Winsome Romance

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Winsome

I see you standing,

On a hill close to home,

Your eyes are wide,

Clear

Shining

With the light of tomorrow.

Would that I can share that,

Tomorrow.

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Lindsay blinked, her vision blurring, as her trembling caused the journal to shake in her hands. If Brian discovered her reading this it wouldn't be so bad, he'd had her preview his articles and essays before. This one seemed to be different, though, how would he react? She moved over to the door making sure it was closed and then turned to the tall windows of the study, considering this poem's existence.

Was it significant that he'd written it in the journal she'd given him for Christmas? Did he mean for her to read it? The book had been open on his desk, the mark slipped tightly against the spine lest it closed. This had always been a signal that she could look in the past, so he must want her to read it. Didn't he?

As Lindsay gazed out over the snow covered surface of the lake, her memory slipped back to late August. She'd planned her pre-departure visit around coffee and maybe, as a going away treat, breakfast at her favourite cafe. He'd answered the door, shirtless, hair still wet and curling at his temples, "What?" he was surprised at her appearance, "It's only eight thirty, Lindsay. Oh," he frowned as he looked down into her eager eyes, "I almost forgot," he teased, "you're going today. Good riddance!"

He'd finished dressing and after a happy thirty minutes playing with the neighbor's pup, they'd walked along the shore, shoes in hand, until they reached the point. Here, the two had to abandon the beach, the trees and rocks met water rather than the fine, quartz sand of the gorgeous strand along which they'd been strolling. She'd laughed as Brian lifted her up onto a large boulder and said as she turned to help him up, "Come on! I'm starved!"

She'd never noticed that look in his eyes before. Linsay gazed into their blue depths and ached at the sadness and worry she sensed in his heart. Her only thought to comfort him, she slid back down the rock, "Brian! Don't look so sad! I'll be back in less than two months for Thanksgiving, y'know?"

He held her in an embrace that was roughened, she now suspected, by the rawness of his feeling, "I know, Lindsay. I'll still miss you. You'll be off on a grand adventure, exploring great books and learning how to teach us to learn."

"Pffft!" Lindsay made a rudely dismissive noise and said, "You make it sound more noble than it is, I think. But, we'll see. I just know I'll love being a teacher some day!"

Later that day they'd said goodbye like friends; like family. Brian casually hugged her and had chuckled softly, "Wow! Lindsay, I really feel sorry for all those guys whose hearts your going ta break at school!"

Lindsay had slapped his shoulder playfully and teased, "I'm gonna have a trophy wall of 'em. They'll have to be fast if they don't want me to rip their hearts out." With a wicked grin she added, "Especially if I catch 'em sleepin'!"

Something had been going on in October when she'd come back home for the holiday. He'd been so irritable as she'd spoken of her new boyfriend and tried to show his photo to him. They'd been in this very office when Brian had growled at her, "Lindsay, I know he's a fabulous guy, you'd have no less for a friend, but I have no interest in him."

"I ..." Lindsay was at a loss for words, "I just never supposed that you wouldn't want to see his picture or to meet him." She frowned, "Maybe it would be best if I didn't invite him home for Christmas?" The higher, uncertain notes of her voice seemed to snap Brian out of his unusually gruff attitude.

"Oh, Little One, don't let my bad mood influence your choice of friends." He had turned away with that and still hadn't looked at Joey's picture. Perhaps it was resignation she'd felt from him, now that she was thinking back on it. He'd had reason to be protective or jealous or whatever he'd been feeling at the time. Lindsay couldn't blame Brian for his reaction. Not now, with a little more thought on her part. Hindsight is perfect vision, this look back was no exception. Joey had been her choice, then, and no man needs that rubbed in his face.

The sun had moved to shine through the window, warming her shoulders as she sat remembering her time with Joey. They'd met and laughed and eventually, made love in a sunbeam. He had been a virgin, too, when they'd locked themselves in her dorm room, leaving her roommate to manage on her own. Joey's hands had shook, slightly, as he squeezed her breasts.

Artificially sophisticated as they fondled each other through their clothes, once they were nude together, that had changed. They were shy, clumsily trying to do everything the way they'd read about in books. Joey had followed all the steps, like he'd studied some sort of "How To" list on sex. Lindsay thought that even though her first time hadn't been all she'd hoped it would be, it had had some wonderful moments.

