Port in a Storm

Stephen's Stories 6. Any Port in a Storm

Molly and Stephen and their story-telling were introduced in "The Professor series," but they continued to write stories and share them with one another. Stephen's stories will appear in the Romance category. Molly's stories continue the Dominance/Submission theme of the original series and will appear under BDSM.

"Listen to that wind," Molly exclaimed. "Sounds like a hurricane. But it's cozy here. Tell me a story."

"Another one?"

"About a hurricane, maybe?"

Any Port in a Storm

It was a dark and stormy night. Hurricane Elmira was moving inland from the coast and dumping rain in torrents. At eight the lights went out. Henry went to where he had stocked some lanterns and flashlights and made himself comfortable with a book and a beer as the wind howled and the rain beat on the windows. As he grew bored with the book, he glanced as his watch. 9:00.

It's going to be a long night.

About that time, he heard thumping on the wall.

Something must have come loose

, he thought,

I'll take care of it in the morning.

The thumping persisted and it finally dawned on him there was someone at the door. He rose and opened it and a hunchbacked woman nearly fell into the entry.

"Oh, thank God. I saw your light..."

She had a cheap yellow plastic raincoat on her back. Her shins were exposed below the hem of her dress and her feet were muddy and bare.

"Whatever are you doing out on a night like this?"

She dropped the raincoat and revealed a heavy backpack underneath it. When she had slid that onto the floor and straightened up, he saw that she was a very attractive, but completely drenched young woman. "I'm sorry. My house is flooded. I just need some shelter until the storm passes. Can I stay here a little while?" Then her teeth began to chatter. She looked down at her feet. "I'm afraid I lost my shoes in the mud down the road."

"Let me get you a towel," he said, slowly taking in the situation. He disappeared and came back a few minutes carrying two towels and a fluffy bathrobe. He handed her the towels and draped the robe over the back of a chair. "I'm going to step into the kitchen and close the door. Take off your wet clothes and just leave them there. Then I will show you where you can take a hot shower."

"Thank you so much." She was shaking now.

A few moments later he gave her a lantern and showed her the bathroom upstairs. Take your time and I'll have some hot food ready when you are done. I'm Henry, by the way."

She smiled. "Trish."

Thirty minutes later she reappeared wearing the bathrobe and looking much more comfortable. Henry set a plate before her with eggs and grits. "It's not much, but it's the quickest food I could think of. I don't cook much for just myself. Coffee? Tea? At least we have gas."

"It looks wonderful. Hot tea would be heavenly."

Once she had eaten, she explained her predicament. She lived about a half mile down the road next to the river. "I'm a student. Studying nursing. Anyway, I was coming back from school and the house was flooded. The water was rising. I grabbed my valuables and started up the hill. Everything is dark out there but eventually I saw a light in your windows. I hate to be a bother, but I don't know where else to go."

"No one is going anywhere tonight. But I have a sturdy house and extra rooms. You are welcome to stay."

The truth was, Henry was starved for company and delighted to have someone to talk to. He was a widower, 39 years old. He had had a wonderful marriage with Morgan, but his wife had died five years earlier and he had not pursued any other relationships since then. He clung to her memories and possessions, reluctant to admit she was gone.

Over the next couple of hours, he pried Trish's story from her. She had mostly raised herself. Her parents separated when she was twelve. Her mother disappeared and her father neglected her. She got a job when she was still in high school just to get away. She found she was pretty good in retail sales. In eight years she had risen to manager and put away enough money to go to college. She shared a cheap rented house with a roommate, but they were not particularly close. The roommate, Shelby, was majoring in psychology but not taking school very seriously. "She needs to grow up," Trish observed. "Or maybe we are too far apart in age. I'm 28 and have had more experience in the real world. She's a spoiled brat, to put it bluntly. She thought living in a place of her own instead of the dorm would let her party all the time. She tolerates me because her Daddy won't let her live by herself."

"Is she at your house?"

"No, she went home when they put out the storm warnings. I didn't have any place else to go."

"She didn't invite you to a safer place?" Henry asked in surprise.

