Secondment
- 4 years ago
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Second First Kiss free porn video
This is my entry for the Valentine’s Contest! Thank you for voting!
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Present Pain
Heat from hundreds of cars increased the already unbearable morning temperature. Fumes made the air feel thick and noxious. People packed the sidewalks like sardines, faces glistening with sweat, eyes unseeing as they rushed to reach their destinations.
Brenna O’Shea wondered if her own face would mirror what she was feeling. Empty, alone, desolate – if they bothered to look, would they see?
Reaching her office building, Brenna pushed open the glass door, hit full face by stale, air-conditioned air. The sweat on her slim neck immediately chilled, sending a shiver down her spine. Hitting the up arrow on the elevator, she looked at her reflection in the smooth metal doors.
Her wavy red hair was desperately trying to free itself of the severe twist she’d forced it into this morning, small curls lying damply against her nape. The paleness of her face made her wide dark green eyes appear larger, almost too large. There was no color to her normally full lips, currently drawn into a tight line of stress. She looked much older than her thirty years, tired, used up.
The body under the fitted black suit was too slim, almost bony. She’d had no appetite for the past few months and has steadily lost weight. Life held no joy any longer. Brenna had become a prisoner to a life she’d thought she wanted. A life that was slowly draining away her will to live.
The metal doors opened with a musical ding and Brenna stepped in, pressed the large five and waited for the mechanical clang to begin. It took mere seconds to reach her floor, unlock her office and begin her day.
Twelve long hours later, Brenna repeated the routine, only in reverse. Halfway through her walk home it began to rain, fat, hot raindrops that rapidly soaked through to the skin. By the time Brenna walked up the steps to her apartment building she was dripping wet and shivering.
Once inside she just stood there, clothes clinging to her skin, tears streaking down her cheeks. Brenna’s heart ached with such loneliness and pain, sobs wracking her frail body. How much longer could she go on this way?
Looking around her apartment, Brenna took note of the luxuries her career afforded her. A pure cashmere throw in the deepest blue lay over the arm of her designer cream colored couch. Hanging on the wall, a state of the art plasma screen television and two expensive prints by a well known painter. Her kitchen had every new convenience a woman could want or need.
Everything she owned was the best. From her Jimmy Choo shoes to her six hundred thread count Egyptian cotton sheets.
It was what she didn’t see that made her sobs so painful. There were no toys strewn across her Persian carpets. No happy family portraits sitting on her mahogany mantle. No joyous voices calling out for her, happy to have her return home.
All she had were things. Cold, hard, unyielding items that didn’t love her, comfort her, couldn’t hold her close. Was this what she’d really wanted when she’d come to America? What she’d fought so hard to achieve? Things?
Her sobs began to lessen and Brenna sat her purse and briefcase on the floor, kicking off the now ruined three hundred dollar pair of Italian leather pumps. She looked at them for a minute then leaned down to pick them up. In a fit of pure defiance, Brenna stepped over to the trash can in her kitchen and tossed them inside rather violently.
A hysterical laugh bubbled up from deep in her gut. Setting it free, Brenna stripped out of her elegantly fitted suit and tossed that in the trash with the shoes. Standing there in her kitchen wearing nothing but her expensive silk lingerie, Brenna took back her life. She didn’t know where she was going or what she’d be doing – but, it would be what ever made her happy again!
The apartment was silent and dark, its resident sleeping soundly, safely in her bed. Even the grandfather clock in the hall seemed to hush its usual noise, so reverent was the silence. The sheets tangled around Brenna’s legs, rustled briefly, caressing milky white skin before settling again. A soft sigh broke from between her rosy, full lips.
In her dream, she stands on a high green hill, looking out over the land her family had lived on for generations. The wind blew gently, swirling her long skirt around her legs, teasing her long auburn locks. The scent of fragrant peat and the sea made the air seem alive. A wide smile on her lips, she turned her head up to the sun, threw out her arms and drank it all in.
Eyes closed she could hear the sea to her left, the waves beating relentlessly against the cliffs, so violent yet rhythmic, peaceful. Her body felt its draw, felt it calling to her heart and soul. The sea, when calm, was a woman softly calling her lover to her arms. When stormy it is a man, demanding and strong, defiantly making his mark.
