Coral Brennan's life had not been the same since her 30th birthday.
The morning after her party, she'd woken in the most exhilarated state she could remember. It was as if the world had gone from black and white to Technicolor. She felt like Dorothy after she had landed in Oz.
Coral could only imagine the man she'd slept with had been hired by her friends. She could still feel his hands on her, could still smell his scent on her pillow. She thought about the feel of his plaited hair in her hands and it made her smile.
She thought about tracking him down in the yellow pages. How many guys did gigolo acts as a sexy Gaelic God? She'd have the phone in her hand with various escort agencies numbers at the ready, but was never able to make the call. This was the man's occupation. How many women must want more after having him? She felt stupid even considering that he would want to hear from her.
Days rolled into weeks and weeks into months. Some mornings Coral would awaken to her panties being absolutely drenched, her nipples hard, the feeling of needing to pleasure herself overwhelming. She would do so, with her hands or with her toys, and almost always the man who had called himself Adammair was in her mind as she began to come.
To satisfy her curiosity Coral spend time at the local library researching the name Adammair. There was indeed such a man in Gaelic legend, though anyone with the capability to Google could have figured that out. Her curiosity over time had also gotten the best of her - she had made calls to all local agencies. She had not turned up an escort using the guise of a Gaelic deity. Her friends also kept denying any involvement, though that meant little in her mind.
On nights when Coral was feeling particularly hormonal, she would cuddle up with the extra pillows on her bed and pretend she was feeling the heat of Adammair's embrace. She could feel the soft press of his lips against hers, the heat of his hands as he cupped her breasts. She would whisper his name and sleep soundly, only to wake up with out him. Frustration was setting in.
On one particularly lovely evening, Coral opened the French doors off her bedroom to her veranda. She stood at the railing, feeling a light breeze push through her white negligee. She was feeling sexy, and as so many times before, she was thinking of Adammair standing behind her, his arms holding her soundly as his lips brushed at her neck.
The moon wasn't full, but a lovely crescent shape. The north star was a brilliant accent to the lunar glow, and Coral dared to take a chance.
"Adammair", she whispered, "come to me."
Coral breathed in the night air. She could hear the flutter of bats and smell the lilac that was blooming in the garden below her veranda. She opened her eyes and at once felt silly. "Well", she muttered to herself, "it was worth a try."
As she turned to walk into her bedroom Coral felt the breeze pick up considerably. Her hair blew into her face and she pulled it away instinctively. Glancing into her bedroom she could see the candles she had lit earlier in the evening had blown out. There was a sudden chill in the air, and Coral pulled the light outer wrap of her negligee over her breasts and her now hard nipples.
As her eyes adjusted to the dark that enveloped her room, and she made out the shape of a man standing next to her bed. She gasped and made a noise of surprise, but right away she smiled and sighed. The broad shoulders, the plaits, the tattoos becoming visible in the moonlight. It could only be her Adammair.
