The Compass Rose

[Niamh]

Wrenna Mallory

"What’s wrong with Blade?" Wren asked, as she headed into the brand new kitchen and began to fill the coffee-pot with water. "He’s acting like he saw something strange out back."

Calla stood in the doorway, arms folded, and shivered. Her hair was dripping, and she awkwardly tried to gather it up off of her back before it wet her cardigan through.

"Probably a squirrel or something. I don’t suppose you’ve got a towel somewhere I could use to dry off?"

Wren switched on the coffee-machine. "Better than that. I can even offer you a hot bath beforehand. Want to go up and get warm while I wait for the coffee? I brought a huge basket of delicious bath-oils and soaps from France with me. And there are clean, fluffy, wonderful towels up there too. "

"Oooh. A hot bath. If anything will get me warm, that will. Want to come up and scrub my back?"

Wrenna gave Calla a wink.

"The sea goddess has only to ask her humble handmaiden, and all will be as she desires."

Their eyes met across the room and held for a long moment. For each of them, the tension in the air became almost tangible.

"I’ve missed you," said Calla, and enfolded her sister tightly in her arms.

Wren felt an aching contracture deep inside her body. She inhaled the ghost of Calla’s perfume, now mixed with the slightly wild scent of the sea. Her hands slipped under her sister’s cardigan, and began very gently to knead her shoulders, stroking the bare skin above the back of her sundress.

"I doubt you missed me at all," she whispered a little huskily. She pressed close and caught Calla’s earlobe briefly between her lips.

Calla started to protest, but Wren quieted her with a kiss. It was light and sweet, the merest of touches, but she could feel the subtle pressure of Calla’s body against hers...the slight parting of her lips...the quickening of her breath. It had been, she reflected, a very long time for both of them. Under such circumstances the body had a way of making its needs known, sometimes without the consent of the mind.

As girls, it was true, they had learned the rudiments of sensual pleasure together as much as alone. It had happened always almost by accident. But it had happened often enough that neither could deny the undercurrent of sexual fascination that bound them together as strongly as sisterly affection did.

The nightwind rustled the leaves above them as they lay in the treehouse out in Nana’s backyard. They were big girls now, and had not been up there for years. How small it seemed suddenly, as they pulled themselves up from the ladder and tried to find room on the plank floor. It was like Alice finding she had become a giantess in Wonderland. They laughed and ate wild berries, and Calla tried to explain the French kiss to Wren by means of practical example, exploring a willing mouth that tasted of sweet juice and sunshine.

"And what do they do to you next?" Wren had asked, a little breathlessly.

"Boys? Well..."

And it had taken a whole night to explain that.

Kissing again, now, in the kitchen as the waves crashed outside, Wren was reminded of that night, and others like it. Each one a descent into deeper waters. Each one a furthering of boundaries.

"Go upstairs and have your bath, Calla. I’ll bring up the coffee when it’s done."

Her cheeks were burning. There was something unnerving in the way her own body had responded to the scent of Calla, the feel of her. We’re not girls anymore.

"I’ll get Blade settled first. Nana left some old junk quilts of hers in a box in case we needed them for anything."

Before Wren could say anything more, her sister was gone. She stopped for a few minutes in the middle of the kitchen, and pressed her hands to her cheeks. They were hot. Her heart was pounding so that she felt her legs would hardly hold her upright.

I can’t help myself. It’s just been too long and I want someone tonight.

She heard the stairs creaking as Calla went up to the loft. There was no need to speculate about her sister’s mood that night either. Beneath Wren’s fingers, she had been trembling.

I’m only human. I just want someone else’s skin against mine. I just want to kiss someone blindly until this awful emptiness goes away.

She arranged two cups on a tray with the coffee-pot.

And ascended the stairs almost deafened by the pounding of the hot blood in her ears.

 

[AngelicVixxxen]

Calla

It seemed to take Calla an unnaturally long time to climb those stairs, but it was understandable given that she was shivering from the cold and trembling from the heat. Her legs felt wobbly and weak and she wondered if she would make it to the top or tumble back down. A sudden picture of a fall down a flight of stairs flashed before her and made her grip the handrail firmly. Never again!

Stepping into the sparking bathroom, she stared at her reflection in the mirror and wondered who the stranger was looking back at her. The pupils were dilated so much that there was only a thin circle of sea green surrounding them; the cheeks were rosy, and the lips were swollen from the kiss that had whispered against them. She looked like she had in her youth, when she was full of wildness and had possessed an adventurous spirit.

A clammy damp penetrating through her sweater jarred her back to reality and she quickly stripped and slid into Wren’s robe which was hanging on the back of the door. Wrapping her hair in one of the thick towels, she turned on the water and added a very generous portion of the aromatic bath oil. She sat somewhat mesmerized on the edge of the tub as it filled, feeling the rising steam envelop and warm her, as had the memories that Wren invoked. The robe smelled like her sister, sweet and sensual, and she buried her nose in it... her heart filling with such a feeling of love for her that she ached.

Freeing her hair from the towel, she pinned it up loosely and sank gratefully into the small pool, immediately squeezing her eyes shut and sighing deeply at a pleasure long forgotten. She had been lying there only a few minutes when she heard the stairs creaking and turned to smile at Wren as she entered the room.

There was no need for small talk as they sipped their coffee. There was certainly no need for Calla to be embarrassed at the way her sister was looking at her, but because Nick had made her feel less than attractive she had to stifle the urge to shield herself from view. Lolling in a tub with white light glaringly pointing out every detail was a far cry from swimming naked in the dark. Most of the scars had faded into nothingness, except for the thin one on the side of her face. Most of the scars were inside, but she didn’t want her sister to think less of her no matter where they were.

Clearing her throat, she asked softly, “Is the handmaiden still willing to wash the back of the sea goddess?”

Wren stepped out of her skirt and kneeled down beside the tub. Taking the soft cloth, she covered it with fragrant delicate soap and tended lovingly to her sister. Calla’s head dropped forward as the cloth swept over her back and neck, as two hands kneaded muscles strained with tension, as fingers traced a small mark acquired in the recent past. It’s been so long since anyone touched me with a gentle hand. So long since anyone did something for me. So long since anyone cared.

Wren’s hand stilled on her back and Calla turned with a questioning look in her eyes. Seeing only the huge pupils and the slightly dazed expression on her face as she held the dripping cloth immobile, Calla reached over and caressed her cheek then slid her hand behind her neck and pulled her forward.

The kiss began where the one downstairs had left off, lips seeking and exploring as they had long ago. There was no hesitancy, no awkwardness, as teeth nibbled and tongues touched tentatively at first and then with sensual delight as memories of past experimentation surfaced.

The water cooled too quickly, or Calla’s body warmed too fast, and with a small smile she willingly rose, stepped over the edge, and reached out. The sisters enfolded each other in their arms simultaneously and their bodies pressed hopefully against each other. The dampness of the bath water quickly invaded Wren’s blouse and left it almost transparent, and Calla glanced down to see the outline of the hard excited nipples. She rubbed her own breasts experimentally against Wren’s and a small sound caught in her throat at the feeling. They were no longer children, no longer teenagers, no longer in their early 20s as they had been the last time. Their curves were different now... lush and feminine and beautiful.

Wren whisked away her blouse in a graceful motion and Calla slid her hand around the newly-exposed globe which was lifting gently with accelerated breathing. It felt... delicious – so much like her own, but yet different. She’d never been interested in other women, but her sister was so much a part of her that this felt only natural and honest. Her nails gently grazed the nipple and she watched it harden even more. Lifting the other breast slightly, she bent down and swept her tongue over it slowly, then grazed the nipple with her teeth before pulling it into her mouth and worshipping it with her lips.

Wrenna held her sister’s head in her hands, wordlessly directing what she wanted until finally Calla stopped and whispered softly.

“Let’s go to bed, Wren. We don’t have to do anything more, but tonight I just need to lie with someone who loves me, to feel special and cherished.”

Unpinning her hair, she took her sister’s hand and, for the first time in a very long time, she felt trust and hope push aside the oppressive fear of being alone... and hunted.

 

[Niamh]

Wrenna Mallory

Wrenna had scattered candles around the room. That was the first thing Calla noticed as she stepped out into the darkness and saw the clear vista of the sea beyond the windows. She had never really noticed the loft properly before. Certainly she had never thought of it as living space. It was too open, too bare. She had assumed her sister would use it for storage and rent a house in the village. But when she first saw the bedroom by night, she knew Wren’s vision had been more insightful than her own. No room could have been more tranquil, more conducive to pure relaxation than this one. Two walls had wide, floor-to-ceiling windows, both with stunning ocean views. The reflection of the candlelight against the backdrop of black and whispering water made it seem as though they were standing in the midst of the night sky itself; each twist of flame like a star.

There was almost no furniture as yet. Only a low platform bed in the middle of the room, and a slipper chair that had been pushed close to the side window which overlooked the back patio. Wrenna smiled and perched herself upon the chair, slowly removing the only garments she still wore: her thigh-high, lace-gartered stockings.

Calla watched her, entranced. Wren, always a little ethereal, looked like some wild fae. She knew she was being watched and deliberately teased Calla with a toss of her hair and a very limber extension of each lovely leg. She struck a series of rather dramatic “sexy” poses, laughing all the while, her large eyes sparkling in the flickering dark. The blood raced to Calla’s cheeks and her own laughter joined with Wren’s.

There was no one out so late at night. Shops and restaurants in Spyglass Cove usually closed by ten, and it was now after midnight. Smiling at the sheer irresponsibility of it all, Wrenna and Calla both crossed the room to stand by the huge glass windows that overlooked the water, completely naked, white skin illuminated by a sheen of golden light. The view was breathtaking; magical. The hour, so still and yet so full of the music of the sea, was their own.

Beneath her skin, Wren felt the hot frisson of Calla’s touch still. Her nipples ached, and the moisture between her thighs was not merely water splashed from her sister’s bath. Impulsively she took Calla’s lovely face in her hands and kissed her again, insistently. She was met with nothing but a sigh, and an eager tongue. The exultation that instantly leapt in her heart made her feel that her lungs were bursting.

