Dream

The core of this short story came to me in a dream. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed waking that morning!

Comments welcomed.

*****

The old fishing boat chugged across the mirrorcalm water. Sitting on a small bench just in front of the wheelhouse, you were entranced by the space and the calm, and you let your mind flood with sensations. The bright red paintwork of the guardrails, the deep blue sky, the green and yellow of the lobster pots in the bow, the rainbow colours of the passengers' bags piled on deck. The fresh sea air, tinted with the clean smell of fish. The powerful rhythmic throb of the diesel engine. The warmth of the northern sun on your face.

You'd seen startlingly white gannets and the distant black wheels of porpoises, rolling through the water, but now your eyes were focused on the small island looming larger ahead of you, your home for the next ten days.

This was the first time you'd been to the Western Isles, but here you were, a volunteer visiting a remote island in the Hebrides to help uncover and explore the archaeological relics left behind by Iron Age farmers and fisherfolk over two thousand years before. A storm in the winter had exposed the remains of two roundhouses close to a beach on the far side of the island, and you'd be helping to stabilise access paths and build drains and banks to protect the remains from the ravages of the coming winter. There was an active dig going on, and you hoped to be able to join in with that too, sifting the sandy soil for ancient artefacts and generally helping the professional archaeologists and helpers who were here for the whole summer.

You'd signed up on a whim, searching for some escape from day to day life, and, you admitted to yourself in quiet moments, from an unrewarding relationship that seemed to have run its course. There were seven of you on the trip, five men and two women, including you. You'd got to know each other in the last 24 hours since you'd met up in Fort William. Overnight in a small hotel, out for supper together, and then a long minibus trip and two island ferries before you boarded this last boat, hired for the afternoon to get you all and essential supplies out to the island.

The island was beautiful, a jewel set in the deep blue of the Atlantic. The late summer sun glistened on the water and picked out the browns, greens, yellows and greys of the sloping hills as you rounded a headland, bringing the harbour into view. Away to the left you could now see the big old house, still home to the family that had owned the island for three centuries, and which they has generously put at the disposal of the historians and archaeologists for the summer. You felt a pang of envy for those that had spent their whole season here, rather than the scant days you could afford to take off from work.

The boat nosed its way into the entrance of the small harbour, slipping between the rugged stone walls, battered and weathered by hundreds of years of Scottish storms. You watched the crew, unerringly throwing ropes and effortlessly looping them round bollards and cleats to secure the boat alongside. Straining your eyes against the low sun, you looked up at the welcoming party that had gathered on the quayside to meet you and your fellow passengers.

As you sat and watched, bags were heaved up onto the quayside by the crew of the makeshift ferry, and the seven waiting volunteers climbed ashore. You climbed up last, a strong reassuring hand of one of the fishermen holding your arm to steady you as you stepped from the moving boat onto the ancient rusty iron rungs set into a recess in the harbour wall. The tide was high, and you only had a couple of steps before you were on terra firma, and being drawn into the hubbub of handshakes and name swapping and welcome by the local helpers, the laird and a couple of the archaeologists.

That was when you first saw her. Just as she lifted a bag - yours - and turned to carry it over to an old green landrover, already piled with rucksacks, bags and yaksacks.

You were mesmerised. There was something about her. Bronzed from working in the sun and the wind. Lean and toned from the physical activity. Small breasts under a dark cotton shirt. Long dark hair pulled into an untidy knot. But there was more than the physical. Confidence. An air of satisfaction with the world, of being happy with life, comfortable in her skin.

You realised you were staring, brought back to your senses by an eager smiling elderly man (who you later learned was Tony, the head of the dig) taking your hand and shaking it firmly, welcoming you and thanking you for giving up your time. By the time you looked back she had closed the rear gate of the landrover and was heading to the driver's door. She climbed in, revved the engine, engaged the gears with a crunch and slowly drove the old warhorse across the bumpy quayside and out onto the empty road to the big house.

Shaking your head and wondering what had come over you, you refocused on the huddle of people about you, and were soon immersed in the excitement of the evening and anticipation of the coming days.

By the time you had all been herded into a battered minibus and driven slowly up to the house, there was no sign of the mystery woman. The landrover was parked in the courtyard and the bags neatly stacked behind it, but the driver had disappeared somewhere into the depths of the house or the surrounding buildings. Collecting your bags, you were ushered into the grand entrance hall where the lady of the house took great pleasure in welcoming you each by name and allocating bedrooms. Some people had to share, as had been expected, but you were delighted to find that you'd been given a room to yourself, at the top of the old house.

You climbed the grand staircase, and then a steeper one which led to a long landing. Opening the door to your room you couldn't help but smile. A big bed and a wide window which flooded the room with light and let in the sound of the sea on the rocks of the shore below.

You quickly unpacked and took off your travelgrimed clothes, enjoying the illicit thrill of nakedness in front of the wide open views. Wrapping a towel round you, you walked down the corridor to find the bathroom. You seemed to have the whole floor to yourself, and luxuriated in the hot water of the shower as you washed off the sweat of a long hot day's travelling.

