Prevue: Sunday, 2:45AM

He hovered just at the edge of wakefulness, an erection already at half-mast. The violent summer
storm outside had mostly dissipated; only the steady percussive rain continued to fall. It made a
soothing, rat-tat-tat on the windows and balcony outside. Smiling, he leaned in closer to the velvety
warmth of the sleeping woman next to him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd actually slept
with a woman. Her back was to him, so he curved his pelvis forward, allowing his stiffening shaft to
slip between her thighs. He put his face in her fragrant hair, inhaling deeply. She smelled like fine
French lavender and the scent of their sex was still on her.

Images of their earlier lovemaking filled his mind: her startled, helpless look after that first stolen
kiss; the taste and texture when he captured her pert, insanely hard nipples in his mouth; the deep
dark honey sound of her moans when she climaxed over and over; her incredible tightness as he
finally inserted himself to the hilt into her very hot, wet folds; the wanting and vulnerability in her
large, dark eyes as she silently pleaded with him to take her again and again. With one hand, he
moved her gorgeous, heavy tresses out of the way so he could slide his lips across the smooth, perfect
skin of her shoulders. His other hand moved up her hip, past her slim waist, over her ribcage and
finally, gently, cupped her breast. He teased her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She began
to stir, and his erection stiffened further. A soft sound escaped her parted lips -- it was part sigh, part
moan. She pressed her body back against his, her legs shifting to allow him to move even closer.

Fully awake now and needing more -- needing to again taste her sweet mouth -- he raised himself off
of the mattress and pulled her onto her back, covering her body with his own. The look she gave him
was completely unguarded, her full lips spread slowly into a sleepy, sexy grin. Tilting her chin up, she
offered him her mouth. With a deep growl he took it. He was holding the sides of her face as he kissed
her with unrepressed passion. She was gasping in excited surprise, clinging to him as her own passion
rose to mirror his. She arched her body upward, grinding against his hardness. He pressed her back
into the soft featherbed, his thighs impatiently pushing hers further apart. He ground out through his
teeth how much he wanted her -- how much he needed to be inside her. She whispered "yes" over and
over as she reached between them to help guide him into her. Once in, he grasped her wrists, pulling
her hands up and over her head as he slammed into her. She put her mouth to his chest as she
screamed out in mindless pleasure. He filled her so completely -- bringing her to heights she didn't
think her body was capable of feeling. She'd never known anything like this. It felt as if she were
caught up in an elemental force that was well beyond her control, and she loved it...

Friday, 7:45PM (two days earlier).

Hanna didn't mind being alone. She really didn't. It was going to be great -- two whole weeks
completely to herself in a beach house on the Cape. It would be heaven, made just for her. She was
sure of it.

There would be no need to constantly reassure and placate Bill over the fact that he was getting older.
No need to be discomfited over how much attention he paid to the 20-something female lifeguards
and waitresses. No need to starve and slave away on the treadmill every day so that Bill wouldn't look
askance at her body. No need to worry about coming up with an endless series of entertainments,
because he had the attention span of a three-year old. No need to play the part of peacemaker, trying
to ignore the fact that their friends and neighbors secretly pitied her. No need to fake orgasms during
utterly conventional sex that was far too infrequent and over way, way too fast.

Bill was no longer her problem. He was no longer her husband.

The divorce was not even a year old. It had been eight months since it was made official. She had
been alone longer if you counted the time it took to settle the divorce, because Bill had been very
difficult, refusing to agree in most negotiations. It was even longer if you counted the time they spent
apart since Hanna discovered his infidelity with a woman who used to be her good friend. So adding all
that time into the "BWB", or "Being without Bill" column, it had been one year, six months and about
12 days.

Yes, it was high time for Hanna to shake off all the old habits. High time that she start creating new
patterns and new memories. High time she gear her life to her needs and tastes. Time she start
building a rhythm around her newfound freedom. This year's summer vacation was as good a time as
any.

Her best friend Amanda had planned on coming along so they could spend this vacation together.
Amanda, a single career woman also in her early 40s, has been her friend for nearly two decades and
was very supportive during the divorce. They'd traveled together a couple of times during the last few
years for short wine festival weekends and spa breaks, but this was supposed to be their great
summer adventure.

They selected the rather grand house when planning to share the expenses, but then Amanda had a
big project come up at work and needed to change her schedule. She offered to contact the owner and
move the start date of the lease to reschedule the whole Alex. Hanna considered it briefly, but then
decided to be bold. For once in her life, she would vacation alone. It was extravagant, but she could
afford it (just). It was a chance to rediscover and reinvent herself.

So here she was, driving along Shore Road, heading to the house that would be hers for the next two
weeks. There were more properties on the left side, across the road from the beach, but the ocean
side of the route tracked the rocky edge of the Sound, so houses on the beach side were few and far
between. As she rounded a bend, a stonewall on her right gradually grew taller until it entirely
obscured the view of the sea from the road. This wall eventually gave way to a tall, beautifully
manicured Boxwood hedge. The navigation device in her rental car intoned that she had arrived at her
destination, on the right. Hanna checked the street number on an ornate sign at the entrance, then
turned right into a gated opening set between two high hedges. She traveled along a pebbled
driveway flanked by stunning blue hydrangea bushes for about a hundred yards. Braking, she
regarded the massive clapboard and stone house at the end of the drive. It was a lot bigger than she
realized. She felt an excited thrill run down her spine. How marvelous. Hanna felt decadent -- a feeling
with which she was decidedly unaccustomed. It caused a genuinely sensual tingling -- as if she was
suddenly very aware of her own body.

Quickly opening the lock box as the realtor's email instructed, she pulled out the large set of keys and
let herself in. Hanna was breathless. The house was wonderful. Once through the welcoming foyer and
past a pair of curving wooden staircases, the house opened up into a massive great room with
abnormally high ceilings and a fieldstone fireplace. Its entire east wall was made of glass -- French
doors and great arched windows stretched the full width of the house. She gazed out, mesmerized, at
the grey-blue water of Nantucket Sound and the bright blue sky above. Her mouth silently formed the
word "oh!" as she looked on in wonder.

On the other side of all these windows was a wide, graciously furnished wooden deck. In the middle of
the deck, a few steps brought you down to a sandy path flanked by thickets of beach rose and tall,
waving grasses. The path culminated at the cliff's edge, where a set of wooden steps led down to the
beach. In the far distance, a small white sailboat was slicing through the waves. Seagulls hovered
aloft, wings spread, in the steady breezes blowing above the cliff.
Hanna giggled like a girl. She made quick work of bringing her things in from the car. She'd stopped
for groceries and wine on the way, so she stowed the perishables away in the gourmet kitchen before
touring the rest of the house. Grasping the bottle of champagne she'd splurged on, she tucked it into
the freezer so it would chill faster. She'd open that as soon as she unpacked, she decided. Twenty
minutes or so should do it.

She methodically made her way around, acquainting herself with her temporary home. The house was
very old but kept in perfect condition and tastefully appointed. It was a high Victorian-era house that
had been painstakingly updated in keeping with its origins. She was enchanted. There was a laundry
room and an elegant Powder Room off of the kitchen. Just off the foyer to the right, there was a small
library that sported wall-to-wall bookshelves packed with leather bound and more contemporary hard
cover books. It had a small fireplace that was faced by a pair of big, distressed leather wing chairs.
Hanna ran a hand lovingly across some of the books, delighted to see that she'd have plenty to read
while there -- one of her great passions, as well as her profession. She was a book editor, and a
talented one, at that. Her mother used to say that it was because she was more comfortable
observing life than living it, a mean thing to say, for sure, but not entirely wrong.

The room on the left side of the foyer was a small, formal parlor -- the kind of reception room that
would have been de rigueur in an old Victorian such as this. Its walls were covered in a charming navy
Toile wallpaper with draperies and furniture upholstered to match.

Making her way up the curving staircase, Hanna took a moment at the top to admire the pattern of
the parquet tiles on the foyer floor below: it was a compass rose created by different shades of oak.
How intricate and lovely, she thought. Who would bother to create something so rare and fine these
days? She wondered. The carved bannister felt warm and smooth under her hands. She sighed as she
realized that this house was actually full of love. It seemed to wash over her.

The Master Bedroom suite was on the second floor. It included its own fireplace and a full balcony that
hung out over the beach. This would be her room. It was perfect. She actually needed to use the little
set of steps at its side to climb up onto the bed. It was a king sized four-poster with a dramatic silk
tester. She flopped down on the mattress, loving the way it seemed to envelope her, the mattress firm
but topped with a feather bed that was embracing in its softness.

Hanna imagined how this bed would feel if she were making love on it. How it would softly cradle her
from below as a lover thrust into her from above. She felt sexy little chills run from the top of her
head, to her neck, back and on down. Stretching back into it, her hands moved over the coverlet, its
silky embroidery feeling wonderful under her sensitive fingers. She sighed contentedly. Now if she only
had the lover, she thought wistfully... blushing a little at the idea of sleeping with someone new. No
one besides Bill and her doctor had seen her naked for over a decade.

People had tried to fix her up with "eligible" men after the divorce. The blind dates -- there had been
three such attempts -- had all been unsuccessful. One man had been the oily, "player" type who dyed
his hair and wore men's cologne. He talked non-stop about money. He tried to grope her under the
table during the crme brule - his hot meaty fingers fumbling under her skirt trying to reach her
panties. Hanna "accidentally" knocked over her water glass, dousing the front of his trousers. While he
was in the men's room trying to dry off, she paid the check and escaped. He never called again, much
to her relief.

The second man had been so freshly wounded from his own divorce that he talked nonstop the entire
night about his ex-wife. She finally went to the ladies room and called Amanda, getting her to call her
on her mobile and fake a work emergency so she could leave before dessert. Hanna thought he looked
relieved when she made her excuses.

The last was a bit different. It had been with a handsome IT executive named Adam, who
unfortunately turned out to be fifteen years her junior -- somewhere around 28. He had been smart,
amusing, and easy to talk to. But Hanna knew that he was in a completely different stage of life than
she was. Plus, she couldn't shake the feeling that the other restaurant patrons were staring,
wondering why he was out on a date with his mom.

In the taxi after dinner, while she was describing what she liked about Bach, he'd suddenly leaned
over and kissed her. His lips felt so nice -- soft but strong. He was a good kisser. She kissed him back.
He cupped her face with his hand, and his kisses deepened and turned rather passionate. Hanna felt a
rush of heat that started in the place between her legs and spread up her torso to her neck. His mouth
pushed hers open and his tongue explored inside. She felt her body stir awake, her nipples hardening
into needy little diamonds, her sexy new lace panties flooded with moisture. She liked it and it scared
the shit out of her. When he moved closer and his hand moved down her neck, past her collarbone to
cup one full breast, she panicked. Hastily exiting the cab still several blocks from her apartment, she
ran home and went to bed alone. During the night, she'd had a full-on sex dream, waking up as she
climaxed. She tugged up her nightgown and slipped a finger into her wet folds, marveling that she'd
had an orgasm with no physical contact whatsoever.

It must have been the taboo of being with a much younger man, she decided, and probably also the
total absence of sex for such a long time. But taking things any further with Adam would be
impossible. Sooner or later, she reasoned, she'd stumble into unfortunate lighting and Adam would
decide that the 15 years really mattered. Clearly, this young man simply had the oh-so-trendy cougar
fetish. She was no Mrs. Robinson. She ignored his repeated calls and text messages, and he
eventually gave up.

Hanna begged her friends to stop setting her up on dates, and they reluctantly agreed. That had been
two months ago, and she hadn't tried to date anyone else since. Amanda suggested that Hanna try
online dating -- but she couldn't bring herself to actually post a profile. It all just felt too desperate.
Maybe she just wasn't ready. Or maybe her window for finding a real romance had closed.