She suddenly screamed into the wind, a howl of loneliness and heartache, her dark green eyes flashing its hurt for all to see. The sea continued its song of seduction, whispering for her to come home. Here was life, happiness. Here was peace and people who loved her, cared for her, cherished her. Here was the innocence of childhood, so sweet. She would be safe, free.
The breeze came again, caressing her flesh, beckoning to her. As she woke slowly, dawn barely tinting her windows, she could still hear its call. Come home Brenna, it said. Just come home. She lay there for several long moments, reveling in the feeling of contentment that still rode her, wondering when she’d lost it.
Eventually she did rise, shower, even made some tea. While she sipped the strong brew, she made plans and phone calls. Brenna called in every favor due her and made sure her clients found new representation. Her secretary would take care of closing her office, storage of important documents and files, etc. A realtor was contacted to sell her apartment, completely furnished.
Brenna’s final task was to call the airlines. She booked a flight out of St. Louis to Dublin, Ireland. It had taken six long months to get everything in order but Brenna would be back on her home soil before Valentines’ Day. Humming an old Celtic tune, Brenna danced around her kitchen in happiness.
New Beginnings and Old Friends
Brenna stood outside her childhood home, amazed at how much it looked the same. She’d been paying a man for years to take care of it and he’d done a good job. Even the shutters were painted the same color they’d been when she’d left so long ago. She pulled the key from her pocket and unlocked the door.
Immediately the scents of mint and honey reached her senses. Her mother had loved mint, kept sprigs of it drying all around the tiny cottage. Hours would pass while Anna O’Shea made her honey and mint soaps, humming softly as her hands shaped the richly scented bars.
It had broken her mother’s heart when Brenna decided to move to the States to go to school. There had been fighting and tears, but in the end she’d let Brenna go because it’s what she would have done herself so long ago. No daughter of hers was going to settle for being a wife and mother when she could be something great.
Some greatness I achieved Mum, Brenna thought. Defending the worst of the worst, making sure they spent little if any time in jail for their crimes against others. Some of her clients had been guilty, she’d known it, but it was her job to make sure she got them off. The stress of dealing with the underbelly of life had taken its toll on Brenna. But, now she was home. Now she could start again. Make things right.
Her mother had died three years before on Valentines’ Day, but Brenna had been in the middle of a huge murder trial and hadn’t come home for the burial. She’d sent a cheque for the upkeep of the house every month to Daniel Killian, their closest neighbor. He’d chided her in the beginning for n
ot coming to see her mother laid to rest, but eventually gave up as she never apologized.
Brenna’s father had died when she was only two, an accident on the bogs where he worked harvesting peat. She didn’t remember much about him, but her mother had told her she had her father’s eyes. She set her bags down and moved across the parlor to pick up an old photograph of her and her mother, happy, smiling into each other’s faces. Brenna couldn’t remember exactly how old she was, but she looked to be around ten or eleven. Her heart suddenly ached fiercely, missing her mother’s face and voice like never before. Tears fell unheeded down her cheeks. The pain was great, amazing in its power.
The portrait fell to the floor as a scream of pure anguish tore from her throat. Oh, how she wanted to sit and talk with her mother. Tell her all the horrors she’d seen, all the horrible things she’d done. How she longed to have her mother pull her into her soft arms, stroke her hair and murmur to her, tell her everything would be okay. But it wasn’t okay. Her mother was gone and she’d never even said goodbye. Hadn’t taken that one last look at her beautiful face and kissed her cheek. There would never be another chance.
Brenna turned, ran out the door and headed blindly down the path to the family plots. There had to be time to tell her, to make her hear how much she loved her. Tell her how sorry she was that she hadn’t come in time. The sobs tearing from her made running hard on her chest, breathing ragged and ugly.
Oh God, she thought, I don’t even know where my own mother is buried. Searching frantically, Brenna ran from headstone to headstone, falling down several times in her rush to find the marker with her mother’s name. When she did find it the shock was so abrupt that she immediately fell to her knees, hands covering her face as the sobs came faster, her chest heaving hard.
‘Oh Momma, what have I done?’ she cried out, reaching a hand out to trace the deep lines in the cold, cold stone. Anna Maeve O’Shea. ‘I should have been here. Should have come home to take care of you. Oh, please forgive me Momma!’