Clean now and just standing naked with the water running down your body, your thoughts returned to the woman. You'd only seen her for a moment, but something had struck you, captivated you. A fundamental feeling of attraction. Of rightness. Desire even. You found your hands stroking your skin as you thought of her, fingers gentle on the inside of your thigh.

Your reverie was interrupted by a knocking sound in the plumbing, and a sudden gush of cold water from the shower. You stepped out of the water and turned off the taps. As you dried yourself off you again wondered what had got into you. What was it about the woman that fascinated you, that drew you to her?

Back in your room you threw on jeans and a clean t-shirt, and headed down for a briefing and supper.

Downstairs, surrounded by the comfortable trappings of a family rooted in history, all the volunteers were gathering, along with some of the organisers and archaeologists. There was tea and coffee, and some maps and diagrams on flipcharts. All fascinating, but you found yourself distracted, looking for her.

Iain, the laird, welcomed everyone to his house, and gave a brief history and a few house rules. You smiled as he said that unfortunately hot water was sometimes limited, and that the showers could quickly turn from hot to cold if you used too much. His family had owned the island for centuries, and he was eager to know more about what his predecessors had done here, over 2000 years before. Tony, the dig leader, started his briefing, as you sat in a battered but comfy armchair. He explained the ancient history of the island, the previous finds, the discovery of the roundhouses and the progress of the excavations. Each of the team of scientists and helpers introduced themselves, as did all the volunteers and you listened patiently, but there was no sign of your mystery woman. But then Tony said "Where's Sandi?", and she appeared at the door, smiling a little shyly, wiping her hands on a tea towel.

"Hi. I'm Sandi, one of the archaeologists." She scanned the room as she spoke, but suddenly settled on you. Her eyes locked onto yours and the room seemed to go silent. You felt a calm warmth and was drawn into her, as you were before, but it seemed she was the feeling the same. Spellbound, looking deep into you.

Tony coughed, and the trance was broken, She looked down at her hands and managed to stammer "Sorry. Can't stay now. I'm on kitchen duty tonight. I'll see you all later." A last glance up and a last look into your eyes and she was gone.

You were aware of the man next to you looking at you.

"Do you know her?"

"Umm. No.", you mumbled unconvincingly, as Tony started to wind up the session.

"I think that's about all for tonight. Duties for tomorrow are on the notice board in the hall. Drinks on the terrace behind you in 10 minutes. And supper in the dining room at 7.

Chat and conversation bubbled up, but you needed a bit of space, and headed for the doors to the terrace.

The view was stunning. A light breeze had sprung up - enough to keep the midgies at bay, Tony had promised - but it was still warm. The sun was starting to slant lower, sending a fan of orange reflections across the calm sea.

Confusing thoughts crowded your mind. What was the matter with you? Who was she? Why were you feeling this way? She was a complete stranger. Was she feeling it too?

Others drifted out onto the terrace to enjoy the view and the space. Drinks arrived on an ancient trolley and the evening sunshine was filled with chatter and relaxed laughter. There was no sign of Sandi, but you chatted with your fellow volunteers and the dig team. You were excited to be here, doing something so different, with new people, and looked forward to the morning when you could start work, maybe with Sandi ...

A gong announced dinner and everyone filed into the dining room and found a seat. Your eyes lit up as Sandi appeared from the kitchen, looking slightly sweaty in a white t-shirt and carrying a large cauldron. "Chicken and barley casserole", she called out. "Please come and help yourself." She looked up and saw you. But this time she smiled a small shy smile as she found your eyes. You instinctively smiled back, and then she was gone again, tea towel over her shoulder, heading back to the kitchen. You watched her go, wisps of her hair escaping from the confines of her hairband, strong shoulders, and a toned bum swaying in tight faded jeans. You felt a tingle inside, the sort of erotic tingle that had eluded you for months.

You got up and filled a plate with an enticing mixture of vegetables, chunks of chicken and swollen barley. As you turned to return to the table, she re-appeared with a big basket of bread. Another exchange of smiles, and she followed you back to your chair. As you sat down she leaned forward past you, putting the bread on the table and letting her chest rub across your shoulder. You closed your eyes and luxuriated in the touch. You thought you felt a little hardness, and when you turned saw the telltale sign of her hard nipples pressing against the white material.

"Thank you Sandi." you said looking into her eyes.

"You're welcome, Sarah."

She turned away, smiling, back to her duties.

Sarah? She'd found out your name. Looked it up somewhere, or asked someone.

The evening went on merrily. with chatter and laughter fuelled by the wine and beer. Iain insisted that everyone had a wee dram before retiring, an old family tradition, and everyone was feeling relaxed and satisfied. Sandi hadn't joined the party, but you felt calmer now you'd said hello and felt her close. You would be on this small island with her for the next ten days and surely that would give you time to get to know her.

