rain in her hair and the smell of peat in her nostrils. Now here she was. looking up through the mist at this craggy castle growing out of the beetle browed cliff face overlooking the wild Atlantic Ocean. Small property!!! It was a genuine castle. Probably been there since the thirteenth century. She drove up the hill to the castle itself. Up close it was even larger than it had looked from down below. Must be at least thirty rooms. Upkeep would be a task and a half. Still it would probably make a good resort. In the middle of the ground floor, looking like the mouth of some petrified Gothic giant was a huge arched door. “All that’s missing is the drawbridge moat and portcullis” though Blue wryly as she stopped the bike and went up to the door. “Is anyone at home?” she called. There was a huge brass knocker on the door, but Blue thought it would be more friendly somehow if she could make contact with her voice. Brendan had mentioned that a Mrs. Macgillicuddy (how they’d giggled at that name) was looking after the place until she arrived. Apparently she lived in the village about a mile (they had kilometres over here now didn’t they?) from the castle itself. But the castle remained silent and in the gloaming more and more foreboding by the minute. At last she used the knocker. Its deep thud resonated down what Blue imagines would be long dark passages inside the castle. This had an immediate effect. From deep in the bowels of the castle came the excited yelping of a number of dogs. She could hear them as they came racing to the front door. They sounded more curious than aggressive. “Hang on. Hang on I’ comin’ I’m comin’’ It was a female voice which sounded none to pleased at being roused by the knock on the door. It still took a while before the door opened and inch or two and two ancient eyes and a craggy face peered out into the evening gloom. At her feet were the curious eyes of two of the most beautiful Red Irish setters she had ever seen. She would have died to have hair that colour. Come to think of she did. Well at least she used a tint! “And who might you be?” “Name’s Blue Gill. Brendan said.....” “Ah the American.. Funny name ya got. Sounds like some sort of a fish....Well Mr McPherson told me you’d be here soon. Better be comin’’ in then. Don’t mind the dogs. They wouldn’t hurt a flea. They might lick you to death though!” The door opened to reveal a small bone wizened up woman whose facial structure revealed that at one time she must have been quite a beauty. She still had a bright eyed intelligence and he straight bearing attested to someone who still viewed herself with pride even though time had wrinkled her face. “Ah you’re quite a beauty.” she said eying Blue up and down critically. “Just like Mr. McPherson to get someone good lookin’.. Still you can’t judge a book by it’s cover, you could still be a nice person..” The candour of the judgements amused Blue. She smiled at the lady with genuine affection that one independent lady has for another. “Thank you.. You must be...” and she paused so that she could regain enough composure to say the name without a gratuitous smile....”Mrs Magillicuddy.” “That’s right. Let me show you around. and then you can settle in. Or would you like a cup of tea first?” “No thanks”...There was no mention of coffee. “No I’d like to have a look around.” Mrs Macgillicuddy knew a lot about the castle and it’s history and it was half an hour before the duo and the dogs made their way up the oak staircase to where a bedroom had been prepared for Blue’s arrival. By that time Blue knew all about the history of the castle and half the gossip of the village down below in the valley. When she first glimpsed the room it took Blues breath away. The room was huge, at least thirty feet wide by almost forty feet deep. There were two windows merely narrow but tall in the wall opposite through which could be heard the incessant beating of the waves against the rocks below. The walls were panelled in rich dark oak which reflected the light from the dozen or so candles in candleholders attached to the walls. The room seemed to coruscate and undulate giving the impression it too was underwater as the small drafts caught the wavering candlelight making a continuous display of shadows throughout the room. A huge mirror had been installed in one wall, and it made Blue intrigued about the sexual proclivities of the previous owner. And the bed...... It too was huge. It could have easily accommodated six people. A genuine four poster. with a cornice of rich red velvet hangings at each corner that were held by a cord and could be drawn for complete privacy. Blue was feeling more and more to the manor born every second. However it was the painting on the wall that caught and held Blue’s gaze. It was of a huge muscular man naked to the waist and dressed only in a tartan kilt. His hair was an unruly mess that framed a face of such savage sexuality that Blue at once wanted to gaze into those piercing eyes which challenged her and at the same time look away almost embarrassed at the sensations she had deep in her body. “Who’s that?” she asked, as much to lighten the tension the picture built up in her as to request genuine information. “Oh that, Mrs Gill. That is Cuchulainin. He was the King of the Celts, long before Christianity came to this land. He was loved by the Earth Goddesses and was king because of his relationship with them.” “Earth Goddesses?” “Yes she changes her face according to the seasons. She was the maiden of Spring, the Lady of Summer, the Mother of Autumn and the Cailleach ( old one) of winter. She represented germination, growth, fruition and decay, and reminds us that just as it cannot always be summer death and winter also come. But she is not to be feared. A world without decay is just as difficult to contemplate as a world where spring never comes.” “But Goddesses? It thought you Catholics only believed in a male God.” “The earth mother ruled the world for thousands of years before man invented a God in his image. No the Earth mother is not forgotten. She exists deep within each of us, as natural as the cycles of this world. She is not expunged from our ancient souls simply because a Jewish religion was imported here a mere two thousand years ago. And neither my dear should we forget