It was time to get away… college life in the States was getting to be too much for this displaced Irish lass. I had been eagerly anticipating my Spring Break and could not wait to board the plane that would take me back to my home country. It wasn’t quite Spring there in Dublin when I arrived. After three days of drizzling cold weather in the city, I had grown restless, like a panther in a cage. Making the situation worse was my family- in an absolute uproar at my separation from my husband.
“Marriage is a promise ya make and ya should be keepin’ forever!”, my Pa sermonized. A look passed between my Mum and I, a Woman’s knowing glance, the child crying out silently from promises broken and security stolen. Aye, but she still considered me to be a disappointment.
“Schoolin’ in the States has made ya’ weak, thinnin’ yer stubborn Celtic blood… there are NO quitters in our family”, she lamented in disgust. Here I had planned on a week of solitude and contemplation, but saw it was turning out to be filled with bickering and angry words. My parents and soon-to-be ex-husband, who had unexpectedly flown out to meet me on that 3rd day, were all driving me mad, pulling and pushing, attempting to make me fit that old mold of a quiet but, it must have been imagination. Nothing was there.
Arriving a day early for some R watching in quiet astonishment and smiling curiously as I take inventory of your upper body. I dare not let my eyes go further, and have to shift uncomfortably on the bar stool, causing the flap in my wrap skirt, to open, exposing my crossed legs. The others see what’s transpiring between us. Electricity sparking across the room sends them on their way to the other side of the bar, giving us some privacy, unbeknownst to us.
I stammer out “Shhhannon”. With a flash of white teeth, you smile, tilting your head forward with raised eyebrows and you ask me to repeat myself, not understanding my accent.
“My name is Shannon. And you, luv?” Repeating my name softly, you give me chills: “Shannon,… mmmm, I knew I was flying into Shannon, Ireland, but I never thought I’d meet the lady they named the area after. My pleasure to meet you.”
The ol’ coots at the other end of the bar crack up laughing, and Liam winks and says: “It ’twas named after her Mother, fine looker she was!!”
“And STILL is!” I quickly reply back with a smile. “But, I’m reclaiming the name for meself, Liam! Do ya’ mind, luv?”, giving him a sexy wink.
“Jesus, the old heart cannot take those looks lass!”, he said acting out a heart attack. Crazy ol’ bastard.
So, we begin our small talk, what brought you into town, where you are from, … all of your words striking chords into my soul … Los Angeles, eh? … That voice carries a slight accent…Latin origins, incredibly masculine, and your scent is making me melt… difficult to pay attention. You were saying:
“…so, I just arrived and wanted to take in the sights, but don’t know where to start.” I let you know that I’m just out here to “get away from it all”. Your eyes dart down to look at my hands, which are wringing my skirt nervously and you pick my left hand up, seeing my 2 karat diamond glittering, and say: “Getting away’, hmm? From whom?”
I’m thoroughly blushed now and with my thumb, I turn my diamond around to face my palm, and hastily look away.
You simply say: “Rafael”, and offer me your hand, long fingers softly brushing the back of my arm, signaling me to grasp yours in a friendly handshake. I choose to ignore that touch, so I finish off my pint, and without a word, I get up and walk straight out of the door. I can feel you eyes burning into my back and my hips as you watch me depart.
Liam leans over and tells you, “If you won’t do it, Laddie, I WILL! Go on, pints are on the house, for ya two lovers! Get!”
By the time you make it to the parking lot, you see my Land Rover speed up the hill westbound. With a sardonic grin and a thrill of the chase, you jump into your sedan and peel off in a hurry to follow. Speeding Van Escort fast with the windows open, my hair and clothes whipping wildly, I see a white sedan coming up behind me in the distance.
Squinting further into the rearview mirror, I catch sight of a dark skinned, black haired man with an evil grin on his face, speeding his car closer to my tail.
“Oh damn it all ta Hell!” I curse, as I slam on the gas harder. We’re on a two-lane road, with whips and turns, surrounded by hills and heavy old trees.
Climbing higher out of Shannon valley, we are flying like demons, heading straight for the Badlands, Ireland’s beautiful coastal cliffs. I notice that you handled your car with ease and grace, keeping up with me, as I try in vain to lose you. I had never had an affair before, and am not looking to have one now, no matter what my senses were screaming.
Suddenly, my bra that was around my rear view mirror, whips out of the window, flying outside. “Damn!” I just let it go and speed my car around the last wicked curve before entering a small town. My Rover is near empty and I need to stop, so I pull into a service station. The white sedan was no where in sight, I immediately think I have lost you. Instead of relief, I feel sickened, a hollow feeling gripping my stomach.