Aware of the early start the next day, people started to say goodnight and head off to bed. As you stood and headed for the hall, Sandi reappeared in the door. With more smiles she gave you a brief goodnight hug, as if she'd known you for years.

"Sleep well." she whispered in your ear as you felt strong arms holding you against her toned body, those hard nipples again, and her cheek brushing yours. It was over in a moment, but filled you with warmth and genuine smiles as you said "You too." and reluctantly let go of her.

Heading up the curving staircase with a spring in your step, you glanced over your shoulder to see her watching you go, still smiling.

Back in your room your mind was filled with that hug, and the feeling of her body against yours. You hadn't felt like this since you were a teenager, butterflies in your tummy and a tell-tale tingling rooted between your legs.

You stripped off your clothes, put on a long t-shirt to sleep in, and climbed into bed, still thinking of her, and still surprised by the depth of your feelings. It wasn't as if you normally fancied women, not since a crush and a brief fling when you were 19. But your desire for Sandi felt good and right. In fact everything about her felt right, apart from the strange fact that you were so attracted to this mystery woman that you had exchanged no more than half a dozen words with.

You found yourself wondering what she looked like naked, stripping away her clothes in your mind. You saw her small breasts with their hard nipples. You imagined the curve of her bum without those tight jeans, and her smooth strong thighs. You mentally stripped away her knickers to see trimmed dark hair. You opened her legs to uncover her lips, and slipped your finger between them, finding the wetness. You pushed a finger into her, and heard her moan and push back against you.

As your mind wandered round and explored her body, your own fingers were busy, stroking your breasts and holding your nipples. Slipping lower between your open legs, opening your own lips and feeling the wet slipperiness, just as you had with hers. Two fingers sliding in and out, two on the other hand drawing circles around your clit. Then faster and faster, until your whole body was focused on driving yourself towards a shuddering orgasm. The duvet was kicked to the side as your fingers pistoned in and out of you, back arched, the other hand stroking furiously at you clit.

Faster, harder, faster, harder ...

... until you felt the dam break and the wave wash over you, every muscle tense as the orgasm tore through your body.

You slumped back onto the bed. Smiling. Satisfied. Breathing hard. Happy.

With the sound of the sea coming in through the open window, the long day, the drink at supper and the release and exhaustion of a gorgeously physical orgasm, you quickly drifted into a deep, satisfied sleep.

It was hard to tell what woke you. Maybe the creak of a floorboard in the corridor, or the first sounds of the door handle being turned. Whatever it was, your eyes were open as she slipped quietly through the door and turned to face you. You could see her clearly in the dawnlight as she slipped the dressing gown from her shoulders and let it slide down her naked body and pool on the floor at her feet.

As she crossed the room you took in every inch and curve of her strong supple body. Reaching the bed she leaned forward, her hands on the pillow either side of your head, and softly kissed your lips. Pushing the duvet to one side you reached up, running your fingertips over her skin.

Pulling back she climbed onto the bed, kneeling astride your thighs. Still saying nothing, she reached for the bottom of your t-shirt and you arched your back and then lifted your shoulders to help her slide it off your body. You felt exposed and naked, but very ready for whatever was to come. The faint aroma of your earlier orgasm lingered.

She leaned forward, pressing her breasts against you, and kissed you again, harder this time. You kissed her back, relishing the feel of her lips and then her tongue, playing and toying with yours. Your hands went to her bum, pulling her down against you, her short hair rubbing against you, hips grinding together in a raw lust you hadn't felt for years.

Her mouth left you and her lips went to your neck, then your shoulder, then your nipple. She sucked hard, playing with you with her tongue, her hand stroking and exploring the other breast and her long hair caressing your body as she moved. She gorged herself of you, urgently kissing and sucking. Shifting her legs, she parted your thighs with her knee, allowing you to rub yourself against her. She added a hand, her palm pushing against your clit and her fingers finding and probing you. You pushed back against her and abandoned yourself to her touch, eyes closed.

She moved lower and replaced her palm with her lips, kissing and sucking your clit, two fingers deep inside you now, sliding in and out of you. Her tongue started to circle your clit and she added a third finger, filling you and stretching you. You bucked your hips against her, driving yourself into her lips and the relentless assault of her fingers. You were ready. You could feel the passion building and knew your orgasm wasn't far away.

Her tongue flicking your clit pushed you over the edge. You arched your back, your hands in her hair holding her against you, body in spasm as wave after wave coursed through you, her fingers deep inside you and her lips locked around your clit.

Your body went limp and your arms flopped to your sides. Opening your eyes you saw her smiling face as she slid her body back up yours. She slipped an arm under your neck and pulled your head onto her chest, nestled on her small soft breasts. You were sated and exhausted. Closed your eyes. Fell into a deep sleep.

It was light when you awoke. Your head was on the pillow and you had a sudden panic that she had gone. Or that it had all been a figment of your imagination.

Turning your head and opening your eyes you found her next to you, smiling at you in the morning sunshine.

"You're still here!"

"Always."

She pulled you to her naked chest again, and kissed your forehead.

"Always."