Shaking off this line of thought, Hanna rose to her feet and opened the double French doors to the
balcony, stepping past a pair of elegant white wrought iron chairs to lean her arms on the railing. The
fresh salty breeze blew her hair around her face. From this vantage point, she could see up and down
the beach for miles. The nearest house was up the beach about a quarter of a mile away. It, too,
appeared to be a similarly styled Victorian, but was easily twice as large. The stretch of beach down to
the south seemed to go on for at least a mile, but was flanked by large jagged rocks leading up to a
sea wall and finally the road she'd taken here. This was an isolated spot -- no doubt. Hanna felt
herself grow moist with exhilaration. She was frankly amazed that her surroundings and her
independence prompted this sexual response. Amazed and thrilled.

It made her feel like singing -- something she hadn't done since college.

She looked around. It was the hour approaching sunset. The sun had started to paint the sky pink and
orange. There were no people around for at least a mile.

No -- wait, correction, she thought. Hanna spied a man and his dog up the beach near the other large
Victorian. She watched for a moment as the man threw what appeared to be a stick, and the large
Golden Lab ran joyously into the surf to retrieve it, returning excitedly to its master. They repeated the
action several times, the man running along the sand as he played boyishly with the dog. The sound of
an excited bark reached her across the sand from time to time. She smiled at the uncomplicated
happiness shown by the pair. Maybe she should get a dog, Hanna mused.

They were way too far away to hear her, but her natural reticence kicked in and she hummed, instead
of singing the Nina Simone song rolling around in her head. Turning back inside, she paused at the
door of the Master Bath -- grinning salaciously at the enormous claw foot bathtub. A luxurious bubble
bath would be on the agenda later that night, for sure. She was happy she had the foresight to buy a
few candles at the store. The melody of "Feeling Good" began to echo through the house as Hanna
continued to look around and acquaint herself.

"Birds flying high, you know how I feel.

Sun in the sky, you know how I feel.

Breeze just driftin' on by, you know how I feel.

It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life

For me... And I'm feeling good...."

Some thirty minutes later, Hanna retrieved the champagne from the freezer, tore off the foil and
braced herself as she popped the cork. Such a happy sound! Filling a tall flute she'd pulled from a
china cabinet, she waited for the initial bubbles to subside before topping it off. Smiling, she stood on
her left foot as she rubbed her bare right leg against her left. Her moist labia pressed into each other
as the top of her right foot caressed her left calf.

Upstairs in the bedroom, when she dropped her suitcases in the large walk-in closet, Hanna had
spontaneously kicked off her shoes, yanking off her hose and shrugging out of her now thoroughly wet
panties. She didn't bother digging out a fresh pair -- she decided to go Commando for once. It felt
incredible, and after all, there was no one to see it. She also impatiently pulled off the cardigan that
she'd worn over her halter dress. Since she was already bra-less because of the halter, she was naked
under her light summer dress.

Hanna's tongue darted out to run over her upper lip. Her mouth watered a little in anticipation of the
delicious sting of the champagne. Letting her fingers slide down the perspiring length of the flute, she
lifted the glass to her lips, closing her eyes. Millions of miniscule bubbles were bursting, sending their
sharp perfume into her nose. The edge of the glass rested on her lower lip as the cold, frothing liquid
rushed into her mouth, flaring almost electrically around her tongue. She swallowed, gasping as the
alcohol and bubbles created a cold burn down her throat. Her eyes watered a tiny bit as she emitted a
soft "mmm" sound. Unconsciously, she ran her free hand down the front of her throat until it came to
rest on her breastbone, just above her heart. Her erect nipple pressed into her forearm.

Spinning on the cool marble tile on the pads of her feet, Hanna looked out at the Sound. The sky was
now shot through with crimson, orange and pink. The sun burned like a liquid golden disc as it moved
toward the horizon. The big fluffy clouds were tipped with color. She opened one of the French doors
and walked out to the edge of the deck.

The wind whipped her dress back and lifted her hair. The rush of cool air blowing between her thighs
only seemed to further excite her overheated pussy. Hanna wanted to shout, she felt so good. It was
as if she were awakening from a deep sleep. She drained her glass, liking the tingle of the champagne
flowing freely down her throat, and put the flute down on a nearby side table. Then she lightly skipped
down the few steps to the sandy path and walked out to the top of the cliff stairs. There were over a
dozen steps down to the beach below. It was a secluded stretch of soft sand. At the high tide mark,
the fringe was littered with small shells, pebbles and bits of drying seaweed. The beach was half-moon
shaped, bordered to the north and south by long stone jetties that reached out into the Sound. There
weren't big waves in this body of water, typically, but all the larger ripples sent white foam in the air
where they broke on the rocks. A few seagulls stood in the wet sand, looking out to sea as the waves
ebbed and flowed onto the beach. The tide seemed to be going out. A gull hovering in the air nearby
let out a reverberating cry that, to Hanna's ears, sounded joyous. She found herself laughing with
delight; it was a deep, throaty laugh that unfurled from her diaphragm. She stretched her arms wide
as if she would embrace the scene before her. Her hair and dress fluttered behind her in the steady
wind.

Hanna needed to feel the water on her feet, she impulsively decided. She ran quickly down the
smooth, sand-coated steps. She was amazingly sure-footed, as if her body already knew the way. As
she reached the bottom, she leapt down over the last two steps to land softly below. Crossing to the
firmer, wet sand, Hanna spared a glance or two at the wealth of shells and smooth stones, avoiding
the seaweed. She stood where the returning surf would reach her feet; they barely sank at all into the
packed wet sand. A breaking wave sent the thin sheet of surf curling up, up, until it rolled over and
past her feet. Hanna loved the gentle pull as it ebbed back into the sea, watching as her feet became
partially buried in the cool moist sand that it briefly lifted, then set down and left behind.

The wind rushing through the rocks and the breaking waves roared soothingly in her ears, broken only
occasionally by a gull's scream. Hanna could feel and hear the blood pounding in her veins. She
walked up the beach to the jetty and climbed up, carefully stepping from rock to rock, until she was
near the point where it was submerged. As small waves broke against it, their spray splashed across
her, coating her skin in a fine mist of salt. Running her hands across her bare arms, the texture felt so
"real" to Hanna -- as if the sea was leaving its trace on her. The beauty of the scene filled her up with
such joy she thought she might actually burst. With barely a conscious thought, she started to sing,
completely uninhibitedly, into the crepuscular display.

"Stars when you shine, you know how I feel.

Scent of the pine, you know how I feel.

Yeah, freedom is mine, and I know how I feel.

It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life

For me. And I'm feeling good...."

She threaded her fingers into her wild locks, shaking her heavy mane of hair to keep it from tangling
in the wind. She used to keep her dark hair in a sleek blunt cut a few inches above her shoulders,
routinely straightening it, because her ex-husband preferred it that way. Since the divorce, though,
she'd stopped the straightening treatments and added several golden highlights. She let it grow
unchecked. It was now was well past her shoulders, curling into the point between her shoulder
blades. Her hair was not something she had been particularly vain about -- she thought that brown
wavy hair was rather ordinary. But now, as it blew behind her and caressed her bare shoulders and
neck, she was very happy that she'd stopped trying to tame it. It, too, deserved to be free.

The air was cooling off now that the sun was sinking beneath the horizon. Hanna watched in awe as
the lightshow that began earlier kicked into high gear. The sky was magnificent. Vivid purples,
crimsons, yellows and oranges streaked upward, creating their mirror image at the point where the
sea met the heavens. Hanna could only stare in wonder, feeling weightless. Gooseflesh arose on her
exposed flesh and she wrapped her arms protectively around herself. Her nipples were poking through
the thin cotton of her dress. She rubbed her arms across the hard, sensitive little points and shivered
slightly, but not just from the cold. Loathe to go in and miss any of this wonderful sunset, though, she
stayed where she was until the orange light had dissipated and the first of the night stars began to
twinkle in the growing dark blue sky.

Stretching, she reached her arms upward toward Alpha Centauri, enjoying the formation and the
release of tension in her muscles. But it was time to go back inside and finish the champagne -- and
maybe get a fire going as she made dinner. So Hanna spun about, moving quickly and lightly, as she
skipped across the rocks and back along the beach. She paused at the top of the stairs to look back at
the darkening water once more before running up the path to her adoptive home.

As she rinsed the sand off her feet using the spicket at the edge of the deck, Hanna caught sight of
her reflection in the windows. She was momentarily shocked. Who was this lovely, wild thing? She
looked in this light to be at least ten years younger. Her hair tumbled about her shoulders and her
dark shining eyes looked huge in her angular face. Hanna laughed aloud again at the incredible feeling
of lightness and well being she felt. Maybe she should buy this house, she thought.

Friday, 7:50PM

Alex sailed past the cottage on his way to the marina. He wondered if the two renters had arrived yet
-- they were supposed to be due in today. The late evening sun reflected blindingly from the rows of
windows facing the sea. The place positively glowed. He fought down an irrational bubble of envy. He
vastly preferred staying in the cottage, rather than the main house. But Molly had arranged for the
rental a couple of months ago, having no idea that he might want to take refuge there this month.
She, Stewart and the twins were spending the summer in Provence with Stew's parents, so she would
be away until at least mid September.

His proper name was Jonathan, but his family always called him "Alex", short for Alexle, because he
was Jonathan Tobias Miller, III. Using a pet name minimized confusion when multiple generations were
present, as they often were. His grandfather had been Jonathan, his father was JT, and so he got a
numerical designation.

Alex would sorely miss his bossy and lovable little sister this season, but at least he had Barnaby.
Looking to port at his goofy, lovable Golden Lab, Alex asked for confirmation from the sweet-tempered
monster. "Don't I have you, Barns?" He asked. Barnaby yapped in response and skittered across the
deck to push his large head against Alex's thigh. The dog looked like the lead character in a children's
movie, strangely comfortable in his bright yellow canine lifejacket. His big brown cow eyes gazed
adoringly at his master as his tail slapped to and fro. He was a pretty good boat dog, all things
considered. Alex tacked slightly in order to get between the buoys for his approach to the marina.
Their local caretaker, Douglas, would be waiting at the dock with the Jeep to run him and Barnaby to
the house.

Alex allowed himself to get lost in the tactical details of radioing the harbormaster and docking the
boat. These mundane details were sometimes a blessing. They didn't exactly fill up the empty spaces
in his mind and heart, but they were gratifyingly distracting.

Everyone told him, after Sarah died, that he'd eventually find a place where the memories didn't hurt
so much. Alex supposed they were referring to the final stage of grief people grotesquely called
"Acceptance". It was a word he detested. It was a word that typified the kind of passive surrender that
went precisely against his nature. As if there were some great cosmic plan that we were powerless to
contest, to which we were better off just yielding. And then everything would be okay. Yeah, right.

Sarah had been his prep school sweetheart. They married, much against their parents' advice, right
out of college. They lived blissfully together for years, or so he thought, until the day he found out she
was sleeping with his Best Man and Fraternity brother. Things went south, they began to hate each
other, and they finally divorced. But being from the same social circle, with a shared group of family
and friends, avoidance was nearly impossible. They were thrown together time and again. A few years
later, after a particularly wild New Year's Eve party hookup, they got back together. It was fine for a
while, just like the early days. Then Sarah again started disappearing for weeks on end. Alex didn't
bother to find out for whom, this time. They grew to once again hate each other, and they separated a
second time. Fifteen years had come and gone in the blink of an eye. Just when Alex was finally ready
to give up on the whole thing, Sarah got diagnosed. Cancer. The illness resulted in a dizzying
rollercoaster of treatments, remissions, and relapses -- dramatic ups and downs for four long years.
Her lovers and even many family members disappeared from her sick room, one by one. Alex stayed
by her, nursing her and just holding her hand, all the way.