"You were wrong, you know," she whispered, nuzzling her sister’s neck. "We do have to do more tonight. You think I could sleep feeling like this?" And taking Calla’s hand in hers, she pressed it against the smooth cleft between her thighs. It was wet. The feel of it, slick and hot, made Calla's throat suddenly dry.

It was like an old, familiar dance. Wren’s hands remembered the way that Calla liked to be touched. Her body remembered what it was to be touched by Calla. A long few moments they could not move from where they stood, but simply pressed tightly together, each one supporting the other in turn as the waves of passion made them weak.

Calla’s breasts in Wrenna’s hands were soft and full and perfectly shaped. Each one a succulent handful, each one tipped with a nipple fully engorged. Wrenna covered them with kisses, light, feathery kisses that made Calla squirm and grab onto her shoulders for support. Like a child, Wren suckled, and was rewarded with a long, low moan. It was almost too much for her. The blood was pounding through her – brain and heart and womb – her whole body was trembling with the strain of holding back. She straightened, and once more began to concentrate on Calla’s mouth, kissing her deeply as their bodies undulated slowly together, two mermaids entwined and floating in a dark sea of stars.

"My beautiful sea-goddess," Wren whispered, pulling back just enough to gaze into her sister’s eyes. "I think you should let your handmaiden attend you now...as only she knows how to do...."

 

[captainb]

Bill

In his half-asleep state, Bill felt more than saw the lights shift in the old house. He had rolled onto his side, ready to fall back asleep (something he somehow could never do on his back, unless he was absolutely weary). Through unfocused eyes he saw a lit window with shadows moving through the small room. Smaller lights like candles appeared above it, from larger windows in the attic. One of the women was moving slowly about the room, lighting as she went. His eyes drooped again, then flickered open one last time a moment or an hour later, he wasn't sure which. The house was dark now except for the candles burning upstairs behind the slowly moving figures. Very pretty, he thought dully. Then he blinked hard and raised his head.

Two naked females were standing at the window. The soft glow from the candles reflected golden off the sides of their silhouetted bodies. Their arms were around each other, and the curves of ther bodies melted together as one pulled the other into a deep kiss.

Bill sat up, fully awake. He stared, hardly daring to blink lest the vision vanish into just a dream. Then he realized that he was awake and reached sideways for his duffel bag, not taking his eyes from the window. He rummaged inside the dark bag until he found the small canvas case, pulled it out and withdrew the small binoculars.

The women sprang into full fleshly existence through the lenses. He thought they were beautiful, bathed in the flickering aura. Their breasts rode high on their chests, full and round, the shadows of their erect nipples sharply visible against the light. Bill breathed heavily through his mouth as one guided the other's hands between her legs, arching her body forward as the fingers found their way. He felt his erection slither to full awakening and slipped his hand under his briefs to free it. Too good to be true, he thought as his hot flesh slid up and down through his fingers. He stiffened and squeezed himself harder as the first woman bent forward to suckle at the breasts of the other.

They rose and kissed each other again slowly, making silent love with their mouths as their hands roamed over their partner's nude body. Bill felt himself pulse hard in his fingers and slowed down slightly, not wanting to lose sight of the show. He settled on his knees and stroked himself steadily, his erection totally sustained by the two goddesses of eros as they maintained their embrace and gently settled onto the low chair by the window.

 

[artful]

M. J. W.

Except for my retirement, all my worldly possessions resided in the van, and what I had on. Hell...Mendoza was the only one who had ever remembered me. Funny though, he always called me,"J.W.". We had argued over my name many a night.He would say "...and the star of the show, J.W. Michaels."...and I always came back with some kinda bullshit like, "Michael Jacob Wilson, country music legend extraordinaire, known and
admired the world over," then break into an old Merle Haggard song.

I had been sitting there reflecting on times past, recalling some of the things that kept bringing me back,to the closest thing I ever had to call home.The next thing I remembered was the musical voice of a mexican boy saying,"Meester Weelsun, ...Meester Weelsun!"My mind slowly spun back to the present,as a brown hand gently shook my forearm, not quite hard enough to spill the remaining half cup of cold coffee.

"Meester Mehndohza sae foar yoo to khumm to de roze,de khumpuss roze,...yoo noh ware iz?"I shook my head no, and finally after 5 minutes, figured out the boy was trying to tell me, 'The Compass Rose was located at the end of Main St.' Glancing to my left, I saw my van was still parked where I had left it. Swilling the last bit of coffee past my lips, letting the bitter taste replace the same bitter taste, I swished it thoroughly in my mouth, and spit it on the ground.

Tossing the cup in the trash, I shucked off my sandals, locked them up in the van, and headed for the beach. The rendevous with Mendoza would wait till tomorrow, evidently he had changed employers, besides it was too late to get anything done today anyway.

Coming back to the van, I made a couple of sandwiches out of my 12v refrigerator, and washed it all down with a couple cans of Michelob Light. I didn't drink much beer, but when I did, I always bought 'Micky Lite'. It had gotten late, and having a custom made bed in my van, I decided to take a nap. Waking up, I checked the luminous markings on my watch,and it read 11:45 P.M.

"The sidewalks had been rolled up for some time," I mused, "noting the darkened streets." Except for the spotty placements of a few lightposts, which appeared to be randomly positioned by a six year old,the town was dark.I decided to head on up Main Street, and find an out of the way place to park. There was a huge parking lot up there, I remembered, next to a place that had been vacant the last time I saw it.I checked both sides of Main St., looking for The Compass Rose,as I neared the end.

Pulling into the lot,I noticed a freshly done sign announcing,'The Compass Rose'. The building didn't appear to be vacant anymore. There were a couple of cars parked at the front, "probably lovers on a late night stroll along the beach," I thought, but when I doused my headlights. I could see flickering lights throughout the upper section of the otherwise darkened building, which appeared to be the beginnings of a fire.

I eased my van closer to the building so I could see if there was anybody in there,or it REALLY was a fire. I was about to step out and bang on the front door when, two shapely female bodies appeared simultaneously in plain view of a large upstairs window. They were both nude! Transfixed, I sat there watching the flickering flames dance eerily upon their pale skin, as they kissed and fondled each other, with the practised ease of familiar lovers.

Mesmerized by the erotic scene of two women heatedly embracing each other, thinking there was no one else around, my breathing became labored and ragged. I never noticed the time, or how long they were there, but I did notice the rigid manhood between my legs, when they moved away from the window. I put the van in reverse, parked in a darkened corner of the lot and marvelled at how excited I had become.

Trying to calm myself, I quietly exited the van, and locked it up. Still being barefoot, I walked briskly down the narrow pathway leading to the beach. I had to burn the vision of those two forms out of my head,or I would toss and turn all night.

 

[AngelicVixxxen]

Calla

Calla had never expected the night to end this way… she had thought the two of them would sit up drinking coffee for hours and that she would finally reveal herself. Although... perhaps that was precisely what she was doing.

A soft, low growl echoed in the room as their lips finally separated with reluctance, and she glanced around wondering if Blade had wandered up. Then she realized with a bit of a shock that the noise had come from her, a sound that she could never recall having made before.

Bodies pressed together, arms entwined, hands caressing, the two sisters swayed to the tune of a waltz that only they could hear, gliding around the almost empty space and somehow deftly avoiding the candles. Love and trust and compassion danced right along with them, and just for tonight uncertainty and fear were banished to the corners of the room where the flickering lights did not reach.

Somewhat breathless, but more because of what was to be than because of the dance, they suddenly stopped and gazed deeply into each other’s eyes. Wren smiled with a knowing grin and stepped behind her sister, trailing her fingers teasingly over her breast and tummy and around her waist. Calla shivered in delicious anticipation, for Wren had not forgotten her most sensitive areas. Eight fingertips made their way up from Calla’s ankles, over her calves, up her thighs, all around her bottom, and finally along the graceful swell of her back.

Calla’s whole body trembled as her hair was swept aside, and then she felt the unseen fingernails caress the back of her neck with the merest of touches, followed by soft, insistent kisses in the same place. Loving arms wound around her and her breasts were cupped gently by hands that had become knowing and skilled over the years. She leaned back against Wren as a wave of dizziness washed over her from the rush of too much emotion after having been denied for so long.

She turned to look at her sister and caressed her face once again.

“Let’s see how that new bed feels, dear heart,” she whispered in a voice that barely could be heard above the waves beyond, “I don’t think I can stand up much longer.”

With hands joined once again, they crawled up into the platform bed and lay face to face, breathing in the same rhythm, eyes luminous and searching. Wren’s hand reached down between Calla’s legs and she in turn tried to reciprocate so that they would both have pleasure, but she was assured that this moment was for the sea goddess.

Calla had kept herself as hairless as she had been when they had first started experimenting together as young girls, and Wren eagerly explored the smooth and silky area, her fingers sliding into the wetness.

“Oooh, you wanted this as much as I did,” she giggled. “I was afraid that I might have been a little too forward!”

Her fingers grazed the little swollen nub she found and Calla gave a small gasp and pressed herself firmly against them. She had been a little reluctant initially to pursue this course because she thought she could never feel anything again, but the unconditional love she shared with her sister had brought dormant wants and needs to the surface. Two hours of gentle and loving care had given more to her than the last two years had with Nick. She was teetering at the edge, she could feel it, but she wasn’t sure she could. I think I can, I think I can. The Little Engine’s words popped into her mind without invitation and she giggled at a most inopportune time. Wren looked puzzled and Calla could only whisper that she’d explain another time.

Calla felt one of Wren’s legs push between hers and she in turn wrapped a long leg around Wren’s hip so that she would have just the right friction that she needed. Her hips began the undulating motion as old as time and her breathing accelerated as she strove towards the elusive pleasure. Her back arched as Wren’s lips once more claimed an eager nipple and Calla's head slipped to the edge of the bed and sent her hair tumbling to the floor.