Cuchulainin.” The elderly dignified woman caught Blue’s eyes with a gaze of passion. The fire of the ages flared in her soul and Blue was suddenly aware of the sea venting its frustration on the ancient rocks below. For an unknown time the world seemed to stand still as if in some mystic trance, and when Blue came back to reality the woman was gone. Blue was on her own. (Look out for part 2) To anyone who read Melora.... this is something completely different. An attempt at writing a romantic erotic story with "real" people. I hope you like "Blue" (who is based on a real lady) as much as I do.... I would love comments from readers on what sort of genre they like best.... Ireland Romance Ch. 02 The distant barking of dogs somewhere in the castle brought Blue back to reality "Have to be fed" she thought. "Where the hell is the kitchen again.?" She made her way down the staircase and searched through the labyrinth of passages until she found the dark cavernous kitchen. It was warm in there. The AGA stove was still alight. Over in the corner was an ice box. "God...have to get electricity installed. Very next step. Gloomy without it." She was speaking to herself in a whisper. Her small voice echoing around the kitchen giving her comfort against the spirits that she imagined lurking in the shadows. She found the meat and started cutting it up for the dogs. In the pantry was a packet of Meaty Bites but she couldn't find a dog bowl anywhere. Searching through the cupboards she found some beautiful Waterford crystal glasses and some fine bone china dinnerware. But no dog's bowls. The dinnerware caught her eye.. It was white; so fine it was translucent and at one edge there was what appeared to be a family crest laid on a background of tartan. It looked strangely familiar, and then she remembered that it was the same pattern worn by the foreboding muscular stranger whose picture was in her room. For some reason a shiver ran down her back. Blue couldn't work out if the shiver was one of foreboding or anticipation. "Oh well my doggie friends...You're going to eat in style tonight!" She scooped the meat onto two plates and bore them out to where the dogs were waiting at the back step. She placed a bit of meat on her palm and the dogs fine nuzzle tickled her as he ate it out of her hand. The sensation was very pleasant, but it reminded Blue that she had not been caressed for a long time now and it brought on a yearning in her. That was the trouble with work. You worked so hard you forgot about the finer things in life...Like Brendan. Suddenly in her mind she was back in the luxurious New York hotel room. She remembered how after one particular energetic bout of lovemaking they had been having a quiet cup of coffee. She had been lying in a bed of tousled sheets and well remembered body warmth. She looked at him and saw his fine smooth chest and taut stomach glistening with the perspiration of pleasant exertion. His nipples so small and bud like were surrounded by a thin ring of body hair. In devilment she poked one of them with her long red fingernail...(courtesy of some acrylic manufacturer, she thought wryly) Coffee went everywhere. "You bastard, me girlie" he said. "I'll get you for that!" and he lunged at her; reached behind her and put her arm in an armlock. Then he placed his strong body over hers again so that she could not move... "What are you going to do to me?" She said in mock fright. Her eyes were laughing though. "I'm going to..." "I'm going to..." "I'm going to kiss you to death!" And they rolled around on the bed giggling so much that they could hardly get their breath, let alone make love. Exhausted, they lay down looking at the ceiling aware that each other's beautiful body was only inches away, accessible, available for whenever the passion rose again in them. "Pick up the cup then you oaf." she had teased. And Brendan had rolled over and picked up the cup from where it had fallen on the floor. The sheet fell away and exposed the most glorious tight round buns she had ever seen on a man and Blue was beginning to want to start all over again... "Oh Brendan," she thought. "Where are you when I want you? Probably in a French Bordello pleasuring yourself while I'm here with nothing but a pair of dogs..." "Though you are gorgeous my pets." she said out loud. The Irish setters looked at her with big brown eyes as if she were mad. And the thought that there was maybe some truth in that crossed Blue's mind. "Oh well Blue." she said again to the answering echo of the cavernous hallway. "Pull yourself together lass. Time to prepare fore the evening meal" A cold supper had been prepared by Mrs. MacGillicudy and left in the large dining room. The table had been laid out in a formal manner...silver service and crystal. The meal had been well prepared. She really did feel like the lady of the house. Somehow it didn't seem to be right just sitting down and just bogging in dressed as she was in leather jacket and jeans. No this called for something more formal. She hadn't brought much with her. Some luggage was coming later but it hadn't arrived yet. She went upstairs. Perhaps if there was fine china in the kitchen cupboards... She found a large inbuilt wardrobe almost invisible in the panelled wall of her room. She opened it with anticipation. There were four articles of clothing in it...and they were weird. Must have been left over from some fancy dress party. She took the first dress out and held it against her body. It was a simple dress of white diaphanous cotton. The skirt was long and tight with a split up the side. It was young, virginal but full of promise. There was even a garland of dried flowers to go with it. Blue thought that her fine body, of which she had every right to be proud, would do wonders for the dress. But hardly suitable for the mistress of the manor She took the next one down and tried it against her body. It too looked as if it would fit. It was blue and gold; the colour of a summer sky. Made of velvet it had complex Celtic patterns embossed in gold around the hem and along the deeply cut neckline. There was an inbuilt bra in the dress which would thrust her large breasts into rightful prominence. This was indeed a sexy dress. It fulfilled the promise of the first gown. The next gown, Blue saw with some