The worst times were when Sarah was in a confessing mood. Things he never wanted to know were
divulged as she sought to purify herself. Alex actually did forgive her, because her contrition was
genuine, but the cuts to him went deep, nonetheless. Sarah told him, toward the end, that one of her
great regrets was not having been more worthy of his loyalty. She once asked Alex, under the
influence of a morphine drip, if he'd ever been loved enough. He didn't have an answer. He tried to
bury the question away, but lately it kept resurfacing again, and again.

Finally, completely spent and no longer even communicative, Sarah left him for the last time. That was
two years ago.

Most people only knew the love story of Alex and Sarah. There was no need to sully her memory with
the ugly reality that ran in parallel. But it made their well-meant condolences that much harder to
take. The hollowness that Alex felt after it was over was hard for him to fathom. He should have felt
relief, shouldn't he? He should have been able to put his relationship with his ex-wife into perspective
and move on. But he felt debilitated. As if something in him had died long before Sarah did.

Since love was an elusive mystery to Alex, he did what many men in his circumstance might do: he
sought to distract himself with sex. It was all too easy, because he was gifted with great looks, a fair
degree of charm, old money, and a complete disinterest in sleeping with someone more than once,
much less in developing any kind of relationship. In the two years since Sarah died, Alex had gone on
a sexual rampage. Intercourse became a strange kind of emotional short-circuit. He collected sexual
experiences, treating the whole process rather like a chess match played with his own conscience.

He had a few rules: strictly safe sex, no cameras, no married women, and no one his family knew
socially. These rules were not so much moral in nature, they were simply pragmatic: Alex was
pathologically averse to risking his heart again. He therefore didn't want to stumble into any liaisons
that were likely to precipitate ties, lawsuits, publicity or any form of obligation.

There was just one problem: after a while, he felt soul-sick. Alex wasn't even sure he believed in such
a thing as a soul -- but if he had one, it was pretty unwell. The emptiness burned, like acid reflux in
his psyche. As the summer approached, he'd finally realized that enough was enough. He was done
sampling the garden of earthly delights, as it were. He needed to be alone and try to cleanse himself.
Get his head right. Plan his next move.

What he really wanted was to escape to his idea of heaven on earth: his grandmother's cottage on
Cape Cod, accompanied only by Barnaby, who never judged. There was just one problem: his favorite
place in the entire world had been rented out for half the month by two single career women,
according to Molly.

Yikes. Alex could just see them now: two brittle, habitually starved, designer-clad alpha women.
They'd probably stride through the cottage and bemoan the fact that it didn't have a treadmill or yoga
studio. They'd invade his sanctuary, insensitive to its charms, lugging home shopping bags of crap
they didn't need from the local outlet malls and tourist traps. Alex was willing to bet that these harpies
wouldn't appreciate the stillness or the sensual beauty of the place. Not the way he did. He'd be willing
to bet that they wouldn't look upon the compass rose in the foyer, for example, appreciating the
craftsmanship his grandfather had put into that lyrical tribute to the love of his life.

Would these Botoxed, freeze dried cougars stand, rapt, on the balcony just listening to the sounds of
the sea, or revel in the poetic beauty of the sunsets over the Sound? Would they feel the joy of the
place wash over them, reawakening their senses? Not bloody likely.

It rankled Alex that one of these stiletto-wearing philistines would get to sleep in his favorite bedroom
on earth, while he had to rattle around in the massive family compound that carried so many
unwelcome memories of the past. Alex almost didn't come to the Cape at all, but Manhattan had that
grimy, malodorous haze of August descending upon it. He felt disgusted with himself. He needed to
reboot. At least he'd be at the beach -- and maybe when those witches left he could retake his
sanctuary. The month might not be a total loss.

So it was with this pessimistic outlook that Alex arrived at his family home. Only Barnaby seemed
delighted. Douglas gave Alex a look that went right through him -- as if he could read his mood and
understand why he'd decided to escape, alone, to the beach. With a barely perceptible change of
expression, Douglas managed to convey his compassion, his desire to be helpful and his
acknowledgement and respect for the fact that Alex was not in a sharing mood. Alex was impressed
that the older man could accomplish this with a subtle lift of just one eyebrow. And then the moment
was over.

Shaking his hand, Douglas murmured something incoherent about being available if needed. Alex
responded in a non-committal way with false cheerfulness -- a clear signal that it was okay for
Douglas to take his leave.

He didn't even bother to unpack. He needed fresh air. Calling to Barnaby, Alex took him down to the
beach so they could play some fetch. He needed that even more than the dog did. Wouldn't it be nice
if everything in life were like this? If when you threw something to someone, they not only made a
mighty effort to catch it, they also willingly returned it to you. If only things could be so easy with
humans.

Alex had just thrown the stick up the beach for what had to have been the thirtieth time, when he felt
a funny tickle down the back of his neck, as if there were eyes on him. He turned, looking toward his
grandmother's cottage. The sun glinted briefly off of a French door as it was being closed.

Ah, he thought, the princesses are in residence. Fabulous. Barnaby had just returned, proudly, with
the stick, which he dropped at Alex's feet. The dog impatiently whimpered as Alex looked up at the
house on the cliff.
"I know what you mean, buddy." Alex said grimly. "C'mon, let's get you cleaned up -- you're a mess."
It was true; Barnaby's fur was caked with wet sand. Alex led him to the outdoor shower area and
hosed him down with warm water, before squirting shampoo over his yellow coat and lathering it in.
This was a ritual that the dog absolutely loved. The trick was to rinse him off thoroughly and wrap him
in a towel quickly enough before he shook the water everywhere -- drenching everything in range. The
thing about tricks is that they are usually easy to know, but hard to do. Alex wasn't fast enough and
he got soaked. The man and beast went back into the house via the mudroom, so that Alex could
remove his sandy shoes, remove his wet shirt and do a better job of drying off the overgrown puppy.

Satisfied that the dog was mostly dry, he filled Barnaby's food bowl in the kitchen and proceeded, clad
now just in his jeans and a tee shirt, to the wet bar to pour himself a single malt, neat. Alex took his
Scotch with him as he stepped out on the terrace. The sunset was in its final blaze of glory. He leaned
on the railing and allowed the noise in his head to subside. As he savored the smoky iodine flavor of
the whiskey, he felt himself begin to relax for the first time in many months. When he closed his eyes,
the black spot the setting sun created behind his eyelids became a sort of meditative focal point. The
roar of the surf filled his ears.

After a moment, Alex opened his eyes, straightening up. He wasn't sure if the wind was playing tricks
on him. He listened harder. There it was again! He could hear the sound of someone singing. His heart
started to pound -- the voice was almost otherworldly -- like an angel's voice. It was a tad too sexy for
an angel, perhaps, but hauntingly beautiful. The way the wind was blowing, he could not tell what
direction it was coming from. He leapt off the terrace and began to walk across the sand, toward the
water, scanning north and southward. Just as suddenly, the singing stopped. He stood still, listening as
hard as he could, hoping it would begin again.

What the hell was that?! He wondered. Whatever it was, he wasn't ready for it to stop. In his
peripheral vision he caught a glimpse of something moving down the beach, about 500 yards away,
past the jetty that bordered the cottage beach. He spun to the right just in time to see a slender
woman with long dark hair leap off of the rocks to the sandy beach beyond, where she disappeared
from view behind the rocky cliff edge.

He ran down to just to the water's edge so that he might have a better angle to see her. It was getting
dark already, but he could just barely make out her white dress moving through the shadows to the
stairs.

Alex was reminded of the stories his grandmother used to tell him about the Selkies. Back in the
Ireland of her youth, romantic and terrible legends surrounding these magical shape shifters were
renowned. A Selkie was a seal in the water, but could shed his or her skin and live as a human on
land. They were very beautiful and seductive as humans. His grandmother claimed that they could
sing like sirens or mermaids, luring their lovers out to sea. A smile had formed on Alex's handsome
mouth -- he knew, of course, that all of this was impossible fancy. But at some level it was as if his
grandmother were back with him, if only for moment, spinning a delicious fairy tale to soothe his
wounded heart.

The Selkie suddenly appeared again at the top of the stairs. The light of the early moon shone down
on her as she paused, looking out to sea. Then, quick as a sprite, she ran back along the cliff path
toward the cottage. Alex could scarcely believe it. His Selkie was one of those city women who had
displaced him! He realized he was going to have to reassess them -- well, one at least.

Maybe being neighborly is the right thing to do, he wondered. Shouldn't he stop in on them to say
welcome?

"No!" he said aloud, shaking his head. "Enough now." He told himself. He'd come there to stop
philandering. Not to immediately bed down one of his tenants.

Alex looked down at his feet. The tide had been rolling back and forth over his bare feet and the cuffs
of his jeans for the last several minutes, and he hadn't even noticed. Sighing, he pulled his feet out of
the wet sand and began to trudge back up to the house. He didn't remember what he'd done with that
single malt. In the morning, he'd have to come back out to search for the glass. His mother would tan
his hide if he'd lost one of the Baccarat.

Friday, 10:30 PM

Alex stood under the spray of the shower, his hands braced against the wall in front of him. It felt
good to wash off the salt and sand, and the water pressure was helping to work out the kink he had in
his right shoulder. He hadn't been particularly hungry, so had just picked at the burger he'd had
delivered for dinner. The second Scotch was working, though. He straightened up, leaning his head
back to make sure all the shampoo had been rinsed out. Without really meaning to, his hand had
drifted down to his cock.

He couldn't get the image of that dark-haired girl out of his head. Several times during the evening,
he'd walked past the windows that gave him a view of the cottage. Lights were on and smoke was
coming from the chimney -- they had lit a fire. They sure did, he thought, smirking.

Alex's right hand had curled around his thickening penis as he remembered the look of her leaping off
the rocks and running on the beach in the semi-darkness. He started to stroke, his hand twisting to
the right a bit as it slid down his wet length. He was instantaneously hard.

He imagined what might have happened if he'd run after her, catching her around the waist from
behind before she reached the stairs. Pulling her down to the soft sand, he'd tear the little white dress
from her body. She'd struggle a bit at first, because he caught her unawares, but she soon quiet as
she looked up at him. He'd look at her nakedness, his fingers running down her torso, across her dark
nipples, her lean stomach, settling in the fine hair between her legs. She'd gasp and arch her back,
leaning further into his hand. Alex would then move down between her lean thighs and explore her
womanhood. He'd part her lips with the fingers of one hand as he watched her become wet for him.
The scent of her would waft up to him, and it would be all he could do to refrain from slamming his
face into her. But it would be more pleasurable to tease her a little, first. Make her beg him for
release. So he'd slip one index finger inside her, feeling her muscles clamp down on him as she softly
groaned. His slickened fingertip would then move up to the hood surrounding her hard, very pink
clitoris. She'd be panting now, her pelvis jerking forward as he rubbed the sensitive tip. Then and only
then would he lean forward, his eyes on her, to run his tongue up and down her slit. The sweet and
salty taste of her would fill his senses. Her hands would clasp the back of his head, pressing him into
her...

"Ahhhh -- fuck!" Alex shouted, his eyes closed, as he came. It seemed to go on for ages, as jet after
jet hit the marble tiles of the shower wall. His heart was pounding as he tried to slow his breathing
down. He reached out and turned down the water temperature, enjoying the feeling as the spray
turned cool against his overheated skin. He'd sleep well tonight.