All of this confusion is making me want to smoke, which I don’t do! I only smoke when life has been turned upside down. The Psychology Professor back in the States had called it an Oral Fixation, psychobabble talk for the need to put something in the mouth when faced with fear. I run into the store pay for my gas and buy a pack of Djarum clove cigarettes.
Pulling a black one out, firing it up, I take it in with a French flick and walk outside, only to see you filling your tank too. You’re sporting a wicked grin and to top it off, dangling from your long fingers is my bra that had flown out of my window.
I regain my composure, such as it is, and with my head tilted back proudly, I attempt to walk taller than my 5’5″ height. Passing in front of you, without a glance is more than you could take, so you grab my arm and pull me into your chest.
Looking down into my eyes, searching deeply you says: “Shannon, I only wanted…” pausing abruptly, not knowing what exactly what it was you wanted. My eyes, now emerald with emotion, a mixture of fear and longing, question your probing gaze. Finding something in your expression, in the depths of those near obsidian eyes, I curse everything in my life, reach my arms up and pull you down for a kiss.
Our soft lips meet, yours are quite surprised while mine are moist and inviting. You keep your eyes open in surprise as I softly let my sweet tongue caress your bottom lip. Pressing against my belly, I feel your manhood stir and awaken. The gas attendant is this young gangly 16 year old boy, with his jaw dropped open watching us. I snake my left hand into your thick shiny hair, while my right hand, with a mind of it’s own, flicks the cigarette away and reaches for your abdomen.
Your tongue joins mine in a more passionate response, fighting for the dominance of the kiss. My hand slowly works it’s way down your abs, down to the front of those Levi’s, feeling the pulsing manhood swelling with more blood, aiming to the left, but trying to sneak straight up. I lean back from the kiss, look down, then inquire with a husky voice, “Is that for me, luv?” with flecks of fire in my green eyes.
You softly grab my hair from the back and move in to deepen your onslaught, taking full control of my mouth. When you finally slackened your hold on me, I have my chance to escape.
I snatch my bra from your hand and with a twist of my waist, I duck away and quickly run to my car.
Throwing a wad of money at the petrol boy, not knowing the currency well, you jump into your car to race after me. Out of the small town, you catch up and see my Rover pulling off the highway and onto a dirt path leading up to the cliffs by the ocean.
Your wicked grin quickly disappears when you notice Van Escort Bayan the path my Rover is taking. It looks as if I’m heading straight for the cliff’s jagged edge, speeding almost out of control. With a sharp inhale, you floor the gas pedal to catch up, getting this weird feeling that something was way wrong.
“She wouldn’t…” you say to yourself seeing my Rover speed dangerously closer to the edge.
Meanwhile, my stereo is blasting Led Zeppelin’s “Kashmir”, it’s pounding beat calling me, urging me into reckless abandonment. I come to a stop exactly at the cliff’s edge, breathless. You slam on you brakes, careening the car to a sideways halt, and jump out running towards me in a cloud of dust.
“What the hell were you thinking, woman?” you yell! With nervous hands, I fire up another Djarum, inhaling, and exhaling loudly, turning to look up at your astonished face.
“Sorry, luv. Feeling a wee bit crazy is all.” With a rough jerk, you open my car door, grab the cigarette out of my hand, put it to your lips, taking a long drag from it and flick it over the edge of the cliff.
“FINE!,” I holler. Reaching into my purse, I grab a flask of Irish whisky, and take a long, deep tug on it. “AAAAhhhhh! That’s the only thing Irish I ever want to have in my mouth again!” I say.
You shake your head, laughing wickedly and ask: “Mmmm, I have something that will gladly replace it.”
Then, you pull me out of my Rover, picking me up into your arms, and give me a deep, slow kiss as my body slides down the length yours, my feet eventually touching the ground. I’m still barefooted and feel the cool thick grass swallow my feet and sending more chills up my body to match the ones that you’re sending with your kiss. My tongue tastes of Irish whisky, and a hint of cloves mingled with my own erotic taste.
You eventually put me down and I walk away from the vehicle, with all the grace I can muster on these wobbly knees. I turn and beckon you to follow. You decide to stay behind me several paces, watching me walk through the ankle deep grass into the Western setting sun. I know that you can see straight through my white silk wrap skirt, it being wrapped just round my hips and tied on my left side. Each of my steps offers a tasty glimpse of my legs. But, you don’t see any lines from panties and decide to follow and investigate.
I hear your footsteps coming up faster and turn to face you. My incredibly long hair blows wickedly in the coastal wind, dancing away from my body, then whipping closely and hugging it like wildfire! Taking you in with my eyes, you look like an animal on the prowl, watching me intently. The rolling green land is at your back, in my view you dominate the landscape, approaching me like a dark warrior coming to claim what belongs to him.
Oh, how I want you right here, right now.