surprise, was a maternity shift. It was printed cotton with an intricate pattern in the colours of autumn - brown and red and gold. It reminded her walking under the trees around Lake Minona kicking the leaves up in a flurry of fun; feeling the chill of the encroaching winter in the air... A pang of homesickness swept through her. The fourth dress was black...Like the widow's weeds worn by wizened matriarchs of the Mediterranean. A dress of sorrow. But traditionally comforting in someway. She felt that a woman who wore that dress had had the honour and pleasure of wearing all the dresses that came before it. It would have to be the blue. How elegant and yet sexy it looked. Exactly right for her. It set off her rich auburn hair to perfection. She held it up against herself again to admire it, and swirled around watching the hem float elegantly through the air. Suddenly the picture of Cuchulainin caught her eye. "My Liege...does it please you sire?" She could not help but utter those words. It had to be a trick of the light, in that candle lit room, but Blue would have sworn the man in the picture smiled.... Ireland Romance Ch. 03 For those who came in late: Blue Gill has been called to Ireland to housekeep a castle for a former lover called Brendan. She has explored the castle and finds herself fascinated with a picture of an ancient Irish warrior called Culchainen. She decides that it is time to get ready for dinner………….. There was an en suite running off the bedroom. Someone had obviously updated the plumbing quite recently; at least in this part of the house. Like the bedroom it was enormous in size and again elegantly finished. The floor and far wall were marble. Huge mirrors covered the other three walls and Blue could see herself as a million marionettes disappearing to infinity. In the middle was a huge bath on pedestals. If it were filled she could luxuriate in water right up to her chin. She started running the taps. The AGA was doing its job well. Warm water flowed out almost immediately. As the water flowed into the bath, Blue slowly got undressed. She was proud of her full figure. O.K. so Kate Moss wouldn’t have liked her broad hips and large bust and her stomach wasn’t as flat as a fashion model’s. But the men in Blues life had admired the soft curves of her body. The way her belly curved graciously to the inviting recess between her legs. The way her full cheeks of her buttocks mirrored the firm curves of her breasts. Her body was soft like the summer breezes that blew cross the rounded hills of Wisconsin. “Earthmother” Brendan had called her when he first saw her naked. “Thank God you’re not skinny me darlin’. I love a woman who is easy to hang on to.” When the bath was filled to a level that to Blue seemed almost reckless extravagance she turned off the taps and let herself slowly sink into the deep warm water. Oh it was good to luxuriate in this all encompassing softness after a day riding the Honda over rough country roads! If only Brendan were here to soap her back. In a cupboard, behind one of the mirrors, she found some white fluffy towels and two large natural sponges. They conjured up visions of the Blue Aegean Sea and naked divers risking their lives just to give her this moment of luxury. Well if they worked that hard for it she was going to enjoy the fruit of their labours. She closed her eyes and filled the soapy sponge with water. She held it above her body and let the water trickle over her face, her mouth, her shoulders and her breasts. For some moments she let it drip gently teasingly on her left nipple. She loved that sensation of initial arousal. It promised so much. She could feel a thousand tiny mouths caressing every part of her sensuous body as the warm water soaked into every intimate crevice. She moved the other sponge down to her private place of pleasure and gently worked it back and forward. It felt so good. In her mind she could see the picture of Cuchulainin; his hard muscles; that strong savage smile; that pagan look of lust in his eye. She knew just how to pleasure herself; knew just the right amount of pressure to cause maximum enjoyment. Not too hard. Not too soft. She could stimulate and arouse herself with just the right intimate touches. She knew her body better than any man and her body responded avidly. She imagined herself in Cuchulainin’s strong arms; encased in limbs of pliant steel. She moaned slightly as she imagined the strong Irish king invading her with his pagan lust. Her mouth invaded by his tongue, her other lips parting to accept his strong turgid maleness. His body filling hers in delicious union. Her hand moved faster to enrich her imagination as she let herself succumb to the unstoppable sensation of primal lust. From her centre of pleasure waves of enjoyment spread through her until she had no control over her body and it arched of its own volition causing waves of warm soft water to caress every pore. The fire flared to white hot intensity as the first wave of an orgasm sent her into paroxysms of delight. She was flying though mists of ancient Eire in the arms of her pagan lover to adventures and pleasures, undreamt of since those ages when the earth mother and mortal men became as one to create a force so great that not even death could conquer it. Slowly her body ceased to tense and finally slumped into a relaxation so peaceful that she lay there floating, not moving except for her breasts which rose and fell as she gasped for air to satisfy her recent exertions. Then gradually, as her body became satisfied, they too ceased to heave and she lay there in blissful relaxation, staring at the pure white of the ceiling which seemed now to be miles away partly obscured by the thin tendrils of steam rising out of the bath. “Oh!” she thought with wry amusement as she looked at her left hand... “Thank God you’re a good lover.” and she kissed her hand with mock gratitude. “Bloody awful conversationalist though!” She smiled and looked as a thousand images of a satisfied lady got dripping out of the bath. “This bathroom could do a lot for your ego” she thought. Now for the dress. She put it on and admired herself in the mirror. She really did look magnificent. The creamy tops of her breasts were thrust up invitingly contrasting with the deep Blue of the