Saturday, 5:45AM
Hanna was swimming in the dark. The cool water ran over her bare skin as she languidly did the
backstroke. The moonlight gave her wet body a pearlescent glow. She heard a disturbance. She saw
the back of his head as he sliced through the water, heading straight toward her. Light gleamed on the
taut muscles of his shoulders and back. Strong legs kicked below the surface, causing no splash at all.
His movements were unnaturally smooth and graceful, like some kind of sea creature. His hands
reached out and caught her by the ankles. He parted her legs. She gasped in surprise and alarm.
Hanna was floating on her back; suspended, unable to move. He still hadn't lifted his head. How did
he hold his breath for so long? He kept moving toward her, past her calves, her knees, her thighs, his
body mostly submerged. She saw his head move closer, closer to the place between her legs. She
knew he was looking at her nakedness from underwater. Then all she felt was his mouth on her. She
shouted into the night sky as his tongue snaked into her. It was long and thick, undulating deep inside
her, tickling her G spot as his lips clamped over her clit. He was humming into her, his tongue now
stroking in and out of her pussy, which was now completely drenched. Tension and heat pooled inside
her, her wet folds pulsating faster and faster, building and building until she exploded. The orgasm
reverberated again and again, spreading out from her core to her outer lips, thighs and abdomen. Her
body jerked forward and she found herself screaming out loud as light burst forth around her.

Hanna sat up in bed, panting. Tears were streaming down her cheeks as the climax finally slowed. It
was pre-dawn. The gray light was seeping in from under the drapes. Looking around the strange room
nervously for a moment, Hanna finally remembered where she was. She fell back on the opulent
pillows, her body coated with a fine sheen of sweat. She was panting, her heart pounding in her chest.
Another fucking hot sex dream, and this one was awesome. She laughed, exhilarated as she brought
her knees together and curled to her side. Drifting in the afterglow, still trembling with little
aftershocks, she wondered who he was: the man from her dream...

She tried to fall back to sleep, but her body was too stimulated. Jumping out of bed, she opened the
curtains and looked out at the early morning over the water. Run, she thought. She needed to run on
the beach.

Fifteen minutes later, she was on the deck in her running clothes, stretching her quads. She decided to
run barefoot. The dew was still covering everything with fat, glistening drops that sparkled in the
pinkish-gray light. The air was cool and fresh. Hanna still had enough endorphins raging through her
body that she was excited about physical exercise.

She traversed the path and ran lightly down the stairs, crossing the sand to the point where it was
wet. Hanna set off, running up the beach on the hard-packed sand just above the reach of the surf.
Her ponytail was swinging rhythmically behind her as she found her pace. It was slower going on the
beach and the lack of resistance made the workout surprisingly tough. She'd gone about a mile and a
half up the beach when it became too hot. Stopping to pull off her hoodie and tie it around her waist,
Hanna paused to watch the dawn breaking over the water.

Crimson and hot pink spread upward from the horizon. As she watched, the Sound changed from dark
gray to pale aqua, tipped with gold. Overcome by it, Hanna sat down on the beach, because she didn't
quite trust her legs to support her. Bringing her hands up to her face, which had become hot and very
moist, she was surprised to realize that tears were streaming down her cheeks. She looked at her wet
fingers, mystified by how emotional she'd been since arriving here.

Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she saw something hurtling toward her on the beach. She
turned, raising her arms defensively just a fraction of a second before she was knocked over into the
sand. Too startled even to scream, she brought her arms up to protect her face only to realize that she
was being sloppily licked by a big, friendly dog.
"Oh my god! Hi baby -- hey! Okay, big guy. Nice to meet you too!" She crooned to him as he lathed
his big tongue and sandy wet nose across her face. His paws were on her chest, effectively pinning her
down. Hanna started laughing as she grappled with the lovable giant.

"Barnaby! Down, boy! Right now! Come! You know better!" Hanna heard the deep baritone voice
vibrating as it approached, which made her realize he was running. The dog immediately moved off of
her and ran back toward the voice.

"I'm so very sorry -- I don't even know how to apologize. He NEVER does this. Are you alright?! You're
not hurt, are you?" He sounded horrified. As he reached Hanna, he realized that she was laughing and
the frown lines and concern seemed to dissipate somewhat.

Alex dropped to his knees as Hanna raised herself back into a sitting position. He caught her shoulders
to help her sit up, looking her over quickly with keen, deep blue eyes. As his eyes reached her face,
his right hand gently cupped her jaw, lifting her face so he could discern how she looked. Hanna, still
laughing but now feeling a little foolish, rushed to reassure him. She didn't want Barnaby to get into
trouble.

"No - please, I'm fine. Really. He's a sweet dog. He just doesn't know his own strength. Honestly --
I'm okay. Just... sandy...." She laughed again and looked directly up at him. Their eyes locked and she
felt a strange sensation -- like something had clicked into place. They froze like that for a few lingering
moments. He still had his hand on her face. It felt so good. They were both breathing a little too hard.
Hanna could hear the blood roaring in her ears over the sound of the surf.

Barnaby barked excitedly, breaking the spell. They pulled quickly away from each other as if they'd
been burned. He dropped his hand and sat back on his haunches for a second as she pushed a stray
hair away from her eyes. The absurdity of the situation suddenly hit Hanna hard, and she started to
laugh again. Alex found himself responding to her easy sense of humor, and after the briefest of
hesitations, he laughed along with her.

"Uh, hi. I'm Alex." He reached out his right hand, a crooked smile on his handsome face.

She shook the sand out of her right hand, wiping it on her thigh before putting it into his and grasping
it firmly. His eyes had followed the movement of her hand, their color darkening just a tad.

"I'm Hanna. Lovely to meet you." Not releasing her hand, he had sprung to his feet in a clean athletic
move and helped to pull her to her feet.

"Here, let me help you up." He said, his eyes sparkling flirtatiously. As she stood, she suddenly felt shy
and needed to break eye contact, so she leaned around and began to brush the sand off of her
backside and legs. Alex gently brushed the sand from her shoulders and back. She found the warmth
of his strong hands to be electrifying. Her checks blushed vividly and she murmured her thanks.

Barnaby pushed his way in between them, shoving his head against Hanna's hip.

"And this, I take it, is Barnaby." She said. Leaning down slightly she fondled the dog's floppy ears. The
dog made a happy grunting noise, his tail wagging rapidly and poised as if to jump up again.

"Down!" Alex commanded, but his voice almost broke into a laugh. Looking back at Hanna he confirm:
"Yes, that is, indeed, Barnaby. My best and only truly loyal friend." Alex's eyebrows shot up in surprise
after this last statement. He had not meant to say that and was shocked at himself. Hanna just
laughed.

"I know what you mean. Wouldn't it be nice if people were so straightforward and uncomplicated?"
She glanced back down at the dog, giving Alex a moment to recover, but then when she looked back
up at him, her head was set at a slight angle and her eyes were more thoughtful.

"Exactly." He responded softly. Alex liked the way her mouth looked when she smiled. He suddenly
wanted badly to taste those generous lips. She was a lot prettier than he'd imagined, and not at all
brittle, for a city girl. Her large eyes were so dark brown they looked almost black, but he noted that
when the sun shone directly on her face, there were flecks of amber in the irises. She had naturally
dark and thick brows and lashes, so even without makeup, as she was now, she was very beautiful.
There was an almost Slavic angularity to her nose and cheekbones. She was altogether really exotic. A
true Selkie, if ever there was one. He couldn't tell how old she was -- she could have been in her
thirties or even older. But she carried herself with poise and maturity, so he guessed she was nearing
forty. Much more age-appropriate than most of his women, he mused.

With a tiny guilty shock, he realized she was saying something.

"... how long have you had him?" Alex blinked, trying to catch up.

"Sorry -- Ah! How long have I had Barns?" He looked up the beach, as if trying to remember, in order
to pull himself together. "Two years... he's still got a lot of puppy in him."

"What a sweetie." She was saying to the dog, patting his rump.

"Are you staying down in the cottage, then?" He asked almost abruptly. Hanna didn't seem surprised.

"Yes -- I arrived last night. I saw you guys playing fetch on the beach around sunset yesterday,
actually." She confessed. "Are you staying in the big Victorian?"

"Yeah -- my parents' place. My grandparents built it for my dad as a wedding present. So they could
all summer together. But honestly, I prefer their original cottage. How are you and your friend
enjoying it?" Hanna was looking at him in surprise.

"Wait -- your family owns both houses? Ah! That makes sense, actually. The architecture is so similar
and they are the only two on this side of the highway. But I thought the owner was a woman -- was it
Molly? My friend Amanda spoke with her when making the arrangements."

"Yeah, Molly is my sister." Alex offered that up lest Hanna think he was married. "Where is your friend
Amanda now -- still asleep?"

"Oh -- no. Uh, Amanda had a work thing pop up and couldn't come. So it's just me." He looked
sharply at Hanna, a slow smile spread across his face.

"So... you're all on your own." He said it with a tinge of admiration in his voice. Hanna laughed. He
realized that he loved the sound of her laugh. It was deep and sexy. He couldn't help responding to it.

"Yep. How luxurious is that?!" She paused, and then asked: "Who else is in that big house with you?"
The answer really mattered to her, she realized.
"Yeah, good point. No one. I'm alone too, if you don't count the mutt, here." They both looked down at
the good-natured hound, as he looked back adoringly.

"Well you have to count Barnaby, obviously..." She shrugged, scratching the dog's head. Alex had
been reaching down to pet the dog as well, and their hands met. They pulled away from one another,
straightening. Their eyes met and the silence began to stretch into something more poignant.

Searching around for something to say, Hanna looked out at the horizon, which was glowing a bright
red-pink. "Wow -- look at the light. It really is beautiful here -- I don't think I've seen the sunrise that
color before..." Alex turned to look in the same direction.

"Sailors take warning..." He quoted.

"Sorry?" She looked at him inquiringly. The strange light from the dawn gave him a surreal beauty.
Her heart lurched in her chest. Hanna was glad the light was pink -- because she hoped he wouldn't
realize how flushed her cheeks were becoming.

"Red sky at morning, sailors take warning. Red sky at night, sailor's delight. It's an old saying. A red
sky like this at dawn often means a storm is coming." He looked at her as he finished speaking, again
struck by her natural loveliness and unaffected sexiness.

Alex let his eyes wander over her pretty face and the full, well-formed mouth that he wanted to simply
devour, down her throat --where a pulse was thrumming at the base, and he took in the luscious
cleavage created by the V-neck of her top. Her breasts rode high on her chest and he could see a faint
outline of her nipples against the high tech fabric of the sports bra. Her body was delicious, but there
was something more than that. He felt strange when he looked at this woman, as if something
significant were happening. As if meeting her, like this, might have some kind of meaning.

"Is there?" She asked. His eyes shot back to hers -- he stared at her for a moment, confused. As if
she heard his thoughts. But then almost as quickly he realized she was asking him if a storm was
coming, per the old wives' tale.

"Actually, yes, probably. They said there is a hurricane rolling up the Coast, and we might get the
outer edge of the rains and winds. Maybe tonight, they said, depending upon the pressure systems."

"Oh -- I didn't know that. Should I be worried?"

"Here on the Sound side, we usually don't take much of a beating. But it would be a good idea to
watch the forecasts in case things develop..."

They had started walking back down the beach, naturally falling into step. Every once in a while,
Alex's right hand brushed the back of Hanna's left as their arms swung loosely between them.

They continued to make small talk, much of it about the weather and the dog, as they walked south.
But they both became aware of an undercurrent running between them, below the polite banter. As
they drew even with Alex's house, their pace slowed until they finally stopped walking completely.

They were standing at the water's edge, allowing the tide to roll over their feet as they talked. Hanna
stole glances over at Alex when he wasn't looking. God, he was handsome, she thought. He had on a
very old and worn-looking polo shirt in a faded navy blue. It brought out the remarkable dark blue of
his eyes. She found herself looking at the way it hung off his muscular shoulders. It was loose at the
waist, drawing her attention to his narrow hips. When the wind caught the hem, it lifted the shirt
showing a hard, flat tanned stomach beneath above the low waistband of his well-worn, beat-up
jeans. His biceps, forearms and hands were large and sinewy, without looking contrived. His tan
looked perpetual but genuine -- a real sailor's tan. It gave his face a rather rugged appearance, which
tempered the natural classical beauty, keeping him from looking "pretty". It also made his perfect
teeth look stunningly white whenever he flashed one of his crooked smiles at her. Hanna felt her
mouth go dry and had to force herself to keep looking away.