She remembered the soft grunts he made as he nuzzled her nipples and the silky softness of his hair against her neck. He was rough with his fingers until she whimpered, asking him to be softer. Joey had flexed his hips as he moved beside her, his cock pressing against her thigh. He'd petted her pussy before and she'd masturbated to orgasm but those experiences faded away in the light of feeling his lips on her. Lindsay was there, on the brink of orgasm, but she didn't know how to tell her lover what to do to help her over the top. He was too inexperienced to realize her difficulty, although at last, his mouth and fingers teased her through a brief and unsatisfying orgasm.

Squirming on the cushions, Lindsay remembered how she'd needed more. She'd sat up and watched as Joey hastily reached over her, found and ripped open the condom, rolling it over his hard on. She'd played with condoms before and stroked a hard cock but this process sobered her, she became aware of what they were about to do. Without asking her if she was sure, in fact, without words at all, Joey had moved to her, pushing her down and slipping his knee between her legs. He covered her and poked and prodded with his unguided cock and begged against her lips, "Lin, put it in! Please, baby. Help me do it."

Lindsay did. She'd placed him at her opening, feeling the unusual sensations of fucking. He didn't slow as, urgently, he thrust at her. His cock had felt glorious inside, stretching her lips around him, nudging her hymen. He groaned and plunged through without pause, stroking, in spite of her quiet pleading, "Wait! Joey, ow!" Then Joey was almost shouting as he came. There were her tears, it had hurt so much, and her blood. He'd kissed her and smiled at her and didn't really get it, that she hadn't found sex as wonderful as he had.

Novembers seem to importune some sort of ending; the passing of summer, the dying of flowers. Lindsay's romance, with Joey, was that autumn's victim. They'd continued dating and fucking but Joey seemed always to finish before she could reach her own release. He'd watch and help her masturbate to orgasm afterwards, usually leading to another erection. The second time was better, if somewhat uninspired. Out of bed, she had tried to explain that there was more to her than they could define through their relationship and Joey couldn't understand. He became more demanding of her time and Lindsay finally told him no more. She needed to study, needed to succeed.

What if she'd waited to have sex? Would she and Joey still be together? They hadn't waited, they'd been so eager, so ready. With Joey as her only experience she couldn't help but wonder, as she sat looking out over Brian's yard, how it would be with someone who she loved and who was in love with more than her body; with someone older; with someone like Brian. The revelation left her reeling. She tried to find that moment in time when their relationship had changed.

A sharp pop from the log in the fireplace startled her back into the present. She straightened a bit against the rich, burgundy, brocade upholstery and pushed her brunette hair behind her ear. It fell forward again, in a walnut colored veil, as soon as she bent her neck to continue reading. The style and the word choices the poet used, made her think that Brian had, indeed, written the poems she'd locked away in her dorm room. Each one of those was just as full of need as this.

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Your smile is what captivates,

Fascinating in the way

It curves your lips.

I dream of your body,

With its lithe fitness,

You enslave my mind,

Perfect

Ready

For my improper attention.

Would that I can share that,

Attention.

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When she'd come home for Christmas, giddy from writing midterms and feeling good about how well she'd done on them, Brian had met her at the airport. Lindsay had puzzled over his presence, worrying over her father, "Hey Brian! It's good to see you but where's my dad? Is everything alright?"

Brian had explained, "Your Daddy was in the car, ready to go and the damned thing quit, right in front of my place. I was glad to come get you. The tow truck should be there and gone by now."

Relieved that it wasn't anything too serious Lindsay relaxed. "Well thank you for coming. That was too nice!" She continued, "What keeps you in town this year? I'm used to you being gone to your family at Christmas."

"I'm used to a lot of things different, too. It's weird here with you away. I'm so used to having you around, in the office ..." he'd squeezed her hand, "I've really missed you. You'd have known that my Dad just retired ..."

Lindsay interrupted him, "He did! I didn't think he was ready to do that, Brian. Wow!"

"Yeah, I'm happy he took the early plan. Anyhow. They're off 'to Jamaica, mon'," his fake rasta accent was terrible, "and won't be back for a month." They'd continued to the car and packed the trunk full of her bags. "Cripes, Lindsay! Did you have to travel with everything you own?"

