Leaving...

Co-authored – englander1961 and Writingdragon

Englands Dragon is the joint name for two authors who post here on Literotica, who post as englander1961, and WritingDragon.

"Leaving ..... "

© Englands Dragon July 2005.

The authors would welcome comments and criticisms at either of their email addresses - either

englander1961

OR

WritingDragon

The authors gratefully acknowledge the great help in editing given by 'Denise' and 'Will.'

The authors acknowledge the words used in the song "Leaving on a Jet Plane" written by

John Denver

and performed by

Peter, Paul and Mary.

This work may not be copied to or used at any other site without the express permission of the authors in writing.

Chapter 1

The Boeing 747 lifted off the runway at Heathrow International Airport, its engines powering the massive plane into the clear blue morning sky. As it made its way west towards the United States with 300 people aboard, Megan MacLean looked out of the window, lost in her thoughts.

Her fellow passengers would see a mature, seemingly confidant woman in her mid twenties, five foot five inches tall and one hundred and ten lbs, blue eyes and brown hair with naturally auburn tints cut to her shoulders in an 'easy' style. There was a slight 'wave' but not curly and needed minimal grooming. Not beautiful, but with a pleasantly direct and intelligent look.

Her apparently confidant look concealed a mind full of doubts and uncertainties. Why, she agonised, was she getting cold feet now? This wasn't some foolish decision she had made on the spur of the moment, she'd been mulling it over for some time. Muttering to herself under her breath, "How has my life become so complicated in four short years?" she sat back in her seat with a heavy heart. The man she was travelling to see, the man she loved, had no idea she was on her way to tell him goodbye.

Her mind drifted back to her first sight of him six years ago; it was her second week at Queen Anne's College, University of North Norfolk, England, where she would be reading for her degree in English with American studies. As a young teenager her dream had been to pursue a career in international journalism or some form of media, and her University advisor had steered her towards a new and unusual module. A visiting American Professor would offer study in "The Americanization of the English Language."

Megan had walked into class on the first day half expecting to see some tall, lanky, dowdy, solemn, grey haired old professor reminiscent of James Stewart, peering out at the students over a pair of half lens professor-like reading spectacles. The man who greeted her, as well as every other student, with a handshake as they entered, was not quite what she had expected.

He wasn't tall or lanky. Dowdy, yes. Slightly unkempt, yes. But a professor who looked to be in his early thirties. His brown eyes were the colour of liquid milk chocolate which, had he been a dog, would have made her want to stroke him and pull his ears. Not exactly good-looking, but not bad!

When the students were seated he picked up his notes, reached into his jacket pocket, took out a pair of half lens professor-like reading spectacles, perched them on the tip of his nose and peered over them at his students. Megan couldn't resist giggling as his spectacles confirmed his dry, dusty professor-like image to her. She lowered her eyes as she fought to control herself. The class went deathly silent. Megan's friend dug her in the ribs with an elbow before she managed to stop. When she looked up the professor was looking directly at her.

"My name," he said in a rich baritone voice, with a southern States intonation - Megan smiled to herself, the way he said 'Mah,' sounded so cute. Clearing his throat, he started again. "My name is Dr Andrew Scotsdale; I am currently a Professor at Crestin University in Hinsdale New York, where I teach Humanities, English and its history. Each year Crestin University sends a group of students to London to study British Literature as well as exchanging visiting professors. I am working with Queen Anne's College on such a three year instructor exchange program.

Please call me Andrew if you wish, but I do not care at all for the nickname 'Andy.' If the young lady with the sense of humor would care to share the joke with us, I would most welcome it. I must improve my understanding of English Humor. Now perhaps I might know your name?"

Megan was mortified. What a beast! No sense of humour obviously. She felt humiliated but stood defiantly, her cheeks flaming with embarrassment. "Professor Scotsdale," she stressed the formality of his name, "My name is Megan MacLean and you may call me Miss MacLean." She sat. She couldn't, she damn well wouldn't tell him why she had giggled.

"Thank you, Miss MacLean. I am very happy to have you in my study group," he said in a dry tone. "I have the list of my students here and perhaps you will each introduce yourself as I call your name."