His hair was slightly too long and a bit unruly, which would be considered quite fashionable, but in his
case it did not seem to be consciously styled that way. Perhaps it would have been medium brown, if
he didn't spend so much time outdoors -- but it was very sun-bleached in places, so he looked as if he
had dark blond hair. His eyebrows and eyelashes were much darker. She'd once heard the expression
"blue eyes put in with dirty fingers" -- and that seemed to suit him perfectly. Hanna found herself
wondering how old he was. She guessed that he was roughly her age.

She became aware that he'd stopped talking, and was looking at her as if waiting for her to speak.
Blushing furiously, she had no choice but to admit that she hadn't heard whatever it was he'd just
said.

"I'm so sorry -- did you say something? My mind wandered off..."

He smiled into her eyes, his own gaze narrowing as he tried to read her face. It only caused her to
blush more. Finally, he said: "I asked if you wanted to come inside for coffee, Hanna..."

She felt a flood of wetness between her legs when he spoke her name, which made her catch her
lower lip between her teeth. Her reaction must have somehow showed on her face, because she saw
his eyes darken, his nostrils flare a little and his posture change very subtly. She swallowed quickly
and forced a polite smile, accepting with a bit of a stammer.

He stepped toward her. She had to stop herself from taking a step backward. He was just slightly too
close for ordinary conversation. Hanna could barely breathe. Alex brought his hand up, taking her
elbow. The heat from his palm seemed to sear through her. His eyes scanned hers with an almost
predatory aspect.

"Cool. Right this way..." His voice had dropped a register. She could feel it vibrate deep in her
abdomen, and lower.

As he walked her across the sand, toward the stately house, he let his hand slide down her forearm
and clasp her hand, his fingers lacing through hers. A current of electricity shot up her arm, and
Hanna felt her nipples hardening through her sports bra. She could scarcely believe that they were
holding hands. It felt so incredibly intimate. It would never have occurred to her that hand-to-hand
touch could feel so wildly erotic. Alex casually grazed his thumb across her palm, as if unaware he was
doing it. Her lips parted but she forced herself to breathe evenly and not gasp audibly. He had to know
what he was doing, she thought. Nervous flutters were rolling around her tummy. She couldn't
remember the last time she was this turned on. It was exhilarating. She never felt more alive.

Alex was glad his old jeans were loose fitting because he was getting hard. Imagine -- hard from just
a conversation! There was a growing heat between them that Alex knew was mutual. When he asked
her if she wanted coffee, he realized that she was staring at him, lost in thought, but had not heard a
word he'd said. She blushed adorably when he caught her. Alex repeated the question, lingering over
her name.
Her reaction was so sexy, it was all he could do to not yank her to him and force his tongue down her
throat. Her pupils dilated and she scraped her teeth across her lip, shifting nervously. It was as if he'd
actually touched her. Taking a few steps forward, he leaned close. She smelled wonderful and he could
see her trembling a little as her head tipped back ever so slightly so she could look up at him. He took
her arm and turned her toward the house, hoping she wouldn't see his erection. Her skin felt like silk.
He was aware that she was submitting to his control, and it turned him on even more.

As they walked to the house, Alex decided to try an experiment. He moved his hand down her arm to
take her hand in his. You could tell a lot about a woman from the way she held your hand. If she went
limp, being completely passive, it was a bad sign. It often meant that she was apathetic or empty. If,
on the other hand, she resisted or tried to take control herself, it was yet another red flag. That mean
she was an alpha female who needed to assert herself and essentially be a "top". Alex couldn't abide
either of those extremes, to be honest.

He slid his fingers between Hanna's, grasping her hand. He could feel her reacting beside him. Her
arm quivered and though she tried to hide it, her breathing became more erratic. Her hand shaped
itself to his, and her fingers engaged in a little interplay. Their palms moved against each other, tender
as a kiss -- reminding him of the lines from Romeo and Juliet:

"For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,

And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss."

Alex dragged his thumbnail across her palm, knowing that this would have an erogenous effect. He
was not disappointed when he saw her lips part and felt her breath catch. His erection jumped slightly.
He began to think about what he would do when he had her inside his house. This mind fucking was
delicious, and he didn't want to scare her off or move too fast.

When they got to the deck, Alex walked over toward the outdoor showers and used a large soft brush
and mini hose to clean the sand off of his cuffs and feet. Hanna hovered for a moment behind him, her
lower lip once again snagged between her perfect teeth.

"Allow me." Alex offered, inviting her to sit on the teak bench. She seemed a little confused, but took
a seat as he indicated. This time she did gasp as he knelt down and caught hold of one slim ankle,
lifting her foot up. He looked at her for a second before spraying the sand from her foot with the hose.
He admired her shapely, expertly groomed feet. They were slender and neither overly large nor small.
She wore wine-colored polish on her toes. Alex allowed himself to almost fondle the foot in his hand,
his palm cupping the tender arch as his thumb rubbed the inside curve. When he'd finished rinsing one
foot, Hanna moved to pull it away, but he held it captive, actually pressing her foot to his chest,
causing a wet spot. Hanna gaped at him, unable to speak.

"One second..." He smiled mischievously as he reached behind her and snapped a towel off of a hook.
He rubbed her foot dry with the towel with both hands. Hanna was practically shaking. Her panties
beneath the tight Capri running pants were a lost cause. She was glad they were black, and hoped he
couldn't tell how aroused she was. But her nipples were another story. They were pushing aggressively
through the microfiber of her sports bra and there was nothing she could do about that. She briefly
considered putting her hoodie back on -- but that would have looked weird and only drawn attention
to the situation.

Alex laid the towel on the deck at her feet, finally allowing her to put her foot down on it. Looking back
up at her with a wicked smirk, he said: "Now let's have the other one, shall we?" Hanna leaned back,
her hands gripping the edge of the bench as he took hold of her other ankle and began to repeat the
action.

He took his time with this foot. He scraped his short, neatly trimmed fingernails down her ankle, over
her heel, and up under her arch as he directed the water over her skin. When he threaded his fingers
between her toes, Hanna jumped, her leg jerking back reflexively so that he had to grip her foot
tightly to hang onto it. He cocked an eyebrow and asked: "Are you ticklish, Hanna?"

She gave him a mock scowl, trying unsuccessfully to not smile. "Yeah..." she breathed out in a low
voice. "Something like that." Alex stilled, regarding her with frank sexuality. He'd put down the hose
and was massaging her foot with the pads of his thumbs. His eyes were becoming heavy-lidded as
they roamed over her body, focusing for a few moments on her breasts. He made a soft "mmm" sound
deep in his throat. There, she thought, now he's seen them. I'm a goner!

"So..." he growled softly, "It might affect you if I did this..." He lifted her foot and pressed his lips to
her arch. A sharp bolt of electricity ran from her foot directly into her pussy. Hanna's head fell back, a
sharp cry issuing from her. She pressed her knuckles to her mouth. Alex kept his eyes on her face. His
smile was dangerous as his hand moved caressingly down her calf.

"Or maybe this..." he murmured, as he slipped his tongue between her big toe and her second, and
then pulled her big toe into his mouth. His teeth grazed her skin as his tongue flickered against her.

"Oh my god!" Hanna couldn't stop her body from shaking. He raised his head and hooked her ankle
over his shoulder, turning his face so he could trail kisses up the inside of her leg. So slowly, Hanna
thought she might scream, he lowered her leg as far as his waist and he crawled toward her, pulling
her body to the edge of the bench.

They were eye to eye, Alex on his knees, Hanna seated. He took hold of her other leg, and hooked it,
likewise, around his waist. She obediently complied as he reached behind his back to encourage her to
cross her ankles behind him. Their faces were mere inches from each other as he brought his arms
around her, his hands pressing her lower back to bring their lower bodies into tight contact. She could
feel his erection pushing against her wetness through all those clothes.

"Put your arms around my neck, Hanna." He quietly commanded. Her eyes scanned his as she silently
moved her hands up his biceps, over his shoulders, and wrapped them around his neck, the fingers of
her right hand threading through his hair.

Their eyes were locked. They only needed to move their heads slightly to be kissing. For some reason,
they both wanted to draw it out and torture themselves a bit longer. Alex drew in a slow, deep breath,
enjoying the way it pressed his body more tightly to hers. She found herself whispering his name, like
a fervent prayer.

Suddenly, Barnaby began to bark loudly, clearly in alarm. They were both startled and tore away from
each other, as Alex, cursing violently under his breath, stood to see what had set the dog off. The Lab
was barking loudly, running side to side in front of the French Doors, as if reacting to someone in the
house. As Alex walked over toward the doors he froze, straightening and running a hand through his
hair.

He glanced over at Hanna, a rueful smile on his face as he tilted his head in a sort of apology. The
doors opened and an elegant older couple walked out onto the deck.
The woman was slight, her gray hair styled in a smart chignon. She wore enormous, stylish black
sunglasses and was dressed in white trousers and a black sweater set. The man was lean and tall,
about Alex's height, and was obviously his father. The resemblance was unmistakable. He had a full
head of closely cropped white hair and wore crisp khakis and a dark sport coat. Alex spread his arms
wide; his smile was genuine as he said:

"Mom, Dad! I had no idea you were coming! Why didn't you call?" His mother took hold of his face and
gave him a loud, smacking kiss, patting his cheek with one hand.

"Oh we just landed in Hyannis, dear. We're off to Bar Harbor tomorrow to go sailing with the Browns,
but we wanted to surprise you. Molly said you were on your own and we thought it would be
wonderful to see you." Alex and his father smiled at one another before hugging completely
unselfconsciously. Alex's father even placed a quick kiss on his forehead before shoving his hands back
in his pants pockets. His mother had at this point spied Hanna, who'd risen from the bench and was
shrugging into her hoodie.

"Oh! Hello there! I'm so sorry, darling, I didn't think you had company and here we are barging in."
She walked straight over to Hanna with her fine-boned, papery hand outstretched. Her face was
completely open and warm even though her sharp eyes took in every detail of Hanna's running clothes
and pink face. "I'm Margaret Miller, dearie, but everyone calls me Meg and so should you."

Hanna couldn't help liking this woman already. She closed the distance between them, taking her
proffered hand and shaking it with equal warmth. Shaking her head, she said: "No, no -- I'm not a
guest, I'm a neighbor and a -- tenant, I guess. I'm renting your lovely cottage on the cliff. I'm Hanna
Serafian. Very nice to meet you, Meg."

Meg turned back, motioning to her husband, saying "And this is Alex's father, JT. So you're one of the
ladies from Manhattan who rented Nana's cottage. How lovely. You are a pretty thing, aren't you!"

Without giving Hanna a window to reply, she turned back to Alex and exclaimed: "Coffee, sonny boy!
Coffee, please. Your mummy is dying here."

Alex was making eye contact with Hanna, laughing resignedly. "We were just about to make some for
ourselves. C'mon Meg -- let's go brew something up."

He waited, his arm outstretched to Hanna in invitation, as Meg and JT walked back into the house. As
she drew near, he leaned close to her ear and whispered, his voice very sexy:

"Sorry about this. It's not what I expected, or hoped, would happen now."

Hanna laughed, smiling up at him, her cheeks still rosy. "It's okay, really. Your parents seem great. I
don't want to intrude, should I leave you guys alone to catch up?"

He caught her arm and shook his head adamantly. "Don't you dare run off, my Selkie. This is but a
brief interruption. At least now you'll actually get coffee." They both laughed at that.