"They're Christmas presents in there Brian. Sheesh! It's that time of year."

He'd come around the luggage cart and leaned on the car fender beside her. Lindsay remembered how Brian had needed to clear his throat, "I know, Little One. It's the first time in about six years I've been able to attend the parties around here for Christmas. I know it doesn't seem like much of a big deal to you, but I feel lost in town this time of year, I haven't a clue about what goes on." Brian paused then turned to face her, "Lindsay, I've just said a lot of nothing there. What I really want to ask you is," he breathed and drew his shoulders back, "would you come with me to the Gala on Saturday? I know it's short notice but I'm sure your family would be attending anyway."

She'd smiled at him and accepted, unsure of how to tell him that there was no way her parents could afford a two-hundred-dollar-a-plate dinner. Brian had looked so pleased at her agreement. Lindsay had fretted a little afterwards knowing she wouldn't be able to get a new outfit. Her mom hugged her and said, "No new dress, Lindsay, but I'll bet we can recycle your gown from Cynthia's wedding."

"Oh God! Mom that's so..." Lindsay didn't know what to call it, "Bridesmaid!"

Madeline Petite had worked magic with the gown. She'd opened the back, letting the material decide how low it would fall down the wearer's spine. She had nipped, tucked and sewn until, at last, she was done. On Saturday, the night of the charity ball, Lindsay slipped her freshly dry cleaned and redesigned gown on, over her head.

It felt wickedly sensual as it cascaded down her body. She'd gained a bit of weight since breaking up with Joey. She concluded that it must have been all of the chocolate she'd eaten, for solace, that had added the extra pound or two. The fullness of her curves, the increased padding on her bones, had caused the smooth, chain-woven polyester gown to fall more gracefully over her hips than it had in August.

The material was so silky and soft against her bare nipples. The way the gown was now designed made it impossible to wear a bra. Lindsay twisted and noticed how her pantylines spoiled the effect of the dress. After she raised the hem and stripped off her underwear, she was almost scandalized at how her mons seemed to be enfolded by the midnight blue skirt. Not wanting to imagine how she must look from behind, with the dress cupping her ass, Lindsay knocked on her mother's door.

Clapping her hands delightedly at the graceful elegance of her daughter, "Beautiful! My girl, I have just what that dress needs!" Madeline turned to her jewel case and brought out a box. She lifted the black satin-lined top and allowed her daughter to see what was inside, on the midnight blue velvet. Lindsay was stunned that her mother would loan her the heirloom diamonds that had been in her family for four generations of women.

Madeline lifted the three carat pendant, full of beautiful, white stones. She brought the necklace around her child's graceful neck. The starburst rested, suggestively, just within Lindsay's high, rounded cleavage. With her hands warm on Lindsay's bare shoulders, Madeline hugged the young woman against her. "Put the rest on, Baby-mine."

A pair of dangling earrings and a white gold, stone-encrusted bracelet finished the antique collection. "Mom! I'll lose them, I can't wear anything so special! God they're gorgeous though!"

Madeline insisted, "Don't be foolish. Wear the diamonds, darling, they add to your shine and will look marvellous. Jewels should always be worn and not locked away. Grandma would want you to have them."

They'd danced. Brian had introduced her to her hometown's leisurely, elegant side that night. With her mother a teacher and her father's successful sports equipment business, Lindsay's family was reasonably well off, but these people moved outside of their sphere. She noted how comfortable her escort was when talking to the other guests. Even more notable, she noticed that he could be equally at ease when chatting with the staff. Brian's life in publishing seemed to suit him well.

Brian disregarded class and social boundaries with his pure, people-loving attitude. He kept her moving from one circle to another, introducing her as the future pulitzer prize winning novelist, Lindsay Petite. Names and faces and laughter whirled around in her brain. It was all a bit overwhelming and Lindsay, in her youthful exuberance, had been reckless with how much champagne she'd been drinking.

She blushed as she recalled falling into his arms when tugging him to his feet for a "just-once-more-around-and-then-we'll-go" dance. Brian had covered up her clumsiness, bringing her close to his body. She gasped as she felt his warm strength hold her. Color high on her cheeks, Lindsay struggled not to be so gauche as to fawn over how powerful her escort's body seemed.