She had no control over the small unbidden sounds she was making as she was suspended in anticipation. Behind closed eyelids she could see the myriad dancing pinpoints of candlelight and then... and then... Hovering, straining, Calla lifted for one instant and felt her sister’s fingers slide into the heated channel, causing her muscles to grip them tightly; a sly thumb pressed against the straining pearl and circled it skillfully, and then... and then...

Her breathing stopped, the lights mingled briefly and then separated into shards as they suddenly burst outward. Calla’s whole body froze for an instant, and then she tumbled headlong into pleasure, her hidden feminine muscles fluttering and clenching for countless minutes.

Gradually, she descended into the now from the heights to which she had soared and, when she could once again see clearly, she lifted her head and hugged her sister tightly. They held each other a long time, tears of love and happiness bathing their faces.

Stroking Wren’s hair lovingly, she kissed her once again and whispered, “Thank you, little one, for this wonderful gift you have given me. Now I think that the handmaiden deserves to experience some delights of her own.”

 

[Niamh]

Wrenna Mallory

Two hours later, Wrenna gently disentangled herself from Calla’s arms and went to rummage through her suitcase. She lifted her arms and let a fresh nightdress slip down over her head – one of white nainsook with Nottingham lace; as thin as gauze and reaching to her ankles. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure her sister rested undisturbed. She did, with moonlight all around her like a protective halo.

Wrenna knotted her old scarlet flowered silk shawl around her shoulders and silently descended the stairs. Under her light feet, not a board creaked in protest. She could not have said precisely why she felt the need to be alone, but it was something that she always did after letting anyone become too close to her. It surprised her a little that Calla should now be one of those others that had to be pushed back behind a wall after the fire had died low and the ashes cooled. In the old days it had not been that way.

But now they each had lived too long on solitary paths. They could meet; they could bond. But they could not stay as one. There were scars on both of them. Calla’s were easy to see, if not to fully explain. Wren’s were less obvious; silent and strange, like the ancient fish that swam in the deepest reaches of the sea. Scary monsters down below she used to say, half wryly, when men had asked her about her distance; her inability to be more than a ghost that skimmed the very edges of their lives. Like water in my hands, her last lover had told her. Slipping, always slipping from my grasp.

At the foot of the stairs, she paused and stroked the furry, heavy head of Blade. His tail thumped the floor in appreciation.
"Stay with Calla," Wren whispered. "She doesn’t like the dark." She gave him a little pat on the rump, and obediently he trotted upstairs to keep watch over his mistress.

Wrenna longed for the cold sea air and the wide expanse of the sky. Not for the first time, she thought of the boat she had seen that morning, and wondered if the poetic sea-captain was watching for falling stars somewhere beyond the horizon. If you are, make a wish for me, she whispered, as a child would have done. Wish that somehow the compass in my heart will find true North, and that I will find my way. I’m lost, you know.

Still mentally absorbed in the picture of the ship delicately floating like a seabird on the waves, Wren pushed open the plate glass door to the patio.

And let out a little gasp of pure terror.

There was a man sleeping on the patio!

Her first impulse was to race back inside and lock the door. But then she calmed herself and tiptoed closer to him, leaning down to get a better look.

The moon that night was full, and the light was bright enough to see by. He did not, she thought, look like a derelict. He was a bit shaggy and stubbly, a little creased and rumpled, but his clothes were clean and decent.
Not that such a discovery alone should have been reassuring. But there was more.

The longer she looked at him, truly studying his face, the stronger a suspicion grew in her mind that she had seen him somewhere before. Not here, not yesterday, when she first arrived in Spyglass Cove. No, before that. Long before that. Holding her breath, she knelt down and peered at him more closely, only a couple of feet away. He must have been dead tired, to sleep so soundly on the uncomfortable ground. But sleep he did, silently, and without disturbance.

Wrenna’s mind peeled back the years from his face, paring away the manly angles and hollows, the faintest of lines at his mouth and at the corners of his eyes. She saw, across the years, the face of a boy.

Her heart lurched painfully with the shock of it, but she saw him plainly now. Tall and skinny, with jeans that stopped short of his ankles because he had grown too fast and his family was too poor to buy him new ones. A face that was always a little bit too pale, but defiant and cocky too. A boy who took risks that saw him spending half his afternoons in detention hall.

But the other half with her.

Tears sprang to Wrenna’s eyes. She was almost too afraid to move. What if it were all a dream, and he were not here at all?

They had not been lovers. They had been too young for that. But they had been comrades of a kind, neither one growing up the way the other kids did, neither one having found much security in the world. She had made a special gift to him once. She had shown him her refuge, the sea-cave. And told him it could be his refuge too.

She watched him sleep, and he became in her eyes the man again. The man she had seen in the sea-cave this afternoon. The selkie.

Wrenna swallowed, her heart hammering hard, and bent slowly foreward. "Bill?" she whispered.

Eyes closed, she grazed his cheek with her mouth. "Bill...it’s Wren. Do you remember me?"

 

[captainb]

Bill

The figures in the upstairs window moved back out of sight, but Bill continued masturbating to the points of candlelight, the women's images seared into his memory. A van entered the dark parking lot but stopped at the other side, and after a few side glances, he was fairly sure the driver was staying put. The lover's scene replayed again and again in his mind, the siren's touches on each other, the soft shared kisses, their fingers dipping between the other's thighs and a head thrown back in ecstacy as soft lips closed upon erect nipple... Bill grunted and arched forward, his seed shooting in long streams across the grass and gravel.

He fumbled for the roll of toilet paper in his backpack and was finishing cleaning himself up when he heard the van door softly close. Someone was walking towards him across the lot! Bill hunkered low in the tall grass, carefully pulling the sleeping bag over his form, and lay still. A man stopped at the top of the wooden stairs, not fifteen feet from him, and gazed out at the night ocean. Bill hardly dared breathe. After a moment, the stranger sighed and started descending the stairs to the dock. When Bill judged he'd reached the bottom, he quietly stood and gathered his gear, stuffing the unrolled sleeping bag under his arm. He might not be so lucky when the guy canme back up. He wasn't a distrustful sort, but it paid to be careful, especially at a strange place in the middle of the night. He softly padded across the lot towards the house, stopping near the patio. Now what? he wondered. I can't wander around in the dark, all I need is to stumble over the embankment and break my leg. He looked up at the dim window above, then scanned the grounds again. He'd always been good about being able to set his internal clock, usually waking up within minutes of when he wanted to. Unless I go to bed fucked up, then it never works, he thought wryly. But the patio was dryer than the grass, and he should be able to get up by dawn and get out of the way before the inhabitants woke. So he spread his bag out again near the dark edge of the patio and lay down, slipping rather quickly into a deep sleep.

A whispered breath touched his face, speaking his name. A dim form shimmered above him in the moonlight, the night-goddess visiting him again. "Bill...it’s Wren. Do you remember me?" she said.

Wren. It was so obviously a dream that he wasn't startled. The name brought back half-buried memories, fuzzy with the distance of time. A smile touched his lips and he blinked. He blinked again. Full awakening coursed through him and he half-sat up, staring at her. Her back was to the window and the faint light, casting her face into shadow. It's Wren, she had said. He hadn't thought of that name in years, and part of him was briefly surprised that he hadn't even thought of her when he arrived in town. Memories surfaced and raced through his mind in an instant. Wren, the skinny girl with the wild hair and big eyes, so dark against her pale face. She was one of the few he had called a friend so long ago, both reaching out from their own loneliness. The few times they had walked on the beach, and... she had shown him the sea-cave, and he'd sensed that she understood his need to be alone and hadn't been threatened, had shared the cave with him as a gift. The shell... she had given him a seashell when he moved. "If you need to find your way back, just put it to your ear and listen," she had said.

"Wren?" he softly spoke. Her head nodded, and he didn't know what to say so he said, "Hi."

A sparkle reflected from her eye. "Hi yourself. What are you doing here?" Not accusatory, but intensely curious. She squatted before him in her white gown, a dark scarf over her shoulders. He sat up, pulling the sleeping bag over his bare legs and underwear.

"I was, just traveling," he quietly said. "I thought I'd check out the town again, since I was passing by. I, um, was just camping out for the night and... I didn't know you were here. Still here." He glanced at the house. "Is this your place?"

She nodded. "Well, my grandmother's. But I'm helping getting it together, and I'll be running the place. It's a restaurant, the Compass Rose." She gave a little laugh, maybe with a trace of nervousness. He smiled. The laugh had a familiar ring, again like dusty memories half-surfaced. Then he glanced up at the attic window and quickly back down again, his smile frozen. It was her, he suddenly knew. Wren at the window making love to the other girl... a lesbian? He forced a wider smile and breathed deeply.

"Well, I guess this is a surprise, huh?" he said.

 

[Niamh]

Wrenna Mallory

As her surprise wore off and some semblance of rational thought reasserted itself in her mind, Wren began to take in the true incongruity of Bill’s situation. It was two in the morning. He was sleeping on her patio. And (as she had briefly noticed before he had pulled his sleeping bag up over his legs) he was only half-dressed. She did not smell alcohol on his breath. He did not appear to be stoned. Why was he here??

"I wish I had known you were out here earlier," she said, making herself more comfortable by sitting down cross-legged and drawing her shawl more closely around her shoulders. "I would have invited you in." A new thought suddenly speared through her brain. Blade had been very curious earlier, as though he had caught a whiff of something unusual out here. It must have been Bill. She smiled, one hand pushing back her hair, and tipped her head towards the building. "My sister is spending the night. You might have seen lights on upstairs."

The way Bill’s smile suddenly widened made the blood rush to her cheeks. Sweet Jesus. He must have seen it all.

"Oh," said Wren, ready to drop through the planking and preferably straight through the earth until she reached China. "Shit." She looked upwards and was rewarded with a very clear view of her new slipper chair, illuminated still by candlelight. She could imagine that, by walking to the edge of the bluff, she would have a view of almost the entire loft.

"Oh, no!" She buried her face in her hands and did not know if she should laugh or cry. Nice entrance, Wren.