Brenna laid her head against that cold, cold stone and a feeling of peace began to seep into her soul, soothing her fevered mind and body. The air had been frigidly cold when she’d begun this journey, but here, laying her body against this stone, Brenna felt warm. Her mind rejected what her heart already knew. Her mother might have been dead and buried but her soul, her love, her forgiveness was still here, had been waiting for her to only return and come to her. For a moment she caught the scent of mint and honey before it moved away, this time for good. Brenna looked up at the gray clouded sky and whispered into the breeze, ‘Goodbye Momma, I love you forever.’ A last warm touch skimmed Brenna’s cheek before being replaced by the icy air.
Brenna wasn’t ready to move away, so she sat on that cold ground and talked to that stone, caressing the deeply carved lines of her mother’s name. She knew not the passing of time, was not aware of the air continuing to drop its temperature. Her voice was soft, her smile sad, but loving as she spoke of her life in America, told her mother all that had been done and all she hoped for. The meager light disappeared and night fell quietly all around Brenna. She talked until she could talk no more, lay down on that frozen ground, body warm again, and slept.
This night Brenna dreamed of whiteness, bright and blinding, covering everything as far as she could see. It was still and quiet there in the beginning. Then a voice seemed to be calling her name but she didn’t care, only wanted to be alone. Wanted to sleep in the whiteness until all the pain and agony in her heart broke away forever. There was no conscious feeling of death, just the need to sleep. Her breathing slowed.
Arms, warm and strong, wrapped around her body and lifted her easily from the frozen ground. Lost in her world of white, Brenna slept on, never feeling the jarring of her body as the arms carried her over the rough path as quickly as the long legs would allow.
Brenna’s body ached in places she didn’t know existed. Everything tingled and twitched uncomfortably. She tried to find that peaceful white dream world again but the pain was too much and she lost her way. Struggling up from a deep sleep, Brenna cracked an eye open and was assaulted by a different kind of light coming from the uncovered window in front of her. It made her eyes water and burn. She tried to raise her arm to cover them with her hand but it wouldn’t move, wouldn’t follow the commands from her sluggish brain. Suddenly scared, Brenna whimpered, wondering what was wrong with her.
‘Brenna?’ a soft voice spoke from the light, familiar to her somehow. ‘Brenna, are you awake?’
A strange noise grated past her lips, so dry they cracked painfully. She heard movement and very soon cool water was held up to her mouth, trickled over her tongue and she sighed gratefully. She took a few more small sips and a rough finger rubbed a little of the liquid onto her parched lips. ‘What happened?’ she finally managed to ask, voice rough.
‘I found you near frozen to death in the cemetery. What on earth were you doing there Brenna?’ The voice was stronger now, and a little irritated. And still familiar, why couldn’t she place that voice? Her brain wasn’t so dulled that she didn’t realize it must be someone she knew. He knew her name.
‘Momma. Oh God, she’s gone. I felt her leave. I just wanted to talk to her one more time. Then she was gone again. I miss her!’ Brenna could feel the tears rolling out of her eyes, across her nose and wetting the pillow beneath her head.
The man leaned closer to hear her whispered words, his face twisted with sympathy. ‘Rest now Brenna. You need to sleep more. I’ll be right here when you wake again.’
His words were already fading as Brenna’s mind shut down once more, shifting back into the deep, dreamless sleep that would help heal her wounds, mental and physical. A quilt came up to cover her completely, tucked in under her chin tightly.
The next time she woke it was dark out, the wind howling against the glass of the window. A soft light burned from across the room and Brenna braved opening both eyes to look around. She was in her old room, her tiny tiffany style lamp giving the room a soft glow. Taking a mental inventory of aches and pains, she tried to sit up, only to find she didn’t have the strength or the energy to pull her upright.
She did manage to turn over, slowly, gasping when she noticed a man sleeping in a very uncomfortable straight backed chair by the other side of her bed. Her eyes focused in the dim light and her heart kicked up a little healthier beat.
He hadn’t changed all that much. The years had been very kind. His jet black hair was longer than she remembered but it suited him, curling over his collar. The straight patrician nose, the strong, squared jaw hadn’t changed, though there seemed to be a few lines at the corners of his eyes that weren’t there before. It suited him. She knew those eyes would be a stormy grey when they opened, like steel. Long, black lashes lay against his lightly tanned cheeks.
Brenna noticed the width of his shoulders and chest. He’d been muscular but wirier as a young man. He’d filled out and it looked good on him. She sighed, looking back up at that beautiful face. Once upon a time, long ago, she’d loved him so fiercely that she’d scared herself. Run away from such intense longing and need to a place he wouldn’t follow. But, Brenna had never forgotten. Had never found another to replace him in her heart. Or her body.