With his hand on the bare skin of her back; the dress dipped low, almost to the dimples at the base of her spine; Brian expertly guided Linsday around the hall. He bent to murmur in her ear, "You are the most beautiful woman I've ever had the good fortune to know, Lindsay." Was it his kiss she'd felt on her neck as he'd hugged her to him after the music stopped?

Lindsay's fingertips brushed across her cheek to her lips as she recalled how there'd been a stiff formality in Brian in the days following the ball. His restraint had dampened her normal enthusiasm for the holiday. She visited him Christmas Day, delivering this journal, carefully wrapped in cheerful paper and a bright ribbon. "Do you like it?"

"It's perfect, Lindsay. I haven't gotten a diary for next year yet and this should do the job nicely." His smile had at least reassured her that they were still friends. He had presented his gift to her, a soft and warm cashmere scarf. "Mine isn't as well thought out as yours, Little One. I hope you like it even so."

"Brian! Don't say that. I'll think of its giver every time I wear it. How can you say it isn't thoughtful?" With the cold and wet weather January had brought, she wore it every day. Lindsay was glad to have it, on those dark, windy mornings as she rushed across 'The Quad' to her classes. They had smiled that Christmas morning and he'd kissed her cheek, but nothing more.

Two days later, when Lindsay broached the subject of New Year's Eve plans and asked Brian to accompany her to the First Night Festival, he'd looked at her, incredulous. She'd blushed and was about to murmur an apology when he'd surprised her by agreeing.

"Don't look so surprised." He'd said.

"I didn't think you'd wanna be seen with me. Not after the way I embarrassed you at the ball ..." Lindsay's words had dropped off and Brian rescued the silence.

"What do you mean, 'embarrassed'?"

"God, Brian! I had so much to drink I could hardly stay on my feet!"

Oh," he grinned, "I thought it was my animal magnetism that made you fall at my feet." Lindsay turned from him. He moved and turned her back to face him, "It's not you, Lindsay! It's me. You've matured since you've been away and here I am, trying to keep you the young girl you were, instead of the young woman you've become," he looked down at her and smiled. "And that's quite a woman, even if she can't hold her booze."

"Okay," she finally chuckled, "no drinking, except our toast to the new year. Okay?" Lindsay wondered if he'd still go for it, "We can have dinner with my parents early on, if you want to."

"Lindsay?" Brian held her hand, "Why aren't you going out with friends?" He'd looked quizzically down at her, "I'm flattered you'd ask me, really. But I just gotta wonder why there aren't a dozen 'Joeys' at your door or on the phone begging you to be with them."

She'd made a vague comment about everyone going away and how she didn't want to be stuck someplace with no drive home. Lindsay hoped he wouldn't guess the truth, that he, Brian, was the only person she wanted to welcome the new year with. Ever since that magical night of glamour and champagne, she'd been dreaming of being with him.

They'd had a fun fondu with her parents and watched a movie, that somehow, all of them had missed the release of in the theaters. Brian and Lindsay had walked to the park around ten, carrying skates. Skates that had never found feet, their owners were too busy talking about dreams and what the next steps in life should be. "You'll make out just fine, Lindsay. I'm an admirer of yours, y'know? I see in you a young woman, full of the light of tomorrow." All too soon they were counting down the seconds to a new year.

How her soul had soared when his smiling lips had covered hers! She'd been transported to time's end, in that special midnight instant, when he'd kissed her. Lindsay closed her eyes as she buried her face in the cushion. The back of her hand lie beneath her lips as she flexed them in memory of the way his had played with hers. Pressure against her mouth and then easing up a bit, teasing her that he was going to pull away before she was through with him. Her arms had tightened around his neck, her lips urging him to continue with gasped breath and urgent whispers.

He'd answered with sweet suction on her bottom lip and tugged it into his mouth, where he nibbled and sucked, before slowing his kiss. Her legs felt devoid of muscle and she leaned against him, dependent on his strength to keep her upright. The first explosions of fireworks had confused Lindsay; she'd thought they were released from her mind as a result of Brian's kiss. He'd steadied her and as she trembled, then, gently, stood her in front of him as he wrapped the folds of the warm blanket around them both.

"Happy new year, Little One," he wished into her ear. "Be sure in all things, Lindsay. Especially love." Now she knew just when her heart had made itself his.