The formalities over, he began. "Now for the next thirteen weeks all ya all's unnerstandin' of proper English is fixin to get innerestin." Giggles and laughter floated through the room. He stiffened in mock indignation and responded to the outburst, "What? Was it something I said?" He made eye contact with all of them slowly as he continued speaking about the course. Megan relaxed and began to take notes. She thought

he really is quite innerestin,

smiling at how easy the twist in pronunciation was to pick up.

**********

Megan sat quietly in her seat on the gently rumbling airliner and remembered what Andrew told her years later about that first day. At the end of class, as the students noisily filed out chattering and laughing, his eyes followed her making her way to the door absorbed in an animated conversation with her elbow-digging friend. He watched the gentle sway of her hips and the way her auburn hair seemed to sparkle in the sunlight streaming through the windows. He became infatuated with the way her blue eyes would take on a deep sapphire glow if she was concentrating or upset. Her intelligent, witty and upbeat personality had won his heart quickly and he hoped over the ensuing months he would able to keep his growing desire for her from the rest of the students and faculty. The disgrace of being sent back to Crestin due to improper behavior either towards or with an undergraduate under his tutelage would have disastrous consequences on his standing in the world of academia.

Time passed. Semesters came and went. Megan had worked diligently at her studies and became fascinated with the facets of language development in a multi-cultural, multi-lingual society that Andrew, yes she called him 'Andrew' now, facets that Andrew had made so clear. By the time Megan entered her final year she had attended four of the five courses Andrew taught and was looking forward to reading the last one.

It was in her final year that Megan found her heart beating more quickly when an occasional smile lit his face as he looked at her. Andrew was quite attractive in a crumpled-up sort of way. She didn't realise at first that he started to find something about her written work which caused him to delay her as she left his class. Something he had to discuss with her. She also totally failed to recognise that she was taking longer to gather her books and papers, making her the last student to leave. Had Cupid been watching over them he would have smiled seeing his golden darts striking their targets.

After the last class before the Christmas and New Year break he said, "Megan, please wait a moment."

She stopped where she stood, feeling a frisson down her spine at the softness of his voice. She turned and her papers slipped from her hand, scattering over the floor. "Damn" she said as she knelt to collect them. He was suddenly beside her, kneeling, collecting, and offering them to her. As their hands touched, she felt electricity flash between them.

She stood up, blushing madly and unable to meet his eyes.

"Megan." He cleared his throat. "Megan, I...well I...err, Megan."

She stole a glance at him. "Yes, Andrew?"

"Megan, look here. I just was going to say Merry Christmas. And. and..."

"Yes, Andrew?"

"It's just that ...Megan ...I'm staying in England for Christmas and the New Year. You know, I never did get to celebrate Hogmanay as you do over here. Would you find the time to have a meal with me? No strings. Just for you to be my guest and my friend. Please?" Thank god he'd remembered to say 'please' he thought to himself – these Brits liked the courtesies of language. He better not foul up now.

Her heart leapt. "Andrew, if I ask Mum and Dad will you have Christmas lunch with us? And you could join us for New Year's Eve."

Andrew took a deep breath which Megan knew was a sure sign he was nervous. A smile lit his face. He beamed. Then his face fell. "Megan, your parents won't want a stranger under their feet. Not at this time of the year."

"You just leave it to me, Professor!" She stood on tiptoe, kissed his cheek and before he could respond she left the room. He heard her feet running down the corridor and, as she turned the corner, he heard her shout, "Yes! yes!."

Megan asked her parents if one of her tutors could join them for Christmas Day and the New Year, explaining that he was American and would be alone in England this year. They immediately said yes and Megan blushed when she saw her parents' eyes exchange 'that look' which passed for "Oh Hoooo. What have we here?"

"Now listen you two, I just feel sorry for him being alone and knowing no-one. That's all. He doesn't know anybody. Don't you go thinking there's anything special here. He is just a tutor of mine. Right?"

"Yes dear" her mother said, "Yes of course, if you say so" but she couldn't prevent a tiny smile showing in her eyes.