As they were about to go through the French doors, Hanna paused, looking back at Alex. "Why did
you call me 'Silky'?" She asked.

"Selkie. Long story. I'll tell you all about it later." He promised, dropping a chaste little kiss on her
temple. He watched her walk into the house, sighing to himself in frustration. His parents did say they
were flying out tomorrow. Alex wasn't sure he could wait that long.

Saturday, 9:00 AM

Hanna turned on the shower, letting the water temperature warm up as she sAlexped off her running
clothes. She was replaying the last few hours in her mind.

She'd spent a little over two hours having coffee and toast with Alex and his parents. She found
herself liking him more and more. Originally just taken with his overall "presence" and good looks, she
learned more about him by observing the way he behaved with his parents and how they spoke of
him, than she would have if she'd spent days getting to know him one to one. Her cheeks flamed at
this thought, because it reminded her of what had been going on before his parents' unexpected
arrival.

She stood in front of the mirror, which was becoming coated with steam, and looked critically at
herself. Pulling the ponytail band from her hair, she let it fall down around her shoulders. Hanna knew
that she grappled with her self-esteem, and she knew why. Her ex and her mom had been
extraordinarily tough on her: critical of her looks, seemingly never quite satisfied with her. She
remembered a particularly painful conversation with Bill when he suggested she get breast implants.
She hovered between a B and C cup, which Hanna thought was ample -- but Bill wanted her to be
larger. He also bought her a gift certificate for Botox injections on her 39th birthday. Hanna pretended
to be pleased, but later cried in the bathroom because she knew it meant he felt she was looking old.

But Hanna felt different now, somehow. The way Alex looked at her -- but more importantly, the way
she felt when she looked at herself -- she didn't feel old or inadequate. She felt beautiful. Sexy, even.
Her authenticity was something she liked and wanted to hang onto. Running her hands down her
body, Hanna felt her own sensuality becoming unleashed. All those years of disciplined exercise meant
that her breasts were firm and tight. Her waist was long and narrow, tummy flat, and her hips curved
down to her lean, muscular thighs and slim calves. Turning to the side, she looked at the shape of her
ass -- it wasn't too bad, she thought. It curved in the right places and didn't sag. All that running, over
all that time. Maybe, Hanna thought, she was finally getting somewhere.

She stepped into the shower and soon began to think about Alex, and those moments on the deck
before they were interrupted. They hadn't even kissed yet, but she'd felt how aroused he was. The
carnal look in his eyes, and the deep commanding power of his voice. She'd have done anything he
wanted. That thought didn't frighten her, it caused a delicious thrill that ran all the way down her spine
and culminated in her womb.

Hanna moaned when she remembered what his mouth had felt like on her sensitive feet. Her fingers
slipped down her soap-slicked body to flutter at the hood surrounding her clit. The moment she
touched herself, she felt a tiny shockwave of excitement course through her. Closing her eyes, she
used both hands on herself. Her left hand held her nether lips open, while her right flicked over her
clit. She imagined that it was Alex's tongue, doing to her pussy what he'd done to her toes. Hanna
moaned aloud as a tiny flood of additional wetness surged inside her. Her natural lubrication mixed
with the water and soap, making it easy for her fingers to fly over her hard little knob with greater
intensity. Leaning back against the shower wall, Hanna inserted the index and middle finger of her left
hand inside as she rapidly stroked her clit with the middle finger of her right hand. As she fucked
herself with her own fingers, she began to pretend that it was Alex's cock moving inside her. Her
pleasure crested and the climax overtook her. She cried out, her knees going weak, as her insides
seemed to explode in a series of violent waves. She actually felt dizzy, and needed to brace herself
against the tiles to remain steady.

Hanna laughed, delightedly, as she slowly came down from this heady feeling. She finished bathing,
singing another one of her favorite tunes:

"You're my thrill. You do something to me.

You send chills right through me

when I look at you 'cause you're my thrill..."

Saturday, 5:55 PM

The skies had darkened ominously and the normally calm waters of the Sound roiled with swells and
white caps. Waves crashed against the rocks again and again, throwing spray high up into the air. The
wind velocity had increased, blowing fiercely across the water. When a particularly strong gust reached
the cottage, it made an almost eerie howling sound. Hanna had gone out some minutes earlier and
brought in all the cushions from the deck, along with smaller items that might be blown around in a
stronger wind. She'd stacked them neatly out of the way in the laundry room.

She also gathered together in the kitchen a collection of candles in holders and a box of wooden
matches, in case the power went out. She shivered involuntarily at the thought. Hanna wasn't easily
frightened, but being all alone, in a blackout, in this large empty house on a cliff during a hurricane
was rattling her nerves just a bit.

After her shower that morning, she'd put on a simple summer dress that was one of her favorites. It
was sleeveless, with a sweetheart neckline that plunged low, revealing some rather flattering
cleavage. The dress nipped in at the waist and then flared into a swingy A-line skirt that reached just
above her knees. The print was of large, pale cabbage roses in shades of pink, rose and red. It was a
very romantic dress and Hanna always felt very pretty in it. She'd put on rather sexy underwear: a
baby pink lace demi-bra paired with matching boy shorts. Hanna told herself that she just felt like
looking pretty - it wasn't because she expected Alex to stop by. Why would he? She asked herself. His
parents were visiting and he'd want to stay there to spend time with them, after all. She rolled her
eyes at her own reflection as she dabbed a little soft red gloss on her full lips. Pretty though the dress
may be, as the temperature dropped and the storm neared, it was not the warmest choice.

She went to the fireplace, and got it ready for a fire. She stacked kindling, paper and logs into place
on the grate so that it would be ready to light if and when needed. The howling wind was starting to
jangle her nerves. Music! That is what she needed. Hanna found the cabinet that contained all the
stereo and CD equipment, and turned it on. The FM station was already pre-set to a classical radio
station. The room was filled with the sounds of Schubert's Arabesque in C Major. Hanna already
started to feel better. She picked up her book and curled up in a comfortable spot on the overstuffed,
slipcovered sofa in the great room. She pulled a lovely knit throw over her bare legs and began to
read.

She'd lost herself in a chapter of her book, when she was startled back to reality by flash of lightening
followed a moment later by a loud, house-rattling clap of thunder. Rain began to fall in a massive
sheet, pelting the windows and the surfaces outside. Hanna looked at the mantle clock -- it had just
passed 6:30. Debussy's Clair de Lune was playing on the stereo. Outside, it had become as dark as
night, even though sunset would not come for another two hours. Hanna marked her page, putting
the book down, and walked over to the windows, drawing the small afghan around her like a wrap.
The storm was starting in earnest now. The ocean roared outside and the high winds ripped around
the cottage nonstop. Another blinding flash caused Hanna to jump back from the windows. She
started to count the "Mississippi's" like she did as a child, but had barely gotten to "two Mississippi"
when the thunder shook the house. She walked back toward the sofa and turned on the lamps on the
console table behind it. The soft glow of the lamps helped a little to dispel her nervousness.

Deciding she needed a glass of wine, Hanna walked toward the kitchen, only to freeze, a chill running
down her back. The jarring alarm of the Emergency Broadcast System had cut off Debussy and blared
across the room. The radio station was sounding the rather terrifying alarm reserved for messages
about imminent emergencies. Hanna clutched the blanket more closely around herself as she listened
to the broadcast message. Hurricane force winds, thundershowers, heavy rains and potential flooding.
Oh dear.

Saturday, 6:44 PM

Alex was throwing candles, flashlights, matches and batteries and a battery-operated radio into a
duffle bag. His mother was seated at the kitchen table, watching him with the ghost of a smile on her
face, her hands cradling a glass of Scotch.

Alex caught the amused expression on her face and paused what he was doing. "What?" He
demanded, running a hand through his wild hair for what must have been the twentieth time.

"Nothing, dear. Just wondering if you have enough supplies there. Are you sure you don't need any C-
rations, bandages, blankets, flare guns?" She smirked at him as she finished. His father barked in
laughter from the living room.

"Ha ha -- make fun if you must, but she's our tenant and is all alone up there. I'm just going over to
make sure she's okay and that the cottage is buttoned down for the storm. It's common courtesy,
Mother, I would think you'd appreciate that." He turned away to hide the flush that had crept into his
cheeks. That was not lost on Meg.

"It's funny how whenever you're feeling defensive, my name becomes 'Mother'." Seeing Alex turn and
prepare to protest, she held up a hand to stop him. "Relax, relax. Listen, my baby boy -- I think it
shows absolutely lovely manners to make sure your summer renter is okay. I just think you should
stop pretending that you don't view her as something significantly more than 'our tenant'. We saw
how you looked at her this morning."

"Really? How did I look at her?" Alex was pretending to be recalcitrant, but the smirk was already
forming on his mouth, though he endeavored to hide it.

"Like she was the fox and you were the hound." Meg crossed her slim arms, leaning back in her chair.

From the living room, they could hear JT say: "I'd say 'fox' is right on the money, darling." Meg
erupted in laughter as Alex covered his face with his hands, cursing under his breath.

"Your father made a joke, darling. C'mon -- show some appreciation." Alex was shaking his head,
laughing as he walked through to the mudroom to grab a raincoat.

"I'm going. Barnaby has had dinner already so no snacks for him. And don't drink all my Scotch." He
pulled on a yellow slicker, donning a baseball cap. He leaned back into the kitchen and added: "Call my
cell if you need anything. I should be back in..." He paused, thinking, and Meg held up a hand to stop
him.

"Don't make any promises you can't keep, sonny boy. We'll be fine here. Go. Say hello to Hanna for
me. Have a nice time and oh... Alex, honey... Be safe." She raised an eyebrow at this last point --
deliberately letting the double entendre hang in the air. Alex could hear his father laughing in the other
room.

He groaned exasperatedly, and turned on his heel, banging the door shut behind him. The rain was
coming down in torrents. He pulled the hood of the slicker up over his cap, and ran to the Jeep. He slid
into the driver's seat as fast as he could and slammed the door, but still he was fully drenched from
head to toe. Throwing his hood off, he started the Jeep and turned the front and rear windshield
wipers onto high. It was lucky the house was just next door. The wind was blowing so hard that the
Jeep was being rocked where it stood.

Alex eased out of the long driveway onto the two-lane road. He had to drive around a tree branch that
had fallen across the road. As he travelled the quarter mile to the cottage, there was a bright flash
and loud crack. All the lights went out. No Street lights and the lights in all the houses were out --
everything was dark except for Alex's headlights. He wasn't going to get there a moment too soon. It
bothered him more than he cared to admit that Hanna might be afraid. He realized that he just
wanted to hold her. At least, that was one of the things he wanted to do to her, anyway...

He turned left into the driveway of the cottage and bumped slowly down the long pebbled surface. The
cottage, as to be expected, was in total darkness. Alex parked the Jeep as close to the front door as
possible, killed the engine and the headlights, and honked the horn twice to let Hanna know he was
there. Grabbing the duffle bag and pulling the hood up over his head, he sprang out of the car and ran
to the front door. Just as he reached it, Hanna pulled it open from the inside. He rushed in and helped
her shut it behind him.

"Are you alright?" He asked a little breathlessly. He could barely see her face in the darkness.

"Yes -- yes, I'm fine. I can't believe you came out in this weather." Her voice was low and tremulous.
She pulled him further into the foyer. A candle was burning in a glass holder on the center table. She
must have brought it when she came to the door.

She touched his face in the candlelight. "You're soaked! Let's get you out of that coat and dry you off.
I'll get some towels." Hanna ran off toward the kitchen.

He dropped the duffle bag on the floor and shrugged out of the dripping raincoat. He hung it on the
coat rack by the door, pulling off the cap and hanging it on the next hook. He kicked off his boat
shoes, which were sopping wet, too.