velvet. The dress was long but clinging, suggesting and thereby enhancing her luxuriant body. She brushed her hair up away changing her normal bangs into a mass of curls piled high on her head in regal display. “Wow Brendan,” she thought. “I hope that whore you’re with is really something Babe. Just look what you’re missing out on!” And she made her way slowly down the stairs, feeling for all the world like Scarlett O’hara, to where her dinner was laid out in the dining room. She had to go through the hall to the formal dining room and as she did a wave of loneliness suddenly overcame her. This was a moment to be shared, surely. It was about now when if this was a romantic novel and she was the heroine there would be a knock at the door and there would be a rich Frenchman, a millionaire who had lost his way in the wilds of Ireland and had come to seek directions. A man of impeccable breeding and taste, whose conversation would help her pass a pleasurable hour or two at the dinner table. He would be dressed in original Yves St. Laurent with Bally leather shoes, reeking of money. Of course he would ravish her and leave her in the morning wanting more. But her beauty and personality would overcome his normal devil-may-care attitude to women. After many misunderstandings which were inserted by the author just to fill out the book, he would return and be faithful to her after he had discovered that, beside her, all others paled. Then he would take her to his Chalet overlooking the Loire and they would live happily ever after in a houseful of servants which looked after their progeny (conceived in breathless passion and delivered with no pain at all) and visit Monaco just to lunch with Royalty. Blue was just thinking she had gone right off the planet when the door knocker sent a deep thud through the castle. She jumped with surprise, but went to the door with a mixture of fear and anticipation. She opened it to find a man covered in mud, looking totally dishevelled and bleeding profusely from a cut above the right eye. He looked at her grinned shyly and said with a broad Australian accent. “Oh God I’m sorry. Have I just busted up a fancy dress party or something?” Blue burst out laughing. The vision before her could not have been further from her fantasies. “Crikey lady. I know I look a flamin’ mess but it wasn’t really my fault.” “No sorry a private joke. You’d better come in and clean up. What happened?” “Well I had a sort of an accident.. Fell off me bike” he smiled ruefully. “People keep tellin me not to get of me bike ...Just didn’t listen I suppose.” The guy entered the castle and looked round. He was obviously impressed with the size of the place and even more impressed with Blue. “Where is everybody?” It was only natural for him, thought Blue, to expect some sort of function in progress. She suddenly felt very embarrassed at how overdressed she was. Then she thought suddenly that she had been foolishly trusting in letting in a stranger at this time of night. She was after all on her own. Perhaps it would be wise not to let him know that. “Oh they’re about....It’s a big place.” The white lie seemed to her to be very hollow. However let’s not worry about that. I’d better look at your injuries.” Blue gave him her critical eye. He wasn’t half bad looking underneath that mud. His face was lined and tanned, but his skin was pretty smooth so it was difficult to guess his age. He had a strong face. You wouldn’t call it handsome. Not the Cary Grant kind of handsome anyway. His nose was definitely too large, but there was a humorous sparkle to his eyes and his grin was boyish...almost innocent, and he had a wry way of making a moue when he commented on things as if you weren’t to take him too seriously. He wasn’t a muscle man either. But he looked pretty fit and naturally endowed with large torso slim hips which gave him overall a pretty good mark in Blue’s books. He managed, she thought to herself an 8.5. And she liked the flat twangy accent and the way he had of making light of what could have been a serious accident. He looked in control and that was something that Blue could use right now. Ireland Romance Ch. 04 For those who came in late: Blue Gill a computer programmer from Wisconsin, is looking after a castle in Ireland for her former lover Brendan McPherson. She is fascinated by a painting she sees of ancient Irish King and warrior Cuchulainen. She is feeling rather lonely all by herself in the castle when suddenly there is a knock at the door. It is a rather decrepit Aussie who has just had an accident on his motor bike. “You’d better go in and wash up. There’s a bathroom up stairs.” “Thanks ....you’re a real mate. Can I put what’s left of my bike somewhere? It’s a bit of a mess....” He pointed just along the driveway, and Blue could just perceive a dark shape that looked like a motor bike. “Just bring it up here and put it in the porch. Not many thieves around here I should think” “They’d have a hard job driving this away anyhow....” The front wheel of the bike was so badly buckled that it had to be dragged bodily up the drive, gouging tracks in the gravel as it did so. “Jesus, it is a mess.” The guy grinned ruefully. “Oh well it could have been a lot worse. Real lucky to have found this place.. Thanks. Oh name’s Morrice by the way. But me mates call me Comp. Muck around a bit with computers when I’m at home which isn’t often.” “Well I’m Marybeth. My friends call me Blue. Maurice eh? I was thinking about a Frenchman.” No it’s not really a Froggy name. It’s spelt the English way with an “orice”. Named after me uncle. He’s got a farm out at Shepparton.” Morrice saw the frown. “It’s a town in Victoria.” He paused again. “Australia.” “Yeah I got the accent Comp.” “Been to Oz have ya Blue?” “Not yet.” “Just thought with a name like that.. and your reddish hair and all...” “No I’m Blue cause that’s the colour of me Irish eyes” Blue put on a theatrical Irish accent and grinned. “But you’re from US though. Not an Irish accent....(though I agree about those smiling Irish eyes.)” and his smile of genuine admiration looked pretty good on him thought Blue. “Uh huh. Wisconsin. What do you mean anyway about reddish hair..? “No in Aus. all redheads are called Blue. Not many redheads in Australia. Pity cause I’m sort of partial to red-headed shielas.”