Later that evening her father suggested they should meet her 'tutor' before Christmas Day and perhaps go for a drink at their local pub, maybe even have a pub meal. It would break the ice and everyone would relax more easily on neutral ground. "And Megan, shall we know his name before then, or do we call him "Tutor?"

"His name is Professor Scotsdale."

"Professor is his first name?" her father had teased.

"I think his first name is Andrew. But look, whatever you do, don't for goodness sake call him Andy because he doesn't like that", she replied crossly.

"Andrew Scotsdale" her mother had said. "What a nice name for an American. Sounds quite Scottish. Even English."

**********

A few days later Megan took Andrew to her quiet home in a tree lined country lane. He saw a solid brick and tile house with a double garage to one side, which had a paved area in front where Megan parked her small car. She had already told him there were five bedrooms, three full bathrooms, and a shower room with adjacent loo, all on the upper floor.

'So this is where she lived and played as a small child, and grew into womanhood before she entered my life' he thought.

Megan's tummy was turning somersaults as the door opened and her parents emerged into the cold December sunshine.

"Mum and Dad this is Professor Scotsdale, one of my tutors. Professor, this is my Mother and this is my Father."

Andrew made a tiny old fashioned bow to her mother, and extended his hand to her father. They both greeted him in soft Scottish accents.

"Ma'am ah'm truly honored to meet you. Sir, ah'm glad to meet cha, or I guess I should say 'how do you do? Please call me Andrew; I see Miss MacLean is being kinda formal and correct like."

They led him to their large and spacious living room which was furnished with easy chairs, low tables and a settee. Books lined one of the walls and a glass fronted cabinet displayed fine crystal glassware on another. Pictures by Monet were hung, and family photographs sat in their silver frames on the cabinets and shelves.

Megan's father broke the ice, asking how Andrew liked England, how long he had been here and where he was now living. Megan was sitting anxiously on the arm of her easy chair, fidgeting with the piping along its edge.

Her mother called for Megan's help from the kitchen where she was preparing coffee. "Darling he seems quite pleasant. Nice looking too. Daddy and I have been talking about Christmas and the New Year. We can't just tip him out in the snow after Christmas dinner and drinks. Would you like us to invite him to stay overnight? As many nights as you wish. It's your decision. In any case, to be here for the New Year he will have to stay over, won't he?

Think it over and tell me later in the pub. Now then, just carry this tray of coffee through and ask your friend if he would like a cup."

After the coffee arrived conversation began to flow and Megan relaxed.

Soon all were at ease and 'Mr. MacLean' was Lachlan and Mrs. MacLean, 'Katherine (please, call me Kate'.)

**********

In the early evening they walked in the cold crisp air to their local pub, just a short mile away in the centre of the village. The night sky was studded with twinkling stars as if the Heavens were celebrating the Holy Season. Beneath their feet as they walked, the frozen coating of snow crunched and crackled causing each man to take the arm of his lady to lend her support.

A wooden, painted sign lit from a wall lamp swung in the breeze. Andrew noticed the picture of a buxom female with dark hair, wearing a crown directly above the ornate wording "Queen Anne's Arms."

Inside, the heat of a smouldering open log fire at one end of the large bar warmed the room, the aroma of wood smoke mingling enticingly with the smell of beer and food. Customers stood informally in twos and threes at the polished wooden bar top, with others sitting at small tables. There was a quiet hum of friendly conversation punctuated by laughter. Behind the bar bottles of spirits and liqueurs waited a customer's pleasure, and highly polished glasses glinted in the soft lights.

Kate knew from the sparkle in her daughter's eyes, the laughter in her voice and the bloom in her cheeks that this 'Professor' was someone special in her life. Megan seemed so happy and proud of him. Lately she had been tired and slightly stressed as her Finals approached, but now Megan was relaxed and content, 'sparkling' her Mother thought. And this 'Professor' was very attentive towards her.

How much of this Megan herself realised, her Mother wasn't sure, but without doubt this slow spoken American had made a deep impression on her daughter. Kate smiled inside "I think his name is Andrew!!!" And then what a giveaway "Please don't call him Andy he doesn't like that." She knew her daughter; she was pleased for her, but hoped that her head wouldn't be turned too far until she had graduated.

