Kiss Me I m Irish
- 2 years ago
- 42
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Over the next few weeks Jimmy and Lindsey settled into a comfortable routine, the tutoring combining teaching Lindsey both Roman and Celtic History as well as basic Gaelic. The work she did for Jimmy was scut work, basically pouring through photocopies, looking for key words and handing them over to Jimmy, but it was a learning experience as well, and she had Jimmy's inclination for the meticulous observation of the most minute details and the patience to bring them to the surface. And then Lindsey made a discovery.
The discovery itself had came over a break of their usual routine. Jimmy had offhandedly made a remark about a certain Ivy league full scholarship that she should put in for. The foundation, as a rule, did not provide scholarships, but did provide living subsidies in the form of grants that were connected to certain scholarships for Irish Studies. Lindsey had reported it to her Mom and her Mom decided to have Dr. G. James O'Brien over for Friday night dinner. That afternoon a large box of files had been Fedexed over to Jimmy from the Foundation and he was discussing the fact with Lindsey over dinner while alternately providing scholarship/grant information to Lindsey's mother. At this point, Lindsey's mother volunteered her daughter to assist the good doctor in sorting through the wheat from the chaff.
"I couldn't possibly think of making Lindsey come over on a Saturday morning, Mrs. Dunham."
Lindsey chimed in. "Actually, Dr. O'Brien, I wouldn't mind if I could spend some time with your books. As you know, I'm tying this research in with my Senior paper."
"Well, since this is outside of our schedule, the least I can do is make a proper lunch as compensation, Ms. Dunham." In truth, Jimmy was thrilled to have Lindsey's assistance. She was becoming almost as indispensable as his internet connection. "And I would like the opportunity to repay you for this dinner, Mrs. Dunham."
"I'm afraid I won't be able to tomorrow, Dr. O'Brien. Volunteer work at the church. But I do appreciate the opportunity you've provided for Lindsey."
"Nonsense, Mrs. Dunham. Lindsey has been an unexpected blessing. With just a few months of instructions, she's been more able than half the grad students I've been stuck with in the past. I can't imagine what she'll be like after a few years of college."
Lindsey's mother was pleased not only that her daughter was conducting herself so ablely, but that Dr. O'Brien seemed to have no regard for any of Lindsey's attributes outside of her skull. Lindsey herself was satisfied that her academic career was progressing so well. Dr. O'Brien was happy to have a home cooked meal in his stomach and that the last six months had actually been productive.
The next morning Lindsey came over to find piles of papers scattered across both their desks and a grumbling Dr. O'Brien seated on the floor, sorting through more papers.
"My apologies, Ms. Dunham; you will find me in a foul mood this morning. Unlike you, some of our graduate students have a profane regard for order, and have sent us these photocopies willy nilly. Now, I've made a brief list on the table how I would like them ordered, and the key words I'm looking for, so if you will forgive me my occasional lapse in courtesies, you can begin with the stack on the far right."
Lindsey diligently set to her task as Jimmy continued muttering and pulling papers out. Then she found one line and her brow furrowed slightly. She walked over to the files and brought out a page she had translated three months ago and set the two down side by side. "Dr. O'Brien, do you have a moment? I have an anomaly here."
Jimmy took a sec to stretch his legs and back, then walked over to Lindsey. He assumed that Lindsey had merely found a word which the translation to was ambiguous. He leaned over her as she showed him the two documents side by side. "Now, see here, they both make reference to this historian, but they make references to him to being a Hellenized Syrian, rather than a Greek. And over here" Lindsey stood up to reach for another document, "I think this is the same Historian, except his name has been garbled through three or four translations."
Jimmy gathered all three documents, pulling one in front, then another, than the third. With a loud Gaelic "Yes!" he scooped up Lindsey into a hug and twirled her around. Lindsey's eyes went wide at this unexpected physical contact (In Lindsey's life all contact was unexpected) and Jimmy's eyes went wide in horror as he realized what he had done. He immediately set her down and backed up. "Miss Dunham, you have my most sincere apologies for that. The excitement of the discovery ... well, I still have no excuse."
Lindsey stuttered and for once in her life seemed to have lost her composure. "Well, yes, I suppose I can understand. I ... the connection is valid then?"
Jimmy thankfully returned to his papers as he walked around to his side of the combined desks. "Definitely. I need to get on the internet, email a colleague of mine in Athens to talk about this." A look of consternation crossed his face. Lindsey was apprehensive about what he might say next. "Ms. Dunham, I know I promised you lunch, but would you mind if we ordered out?" A tiny bit of relief broke across Lindsey's face. "No problem, Dr. O'Brien. Will Chinese be OK?"
"Perfect. I want to keep working while these ideas our floating around in my head."
The hug may have been pushed out of the front of his mind, but in the back of his head it played over and over, as Jimmy's subconscious mind realized that in that hug, under the frumpy exterior, there was a very unfrumpy interior.
Jimmy's subconscious mind wasn't the only one who was delving on that moment. That night, Lindsey's subconscious mind extended the nude self-examination for an almost undetectable second, for reasons other than hygiene and health.