He must’ve sensed her stares, his eyes opening slowly and seeing right into hers. A corner of his mouth lifted slightly and her heart beat even faster, blood rushing to her cheeks as she was caught staring. ‘Hello Aidan.’
‘Hello again Brenna.’ Aidan spoke softly, a wealth of emotion in those words. Pain, need
, loss they all raced across his features. He sat up, stretching lightly as his back protested the movement.
Brenna didn’t breathe as he moved, having seen all those emotions he’d quickly hidden. ‘How long have I been asleep?’ she asked, her voice sounding a little creaky.
Aidan looked over at the clock on her bedside table. ‘Almost four days now. We were beginning to think you wouldn’t ever wake.’
Brenna gasped, completely shocked. ‘I don’t remember what happened. One minute I was talking to Mum, the next I woke up looking at you.’
Aidan nodded gravely, and then rubbed his hands over his stubbly cheeks. ‘We all heard you scream. We didn’t know you were home until we ran next door and saw your suitcase spilled in the floor, the door wide open. Da and I searched for you everywhere. It was almost midnight before I thought to check the cemetery. You were passed out, your lips blue,’ he paused, took a deep breath, fear plainly showing in his grey eyes. ‘You scared me to my very bones Brenna. I thought you were dead. When I touched your skin it was frozen almost stiff. I felt your heart beating so slow and almost screamed in relief.’
‘I went to say goodbye. It’s so strange Aidan. I remember feeling so warm.’ Brenna closed her eyes, trying to recapture that moment, but it was lost to her now.
‘Did you come back to kill yourself Brenna? Is that why you finally returned after all these years?’
Her gasp was loud in the silence. ‘No, I didn’t intend on any such thing. I remember picking up the picture of me and Mum and thinking how stupid I was to not come home when she needed me. How I’d never gotten to say goodbye. Then I was running for the plots. I don’t remember much after that other than feeling her leave me and knowing she forgave me.’
‘You know Brenna,’ Aidan began, looking out the window as he stood, ‘I survived you leaving for America because I knew you were okay. You just didn’t love me. I wouldn’t have survived your death.’ That said, he turned on his heel and stalked from the room, leaving Brenna with her mouth hanging open.
Home Fires Burn Forever
Brenna didn’t see Aidan the next time she woke. His mother, Celia Killian, came bustling in shortly after dawn, bringing with her a hearty meal and a warm smile. Tears burned her eyes again at the sight of the older woman, someone she’d always loved and cherished. The plump petite fireball immediately sat herself on the edge of Brenna’s bed and gathered her into her loving arms tightly.
‘Shush now love,’ she cooed, running her hands up and down Brenna’s back soothingly. It was exactly what she’d needed from her own mother but was unable to receive. Celia Killian made a damn good substitute at the moment.
Laughter mixed with her tears as Celia pulled her away from her ample bosom to look at her sternly. ‘I’ll have you know you gave us all a very big fright!’ The scolding didn’t last as her features softened, pulling Brenna back into a tight hug. ‘You look horrid but we’ll have some meat on those bones and a sparkle in them eyes in no time! You just wait and see!’
Brenna smiled, letting the woman fuss over her for a little bit, feeling fragile. The tray was piled high with braised eggs, rashers, toast and good strong coffee. Brenna giggled and threw up her hands. ‘There’s no way I can eat all this Mrs. Killian!’
Celia tsked her, waving a hand to show she was unconcerned for her protests. ‘You’ll eat as much as you can handle or I’ll spoon feed you little one. And you just cut that Mrs. Killian stuff. We’re both too old for that. You’re a full grown woman now and there’s no reason you can’t use my given name!’
Brenna laughed again, the sound still a little rusty to her own ears, and gave the woman a smart salute. ‘Yes Ma’am!’
Celia laughed, her large body shaking with the sound. ‘You always were too quick tongued for your own good!’
That said, Celia blew her a kiss and left her alone with her breakfast. For a long time Brenna just stared at the food, lost in her thoughts. Aidan was foremost in them, his words and the pain in his eyes breaking her heart into even tinier pieces. Questions swirled in her head about him. Was he married? Did he have children? Had he really meant what he’d said? Did he realize she still loved him so much that the very sight of him made her entire body quake?
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