They ate at a table in the bar, Lachlan ordering steak and kidney pie and recommending it to Andrew. Kate and Megan both ordered lemon sole with shrimp sauce. Pints of good English beer were quaffed by the men, house wine was ordered by the demi-carafe (and very drinkable it was too, Andrew thought) with Lachlan and himself on red and the girls drinking white.

They walked slowly back home in the darkness, the men in deep conversation.

"Megan, have you thought about Christmas and the New Year?"

"Well I haven't asked Andrew yet, Dad's hogged him all evening" she laughed, "but when could he stay?"

"Mmmm – how important is he in your life, Megan?"

"Mum don't you go matchmaking. He's my tutor and I quite like him but there's nothing like that between us."

Kate mentally threw her arms in the air 'quite like him'. It was obvious to her that her daughter was close to falling in love.

"Very well Megan, why not ask him for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day for him to spend two nights in the guest room. Then he might come on 30

th

December and stay over. Then of course New Year's Eve and the night of 1

st

January. That should see the men's hangovers behind them. Three nights do you think? Or is that too much?

Megan had hugged her mother's arm tightly. "Oh Mum you are the best. I love you, you know that don't you. I'll ask him. But don't be disappointed if he says 'no' will you. I mean perhaps other friends might invite him."

Once again Kate had smiled in the darkness. "Not a hope" she thought to herself.

**********

They called for a taxi to return Andrew to his lodgings on campus.

Her parents tactfully said their goodbyes in the living room where Kate had firmly taken her husband's arm and prevented him from walking their guest to the front door. Megan was left to see him out, with her Mother equally firmly closing the living room door behind them.

They stood close. Megan, alone with him at last, was suddenly nervous and unsure. She held out her hand "Andrew I've had a marvellous evening. It's been so lovely. Thank you for coming. It's been the best I've had since I came to St Anne's."

Andrew took her hand, respecting her nervous wish to have a formal goodnight. He wasn't going to take any risk in pushing her too hard or too quickly.

As the taxi arrived and Andrew began to graciously say good-bye, Megan interrupted, "Andrew, I hope you don't think it forward of me, but Mum and Dad asked if you would like to stay over on Christmas Eve and again on Christmas night." She stuttered as she realised she had just asked him to stay overnight in her home with her; a shiver of excitement ran down her spine. Looking up at him she quickly followed with, "They also offered for you to stay from the 30th of December 'till the 2

nd

of January. That way you won't be rushed and we can enjoy the holidays more."

His smile had mischief written all over it as he quietly asked, "Oh? Only your parents want me... but not you?"

Lost in the nervous confusion of asking and half expecting a refusal of her Mum's offer Megan hadn't been listening to his response. She suddenly understood Andrew had said something unexpected and she had totally missed it. "What did you say, Andrew?"

"I asked you if only your parents want me to stay over on those nights, or if you share in their desires also?"

'Oh god,' Megan thought as the simple fear of the unknown path he was making her walk made her throat dry and her heart begin to throb. "I ... I want you to stay over also Andrew, having you as our ... my guest would please me too."

Taking her hand he raised it to his lips and kissed the top of her hand twice. "Then, I accept and will count the minutes until I see you again. In the words of 'The Bard,' "Parting is such sweet sorrow.""

She looked up into his dark eyes and it was at that moment she knew. This wonderful man was more than special to her. Andrew turned and virtually skipped to the waiting taxi while Megan stood outside and watched it disappear, lost in her own delicious thoughts.

Her parents liked him they said. He was good company. His diffidence and hesitancy with people in general had melted in the warmth of the welcome he received. Her father thought him a 'nice chap, good fellow' and was glad his daughter had made a College friend. Her mother knew her daughter's feelings better than Megan appeared to know them herself, and certainly much, much better than her Lachlan. It was just as well sometimes that men could be so blind.

**********

Christmas Eve arrived and Andrew had been welcomed, shown his room and the facilities. He unpacked and went down to the living room. He saw the garlands stretching across the ceiling; the sparkling reds, greens and golds of decorative ribbons running around picture frames and bookcases. The Christmas tree was not large, but tastefully decorated with lights and hanging baubles. Hanging from the ceiling was a bunch of mistletoe.