- and again the ambiguous grin that vacillated between shy and confident. “Go on upstairs and clean up. Have a COLD shower while you’re about it.” But blue was secretly pleased at the effect she was having on this stranger. Morrice made his way up the stairs still smirking. Blue went back to the dining room and sat down. She was quite hungry, not having eaten since early lunch and now it was almost 8:00 PM. But she didn’t start to eat yet. The meal had been laid out on the large wooden sideboard at the head of the table. It seemed to have been prepared by someone who thought that one lady could eat the daily rations of a whole army. There were both slices of chicken and ham, a copious bowl of green salad and of course the ubiquitous potato salad. Downstairs on the AGA Blue had notice an urn of boiling water....but there didn’t seem to be any real coffee anywhere in the house. Oh Well couldn’t have everything. She looked at the food and decided that she would invite Morrice to join her. In fact she’d probably have to put him up for the night. She could hardly send him packing with his bike unable to be driven. A slight tinge of anticipation crept through her at the thought. “Watch it Marybeth,” she told herself, “Your glands are directing your brain again....” By herself in the large room she noticed how quiet everything was. She could hear the faint breath of the wind as it sloughed around the castle’s turrets and the eternal thumping of the Atlantic waves on the rocks below....But there was no traffic noise, no radio, no television....She closed her eyes and drank in the peace. Then from another room somewhere deep in the castle came the sound of a piano. “Holy shit! Ghosts.” and Blue sat petrified for a moment in the big dining chair she had chosen. Then her logic took control. She would get to the bottom of this. She moved out into the hallway and down the passage towards where the sound was coming. It was romantic music...passionate as if whoever had written it was trying to express a desire so deep that it was far beyond words. Blue had never taken much interest in classical music, but this really got to her. The notes reverberated up and down the passageway expressing untold desire, and torment. It was coming from a room she had not previously seen. Slowly she opened the door and there was Morrice seated at the piano, his hands flying backwards and forwards his eyes closed as if possessed by some magic demon. She could do nothing but watch him. She did not feel it was right to interrupt. This man was so intense, so passionately involved in what he was doing that she could only look and be drawn as if by magic into a world where nothing mattered but the emotions expressed by the swirling notes. The music awoke emotions she had not felt for a long time. It seemed to express the intense longing of sexual frustrated passion. She had been too busy recently to notice that it had been a long time since someone had held her in his arms. She watched entranced until the music finished. “That was beautiful,” She said though aware that the word didn’t capture the passion or the pain. “Yeah. Not bad the old Beethoven.” “What was it?” “It’s actually the first movement of his Sonata Number 26. Dull name. It’s better known as ‘Les Adieux’ - the goodbye.” “It sounded so angry...so well frustrated somehow.” “Well Beethoven was a frustrated man. His grandmother and father were alcoholics and put into asylums. He had to raise his brothers on his own. I reckon he strove for perfection in both his music because his relationships with women were flawed. He lusted after women who were unattainable. He never married. He was always chasing rainbows as far as women went. There’s a letter he wrote to one of his lovers:” Morrice quoted the extract by heart. “‘My Angel, my all, my very self. Can our love endure but through sacrifice - If you do not demand everything - can’t you become wholly mine and I wholly thine?’” “It’s interesting to think just what were the circumstances. Why couldn’t the lady make herself available? We’ll never know...We don’t even know who the lady was. The letter was never sent. Found after his death in a secret drawer in his bureau” “Seems sad somehow.” said Blue “Yes but if he had been able to have a satisfactory relationship, perhaps all that frustrated beautiful music would never have been written” “You almost seem to identify with him?” And Blue’s slightly mocking smile hid a desire to really know more about this man. “Who me baby. Don’t worry about me.. Us Aussies are known far and wide as perfect lovers!” His smile exposed the self irony. “Come on let’s eat,” invited Blue, “I’m starving.” They made their way back to the dining room and sat down to enjoy the prepared supper. Morrice found a well stocked Bar. In it was a bottle of Chardonnay. “Want a glass?” “No thanks I like Korbel and Coke.” Morrice gave a non-committal shrug. You could tell that he didn’t think much of Blue’s tastes in liquor, but he was too polite to say so. Blue noticed however. “What’s wrong with Korbel and Coke?” “Nothing. Depends on what you drink for...The taste or the effect.” “Oh a wine snob eh?” “No I just like the taste of a good wine. ...and I don’t much go for Coke.” “Well I do. Nothing wrong with that is there?” God she thought to herself why am I trying to justify my actions to this man? Why do I care what he thinks of me? Morrice said nothing for a while. Just looked at her as he expertly mixed Blue’s drink then uncorked the bottle of wine for himself. It was as if he were reading her thoughts. “You look ravishing in that dress.” was all he said. It was such a sudden change of subject that it caught Blue unawares and she found her face colouring. “Well I...er...it’s a long story.” “Got all night. Or I assume I have” Again the devilish teasing sparkle in his eye, assured her that if there was any double meaning to be found in the statement, Morrice had meant it. And so Blue told him the story, and much much more; of her Childhood in Wisconsin. How she had caused her parents pain through her independent teenage years. “I was wild. Had a reputation at College. Got into trouble. You’d reckon with the pill available and all” She told Morrice of how when she did get into trouble it was he father not her mother that