"Bill – not that you were probably wondering or anything – not that it matters, but – I don’t usually do things like that. Girls, I mean. I’m not a lesbian. Well, not exclusively. It was kind of...well..." She gave him an utterly crestfallen look and caught her lip between her teeth in a way he remembered well. "Have you ever just...been swept away by the moment?"

Bill looked at her steadily. She had no idea what he was thinking. Probably that she was crazy.

If I don’t drop through the earth right now I am going to go and get a fucking shovel, Wrenna thought to herself.

In her mind’s eye she could see them as they had been once, she and Bill, both scruffy and with holes in their sneakers, climbing over the rocks of the cove. She had never been a very tidy little girl. Her long hair had always been coming out of its braids. Her knees had always been skinned. Unlike Calla, whose dresses were always wrinkle-free and clean; whose white party shoes were never scuffed. But Bill had never seemed to care much what she looked like. He liked her because she was not very girlish and did not make him shy. Because she was an outcast like him. Because she was willing to be his friend when nobody else was.

"Those cannery kids and fishermen’s brats – you feel sorry for them, Wren, but it don’t pay to get too involved. They’ve got a lot of problems at home, most of 'em. They’re not like us," Nana had said one day after Wrenna had brought Bill home for an after school snack. She had not meant to be unkind. In fact, she had loaded Bill’s plate with so many cookies that he had had to take some home with him in a plastic bag. But the message had been clear. Those are not our kind of folks. And Wrenna had never invited Bill over again. Not because she couldn’t, but because she somehow knew, even then, that Nana was not being fair.

"Like thistledown on the wind," Mrs. Lewis had chimed in from across the table after Bill had gone. "Blowing hither and yon. No roots anywhere, Wren. No stake in the land. It makes ‘em shiftless."

But none of it had been true. Bill was more like her than anyone else at school. And she, for all the oil lamps and sepia-toned photographs in Nana’s front parlour, felt as rootless as he was. As cut adrift. As alone.

He was watching her still, probably at a loss as to what to say. Who could blame him? Small talk, after what he had seen, would be pretty hard.

"Well, I guess this is a surprise, huh?" he said finally. She could tell he was embarrassed. She certainly was. And then a part of her, a wicked, hopeful, un-Wrennalike part, wondered what he had thought as he watched her and Calla making love. Had he been disgusted by it? Aroused? Shamefully, she had to admit that she was aroused all over again, by the thought that he had been watching her.

"I thought of you sometimes, Bill,” she faltered. Why am I so damned breathless? "I wondered where you had gone to. If your dad was still fishing somewhere up the coast. If...you ever thought of me."

She had an irresistible urge to touch him. To make sure he was real. To be enfolded and held hard against him. Of course she did none of these things.

She looked down instead, and a very big lump rose in her throat. It was no one thing that was making her eyes fill with tears. It was everything. Coming home, and Calla, and having no one in the world to call her own, and seeing Bill. It all rolled up together into one huge wave of emotion that made her fiercely angry at herself.

"I always hoped we’d meet up again, Bill. But..." She dashed the tears out of her eyes in precisely the way she had done when she was a little girl. "I sure as hell never thought it would be like this."

 

[AngelicVixxxen]

Calla

Calla watched her sister through lowered lids, feigning sleep. The dishonesty made her feel guilty because she had never pretended with her before, but having Wren pull away from her at such a critical moment was even worse than this small lie. Her fragile self-esteem, which had been edging up timidly, took a distinct nosedive upon Wren’s withdrawal and all she could think was that she had done something wrong, again... that she had failed, as usual.

She glanced sadly around the room that had brought her such pleasure only hours before, trying to recall the beautiful moments spent together, but now all she could see was the darkness creeping closer as the candles died out one by one, and she knew she couldn’t stay here any longer.

The closeness they had once shared had changed, she realized with a shock... she had thought it was the one thing she could always count on. Before this evening, she had also thought that her secrets were all that might stand in the way of total honesty between them when they reunited, but now she had seen that Wren was also involved with an inner struggle that she apparently didn’t want to share. Has the physical distance that has been between us put up a wall that neither of us can surmount?

Nana and Wren were the only people she had really trusted in the world but she couldn’t tell Nana everything, and now, if she and her sister couldn’t open up with each other, what was left? Maybe it’s time for me to find another hero... ‘though I don’t really believe in them any more.

[color=royal blue]Where have all the good men gone
And where are all the gods?
Where's the street-wise Hercules
To fight the rising odds?
Isn't there a white knight upon a fiery steed?
Late at night I toss and turn and dream of what I need.[/color]

She slipped out of bed silently, wondering where Wren had gone, and padded into the bathroom. Thank God I remembered to hang up my clothes... at least they’re dry now. Dressing slowly and brushing her tangled hair until it lay in soft gleaming waves, she deliberately avoided the mirror so she wouldn’t have to see the the slightly wounded look she knew must be etched upon her face.

With Blade close at heel, she took a deep breath to bolster her flagging confidence and tiptoed down the stairs with every intention of sneaking out quietly. Something moving beyond the window drew her attention in that direction and she peeked out to see, with great surprise, Wren engrossed in conversation with some strange man. The woman’s just come back home... how could she possibly have met someone so quickly?!

Her curiosity getting the better of her, she opened the door and was greeted by two pairs of startled eyes.

“Sorry to bother you, but I’ve decided to go back to my place, Wren.”

She deliberately avoided the inquiring look in her sister’s eyes and stretched out a hand towards the man.

“Hello,” she said, with a friendly smile, “I’m Wren’s sister, Calla.”

He arose quickly and enveloped her cold hand in a firm, warm handshake while Blade circled him with tale wagging. That’s odd... he usually doesn’t like men. I guess that means he approves, so I hope it’s safe to leave Wren with him.

“Pleased to meet you Calla; I’m Bill.” he responded. “I’ve seen you before, you know.” His voice trailed off as he cast a quick look up at the loft window. “I mean, I saw you when we were all kids and Wren invited me back to your grandmother’s home.”

Calla wondered at the flush that sprang to her sister’s cheeks, but didn’t want to tease her about it. She would like to have asked Bill about his friendship with Wren... and she would like to have remembered how to be even a little bit charming in the presence of a man... but at the moment her only thought was to get away, to be alone once again.

[color=royal blue]Somewhere after midnight
In my wildest fantasy
Somewhere just beyond my reach
There's someone reaching back for me
Racing on the thunder and rising with the heat
It's gonna take a superman to sweep me off feet[/color]

“Sorry... I don’t mean to be rude, but I really must be on my way. It was nice to meet you, Bill; Wren, I’ll talk to you soon.”

Huddled inside her cardigan, she whistled for Blade and set off along the darkened shore so that he could have a good run. When she was far enough away, she sang the remainder of the song that had been running through her mind, her husky voice rising above the waves and the sound of the dog’s joyful barking.

[color=royal blue]Up where the mountains meet the heavens above
Out where the lightning splits the sea
I would swear that there's someone somewhere
Watching me

Through the wind and the chill and the rain
And the storm and the flood
I can feel his approach
Like the fire in my blood

I need a hero
I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night
He's gotta be strong
And he's gotta fast
And he's gotta be fresh from the fight.[/color]

 

[Niamh]

Wrenna Mallory

Whatever semblance of stoicism Wrenna had possessed before Calla's rather inexplicable exit was shaken now. She lowered her head, not liking to show her emotion to Bill. She may have known him before, when she was a child, but she had never been one to let too much of her emotions show in public.

"I'm sorry, Bill," she said softly. "My sister has had a hard life. She is a lovely person -- kind hearted and very loving -- but she has seen so much trouble in her life that sometimes she is hurt by things that mean nothing at all."

With an effort she brought herself under control and looked up again. The moon was sinking towards the horizon, silvering the murmuring waves below them. A chill wind was blowing up from the water, making her shiver and draw her shawl more closely around herself.

"I've really forgotten my manners. You must be cold and probably in need of a hot drink. Would you like to come in? I can make coffee and you can tell me what's been going on since last I saw you."

She stood up and offered him her hand.

The ghost of a smile hovered around her lips. She was still shaken, but the familiar ground of offering hospitality was something that felt sturdy and unshifting beneath her feet.

There was nothing glamourous about her, Bill thought to himself. Her teeth were chattering, and her hair was a mess.

But her hand was warm and he remembered it.

 

[artful]

M.J.W.

Making his way down the steps was cumbersome, to say the least, as the pre-cum was squeezed out
at every bending of his knees. J.W. silently cursed himself for making such a hasty departure,
and not taking care of the gooey mess smeared across his thighs. Cold and slippery,he could feel the trail slowly oozing toward his knees."Shit",He said to himself as he reached the bottom, "You know J.W., ya gotta stay away from things like the thoughts you are having. Sex,sex,sex,...It had always been your downfall,...NOT this time J.W.,.. you are older and wiser, ...get a fuckin' grip on yourself."

"Yes, grip yourself, that was EXACTLY what you wanted to do. No,... wait,...thats not true, and you know it J.W., what you wanted to do was, break down the door to the restaurant,bound up the stairs 3 steps at a time,and service those
two forms of feminine beauty. Make them beg for what they desired, like all the women before."
No, I don't want sex like that anymore! No...Hell no!"Breaking into a light jog, along the edge of the waters lapping softly against the shore, he repeated the phrase with every slap of his barefeet against the cool wetness of the sand. HELL NO... HELL NO...HELL NO!

Having a heart problem, he couldn't run like he used to, but being in good shape other wise, he could jog a fair distance. Every 100 yards, he would stop and walk another hundred. Forgetting his purpose for being on the beach, he was somewhat confused when he looked back over his shoulder.The Compass Rose had vanished from sight. He had travelled farther than expected. The moon and stars lit up the beach, and the gentle froth that bathed the shoreline, but no ROSE.