Hanna had returned with a couple of white bath towels. She handed one to him and he attempted to
dry his face and hair. Feeling something by his feet, he stopped, pulling the towel away from his face.
Hanna was kneeling on the floor, using the second towel to dry his now bare feet and legs. She noticed
his stillness and looked up at him.

The sight of her kneeling at his feet was too much. Alex leaned down and grabbed her by the
shoulders, yanking her up to her feet. He looked at her for half a moment, his eyes as dark as the
night sky. He crushed her to him as his mouth swept down and took hers in a deep, almost violent
kiss. His hunger took over as his lips nearly devoured hers. She moaned, her body falling against his.
Half afraid that he'd hurt her, Alex broke the kiss and lifted his head to look down at her. Hanna's head
was tilted back, her eyes closed, her lips moist and parted. She took in a breath and slowly opened
her eyes. She looked up at him wordlessly. There was an aspect of complete and total surrender in her
expression. Alex wasn't sure what she was feeling -- if she was frightened or just surprised.

"Please..." she began, her voice was husky and soft. "Do that again."

He groaned and pulled her back against him, kissing her as hard as the first time. She wound her
arms around his neck and returned the kiss with a wildness that surprised and thrilled him. Taking
hold of her hair with one hand, he tugged her head back and blazed a trail of kisses from her chin,
down the front of her neck, stopping at the base of her throat where it met her collarbone. His other
hand moved down past the small of her back to cup the supple curve of her ass through the thin fabric
of her dress. Hanna ground herself against him, she could feel his growing erection.

Lightening flashed and the thunder rolled almost instantaneously. Hanna shivered involuntarily, and
Alex cupped her face with his hands. Looking into her wide, dark eyes.

"The storm is all around us..." She murmured. He kissed her lips more tenderly this time.

Against her mouth, he breathed out: "I won't let anything hurt you, my Selkie." Flickering light from
the great room drew his attention and he looked toward it.

"I'd just lit a fire before you arrived." Hanna told him, following his gaze. He drew her with him and
walked through. The logs had begun to catch, and the fire was blazing through the paper and kindling.
Apart from a candle burning in a votive on the kitchen countertop, it was the only light in the room.

Alex walked over to the fireplace, moved the screen back and prodded the logs with a poker to ensure
they were catching evenly. Brushing his hands off on his pants, he snatched up some pillows and
throw blankets from the sofa, spreading them on the sheepskin rug in front of the fire. Hanna smiled
as she walked toward him, allowing him to lead her to the floor. She lay down on her back and looked
up at him. Her lust for him was evident in her eyes. Alex was on his left side, his body resting against
hers. He supported his head on an elbow and looked at her in the firelight. His right hand moved
lightly over her, from her shoulders and bare arms, down her flat tummy and softly flaring hips, to her
long legs. His hand slipped under the hem of her skirt. She sighed as the heat of his palm moved over
her skin.

"Pretty dress." He said softly. She just smiled up at him as his head slowly descended. His lips found
hers, gently probing at first, and then becoming more insistent. His mouth forced hers open and his
tongue plunged inside, pushing and teasing her tongue, running a circular trail inside. She sucked on
his tongue, loving the taste of him. His hand continued to caress her bare thigh, moving up to the
edge of her lacey panties. His fingers slipped inside the leg opening, briefly slipping over her mound.
She gasped into his mouth. He groaned and smiled against her as his fingers swept past her pubis
once again, toying with the fine, trimmed hair at the top of her slit. He could feel how wet she was. A
flash of lightening illuminated the room once again, but neither of them seemed to notice.

Hanna whispered his name, arching her lower body up eagerly. He raised his head, looking down at
her very seriously. Her eyes searched his, waiting for him to speak. There was a clap of thunder,
making Hanna snuggle closer to Alex.

"Tell me how to remove this dress. I'd hate to ruin something so sweet, but I need to look at you and
I'm dangerously close to ripping it from your body."

Hanna made an "mmm" sound as she turned toward him, and reached under her arm to unfasten the
side zipper. "Here..." she murmured, as she showed him. He made quick work of unzipping the dress
and scooping it up from the hem and lifting it gently over her head and off. He paused, looking over
her. A tiny frown formed between his brows and his look was fierce as his eyes took in the pale pink
lace bra and panties. There was another flash, bathing the room in light for a second. Hanna couldn't
know it, but her skin gleamed in the firelight and there was a sexy fragility to the pink underwear that
nearly drove Alex mad.

A roll of thunder sounded around the cottage, causing the floor to tremble a little.

She touched the side of his face, drawing his eyes back up to hers. Nervously she asked him: "What's
wrong?"

He took her face in both hands and ground out: "Hanna, Hanna -- you are the most beautiful woman.
I wish you could see yourself as I do. I'm totally, completely bewitched by you." Without waiting for
her to reply, he fell upon her and kissed her again, rolling his body on top of hers. His thighs forced
hers open and one of his hands smoothed up the sleek skin of her thigh to slip under her panties.

Hanna could not get enough of his sensuous mouth and couldn't seem to get close enough to his hard
body. She began to tug his shirt up and over his head, and he helped her by moving up and lifting his
arms. She exhaled audibly as she saw his lean, tanned chest and shoulders, running her hands along
and down his body. She pressed her mouth to his neck, leaving little bites along with her kisses.

She reached her hands between them and began to fumble with the button fly of his jeans. "Take
these off, Alex, please." She purred impatiently. Alex allowed her to push his jeans to his hips then he
took over and kicked them off the rest of the way. He was now clad only in black knit boxer briefs. She
told him they were sexy. He took her hand and ran it across the front of his underwear so she could
feel his nearly full erection underneath.

"You're sexy. Here is the proof." She wrapped her hand around the hard length of him through the
fabric, leaning down to place a series of kisses across his shoulders and down his chest. He growled
deep in his throat as her lips and teeth grazed his nipples.

"Your turn..." he said, as he reached behind her and deftly unhooked her bra. Sliding the straps off of
her shoulders, he looked into her eyes as he pulled the bra from her body and tossed it aside. As if
making himself wait, he held her gaze for another moment before he finally allowed himself to look at
her. His face softened and his lips parted.

"Oh my Hanna..." He whispered her name reverently. Hanna felt a rush of liquid heat rage through her
body at the look on his face. He stared down at the lovely perfection of her taut breasts. The nipples
were set high on her firm round tits. The areolas were about the size of silver dollars and were a
dusky rose color. The nipples were hard little points that projected jauntily in the center and were so
deep in color they were almost red. He ran gentle fingertips across her left breast, moving back over it
again to softly pinch the nipple between his finger and thumb.

"You have the most beautiful breasts, my Selkie." He murmured as his mouth came down and pulled
the entire peak into his mouth. Her back arched and she clasped the back of his head to draw him
even closer. His teeth lightly nibbled and then his tongue flickered over her and he created a
tantalizing suction with his lips. He raised his head and looked down at her breast again, noting that
his actions had further aroused and reddened her nipple. He puckered his lips and blew on the tip,
causing it to stiffen further and making Hanna cry out in pleasure.

"Kiss me, Alex." She begged. He moved over her and hovered a few inches above her, his mouth
teasing hers by moving close enough to just brush her lips, but then pull back. She made a frustrated
noise and curved up, wrapping her arms around his neck and head and pulling him down to her. Her
mouth attacked his. Her tongue moved inside his mouth, pressing into his tongue until he couldn't
stand it any longer and crushed her into the floor. She made a little triumphant noise as she sucked
his lower lip into her mouth and sank her teeth in lightly.

When he could speak again, he whispered wonderingly: "God, you're making me crazy. I need to taste
all of you."

He began to kiss and bite his way down her body. He visited her right breast this time, making her
moan with his expert lips. He traced her ribs and the muscles of her abdomen with the tip of his
tongue, dipping into her navel before covering it with his mouth and kissing deeply. He moved further
downward, running the flat of his palm across the front of her panties, appreciating the picture she
made in the feminine lace. Glancing back up at her, he pressed his face between her legs, his mouth
and tongue pressed into the now very wet crotch of those boy shorts. Hanna groaned loudly with
pleasure and allowed him to pull her thighs up and open for better access. She felt his teeth scraping
her labia through the fabric, the moisture and heat of his mouth rivaling her own. His mouth pressed
into the tender flesh of her inner thighs on either side of the panties. Hanna was writhing with
excitement and with her need of him.

He hooked his fingers into the waistband and pulled them gently down and off, exposing her pubic hair
and the soft, very wet folds beneath. He made a soft "ahhh" sound as he looked into the very core of
her womanhood.

His eyes found hers and he said: "You are perfectly beautiful. You're a work of art, Hanna." Her eyes
filled with tears and her head fell back on the pillows. She looked into the fire as she tried to regain
control of her emotions. Alex flew back up to her side, gently cradling her head in his arms. His hands
gently brushed at the errant tears that escaped.

"Shhh... my beautiful Selkie... What is it?" She swallowed hard, trying to compose herself, unsure if
her voice would even work. He stroked her face and left tiny kisses on her cheek and jawline, and
finally brushed her lips with feather-light kisses.

"Please say what you're thinking. You can tell me anything -- do you know that? There's no way that
anything you say could change what I'm feeling."

She looked back up at him, seeing the sincere tenderness in his eyes. A tiny sob escaped her as she
took a breath. He pulled her tighter, pressing his lips to her temple.

"Please tell me, Hanna." She put her hand on his cheek and turned her face into his neck, closing her
eyes. She began to speak softly.

"Alex I'm forty-two years old, and I was married for ten years before my husband left me for another
woman. Never before in my entire life have I ever felt, or ever believed, that I was beautiful. But
somehow you make me believe it. I met you this morning and you have been able to make me feel
something that I thought I'd never feel."
She leaned back and looked up at him. Her dark eyes were shining with emotion. Her cheeks were
rosy and still wet with her tears. Her lips were trembling and lusciously bee-stung from kissing. Alex's
heart seemed to skip a beat as he looked at her.

She continued: "And I've never been this turned on by anyone, ever. I want you more than I've ever
wanted anything. How -- how have you done all of this?"

His mouth came down on those bee-stung lips. He needed to kiss her before he could answer. The way
her mouth moved against his -- the way they seemed to answer each other with their kisses. He knew
he was becoming addicted. Alex poured all of his passion and all of his burgeoning feelings into those
kisses.

Finally, he broke the kiss, panting, and looked down at her. "You ask me how I've done this to you. I
could ask you the same -- how did you do this to me? I am completely mad for you. Even my parents
could see it. You should have heard my mother teasing me before I came over here. Oh... Meg sends
her regards, by the way." He added wryly. Hanna laughed out loud -- one of her sweet, husky laughs.
Alex had to kiss her again.

When he lifted his head, he continued: "I'd be the proudest man in the world if I'm the one who
makes you realize how amazing you are. But honestly, you were beautiful all along."

Hanna reached up and pressed her lips to his. He deepened the kiss and they were soon rolling
against one another. His erection was pressed into her hip. She reached down and ran her hand over it
on top of the briefs, and then slipped her fingers inside his underwear to move her hand against the
velvety hardness of his cock. He pressed her hand against his length and moaned into her throat.

"Make love to me, Alex." She breathed into his ear; her tongue darted inside before she caught his
earlobe in her teeth. "I need to feel you inside me." She pushed at his underwear, trying to move
them off his hips. He helped her, tugging them off and kicking them away.

"I'm definitely going to make love to you. In fact, I plan to fuck you senseless. But there's one thing I
need to do first." He moved down her body, positioning himself between her legs. His fingers gently
moved along the outside of her lips, gently pulling them apart. Her very dark hair was trimmed into a
neat patch above the top of her lips. Alex looked at the pink wetness within. With his index finger, he
gently rubbed the hood surrounding her clit. She cried out softly and another tiny trickle of wetness
appeared at her opening. He dipped his finger into that wetness, and brought the glistening fingertip
to his mouth, savoring it on his tongue as he made an "mmm" sound.