The next incident was almost as innocuous, but our subconscious minds make connections that our conscious minds willfully ignore.
Next week was spring break, and since all her final projects at school were done, Lindsey spent all day every day with Jimmy. Lindsey's Mom came over by surprise with lunch and found the two discussing ancient and present day Aramaic. The two never even noticed her, and any fears she had were laid to rest (Although she did subconsciously put into her daughter's mind the message that she (Lindsey's Mom) would not be coming over to Jimmy's house anymore by fixing two boxed lunches every morning thereafter, with the instructions that Lindsey and Jimmy take a least five minutes to eat).
That afternoon, Lindsey put her glasses on the desk and rubbed her eyes. At home, she didn't go through the illusion that she needed the glasses and thus didn't wear them. She forgot to put them back on as she continued reading/translating and Jimmy immediately noticed it when he looked up.
"Ms. Dunham, don't you find that ... well, a bit difficult to read without your glasses?"
"There ... um ... stage props, Dr. O'Brien." Jimmy wasn't sure, but he would swear a faint blush appeared on Lindsey's cheeks. "My mother insists that I wear them away from home. They give me a headache at times." Lindsey started to place them back on.
"Err, um, well, if you are more comfortable not wearing them while we do our work, then your secret is safe with me."
Lindsey froze for a second, and then set them down. While she was pretending to read through the paper in front of her, she was mentally marveling at this tiny act of secret rebellion.
Jimmy was trying to pay attention to a conversation he was having on the internet, but his subconscious kept on sending stealthy images of just how beautiful Lindsey's unadorned face was, and just how nice that body of hers felt when he briefly hugged her.
And that night Lindsey's self-examination might have lasted just a second longer.
And then the deluge came.
That morning the skies were dark with the threat of rain, and after donning her normal attire, Lindsey put on rain suit, rain hat, goulashes and had an umbrella just to walk to the car. The drive to Jimmy's house was uneventful, but as she got out of her car a Fate-driven gust of wind reversed her umbrella and sent her rain hat flying. She caught it and put it back into place, holding it to her head as she rushed to the porch. The gust and a quick increase of the intensity of rain had done their work, though. From the neck down, she was dry as a bone. However, her hair was a sopping mess.
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I woke up feeling so good between the flannel sheets, I love the feeling on my naked body. I wondered why my cat wasn't up by my head to snuggle, he does that every morning. I rolled over and opened my eyes to look for him and looking back at me were two lovely blue eyes on a head full of tossled blonde hair. I got a smile and I wondered when you were going to wake up. I smiled back at Shannon and told her I thought this was a dream and I didn't want to wake up. She said it was no dream...
The Irish Curse By Jena Corso Edited By Angela Meyers Part Three As Walter exited the shower, he could see the girls fussing and getting ready as he walked over in nothing but his towel. As Holly saw him, she took a pair of pink lacy panties from the bed stretching them before his eyes. "Step in Kell!" Holly bent in front of him, holding them open. "These are really cute right?" "Pink? Seriously?" Walter exclaimed as he stepped into them. "Don't be silly! Pink is your...
As they sailed back towards Oban Gabrain shared news of his campaign in the south with Scott. From the outset things seemed to be different on this second foray to England's south coast. "I believe word must have spread Scott, they were warned of the tactics we used on that first campaign." "How so Gabrain, what was different?" "Far more of the Danish ships were manned and at sea, fewer at anchorages. That meant the sea-wolves had to battle large numbers of longships out on the open...
"Since you like to travel so much," Lt. Foster said, "suppose you go back into the city there, open your ears and close your mouth, stay out of loose women's arms, and try to discover what these foul Redcoats are up to." I cooked some rations, drew more ammunition, looked to my gear and was on my way, proud to be trusted after being on the list of deserters for some time. The first night I was in the city, with my good horse carefully stabled, I ran into a very odd sort of business. As...
Series 9, Episode 20: Yvette Nolan (59), from Belfast We cut to an establishing shot of a small commercial aeroplane coming in to land on a wide runway at an airport. We watch the plane fly overhead and turn to see it touching down. Then we cut to the inside of the terminal, seeing the passengers, staff and armed security. Signs show arrival and departures and we watch as they update for a second – and note one arrival, from Manchester – updating to show that it has arrived, and passengers...
“ ... and you John Tynsdall, your sister is at Dunrossiter, and we all know what she had done to her! She was buggered by the Earl and his sons until she damn near bled to death!” argued Rory Shaughnessy. Across the table a red-haired man hung his head in shame, saying nothing. None of the other occupants of the tavern responded, though a murmur of indignation swept the room. Rory turned on another man. “You, Seamus, your oldest daughter is an English bastard, and you, Andy, your sister is...
The next few weeks were just plain work. It probably seems like touring with a popular band would be great fun and endless adventure but mostly it was a lot like combat: endless hours of boredom interrupted by moments of shear terror. Well, terror is probably a bit of an overstatement, maybe agitation and concern would be more appropriate. Anytime the girls were heading into a large crowd there was a concern; happily we hadn't had anything like the clusterfuck we'd seen in Clonakilty but...