Turning back the way he had come, somehow J.W. didn't feel any better about what had transpired in his loins. He realised he had no control over his lust,...his lust ruled, exerting it's power in the most flaunting way. "What WAS their about women he was drawn to? Why could he not have been a monk, or a priest?" The ache in his loins not quite surpassing the ache in his soul, he tread slowly back toward The Rose, and his van.Head down, kicking the sand at times to break the pattern of wavelets squirreling away into the shadows, he was startled witless. Feeling something cold and wet, slither across the calf of his right leg. He jumped and cursed at the same time. "WHAT THE FUCK?!!" Coming down from his leap to the moon, his left ankle folded and he landed on his ass with a loud thump.

"Jesus h. Christ," he exclaimed to the rather large german shepherd, wagging his tail back and forth. "Where did YOU come from BOY?" ""I'm afraid he came from me," said a *giggling* female voice at my back. While rubbing the afflicted member, the dog came over to plant his wet nose against my ankle, and I twisted my upper torso around to see who was there. "Oh fuck," I said to myself, "It was one of the gorgeous women I had viewed in the window at The Compass Rose."

 

[captainb]

Bill

Bill watched Calla and the dog vanish into the darkness. He vaguely remembered her, the older sister, more outgoing but still just one of the satellites around the children's friendship. Still, she'd grown up beautifully. Different than Wren, fuller but with a bit of an edge. Tougher? Hard to say from just a few seconds of talk. Definitely still a free spirit, judging from her song that still sailed in from the darkness.

Bill sat again in front of Wren. He'd felt like an idiot clutching his sleeping bag around himself when he rose, almost forgetting that he only had his underwear on. Wren's words about Calla seemed a partial explanation, but there was more simmering in her. He watched, unsure what to say, as she brought herself under control. As she gazed up at the moon it struck him again that this was real, that it really was Wrenna after all this time. And she was a woman now, her face leaner and jaw fuller, the gangliness of her youth filled out into beauty. Not glamorous, almost angular, but with something more, something real that he thought he could almost touch. The moon shone on her pale face and cast highlights into her mass of hair, and once again he remembered the moon-nymph. And he remembered the window, and her nudity, and the other woman who was certainly her own sister.

She pulled her shawl closer with a shiver and looked at him. "I've really forgotten my manners," she said. "You must be cold and probably in need of a hot drink. Would you like to come in? I can make coffee and you can tell me what's been going on since last I saw you."

He took her offered hand and rose, the warmth of it surprising in the chill air. Her eyes dropped for a moment and a smile played along her lips.

"Sorry, Wren," he said grimly, dropping the sleeping bag and bending to his pack. Time to bite the bullet. "The less you wear in a sleeping bag, the warmer you are." He pulled his old jeans out and stepped into them, turning back to her as he fastened the belt. "There." He smiled and shrugged, pleased at the answering smile that broke onto her face. "I guess my stuff'll be safe out here. It's not going to rain."

He followed her inside and watched as she moved to the kitchen, turning on a couple of lights. He wandered though the dim room, noting the cleanliness of the place and how carefully it was decorated, even though it was unfinished. The picturs of the boats drew his attention. Very homey. I’m not a lesbian. Well, not exclusively. Her words kept flowing back into his head, along with the vision of her lovemaking. He couldn't not think about it, and his subconscious had a will of its own. He was actually relieved that she had said the words, and he thought of her nude but alone, her eyes meeting his unashamed from across the room. "Have you ever just...been swept away by the moment?" The moment...

"Coffee's ready," she called. He turned back in relief. Man, what's with me, he thought as they sat at the table. Not ten minutes with her and I'm already thinking about how to score. Venus and Mars have nothing on this.

They talked for a time about the restaurant, about Wren's time in Europe and her plans for the Rose, about her Nana and the town. She asked what he had been doing and he gave her an encapsulated version, skimming over his restaurant experience with a shrug.

"I'll be looking for work when I get home, but I just needed some time to look around, see the country... see what's out there," he said, refilling his coffee halfway. She was looking at him curiously and he glanced down with a self-conscious laugh. "I guess I'm a real sight. It's hard to find a shower traveling by bus. Besides," he shrugged, "I don't really have anyone to get cleaned up for." Oh god, that was pitiful! Recovering quickly, he said, "Um, but maybe I could use yours before I head out again? Or even a bath."

She looked at him over the rim of her cup and said levelly, "I think I might be able to arrange that."

Their eyes held for a few moments, and he saw clearly that it really was Wren. Her eyes hadn't changed. He'd never understood why she liked to hang around him. He knew they were friends, but couldn't remember how they had met. One day he'd been alone, the next they had been talking like they'd always known each other. He had known she was fine to look at, and thought of her often alone at night in his little bed. They'd been too young to really understand what their bodies had been saying, but there had been times when they would look at each other just like this, looking up from a book to catch the other's glance, and especially that last time in the sea-cave, their faces in shadow but her eyes, large and shimmering, gazing at him for an eternity (as his memory showed it). He had wondered if he had seen tears in them, knowing that he was moving away, and she had dug in her pocket and pulled out the shell and placed it in his hand and they had been close, only a foot apart and their hands touching and her face, her face so close he could smell her...

He roused himself, aware that they had been looking at each other again. He blinked and both looked back at their cups, and she chuckled. He smiled and looked back up, rewarded by her own smile, and their nervous laughter dissolved into warmth.

"God, it's good to see you again, Wren," he said.

 

[AngelicVixxxen]

Calla

Holding her sandals in one hand, Calla continued singing as she walked along the shore, now and then glancing over her shoulder for the familiar sight of The Compass Rose. Her feet were cold but at least she was alert, and the feeling had passed that narcolepsy was going to drop her in her tracks. Braiding her hair loosely so that it now trailed like a thick dark rope over her heart, she looked around her with interest.

This was where she loved to be at night, outdoors – not confined inside where overwhelming, and probably irrational, fears would steal over her. Every creak and groan of the old house accelerated her heart rate and made her curse her overactive imagination.

But here she could breathe, could see she was safe, could see... something rather large on the ground in the distance. Her song died instantly. Blade’s bark changed as he danced around whatever it was, and she narrowed her eyes trying to focus on the shadowed form. Approaching cautiously, she prepared to whistle the dog back to her and was alarmed to see that it was a man who had captured his attention. The intended whistle never made it past her lips for the moisture in her mouth had suddenly dried and her vocal chords had locked.

Her first thought was that Nick had found her, but Blade’s built-in radar would have sent his lip curling and invoked a low, menacing growl. Her next thought was that Nick had sent someone, and she had to keep repeating the familiar words to herself: He doesn’t know about Spyglass Cove; he can’t trace me; I am safe.

From a distance she could see the man struggle to stand as Blade’s tail threatened to wag him off balance, and she decided to take a big leap of faith and approach. It became obvious that the man was limping as he playfully pushed the dog away, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Well, at least he can’t run after me very fast! She giggled at the thought, startling him, and explained that the dog was with her.

She could see his eyes widen in surprise and something else... recognition?... as he looked at her, much in the same way that Bill had.

“Are you all right? Did Blade knock you over?” she asked in concern, first for the man and then for herself as she imagined being slapped with a lawsuit.

He took a few hesitating steps. “It’s just a sprain. No, he didn’t knock me down, he just kinda surprised me and the rest was my own doing.”

She was torn between being kind and feeling safe. Should she take him back to The Compass Rose? No, that would intrude on Wren and Bill. Should she take him back to her place and ensure he was okay? I think NOT!

She surprised herself. “Can I drop you off somewhere?” Oh great, invite a possible psycho with a gun into your car!

[continued below…]

 

[AngelicVixxxen]

Calla

[Continued from above…]


“Uh, thanks, but my van’s in the parking lot there,” he pointed as they came within sight of the restaurant.

“Why are you parked there,” she asked curiously. “Nothing’s open around here at this time of night.”

His eyes flashed over her from head to toe again, unnerving her, and she put the bulk of the dog between them for safety, although the man seemed nice enough.

“I was just, uh, looking. Uh, hoping to find a place to stay. Yeah, that’s it. And I pulled in to see if this was an inn.” He gave her a look that asked if she bought that excuse.

“I see,” her voice trailed off, indicating that she didn’t. “You know, there’s a motel just up the road there,” she said, pointing. “It’s called the Sand Piper Motel and it’s run by a really great old guy, Mr. Hardison. I drove by there on the way over, and it looked like he’s got a few vacancies. Just tell him that Calla Mallory sent you.”

“Thanks, I’ll check it out,” he responded. “By the way, not that it’s any of my business, but why are YOU parked here?”

She considered replying curtly that she wanted to let the dog run, but changed her mind because for some reason she actually liked the man.

“This is my sister’s restaurant.” At the word ‘sister’ he grinned, but she couldn’t imagine why. “I’ve been sort of helping her out.” A sudden idea occurred to her. “Are you here on vacation… or looking for work?”

He scratched his head, looking like he was trying to decide. “Well, I thought I might stop a while and look around. Know of any work?”

“As a matter of fact, I do… although you might not be interested. My sister is looking for someone to help out in the restaurant, and she just put an ad in The Spyglass Cove Gazette calling for performers… Celtic, folk or country.” She glanced at him dubiously, wondering if he had any musical ability.

“Thanks, I might check it out when it opens today.”

He seemed reluctant to leave so Calla made the decision as she was exhausted. By the time she got to the house maybe the first faint light of day would be streaking the sky and she would be able to sleep.

“Well, good luck to you. I’ll drop by later and see if you’ve been around.” Now, why did she say that? Waving goodbye to the rather forlorn figure, she pulled out of the lot and turned onto Main Street, realizing too late that she didn’t know his name.

It suddenly occurred to her that she hadn’t suffered a panic attack from meeting a strange man in the dark and, in fact, she felt rather good. Smiling at the thought, she was unaware that her heart had opened up a little and let in some light.

 

[Niamh]

Wrenna Mallory

Wrenna folded her hands around her cup. Her shawl had slipped again from her shoulders, and she shrugged it into place again because the fabric of her nightdress was so thin you could see through it. The shawl was a funny old thing, picked up in the Chelsea Antique Market on her first trip to Europe years and years ago; scarlet with flowers of blue and pale gold. Not very warm, but so much a part of her that she never failed to reach for it. It was hard to know what Bill was thinking as he looked at her and talked, always a little absently, as though his real thoughts were on a different topic entirely.