Leaning forward, he held her open with one hand and ran his tongue from her perineum to the top of
her slit. Hanna's body jerked upward and she whimpered. Alex pushed his tongue into her opening as
far as it would go, and began fucking her with it. His index finger flicked over her enlarged clitoris. She
was writhing up against him, making a soft whimpering sound. He then pulled his tongue out of her
sweet depths, lathing it up to the hard little button at the top. Her sharp intake of breath assured him
of the success of this move. Gently tugging the flesh aside for better access, he began to flick his
tongue across her clit. Hanna was keening in pleasure, her hands clutching the blanket beneath them.
Alex slipped his index finger inside her as he continued to tease her with the tip of his tongue. Her
muscles contracted around his finger as he began to slowly fuck her with his hand. He added his
middle finger and she moaned afresh, her body arching upward. When Alex knew she was close, he
clamped his lips down around the top of her slit, pulling her clit into his mouth, and suckled her. Hanna
went rigid, her abdomen tightening as the muscles inside her vagina clenched and unclenched rapid
fire. A fresh trickle of wetness flooded his fingers as she cried out in a low, husky voice. Alex savored
the taste and fragrance and sound of her as she climaxed, seemingly in rolling waves, against his
mouth and hand. Her body went limp, finally, and her ragged breathing echoed around the room along
with the crackling fire.

Alex gently extracted his fingers. She looked down at him in wonder, her hand pushing her wild hair
out of her eyes. Never taking his eyes from hers, he slipped his wet fingers into his mouth, licking
them clean. She murmured "Oh god, Alex." in an emotional, smoky voice. He looked at her swollen
pussy, and ran the flat of his tongue along its length one more time, gratified by Hanna's scream of
surprise. Her body shook with tiny little aftershocks.

He moved up alongside her, brushing her hair back. The strands around her face and neck were damp.
Her eyes were huge in her face, her pupils dilated. She reached up for his face and pressed her mouth
to his. He knew she could taste herself on his lips, but she didn't seem to mind. He pushed his tongue
inside and rolled it against hers. Hanna was moving her hand down his chest, past his abdominal
muscles, to his rock hard erection.

Her hand wrapped around his shaft and she leaned back, looking into his eyes, as she began to move
her hand. Alex closed his eyes and tilted his head back.

"Do I get to taste you, now?" She asked in a low voice, her tongue darting up to flick his upper lip. He
groaned, his body moving against hers.

"If you did that now, I wouldn't last a minute." He opened his eyes, which had gone very dark blue,
and captured her eyes with his -- the need evident. "And I intend to make it last a lot longer than
that, my Selkie." His mouth came down on hers with near violence. Hanna was not only beyond caring
if his lips bruised hers -- she was deeply excited by it. He was taking her in the most exciting way
possible and she reveled in his passion.

Alex took hold of her, moving on top of her body, his right hand pulling her left thigh up. In one hard
thrust, he slammed his hard cock all the way into her wet, still throbbing pussy. She cried out, her
voice becoming hoarse from screaming. Alex was almost too big -- she could feel him filling her, his
balls were pressed to her sensitive labia. He growled deep in his throat as he paused deep inside her
for a moment. Lifting his head, he looked into her eyes, a look of possessiveness on his face. He
slowly pulled himself almost all the way out of her -- she made a sound of disappointment and
whispered the word "please" up into his mouth. He pulled his head back; his lips just out of reach,
watching her face as she all but begged him. A moment of suspense hung in the air as he scanned her
eyes silently. Hanna made a sound of frustration deep in her throat, her body finally stilling as she
helplessly returned his gaze.

Without warning, he thrust back into her with such force that he lifted her lower body off of the floor.
His cock bottomed out in her, slamming into her cervix as he moaned deeply. Hanna screamed, her
nails raking down his back. She felt as if he were splitting her in half.

"Is this what you want, Hanna?" He ground out between his teeth. He began to rhythmically fuck her
in earnest now, sometimes slamming deep and sometimes grinding into her in a circular motion. She
couldn't think -- she could only focus on his cock and how he'd taken complete ownership of her body.
"Yes.... yes... yessss...." Was all she could say, her words being pulled from her as his body pounded
into her.

The friction of his pubic hair and the pressure of his strokes against her clit and the way the head of
his penis dragged across the rough patch that was her G-spot made her realize that she was going to
cum again -- and this time with him inside her. Her mouth clung to his, their tongues doing battle. One
of his hands cupped her ass, managing the movements of her lower body as he fucked her. The other
arm cradled her head.

Hanna was very, very close -- and she could even feel his body beginning to tense -- his cock getting
even stiffer and seeming to swell inside her. Then inexplicably, Alex paused.

"Ah no....!" She sobbed. She let her head drop back and looked up at him. His breathing was ragged.
His hand moved to the back of her head and wound into her hair. He looked down into her face. He
rained light kisses on her eyelids, cheekbones, chin and all around her lips before reclaiming them in a
heart-stopping, lingering kiss.

He spoke against her lips: "Are you mine, Hanna? Do you belong to me now?"

She took in a few shuddering breaths, her body shaking from the pleasure she'd had and was still
about to know at his experienced touch. She opened her eyes, trying to focus on him.

"Is that what you want?" She asked. Her body ached for him to finish what he'd started.

"Yesss.... It's what I want. I want you to be mine and only mine. My Selkie." His arms tightened their
grip and he thrust himself deeply into her as he spoke.

"Oh... then I am. I'm yours. Only yours..." She was breathless and could barely speak but he'd heard
her and his body kicked back into high gear. He fucked her hard and fast, making a noise deep in his
throat, pounding and pounding tirelessly. The damn broke for Hanna and she hoarsely screamed as
her body exploded. Light flashed around her and she wasn't sure if it was the orgasm or the lightening
-- and she didn't care. Her screaming had not even begun to decrescendo before Alex shouted -- his
own climax overtaking him.

She could feel it filling her -- again and again his cock shot inside her. Hanna had never felt such deep,
thrilling satisfaction. She wanted to hold him inside her as long as possible. As their bodies stopped
shuddering, she wrapped her legs around his and pulled him against her, murmuring the words "Stay
-- please stay." He moaned happily and kissed her, more slowly and tenderly now.

His head finally dropped down in the curve of her shoulder and they drifted quietly for a while. The
only sounds were the rain outside, the slowing beat of their hearts and the crackling of the flames in
the fireplace. As Alex's then softened penis slipped from her soaking wet folds, he moved to her side,
gathering her against him, his hand stroking the side of her face as he looked down at her, his eyes
gentle and proprietary.

She ran her hand down the hard contours of his chest. "Alex... can I ask you something?" She began.

"Anything, beautiful." He brushed his lips along her temple as he waited for the question. After a
moment, he looked down at her enquiringly.

"What is a Selkie?" She asked, her deep voice filled with humor and curiosity. His laughter boomed
out, reverberating around the room and tickling her ear. He hugged her to him, before letting her drop
back onto the blankets. He tucked one her stray locks behind one ear.

"Well, I'll tell you...." And he proceeded to explain.

Sunday, 7:30 AM

Hanna came back upstairs with a mug of steaming coffee in each hand. The fire they'd lit when they'd
finally moved to the bedroom was now reduced to glowing embers. The bed itself was empty, the
sheets were tossed back, and the curtains had been opened wide. The morning sunlight streamed into
the room and a fresh breeze blew in from the open door. She saw that Alex stood outside on the
balcony, clad only in his jeans. Stopping for a minute to look at him, she felt her heart surge in her
chest. Hers. Incredible what one day and one summer storm could bring.

In between their lovemaking, they'd talked about their lives. Hanna revealed things to Alex that she
had never shared with anyone before. He listened quietly, stroking her hair when she described
growing up with a hyper critical and demanding mother. She watched him get angry when she spoke
of Bill's callous behavior toward her, and how it had affected her view of sex, of love, of herself. She
cried, her heart breaking as he described his tumultuous relationship with Sarah and the story of his
support, even in the face of her repeated betrayal. Hanna was actually turned on as he described his
sexual promiscuity in the months since his ex-wife's death, much to her surprise. It was amazing to
her that they found it so easy to be themselves with one another -- to be completely open. It was as if
their unfettered passion made it possible to be uninhibited emotionally, too.

Hanna stepped through the balcony door and he turned, his smile as bright as the blue sky behind
him. He gratefully took one of the mugs from her and pulled her against him with his free arm, kissing
her sweetly and slowly.

"Thank you kindly." He spoke into her hair. They stood at the railing and surveyed the scene before
them. The storm had wrecked only minor havoc on the beach and the yard below. Everything seemed
to be dripping dry in the warming sky. There was a good deal of seaweed and driftwood on the half
moon beach, and some of the furniture on the deck below had been toppled. Sand had encroached in
a variety of places, but by and large, no real damage seemed to have been done. It wasn't clear when
the power had gone back on, but it had been sometime between the last time he woke her to make
love, and now.

Though the horizon looked clear and the sun shone brilliantly, the waves curling toward the shore were
extraordinarily large. White caps were visible across the sound. The world felt fresh and clean.

Hanna sighed with happiness, and let her head fall against Alex's shoulder. He pulled her to him more
tightly, turning to drop an affectionate kiss on the top of her head. As her lavender fragrance filled his
nose, he closed his eyes and smiled. He felt light and boyishly happy.

"Hey, Selkie..." He started.

"Mmm hmmm?" She murmured.

"Will you sing me a song later?" She froze, turning to look at him. Her cheeks flushed scarlet. He was
grinning down at her, his chest shaking a little from gentle laughter.

"Oh... my... god. You heard me?" She bit her lip. "I'm so embarrassed! What must you have thought?"

He caught her face in one hands. "What did I think? I heard that voice in the dark, and I thought I was
listening to an angel. I was already half in love with you before we'd even met because of that voice."

"Are you teasing me?" She challenged, nervously looking up at him from under her lashes.
"No, sweet thing. I can't imagine anything better than having you sing me to sleep at night. Hearing
your sexy voice every day. If I could have that, I'd have a life." His eyes never left hers as he spoke
those words. She felt her heart do a flip in her chest. She shook her head in wonder as she looked up
at him. Words escaped her -- the feelings were almost too much. Almost.

"So... will you sing for me?" He prodded again.

She smiled up at him uncertainly laughing a little. Taking a full breath, she started to sing in a clear,
sexy alto:

"What a difference a day made, twenty four little hours

Brought the sun and the flowers where there use to be rain.

My yesterday was blue dear,

Today I'm a part of you dear,

My lonely nights are through dear,

Since you said you were mine.

Lord, what a difference a day made

There's a rainbow before me

Skies above can't be stormy since that moment of bliss

That thrilling kiss

It's heaven when you find romance on your menu

What a difference a day made

And the difference is you."

His mouth swept down onto hers. She let herself fall against him. They kissed again, and then one
more time. Hanna moved her hips against his and she felt his cock begin to harden again. She sighed,
pushing her head into the curve of his neck.

"This is more than I ever dared to hope for." She whispered.

"I know, my beautiful girl. We're really rolling deep. Does that scare you?"

"If you promise to never let go, I'll roll with you forever."

"I promise." His lips found hers again. His hand cradled the back of her head and he plumbed the
depths of her mouth as if drawing nourishment from her. She lost herself in that kiss, feeling as if he
were the only thing that tethered her to the earth.
When he raised his head, they smiled knowingly at each other. Together, they turned and walked back
into the bedroom. Sunlight reflected on the glass as the door closed behind them.

On the beach below, the waves rolled, crested and landed, again and again, spraying white foam in
the air. The storm had passed. It was a new day.