"Pfff. I'm not part of her world. I'm sure she didn't think of it. If she did, I wouldn't be the right sort to mingle with her friends."

When it grew late, Henry showed her to a spacious room upstairs with a large four-poster bed. "I already put on clean sheets."

"But this is the master bedroom," Trish protested.

"I haven't slept in this bed since my wife died. Please, be comfortable." With that, he left her alone.

Trish slid out of the bathrobe and lay naked in the sheets. She was worried about her house, but exhaustion soon overtook her.

The next morning the rain continued and the temperature had dropped. The radio reported that many roads were impassable and advised residents to stay home. Trish slept in and Henry did not disturb her. She wandered downstairs mid-morning wearing the bathrobe. Henry checked on her clothes. He had wrung them out by hand, but with high humidity and the dryer still out, they were nearly as wet as they had been last night.

"You look about Morgan's size," he said, looking Trish over. "A lot of her clothes are still in the bedroom. Help yourself."

"Really? That's very kind."

"I've been hanging onto many of them simply because it was hard to let go. I did throw out everyday underwear and such; but when I ran across a dress that she looked particularly nice in, I just couldn't. I think you will find she had good taste - at least to my taste - and she liked shoes. I don't know. Maybe part of me has been hoping she will come back."

Trish went upstairs and began browsing through the dresser drawers. Henry was right - he apparently had discarded all the cotton panties, white bras, and socks. The lingerie that was left looked like it had been ordered from Fredericks - skimpy silk bikini bottoms and g-strings, garter belts and stockings, low-cut brassiers and bustiers. She checked to see that the door was closed and guiltily began trying some on. She felt very sexy as she looked at herself in the mirror.

Then she turned to the closet and found an entire rack of dresses, and skirts, most of them very short. Another row held blouses. No T-shirts and jeans here. She wondered whether his wife always dressed this way or Henry had deliberately hung on to her sexier clothing. Probably the latter. She chose a clingy gray knit dress with a hem just above the knees. It made her figure stand out to a surprising degree. Feeling a little chilly with her legs bare, she looked for a sweater but only came up with a leather bolero jacket. Under the dresses, she found a row of shoe boxes two deep. It looked like a shoe store with all the pairs in one size - luckily hers.

She moved a half dozen boxes to the bed and examined them. All were high-heeled pumps or sandals - nothing less than three inches and several higher. She brought out more and more boxes. More of the same in a variety of colors.

Had she ever worn all of these?

She looked at them closely for scuff marks and worn soles. The shoes were well-cared for, but they definitely had been worn. The bottom row of boxes held boots.

Trish got excited. She loved boots, and it seemed that Morgan's taste matched her own. She selected a pair to match the dress she was wearing. They were high enough to keep her legs warm. They were a soft black leather that fit snugly about her calf and ankle and ended in a four-inch stiletto heel. As she packed up the shoes on the bed, she thought about the pleasure she would have in exploring the other boxes.

As she came down the stairs, Henry was staring at the rain through the window. He turned. "That's a good look."

"Thanks. I like boots and your wife had some beautiful ones."

"So do I. I bought those for her in New York."

"Oh. Would you rather I not wear them?"

"No. I prefer that you did. They look good on you and I can't get any pleasure from them when they are in a box."

That made Trish blush.

"Do they fit you?"

"She must have been my size."

"I guessed as much. The radio says the rain should be letting up this afternoon. Don't plan to go anywhere before tomorrow at the earliest."

"And the power is still out."

"And the phones are down," he added. "No computers, no internet, no television. No work and no school. But I have books to read and a deck of cards if you like. And you will need to help me eat everything in the refrigerator before it spoils."

She laughed. "I like to cook. Mind if I try my hand?"

"Only if you want something palatable. I never learned to cook or had anyone to cook for."

"It's the least I can do to show my gratitude."

They spent the afternoon chatting, playing cards, and exchanging stories about their pasts. At four the sun broke through the clouds and the air heated quickly. Trish went up to put on cooler clothes, picking out a sun dress and a pair of heeled sandals. When she descended Henry smiled. "I remember when Morgan bought that. She wore it when we took a trip to the mountains, a month before the was diagnosed."