His hands are nice, she caught herself thinking as she watched him. A little dirty under the nails after all his travelling, but still there was a gentleness about them, a sensitivity. I wonder what they would feel like on my bare skin. A jolt of colour washed over her face and she hoped he had not noticed it.

You look funny when you turn red, he had said to her as a boy. Your skin is so thin I can see all your veins too. Always a man to notice details, she thought to herself, and let out a breath.

She wanted to ask him a hundred things she couldn’t. Who had been the first girl he kissed? The first one he made love to? She had thought of him over the years, when she passed these milestones in her own life. Was I faster than you this time? They had run a lot of races as children, through the sand and through tall grasses. Up hillsides in giddy triumph and sliding down again with howls of defeat. He had found out, through exploration, where her ticklish spots were. It had been great fun until one day his hands, sliding under her shirt, had found, not another spot that brought forth laughter, but the pouting nubbins of nascent breasts.

She had already been a woman by the time she reached the end of her tenth year. In a medical sense, that was. Mentally she had still been very much a child; so innocent that she did not know what was happening to her body. But the instinctive shame she had felt when his hand closed over that new swelling beneath her shirt that ached as it blossomed as roses must ache when they unfurl, had made a mark in her memory. It was a claiming of sorts. I was first here. This is mine.

"You wanted to have a bath," she said when his last half cup of coffee was drained and he did not reach for another. "Or a shower. And you can, as it happens, have both. There’s a tub upstairs, with claw feet and ancient taps that I cannot bear to replace. And also, above it, a shower nozzle that will pulse away the stifffness of a night spent lying on a cold patio!" She flashed him a smile, and rose, ready to lead the way upstairs.

"If you’re sure it won’t put you out...." he began, but she motioned with her hand not to even think of it.

"If I had been on the road for days with no place to bathe, I would hope that I could count on the first friend I ran across to offer me the use of their tub. Just remember this someday when I am out in your neck of the woods."

She was not sure why she said that. She would almost certainly never be anywhere near Bill’s part of the country. It was entirely possible that once he left her today to carry on with his trip, she would never see him again. I don’t even want to think about that. He had mentioned that he had a lot of restaurant experience. She wanted to slap herself, but it was on the tip of her tongue to ask him if he wanted to stay on and work at The Compass Rose. Subtle, Wren. Real subtle. He’d feel like a fly caught in a spider’s web.

"There are clean towels...and soap and shampoo..." Her voice trailed off into embarrassment as she realised she had made this same speech to Calla only hours ago. And that Bill had seen what came after. He was probably completely put off by what he saw. Fingering my own sister! He must think I am some kind of pervert. Or so horny that I don’t care who I take to bed. Yeah, Wren, that is so appealing. Thoughts of a shovel, a hole, and how far it was to China once again flashed across her mind.

They had reached the top of the stairs, and all around the darkened room candles were still burning. Wren was just glad that it was too dark to see how red her face had become at sight of the rumpled bed.

"You just take your time in there, Bill. I’ll go downstairs and tidy up the kitchen." A hint of her old playfulness suddenly reasserted itself in the form of a crooked grin. "You don’t have to lock the door or anything. I promise I won’t peek when you’re naked."

However much I might want to....

 

[Huntress]

Sssshhh! It's still the middle of the night...

 

[captainb]

Bill

The shower was a wonderful luxury, the water so hot it made him gasp as he immersed his head under the spray. Scrubbing himself down, Bill thought of Wren's words. There was still a playfulness in her after all this time. It was neat how bits and pieces of the girl he had known would surface out of the blue. Both had gone on to develop their personalities in a world of people the other would never know. One moment she was a strange young woman, the next it was like they had never been apart. A strange mix of feelings.

He wiped the fog off the mirror and rubbed his face. The several-day stubble still made him look pretty grungy. He considered shaving, but was really in no mood for it. Boy, my eyes are really puffy, he thought. Sleep, then morning. He tied the towel around his waist and looked at himself sideways, flexed his muscles and shook his head. Picking up his toilet kit, he opened the door and nearly bowled Wren over.

"Sorry! I didn't see you there!" he laughed.

"That's okay," she replied. "I just wanted to see if you needed anything."

He shook his head. "No, that was great, thanks. But I think the shower went to my head. I'll sleep well tonight."

She absently ran a hand through her hair and quickly scratched the back of her head, and Bill had another memory flash. déjà vu everywhere I turn. "Thanks again for all this, Wren," he said. "I'll see you in the morning and we'll start catching up."

"Okay, sleep well," she said with a smile. He touched her arm in farewell and there was a brief awkwerdness as both hesitated. Then she leaned in and hugged him and his arms slipped around her in return for a moment, then they parted.

"Good night."

In the little room, Bill toweled his hair again and slipped under the cool sheets. But he ignored the luxury. When he hugged Wren, he had been totally aware of her breasts pressing into his bare chest. In the brief moment when they parted, she had been between him and the bathroom light and it had shone through her thin nightgown, clearly outlining the shape of her body. No, he corrected himself, the shape of her breasts. One nipple had been clearly revealed through the cotton. He'd allowed his eyes to slide over and past it without staring, but the image was still seared into his mind. He remembered the day long ago when they had been fooling around and his hand had slipped over her young boob. He hadn't been watching and thought at first, incongruously, that it was her throat. He'd given it a mock squeeze like he would choke her and she'd squealed. Only when his hand pulled away did he realize what he had felt. He'd been too surprised to be embarrased. Such occurences were rare at that age and stayed implanted fairly deep. This was one that he had never forgotten. Tonight was the second time he'd been so aware of her as Female. I'm not a lesbian, she had said. Well, good. He smiled and rolled onto his side.

Bill's watch beeped at dawn. For a moment he considered rolling over for a few more hours, but then remembered where he was. Standing in front of the window, he looked out at the grey surf and the land around the building, still in shadow. He went through his morning stretching routine and padded to the bathroom, where he shaved and combed his hair and looked at himself in the mirror with some surprise. "Haven't seen you in a while," he remarked. In the bottom of his backpack were his "good" clothes. The cross-country trip included a few stops at various relatives' houses, aunts and cousins from his mother's side, and it was sensible to have something decent to wear for them. Pulling on clean underwear, jeans, and a red and grey flannel shirt, topped off with clean socks inside his only clean pair of sneakers, he stood for a moment and savored the feeling of civilization found.

He moved quietly down the hallway and descended the stairs, stepping outside into the cool morning air. Walking to the top of the stairway leading to the dock, he gazed out at the ocean and listened to the surf and the seagulls. A yawn and another long stretch, then he stood with his hands in his pockets, feeling curiously at home.

 

[Niamh]

Wrenna Mallory

It was just before eight in the morning when Wrenna returned to the Compass Rose. She had been out as soon as the bakery opened, to buy something for breakfast. She had chosen some crusty scones dotted with dried cranberries. She hoped Bill would approve. But in case he did not, she had also bought a banana nut loaf and a few chocolate chip muffins. With Nana and Mrs. Lewis likely to stop in later to help hang pictures and supervise deliveries, it paid to err on the side of generosity. A smile lifted the corners of her mouth as she thought of the wonderful surprise it had been to meet up with Bill again. She coud hardly believe that her one close childhood friend had somehow come back to Spyglass Cove at just the time she had.

After his shower, Bill had planned to return outside to finish out the rest of the night. Wren had put her foot down. While she had not wanted to make him feel uncomfortable, or obligated to her in any way, she certainly had not wanted to send him out to lie on the cold hard ground again. So, briskly and methodically, she had made up a bed for him in the room upstairs originally intended to be her library. The loft was huge, mirroring the floorspace below, and had been partitioned off into rooms as part of the renovation she had supervised via phone, fax and email from Europe before her arrival. There were only a few sticks of furniture so far, and none of her personal possessions had yet arrived by ship, but at least there was a sofa donated by Nana, and that is where Bill had slept.

She wondered, as she walked amongst the newly opened stalls of the Famers’ Market on the corner of Main and Quintana, if Bill were awake yet. She smiled at one of the Mexican men who whose fruitstand was already open for business, and reached out for an apricot, breathing in its fragrance with an expression of pure, sensual bliss. "The taste of pure sunshine, Señora," he told her, a wide smile flashing across his dark, sunburned face. She liked the way the corners of his eyes crinkled. He was a man who clearly smiled a lot.

Wrenna looked up at the sky; overcast and somewhat ominously piled with clouds in the north. "Give me two pounds then, I think," she said with a smile, getting out her purse. “It looks like rain today.”

Apricots for breakfast, Wren! Rise and Shine! She remembered, as she turned away with the knobbly paper bag in her arms, her mother’s voice on summer mornings long, long ago. It was a bittersweet memory, as every memory of her mother was. She had to push it back to the edges of her psyche to avoid succumbing to the sadness of loss. But then she saw the flower seller, with daisies and cornflowers still dewy and fresh, and she found a way to smile. (Also to spend a few dollars, but the young woman in the canvas apron wished her a splendid day so warmly that she felt, not impoverished, but enriched.)

Wren had done her best not to look too continental today. As the weeks went on she would sew some new things for herself, but for today she had settled on what the English called a pinafore and the Americans a jumper – ankle length and made of grey linen. Underneath she wore a white cotton knit shirt with long sleeves. It was very snug, and left nothing to the imagination – it might as well have been wet – but since it was covered by her jumper, she thought it would be alright to wear, even in front of Nana. With the clouds rolling in to obscure what had begun as a clear sky, she did not find the whole ensemble to be very warm. Trying not to drop any of her parcels, she paused to purchase a copy of The Spyglass Cove Gazette and then hurried back towards the Compass Rose, hoping against hope that Bill was up and had made coffee.