The intensity of the moment sends chills racing all over me and spurs me on to flee. I break our gaze off and start off into a playful run, clothes and hair flying, breasts bouncing freely under my peach silky blouse.
You chase after me with a laugh of pleasure. We run down a hill and up another, to the other side of the cliffs. Here the wind is softer. I run to the edge, and turn to put my hand out to stop you from following. You obey, with a curious look in your eyes.
We’re only ten feet away from each other, I upwind of you, and I watch as you lean your head back, lips partly opening while you inhale deeply, smelling my fragrant hair, and scenting my womanhood blossoming, petals slickening, unfolding.
I motion for you to stay where you are, then I turn my hip to the side, and with our eyes locked, my fingers start to untie my long skirt at my waist. Your near blackened eyes follow my fingers. Before I remove it, I turn my back towards you and let the one side of my skirt drop down. Now exposed are my firm, slightly muscled thighs, working up to my round ass. Oh yea, and sliding between my creamy cheeks is a bright green thong. I turn my head around to see if you Escort Van like the view I was offering.
Your eyes take in my body slowly and when they reach my face, your soft smile answers “yes, I like”. I twist my hips around with legs shyly crossed at the ankles, now showing my thighs, rounded hips, and softly curved mound, which my green thong was attempting to hide. The wind blows my long hair to cover that promising mound.
I take my skirt all the way off and throw it into the wind for you to catch. Grabbing it before it’s carried away in the afternoon wind, you take it in both hands, bringing it to your face, stroke the silk against your dark cheeks and inhale my scent deeply, closing your eyes in pleasure. This sent shivers deep in my body. I open my mouth in pure admission, “My God, how I want ya man. You do such tender erotic things, firin’ my soul.” You smile, lifting one eyebrow, finally opening your eyes and say: “Come here and I’ll show you more, Shannon.”
You bend over, spread my long skirt out like a blanket on the ground and kneel on it to keep it from blowing away. I’m still wearing my blouse, which reaches my waist. The wind has blown it off my shoulders several times, but it’s time to undo the ribbons. The blouse laces up the front, so all I have to do is walk to you.
With generations of hot Irish blood, pure femininity pulsing with every heartbeat, I summon up all the sensuality in my soul, and I approach you, rolling my hips in an ancient rhythm. I put my blouse’s ribbon in your white teeth. The sight of those passion enflamed eyes looking up at me hungrily will remain etched into my mind. The peach ribbon is in your mouth, I can hear the noise you’re making, sucking the ribbon’s tip, then clamping your teeth down firmly, locking it.
Staring at me, you don’t move a muscle. I smile and I take a step back. With one pull, the bow is freed, and the laces come undone. I shake my shoulders from side to side, and shrug off my blouse. The wind carries it several feet away.
Now, I stand, flat stomach, reaching up to full rounded breasts, the tips reaching outward. Your eyes cry out to touch me but, I stepped back further. You remain motionless and watch as, with my own hands, I caress my ribs and under my breasts, then with my middle fingers, I trace the curves of my nipples, peach and stiffly reaching out. I slide my middle finger into my mouth to getting it dripping wet, and I trace again. “Do dhún teastaí mé?”, I softly whisper in Gaelic, asking if you want me.
You do not understand the words, but know what I meant instinctively answering in Spanish, “Sí, me amore, deséo le peor de la manera,” meaning that you want me in the worst way.
Taking off the blue shirt, and undoing your jeans, you crawl back laying on one elbow wearing only your boxer briefs. “Christ!” I swear seeing the answer to my question swelling under the fabric of those gray briefs; aye, you do want me. I smile, licking my lips and move my hands down my sides, to my mound, fingering the edge of my thong. I walk up closer to let you inspect.
Turning slightly, I show you that at the hips my thong are attached with small snaps, and can be removed quite easily.
“Touch me, Raphael”, I beg. You sit up, pulling me to stand straddling your thighs, then you move your hands up my calves, around the back of my thighs, over my tight rear, and pull me in even closer to kiss my mound. With a cool rush of air, I hear and feel you inhale, then say “Your scent is something out of my dreams.”
Your hands slowly reach up my stomach, dipping a finger into my navel, then sliding up my ribs, slowly getting up on your knees, following your touch with butterfly kisses, finally reaching the bottom rim of my full breasts. Here you have found one of the most sensitive places on my body, and my back arches wildly, as my juices flow down my slickened sheath and spread into the satin of my thong.
After making my senses reel out of control, you slowly move up to kiss the valley between my breasts. I looked down to watch and asked: “Can I have you there, too?” Your dark eyes flashed up quickly, tongue tracing circles in my valley, and the corners of your mouth tilting up into a grin. You ask, “Oh, the lady would like a pearl necklace?”