helped her. “Mum just couldn’t cope. Went to pieces. Looking back I can see how hard it was for her. She was s...so ...straight laced. Sexually at any rate. Frustrated. Lot’s of time to herself. Dad was successful in his business. So successful that mum started to spend time by herself. Must have been about then that she started drinking. I mean to excess. Ended up a real mess. Didn’t help my teenage years either.” Blue was smiling ruefully. “I hope this story has a happy ending.” “Yeah. It’s funny how things work out. Dad remarried. Lived happily ever after.” “And you?” “Had my ups and downs. More ups than downs. Look back on a lot of it now with affection. Almost as if it happened to someone else.. Not real. You understand?” “Yes that’s the one blessing of memory. You kinda only keep remembering the good times. It’s good to remember that when things go wrong. The art to life is to let the bad bits sink and grab the good bits.” Morrice smiled. “Now tell me about you.” asked Blue Morrice didn’t answer at first. He just looked at her intently. “You know something?” he said. “You’re standing under some mistletoe.” “Am I?” Blue smiled invitingly. “How nice” And that’s how they first kissed. He came over to her put his arms around her and held her close. He looked into her eyes and without any hurry or hesitation bent down and kissed her confidently and expertly on the mouth. There was no threat in it. No ardour which could have frightened her at that moment. Only the promise of something better should she chose to take it. They melted into one another for some seconds. “Whew. Time for desert I should think.” Ireland Romance Ch. 05 For those who came in late... Well you are too late now... This is the last episode (perhaps) So go back and read the previous episodes if you want to find out what has happened There was mellowness in the air. An easy friendliness had been engendered in part by the elegant setting of the meal and the fine wines that had been drunk. In the main, however it was caused by a complete empathy of spirit Somehow Blue felt as if she had known Morrice for years. His humour made her laugh. His wide interests made all topics of conversation interesting. Yet he was never overbearing. He respected her ideas, complementing them with ideas of his own so, at the end of a discussion, they were both left with the impression that their view of the world was more complete than it had been before they had talked. "It's really very nice just being here together like this." said Blue tasting the strange desert that had been left for them She had no idea what she was eating. They had found the desert in an elegant silver serving dish. It was some sort of fruit but neither of them could discern exactly what it was. It was delicious with a refreshing tang that refreshed the initial impression of cloying sweetness. "I'm glad that you crashed outside the castle" "Not half as glad as I am. A few hours a go I was covered in mud, stranded at the end of Ireland. Now I am having a delicious meal with what must surely be the most beautiful girl in the world." "You say that to everyone I suppose." "Yes." Morrice grinned. "But its so much nicer when you can say it...and mean it.. I love that dress you're wearing. It seems very formal." "Yes I found it upstairs. Put it on for a joke." Blue stood up and swirled around modelling the dress. She did look lovely. The soft glow of the candles caught the highlights in her long auburn hair as it swung around her face. The soft curves of her breasts so full of promise were apparent, rising out of the soft blue velvet neckline. "I feel under dressed somehow in my jeans and jumper." "We should find you something for the occasion..." They went upstairs back to the bedroom. A tingle of excitement went through Blue as she remembered Morice's kiss and anticipated more pleasure's to come. "I'm starting to feel really high." thought Blue. "Drunk a bit but not enough to make me feel this way. Just what did they put in this desert? Better watch myself" Blue tripped on the stairs on the way up and Morrice just caught her in time. She felt as if she would not have hurt herself if she had fallen. The world was floating and she was floating with it, but she was glad that Morrice's strong arms had come to her rescue. For a moment she just stayed there, inhaling his masculine aroma. She looked up at him and engaged his eyes with hers. "Oh Blue..." said Morrice and inclined his head so that their lips could meet. Blue opened her lips slightly - the white of her teeth contrasting with the lusciousness of her full lips inviting Morrice to come closer. Their lips touched. Just the soft touch of a butterfly kissing the early morning dew off a spring flower "Morice...no! Perhaps we'd better not. O.K.?" And Blue pulled herself away. "Alright Pet. I only want to give you pleasure. Not pain." And his eyes told Blue that he was sincere. There was genuine regard for her as a person in his manner. Suddenly Blues heart went out to him. God how she now wanted him to kiss her...But the moment was lost. "Let's get you into the part..." she said and raced up the stairs before her face gave away her true feelings.. "You should dress as an Irish Lord, my friend. I bet you there's something in here somewhere." Blue opened up the wardrobe where she had found her costumes, and there on the top shelf was the complete Irish Lord's outfit complete with kilt, sporran and even a sheathed dirk. Blue extracted her find with a triumphant cry. "Ta dah!" she said holding up her prize. "Put this on sport..." She laughed with pleasure at using the Aussie slang. Morrice grabbed them from her and swung them round. "Och Lassie but they be bonnie." "Stupid dork." she admonished. "It's Irish not Scottish." "Yes but I do such an awful Irish accent my darlin'" "You can say that again! Didn't think your scotch was much better though" "Scotch is a drink, Blue. You mean Scots" "God you always want to have the last word. Just get changed oaf! I want to see how you look. Go into the ensuite there." Morrice exited into the adjacent room. Blue sat on the bed. She was feeling quite strange. There was an air of unreality about the place that couldn't be explained just by the way the candlelight made the shadows move. It almost was as if the room had a life