Trish blushed, fearing she had crossed a line, but Henry just kept reminiscing. She realized he was grateful to be able to remember and talk about his wife, so she encouraged him all through dinner until it was dark.

"Thank you, Trish," he said as he headed up to bed. She stayed behind to clean the kitchen by the lantern light.

The third day she selected a cheerful short dress and a different pair of heels. She looked for Henry's reaction and was happy to see his approval. He said he was heading to the office to see if he could get any work done. He would be home before dinner.

The house had been kept neat, but it was in need to cleaning. She decided to do what she could in the upstairs rooms, dusting, cleaning carpets, knocking down cobwebs. There were three bedrooms and a fourth room that was locked. She found an apron to protect the dress and set to work. After an hour she was sweating and worried about the dress. She took it off, but kept the apron on and continued working.

About noon she came down to fix herself a lunch. She was cutting up some apples when she heard the door open behind her. It was Henry, who had bent over to remove his muddy work boots. She turned her head in time to see his stunned expression as he looked at her from behind - a beautiful woman wearing only a garter and stockings with a bra and apron.

He gasped. "I'm awfully sorry."

She spun around and held her arms in front of her breasts. "I didn't expect you. I got hot, so I..." Then she burst out laughing. She couldn't tell which of them was more embarrassed.

He turned away. "I said I enjoyed seeing you in Morgan's clothes. You are quite a lovely sight without them, too."

She slid around the kitchen, gave him a forgiving peck on the cheek and ran upstairs to dress.

When she returned he reported that the roads were still a mess. There was no way for him to get into town. The route to her place was under water. They were having a forced staycation. Trish didn't mind. She had been working hard, overloading herself with classes so she could graduate before the money ran out. She was really enjoying a chance to sleep in and put her mind on other things.

When she had finished cleaning the upstairs, she joined Henry downstairs with a book. They frequently interrupted one another with observations and chitchat. At one time Henry called her Morgan, then apologized. "It has been too long since I had anyone to really talk to. You have brought my memories back to life without the grief. I was in danger of becoming a bitter old man. Thank you for being here."

The next morning, He invited her for a drive to see if they could get to her house. The unpaved road had begun to dry out, but it was scarcely recognizable. Some fences, mailboxes, and sheds had simply disappeared. When they could go no further for fear of getting stuck, he stopped. The road had run straight from that point along the riverbank where her house should be. But the house was not there. It had been swept away with all of her belongings.

She rode home in stunned silence. She had no clothes, no bed, no photographs, no books, no pots and pans, no dishes. Nothing except what she had put in the backpack - her few pieces of jewelry, her bankbook and passport, her laptop still useless without power, and her homework. Henry put his arm around her, but it would be hours before she could even cry.

"You are going to learn to accept it," he said gently. "And we will figure it out. For now, you will live with me. You have clothes to wear and no immediate expenses." Later that day the radio brought more news. Due to extensive flood damage, the college was closed until the end of the term.

Back at his house she looked through the clothes. She was intrigued by red corset top with a matching skirt. It looked really sexy in the mirror. She added long black gloves and boots and then went down to surprise Henry.

"Wow! To what do I owe this vision?"

"You like? I needed some cheering up and you need a thank you."

The next day she went back to her room to straighten it and continuing to explore the closet. By now she had looked through all the shoe boxes. On a shelf behind them were some books. One was a college yearbook. By searching through the entire senior class she was able to find a picture of Morgan under her maiden name. Next to it on the shelf was a picture album; but all the photographs seemed old and centered around a little girl and her family. She inferred this was Morgan's album from before her marriage. She set it on the bed next to the yearbook. There were two others on the shelf. The first was a diary. She closed it immediately and felt she had already invaded her privacy enough; but she could not help opening the fourth book.

It was another photo album containing more recent pictures. She found a picture of Morgan looking very sexy in her lingerie. She had written an inscription beside it. Trish had to carry it to the window to read it. "To my lord and master. Yours in heart, mind, and body." She looked more closely. Morgan was wearing either a mask or a blindfold. Her hands were behind her back.