She reached the parking lot of the restaurant and noted with passing interest that the large van she had seen there earlier was still there. Not that I blame whoever it is. Parking this close to the beach is almost impossible to find. It’s fine for now, but when we open for business, I guess I’ll have to put up some kind of sign restricting parking to guests. Oh well. Not today, at least. I wish you well, whoever you are. Safe travels!

The front door of the Compass Rose faced east out onto Main Street. On the north side was what she called her "patio" – actually a deck built out over the water on pillars. Often pelicans or gulls perched on the railings, and today was no exception. To her surprise, Bill was out there too, his hands pushed into his pockets and his face turned towards the sea.

She let out her breath and stood still for a moment. She had been afraid to admit it even to herself, but at heart she had been afraid that he might leave while she was out. Of course she knew he had a life of his own somewhere else. Their conversation the night before had left her with the vague impression that it was not a life he was overly attached to, however. And part of her still wanted to offer him a job at The Compass Rose.

If only she could be sure of not scaring him off by asking him!

"Hey there!" she called out, smiling. He turned around, saw her and waved. But he did not walk towards her, and so she went to stand beside him. Her many bags threatened to slip out of her grasp.

"I hope you had a decent couple of hours of sleep. You did not have to get up, you know. I have some deliveries this morning, but no one is going upstairs, so you could have stayed in bed."

"Here, let me," said Bill, and took the bag of apricots from her.

"Thank you," said Wren, and blushed. "You look really funny when you turn red." Yeah, yeah, Bill, some things never change!

"I...think I had better go and put these flowers into water. I brought us some breakfast too. Bill...I was wondering...."

Her voice died off into silence.

 

[artful]

J.W.

~“Are you all right? Did Blade knock you over?”~ J.W. answered with, "It’s just a sprain. No, he didn’t knock me down,he just kinda surprised me and the rest was my own doing." Alerted, by the mixed expressions that kept changing rapidly on the woman's face, he wondered about her sanity. Her face shone brightly as the moon was doing it's job very well that night. Due to her having threaded her long hair into a braid, her face lay naked and exposed in the now waxing moon light. He could barely see a thin scar curving down the right side of her face, and he wondered briefly how she had gotten it.

Her emotions danced across her face like quicksilver, from fear, to curiosity and confusion, as she turned and looked back to The Rose. Wanting to get off his ankle, J.W. took a limping step forward, and she fell in beside him. In a somewhat nervous manner, she small talked all the way back to where the van was parked, keeping Blade between them as much as possible. When he asked her why she was parked out here,she replied,“This is my sister’s restaurant.” He tried, but J.W. just couldn't keep a grin from streaking across his face. It disappeared quickly as his mind leapt to the obvious conclusion.

Two women together had always been a turn on for him, and the thought of these two being sisters, only enhanced the recalled visions. Sexual taboos that had drawn him all his life. His head dizzying with fantasies, he frantically reminded himself,no no no, stop it, that kind of thinking is ALWAYS what gets your ass in trouble!

He heard something about a job, and a motel, but couldn't recall exactly what she had been saying. He responded with,“Thanks, I might check it out when it opens today.” As she turned to walk away,she looked back saying, “Well, good luck to you. I’ll drop by later and see if you’ve been around.” Watching her walk away, it seemed her footfalls were somehow heavier than they had been on the beach. Though he was biased, due to the fact he had seen her nude, he discounted the mar on her face. Yep, she was a good lookin' gal.
Thinking that, he unlocked the van,undressed,and went to bed.

~~~~~ The slight breeze at night, was cooling to them, as they both strived to regain their composure. The heat driven lust had vanished, replaced by feelings of completeness,......and contentment. He still was embedded deeply within her, but the pounding pulsations couldn't be felt anymore. He couldn't see her face,.....it didn't matter. She was there, and she greedily held onto him. Her soft malleable body, floated and covered him completely, in some mysterious fashion he couldn't understand. It was if she were an Angel of sex, willing and able to heal. He felt her being soothe his painful soul, and weld her body to him in such a way as to fill every nick, every cut, every crack. She put all the broken shards back in their proper place, and renewed the hope of something better than his past.~~~~~

Waking up, he struggled to recall the dream, and couldn't. Frustrated, even though his bladder urgently called for attention, he closed his eyes, trying to bring it back into focus. It seemed the harder he tried,the farther away the cloud drifted till finally,.....it was gone,....completely. Rubbing his eyes, he tried to focus on his watch to see what time it was, and not being able to, he gave it up to begin dressing. At 5'10" he could hump over and get around pretty good in the van. After dressing, he took the time to quickly run his 25 cent pocket comb through his mostly gray, but still tinged dark brown hair. His full beard lay like a heavy coat of thick black carpet shagged on his face, but in actuality, it was only a darker brown.

It was well into the morning,and he saw a man and a woman standing out on the patio of The Rose, but looking the other way. Stepping out of the van, he shielded himself from their sight. and any other eyes that might be wandering about. The pressing need to relieve his aching bladder, took precedence over the rumbling in his stomach, as he looked one last time to be sure he wasn't being viewed. Bending at the knee, he crooked out his penis with two fingers, and felt immediate relief as the semi-hard appendage, loosed it's fury on the asphalt. He thought to himself,"Damn good thing you parked over here J.W.,...out of the way in the corner."

Seeing The Compass Rose,had not yet opened for business, he recalled a cafe near the only motel
he had noticed, and decided breakfast was more important than meeting up with Mendoza. The motor jumped to life and he put the shift lever into drive, heading out of the lot and down to the beckoning bacon and eggs, that had his name written all over them.

 

[Huntress]

Maureen Catlin

Cold. Eyes hurt. Something isn't right...

A wave of horrible disorientation swept over her and lodged in the pit of her stomach. Maureen lay paralyzed, afraid to move. For a few panicked seconds she didn’t know where she was or how she had gotten there. Cautiously opening one eye, the unfamiliar surroundings came into focus and memory slowly trickled into her consciousness as she came fully awake. She recalled the drive down the coast, the hotel and the disconsolate feelings that had led to a crying jag which had overwhelmed her the night before. Last night… She groaned and stretched dismayed by t77he stiffness in her neck, realizing she’d fallen asleep fully clothed on top of the comforter

“Well, it’s no wonder you’re cold,” her inner voice chided. “Don’t just lie here, silly. Do something.”

A glimpse of the analog clock on the nightstand informed her of the time, six a.m. The appointment with the real estate agent was at nine, plenty of time for a shower and breakfast. She slipped frozen toes gingerly onto the carpeting and padded into the bathroom, flipping on the lights and recoiling at the sudden transition from half-light. With eyes half closed, Maureen reached into the shower and turned the hot water on full. As she turned around to undress, she was mildly shocked by the appearance of a disheveled, darkhaired woman squinting back at her from the mirror over the vanity.

“Yep. You definitely look like something the cat dragged in.”

Out of habit her fingers combed the tousled black shoulder length hair away from her face, and stared at her reflection. Deep blue eyes and skin the color of porcelain, a trait which had prevented her from becoming a beach bunny in her teens, contrasted starkly against raven hair that was a legacy from her grandmother’s ‘Black Irish’ heritage. She’d managed to keep her figure trim and firm with regular workouts at the gym, although that was something she’d have to let go of now that her income was nil. Besides, she wasn’t likely to find a Y or Gold’s, much less a 24 Hour Nautilus in Spyglass Cove. It did have a lovely stretch of beachfront. Maybe she should take up running again. Idle musing about her fitness routine would have to wait for another time, however. Her stomach was empty and protesting loudly and there was an appointment to keep. First things first.

* * *

Dressed in an off-white fisherman’s sweater and khaki slacks, Maureen left the motel feeling invigorated as she headed westward along Main Street looking for the diner Mr. Hardison had mentioned. There it was, Kitty’s Kitchen. The aroma of sausages and coffee greeted her at the door setting her mouth to watering, a broad smile lighting up her face as the plump waitress showed her to a window booth. She ordered and picked up a mangled copy of the local newspaper, The Spyglass Gazette, which some previous customer had kindly left behind.

“Classifieds… classifieds… Ah! Here they are. Let’s see what Spyglass Cove has to offer a working gal.”

There were listings for docents at the local Natural History Museum, lifeguards and first mates, housekeepers, maids and a librarian in Spyglass Cove proper but the choice jobs seemed were being offered in the larger towns some thirty to forty miles south. The waitress delivered her breakfast and she continued reading while she devoured her eggs and ham, chuckling softly in amusement at the items on the Crimerfighter’s page.

• 
  Tuesday, March 12
  6:28 a.m. Luisita Street. A dispatcher reports a 911 abandoned call, static on call back. House is under construction and is vacant.
  9:16 a.m. Fairview Avenue. Animal Control reports a barking dog complaint. No one home; message left to contact Animal Control.
  10:49 a.m. Main Street. A citizen gave an officer a California driver's license that he'd found.
  10:54 a.m. Oak Road. Report of a medical emergency.
  1:01 p.m. Cypress Way. A citizen reports a gas leaf blower in use. Responsibles advised of the ordinance.
  1:37 p.m. Harbor Road. An officer reports an open front door.
  3:21 p.m. Magnolia Avenue. A man reports seeing several juveniles throw another juvenile into some bushes.
  3:30 p.m. Palm Avenue. A woman reports a dead rat.
  3:55 p.m. Highland Avenue. A woman reports three juveniles came into the bank and stole a six-inch cardboard cut out of Elvis Schmiedekamp. Subjects then returned it and left in a white jeep.
  4:57 p.m. Moraga Avenue. A man reports a suspicious man wearing a black leather coat came through the backyard and is now sitting in a red Honda. Subject was picking up his daughter from the babysitter.
  

“Oh, yes. This is going to be my kind of place,” she whispered to no one in particular.

Neatly folding the paper and placing it on the end of the with a modest tip, Maureen picked up her bag and turned to leave when a small banner caught her eye. Art with Heart. She bent over and scanned it, always intrigued by anything related to the arts but discovered to her dismay that was a want-ad for musicians. Her voice was low and smoky and not unpleasant, but she didn’t have formal training. Not to mention she hadn’t sung outside of the shower since college, so no prospects there. The address of the place was strangely familiar, though. Curious, she dug about in her purse looking for her planner and, sure enough, discovered she was to meet the real estate agent at 35 Main Street, just a couple of doors away. Maybe she'd stop by and introduce herself, that being the small town, neighborly thing to do.

Smiling again as she left the cafe, she wondered just what kind of neighbors The Compass Rose and W. Mallory would turn out to be.

 

[artful]

J.W.

The weather beaten wooden sign told the story in two words,"KITTY'S KITCHEN". As I pulled into the small parking lot of the diner, I noted a rather attractive, raven haired gal, exiting the front door. Parking the van up close, as the door swung shut behind her, she headed directly past me, wearing a casual sweater and khaki slacks. Briskly turned, to walk between the car parked beside me, and my door.

Normally, a woman in her late 30's wouldn't draw my attention, but this lady's skin was an alabaster white, contrasting sharply with the darkest black hair I had ever seen. Strangely enough her hair didn't appear to have been dyed, as most women did, to cover a few gray hairs at middle age. Watching her in my rear view mirror, I couldn't help but notice how trim and firm her shapely body glided across the parking lot.