of its own. She sat down on the bed and listened to the storm building up outside. In the distance she could hear the rumble of thunder, and the pale flash of far away lightening seeped through the un-curtained windows. It was then she noticed the piece of ancient parchment poking out of the chest of drawers beside the bed. Filled with curiosity, Blue opened the draw and extracted the sheet. On it something was written in an ancient script totally unknown to her. Much more recently the ancient document appeared to have been translated, for against each line was a translation scrawled by some scholar in ink. She could hardly decipher the translation, it was so badly written, but her curiosity was intense and she found herself reading what appeared to be a ballad with growing excitement. "What seekest thou, Oh King of Eire, You walk the world with longing stare?" "I search the world for love divine, To find the one I must make mine" "And who is she that you must find To guarantee thy mortal kind?" "She is the match-mate of my soul She is the half who makes me whole." "Oh knight supreme, O Can you tell Which lady weaves this special spell?" "There is but one for whom I care The lady with the Auburn hair." "And when you find this Lady true Tell me my liege what you must do?" I'll hold her close and warm her cold, And sheath my sword inside her fold." "And then my Lord how will you treat This lady with a touch so sweet?" "I'll plough a furrow straight and true So Spring can be reborn anew." A sudden burst of thunder much louder than before sent a shiver down Blue's back. She folded the paper deep in thought and returned it to the draw. Eventually Morrice returned in full regalia. It did him proud. He had the sort of legs that made a kilt look good. "Oh Grand Lord," said Blue. "What great muscles you have." "All the better to save you from the wicked spirits that inhabit the underworld my Lady" "Oh Grand Lord, what a powerful stare you have." "All the better to see into the hearts of those who may deceive you my Lady" "Oh Grand Lord," Said Blue giggling her dimples spreading across her radiant face. "What a big SPORRAN you have." "You should see my Dirk my lady..." Slowly Morrice's mood changed. His ironic eyes became serious. "Oh Blue you look so lovely sitting there. I think ...I hope..." Suddenly from far away downstairs came the sound of the piano. For some reason Blue didn't question it's origin. It seemed as natural as the sound of the waves beating against the rocks below, or her heart beating beneath her breast. It must be a ghost thought Blue. He plays piano so well. Morrice didn't question the surreal phenomenon either. "Shall we dance my lady?" And even more strangely Blue and Morrice knew as if by instinct the steps of the dance they were performing. The music was strange to them, it echoed down the ages with a primitive cadence, sensuously weaving a spell over the two dancers. The dance like the music was slow and graceful. There was no body contact except through the eyes, as if in a trance the two lovers moved closer and closer until they could feel each other's breath on their cheeks. And suddenly Morrice was kissing Blue with the fierce kisses born from long frustration. He kissed her nose her closed eyelids and her ears and finally his lips sought hers and she felt herself melting into his maleness. "Oh Marybeth, Oh Marybeth, you are so wonderful" He whispered as his arms embraced Blue with an un-controlled passion. The music was changing in tempo. Its slow gracefulness was growing faster and more passionate. The bodies fell onto the bed as one. Morrice's head nuzzled Marybeth's neck and shoulders, his ardour so great that he could not have told you what he was kissing He only knew that to enfold his body in Marybeth's flesh gave him joy beyond anything he had ever known before. Marybeth just closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensation of being possessed by what seemed to her to be an uncontrollable force; and in a new experience for her she was enjoying the sweet submission. Suddenly the ardour subsided and Morrice lay silent. Looking at Marybeth and drinking in her soul through her blue Irish eyes. With a gentleness, almost a reverence Morice began to kiss Marybeth softly on the cheeks. His tongue explored every part of her face and neck to bury itself in her half exposed breasts. He moved away and slowly started to unlace the bodice of her gown, gazing in awe as her womanliness was revealed to his worshipful gaze. "Marybeth you are the earth mother. You nurture with your mind. You nurture with your body." And he bent to her now exposed breasts and kissed her teasingly near her nipple bringing his lips ever closer to one of Marybeth's most sensitive and sensuous parts. Marybeth lay back and let the sensation slowly build up in her. I t was so much more intense than she could ever remember it before. She suspected that the unknown fruit upon which she had earlier feasted had aphrodisiac qualities. Whatever it was the sensations were heightened and she could feel tongues of fire flare from her breasts to her loins arousing her slowly to a fervour that she already sensed would be greater than any she had ever known. Morice's tongue was now swirling about Marybeth's nipple. Teasing it. Drowning it in sweet soft sensations. Marybeth took his hand and brought it to her mouth to moisten his finger and gently guided that hand around the nipple on the other breast to increase her pleasure. Slowly Morrice continued to explore with his tongue, slowly kissing the flesh exposed as he continued to unwrap her from her dress. He eased his body around so that she could see his maleness. While he was undressing her she pulled back his kilt slowly exposing more and more of his taut thigh until she could watch his body's reactions to her only inches from her face It was very erotic to see his slack penis start to twitch as desire grew hold. She did not need to touch or caress it to bring it to life. Her sweet body seem to have the power to do this on its own, and knowledge of that power, of the sweet control that a beautiful woman had over a man added another dimension to the pleasure flaring up from her loins where Morice's tongue was probing. As he used his tongue as a tiny penis his real penis