Were they tied?

She smiled and felt a bit of a thrill. She turned the page. Here Morgan was dressed in a corset. There was a collar about her neck with a chain attached. Nothing else was visible. She flipped back to the first picture. Morgan was serious, not smiling. This was not makebelieve. She was showing intense desire, waiting for a kiss or more. Trish shivered. In the facing page, Morgan was sitting on a bed. Her arms were bound with rope behind her and her legs folded back on her thighs and securely bound, leaving her sex available. She was helpless and looking up expectantly at the camera. There was just a hint of a smile on her face. The last picture was playful. Morgan was wearing a leather harness and collar. A chain leash extended from the collar to the camera and Morgan was pulling on it and laughing, as though it were the photographer who was caught. She closed it with a guilty feeling and put the albums back on the shelf.

Two days later, a sign came that civilization was returning. It was a disappointment for Trish who had fought to shut out her old life and was relaxing for the first time in months. This afternoon she was wearing a tight red party dress and knee boots as she dusted the furniture in the living room. Her phone buzzed. It was such a familiar but surprising sound she heard it from downstairs. It was a text message from Shelby. "R U home? Im coming back". Trish called down to Henry. "What should I tell her?"

"Do you want to invite her here?"

"No, I don't and you wouldn't want her here either."

He climbed the stairs. "Is she that awful?"

"Yes."

"But she has no place to go either."

"She should stay home with her parents. There is no school."

"How far away do they live?"

"About three hours."

"So, if she has driven three hours today to get here, it doesn't seem right to tell her to turn right around and drive back."

"Yes, it does. You don't know Shelby."

"You said she was spoiled."

"That doesn't begin to describe it."

"Ask her where she is. If she is in town she can stay for the night."

Trish protested again, but remembered how generous Henry had been to her.

Then he said, "Are you jealous?"

Trish burst out laughing and couldn't argue any more. "Where are you," she texted. "The house is gone."

"I no. Im standing where it should B."

Trish sighed. "I'm staying with a neighbor" and gave Henry's address.

They were sitting in the living room when Shelby knocked on the door. Henry opened it and immediately Shelby stepped inside, leaving three suitcases from the porch and set them inside.

"Wow. Nice place here."

Trish introduced them. Shelby began walking around the room and looking at the furnishings. Henry brought the suitcases in and closed the door. He exchanged glances with Trish.

Shelby sat down in Henry's chair and leaned back. "So, some storm, huh?"

"You saw where our house was? Everything's gone."

"Yeah. I didn't have too much there and it was a shithole anyway. Hey, and no school now."

"So why did you come back?"

"I couldn't stand being with my 'rents. You know. Hey, nice boots and dress. Where did you get those?"

"They belonged to Henry's wife. He is letting me use her clothes since I lost everything."

"Looks like she had interesting taste. So, what's going on?"

"Well, there is still no power. No television, no internet."

"That sucks. I bet they'll get it back up soon."

Henry interjected. "How did your family weather the storm. Are they all right?"

"Oh, they're annoying as usual. It was fun when the wind came, but that's it. That's an interesting clock." She walked over to a side table where an antique brass clock ticked away under a glass dome.

"Thanks, that's been in my family for 120 years. It originally was a ship's clock..."

But Shelby had moved on and had picked up some old family pictures. She resumed the chair and they sat in silence for a while.

Trish asked a few questions about mutual acquaintances and Henry asked about Shelby's studies and career plans, but the conversation was stilted. Eventually Trish excused herself to work on dinner. Immediately Shelby started asking Henry about his job, his house, and family background. She showed an intense interest that had been lacking during Trish's presence. Before dinner she picked up her smaller suitcase and went upstairs to wash up. A few minutes later, Trish came up and found Shelby in her bedroom primping in the mirror. Her bag was open and its contents spread across the bed.

"The is where I am sleeping," Trish explained.

"I looked at the other bedroom and the bed seemed so small," was her response. She went back to her lipstick.

Shelby came down to dinner in a nice dress. She talked incessantly to Henry and ignored Trish, allowing her roommate to wait on her. After dinner she followed Henry into the living room.