~~~STOP THAT J.W.!, don't even go there buddy."~~~ I reprimanded myself, while at the same time, recalling the dark blue eyes that flashed toward me with that, ~Yeah, I saw ya, but I won't remember it 2 minutes from now look, that you get in a Wal-Mart parking lot.~ Sliding off my seat, I got out and locked up the van. Entering the small foyer, I was amazed at how many vending machines and newspaper boxes could be fit into such a small area. I mean this was single file, squeeze by if ya can, no passing zone kinda trail.

The mixed aromas flooding my nostrils, were calling to my rumbling stomach, as a siren of the sea might beckon a lonely sailor. Squatting on a low round stool with no back at the crowded counter, the waitress took my order, and promptly brought me coffee and a glass of water. Though I didn't say anything to her,(I hadn't ordered coffee)I marveled at how small town waitresses were almost all of the same,~ don't give a shit attitude,~ except when the locals came in.

She served the bacon and eggs with white toast,(I had ordered wheat)and that was it. "No hash browns, no grits, no sliced tomatoes,...NOTHIN'!" I thought to myself. "Oh well, I wasn't THAT picky. Hell I had eaten at a few bars I wouldn't dare try again, for fear of food poisoning." Finishing my breakfast, I paid the tab, and left a dime tip as I headed outside. "Fuck her," I said to myself, It was a policy I stuck to, "NO SERVICE, NO TIP!"

I had passed a small Tarentino Realty office on the way to breakfast, displaying a green and yellow banner saying,"OPEN HOUSES EVERYDAY". I thought, "Well hell, it wouldn't hurt to look at what they had available" and headed toward my van. Mendoza would show up sooner or later, give me the scoop on what to buy anyway, and I was in no hurry.

 

[captainb]

Bill

For twenty minutes Bill had gazed out at the ocean, watching the slow swells splash onto the rocks at the edge of the beach. The sky was clear above, but the horizon had a reddish tinge. If I pay attention today, I'll be able to figure out that old saying. He smiled and turned back to the restaurant.

After scrounging up a bowl of cereal and figuring out how to work the coffeepot, he wandered back outside. The van was still parked across the lot. Somebody else on the move? he wondered. Welcome to California. He grinned, then squinted upwards at the gathering grey clouds and remembered the strange little group he'd met in San Francisco. Why had they been so eager to get him onto that little yellow bus? But she sure was cute... He rocked on his heels, remembering blue eyes.

"Hey there!" Wrenna called behind him. She was walking towards him, actually more like staggering as she peeked out from behind a double armload of packages, flowers, sacks, and bags. Amused, he watched her approach. She came up beside him and he took the smallest bag from her hands in a mock -gallant display, watching in delight as her face turned bright red. He almost commented on it, but uncertainty appeared out of nowhere and he wound up looking into the bag he held. Ah, apricots.

"I...think I had better go and put these flowers into water," she said. "I brought us some breakfast too. Bill...I was wondering...."

He looked up as her voice died. She seemed suddenly nervous. He was wondering at this when the van roared into life and churned out of the parking lot. Bill had a glimpse of a bearded face as the van passed a For Sale sign and rolled towards town. When he turned back, Wren was smiling sunnily again and readjusting the bags. "Come on inside," she said. "Are you hungry?"

"I grabbed a bowl of cereal earlier, but I could make room for more," he said, opening the door for her.

"Thanks," she said, rolling her eyes as she squeezed her baggage through the door and headed for the kitchen.

"Anytime, Wrenrietta," he said with a shit-eating grin.

 

[Niamh]

Wrenna Mallory

Wrenrietta. Wrenna resisted the impulse to groan aloud. Now Bill as a boy was maybe coming back into her memory a little too vividly. It had not all been shared secrets and exhilerating adventures. There had been a fair lot of teasing too.

She handed him The Spyglass Cove Gazette to read, and made her way into the kitchen with the remainder of her bundles. (She had to come back once to get the bag of apricots from him.)

In the steel sink there was one single bowl with a Compass Rose on it, and a spoon. There was also a heavenly aroma of coffee. She rubbed her arms, trying to shake off some of the early morning chill, and then poured herself a cup. She sipped as she arranged her bounty from the bakery in a basket, and started washing the fruit.

I wonder what his plans really are. A grown man does not just pick up and take a continent-long bus trip without some kind of a plan. Or does he?

Again she mulled over the possibility of asking him if he would like to stay on in Spyglass Cove and work at the restaurant. Of course, she realised she had no idea what kind of experience he actually had. He might have been a cook, a sommelier, a dishwasher even. Though her heart was pushing her to offer him something even if his experience did not remotely tally with her current needs, her common sense suggested that she ought to at least ask him about his prior career.

There are other current needs beyond those of the restaurant, a thoroughly devilish voice said inside her. She looked through the doorway, and there he was, seated at a corner table, one of those beautiful, long-fingered, sensitive hands lying on the open newspaper he was reading. Wren caught her lip between her teeth and knew she was blushing. (Though thankfully behind the door, so he could not see her.)

Against her thin shirt her nipples had hardened noticeably. The cold, the cold! she told herself, and shivered for emphasis. Right. You win. So how do you explain the wetness?

She drained her coffee, poured a second cup for Bill, and started a new pot brewing. She carried in her basket of baked goods and a bowl of fresh fruit, setting both on the table before her guest.

"I'll be back with your coffee and some plates in a second," she said with a smile. And then, halfway across the room on her way back to the kitchen, said as nonchalantely as she could, "So what kind of work did you actually do at the restaurant back home, Bill?"

 

[AngelicVixxxen]

Calla

The book was such a small thing... but it spoke volumes.

Outside the bank, Calla opened it once again and stared at the amount, afraid that the number might have mysteriously changed during the few steps she had taken, afraid that she’d wake up and discover that it was all a terrible joke. No, it’s still the same. This is fantastic! I must remember to buy something for Nana to thank her! Their grandmother had instilled in the sisters from a young age the need to be financially independent in case, as she had so prophetically worded it, they should ever need it in an emergency.

She clutched the bankbook to her heart and wondered at her insight, years ago, when she first met Nick. Hopelessly in love with him, she had moved from her beautiful home in Vermont down to Miami... the beginning of the end. She had not rented the house, as Nick had assumed, and had transferred the money from its sale to the bank in Spyglass Cove. It wasn’t all that much, but it was enough to start over... if she could discover what her dream was.

However, the money from the house was old news... it was the other transaction that made her heart dance. She couldn’t resist peeking inside the book once again and there, beside DEP, was the amount. Again, not a lot, but enough to widen her grin and deepen the dimple in her cheek. This deposit represented another decision she had made... to have her publisher send half her checks to a bank in Miami to appease Nick so he wouldn’t get suspicious, and half her checks to this bank.

There would be other deposits, but this one was special. It was the first one that only for her. The whole thing. What do I want? What will make me happy? Her eyes widened as nothing sprang to mind immediately. There must be something.

A little girl with blonde curls flying suddenly darted in front of her, her bright blue eyes full of merriment and mischief as she tried to tag her friend. Suddenly the bankbook didn’t hold as much appeal. That’s what I want... a family. The idea, so totally foreign to her up to this point, caught her completely by surprise.

Staring after the child in bewilderment, she did a quick calculation, shook her head and continued having a strange dialogue with herself. So you’re going to be 35 on your next birthday, Calla. Big deal! Another small voice argued with the first. It is a big deal! Tick, tock, tick, tock. Hear that biological clock, Calla???

“I won’t listen to you!” Damn! I said that out loud! She glanced sideways to see if anyone was phoning for the men in the white coats. All was calm. A typical Spyglass Cove day, full of sunshine and people who looked completely unconcerned that she was having a conversation with someone invisible.

I have got to get out more... or at least drink some more coffee! Crossing the street to the diner, she heeded her own advice, slipping into a booth so she could keep an eye on the town’s inhabitants. She pulled out the latest copy of The Spyglass Cove Gazette and searched for something, having no idea what it was but hoping that it would jump out at her.

Calla suddenly felt happier than she had for a long time and, yes, a little optimistic. Maybe I can open a small business of my own. God knows what I’d do, but it’s something to think about. I still have to write two more books to honor my contract, but I should make some sort of a plan. The first thing I’ve got to do is decide if I’m going to stay in Spyglass Cove.

Glancing up from the help wanted ads, of which there were pitifully few, she suddenly remembered the stranger from the night before and wondered if he’d try out for a job at The Compass Rose. Then she laughed out loud, but kept the thought to herself. I could audition to sing there myself!

She hummed lines from a couple of country songs and wondered how well they would be received.

Mama Get the Hammer (There's A Fly on Papa's Head)
I've Got You on My Conscience But At Least You're Off My Back
If the Phone Doesn't Ring It's Me

Giggling, she shook her head and decided that was not a viable option.