expanded with excitement, and she could see the veins around its side pumping blood into it making it larger. The huge tip was only inches from her mouth and she moved closer to lick the underside of the glans, returning to him the pleasure he was giving her. The penis trembled at her touch as if all Morice's desire was cramming itself into that organ - yearning for release. And they stayed like that for some time pleasuring each other. Slowly increasing the desire each had had since they first set eyes on each other. The fire inside their loins was building...building but neither wanted it satisfied until it reached an intensity would enable them to explode within each other's bodies. Sweet sensations flowed from all parts of Blue's body. Her breasts grazed against Morice's inverted hairy chest. Her hand reached round and felt the fullness of his firm buttocks. Her mouth sucked on his maleness with increasing fervour. She could feel Morice's tongue pulsating against her clit. His firm soft fingers entering her vagina; his thumb moving round to caress her other sensitive hole, moving his fingers back and forth in a seesawing motion that brought her higher and higher until her loins started to liquefy ready to melt into his. The ardour was so strong that they seemed it could never be really satisfied. Their bodies yearned to find ways to make the pleasure even greater. He lay on his back and Blue took control. At one stage she rode him. Straddled his large cock until it was deep inside her then rising off him and lowering herself. She abandoned herself to the pleasure of his penetration and the control she had over him. She could see his face in this position and the desire in his eyes as her full body undulated before him, her hair swinging wildly about her face. At times, at the apex of her movements she would hold herself still - teasing the tip of his cock with her cunt lips. Watching his face twist in delicious torment desperately wanting her body to plunge down and enclose his maleness. She would engage his eyes and they would tell him that she would pleasure him when she wanted. His desire was in her hands. And then when she could stand his sweet suffering no more she would drop and see the pleasure increased by frustration making his whole body shake. He would moan and call out "Oh Marybeth fuck me fuck me baby!" Then he would take control and she went over submissively while he took her from behind. Here she could see nothing but the whiteness of soft sheets and pillow absorbing her movements as his thrusts forced her deeper and deeper into the bed. He too would tease. Rubbing his cock against her crack until she would cry out with frustration. "Fill me Fill me. Plunge your cock deep inside me. Let me hold it in my cunt. Please Pleeeeeessse" And slowly at first he would begin the motion, thrusting his large member inside her until she was completely filled; then bringing its full length out so that Blue could savour the movement against her inner walls. Blue could reach behind her and heighten the sensation by rubbing her clit, feeing his large balls slap softly against her hand. And Morrice could increase her pleasure even further by entering her anus with his finger. Her whole lower body was alight. Sensation building on sensation, as the motion became more fervent. She thrust back, trying to encourage even more penetration crying ..."Faster...faster...More". This seemed to encourage Morice to even further, and his pelvic thrusts became harder, higher, faster until it seemed impossible that any man could have such strength, flexibility and endurance. Beads of sweat poured off his brow and he worked harder and harder to please himself and his beloved Blue. There was no stopping the physical lust that drove them to deeper and deeper climaxes of ecstasy. When they came together it reminded Blue of the elemental force of Atlantic surging unremittingly into a small shore cove, pushing with liquid force into caves formed by previous contact. Then the peace that came after climax. They would look into each other's eyes, he growing limp but still inside her, and smile with love and wonder at the fact that they had found each other. That smile reminded Morrice's body of the pleasure he had just had and it would respond once more. Blue could feel him growing inside her just from the encouragement of her eyes and the touch of her palm gently caressing his nipples. And they would begin all over again, finding it impossible that this time could be any greater than the last. Yet it was. It had never been like this before with any other man. The sensations were so great, the desire so continuous, that it seemed well beyond human experience. Could it have been the fruit they had eaten she wondered? Or was this man just so good. Blue was in an ecstatic daze when she opened her eyes from the last and most frenetic climax of them all. It came with an intensity that she could not believe possible. It had shaken here to here elemental foundations, and she lay there shuddering knowing that nothing could ever surpass the feeling that she had just had. Her eyes had been closed and she had imagined that she had grown as large as the universe. She contained everything in her wondrous body. She had been filled and could not be filled one more drop. She lay back contented, at last fulfilled beyond desire. She was content to now just be held in the hard arms of this magnificent man. Dully she perceived the storm raging outside as she became slowly conscious of her real surroundings. She did not open her eyes but stayed still, secure against the icy elements outside. She could feel him breathing heavily from his exertions and for a while enjoyed the rhythm of his body against hers. Then she looked up, smiling gratitude at the one who had given her so much pleasure. Looked up into the eyes of the person who had shown her that her body was capable of ecstasies she had hardly dreamt of. Looked up... Into the eyes of Cuchulain! Well should I end it there...? I have been thinking about giving Blue some adventures in Ancient Ireland, but I have difficulty. I am certain that the savagery of that place would not fit well with the urban sophisticated and romantic Blue. If I am to continue it the tone must change... I would welcome feedback. Matcher...