Chapter 2

Dullichan: from Celtic Mythology; a headless black rider, death follows where he stops

That tongue swirling around her swollen clit was nothing short of heaven itself. As it twirled round and round so did her thoughts spin round and round cycling from pleasure to passion to pleasure again in Caitlin's expanding consciousness. She lay there breathing heavy, moaning, letting herself freefall deeper down the rabbit hole of ecstasy abandoning reason if just for a season...

Caitlin awoke that morning, struggling to rise from her exertion of the night before. 'It must have been one bad dream, ' she thought. But would a dream leave her bed a wreck, or her body a wreck for that matter? The warmth which penetrated her body just hours ago had been replaced with an achy feeling this morning. An aching for the heat to return and somehow ... Finish the job? No, Caitlin was not going to consider that this morning. There was too much work to do, and so she pushed those thoughts down.

No sense dwelling on it now Caitlin thought as she got up to fetch her coffee downstairs, and then headed back up to get in the shower. She started the water, letting it run to heat the small master bath. She stripped off her sleep-shirt, damp with the evening excesses. She welcomed the stream of warm water raining down on her and her aches.

Running her hands over her breasts she noticed a bit of tingling from last night still lingered. They seemed more sensitive and responsive to her touch.

Caitlin noticed their sensitivity again as she was dressing for work. She went through a couple of different bras before finding one that was more comfortable than the others.

It was the white bombshell push-up she got last year when she thought she might be adding a few pounds. 'It's supposed to be too big, ' she thought, but being pressed for time, she decided not to finish up that thought too. Cait stuffed the thoughts down and finish dressing, choosing a white silk blouse, navy jacket, a matching pencil skirt, and black silk stockings.

She then had a thought and choose her black three inch stilettos, which she found complimented her stockings. She usually just wore pumps to work, or an inch or two of heel.

These were social shoes, not business shoes, but she felt that a change would be nice. Then Cait had the thought that the shoes went well not only with the stockings, but with the non-business attire bra as well. She smiled with that thought.

Dressing, Caitlin noticed that the blouse felt a bit tighter. The silk of the blouse against her chest felt somehow 'tingly'. The tight fit of the blouse distracted her from noticing that the usually loose skirt was now visibly complimenting a firmer, more shapely backside.

She was never one to dress in any revealing or provocative manner. The choice of shoes today was just a small step out of character, but not noticeably. As a mid-level corporate attorney in the contracts department of a New York law firm, Caitlin was known for her professional attire, professional demeanor, and professional accomplishments.

Because of this she served as a mentor to several of the young female law students interning at the firm. Hearing the mantle clock chime, she headed out to get to the train for her daily commute.

She often enjoyed the scenery on the trek down from her home in Tarrytown down to Grand Central Station while spending time getting a jump on the day with a bit of work on the train. Today, however, her thoughts drifted, trying somehow to make sense of last night's dream. She normally didn't recall any of her dreams besides a fragment of a thought here or there. And she certainly never recalled having a nightmare. Maybe when she was a kid, but she could not recall any as a grown woman. 'Nightmares! Must be a hallmark of the Halloween season, ' she thought to herself.

It was not so much the dream that bother Caitlin as it was awareness of her nipples firming up at the recollection of the nightmare's Dullichan. The feeling of those powerful arms, strong hands, and oh! those fingers. No, it was rather her complete surrender to those limbs and the places within her to which they had taken her that Caitlin was actually distressed about.

Heading into her in office she strode past the large curved reception area on the thirteen floor of the building. Bill, a robust Englishman who managed the floor and its staff greeted her as she came in, "Good morning, Ms. Corey".

"Good morning, Bill. Any news from our project up north?" She asked, checking the stack of recently delivered land surveys.

"Everything appears to be on target," he replied. "The architects will be sending the preliminary drafts by courier on Thursday. They said they would need your revisions by the fifteenth next month to stay on schedule."

Cait smiled as she headed to her office, Bill's English accent makes schedule sound like 'shed-jual', and for some reason, she just found it amusing. In her office overlooking Bryant Park, autumn leaves in the late stages of color stood firm[OU1] below her office windows. One of the interns, Tina, delivered a large envelope of papers.

"Good morning, Ms. Corey," Tina said. "The contracts for the Ipswich project were just delivered." Tina was standing on the other side of Caitlin's desk wearing a white cotton blouse, navy jacket, and a somewhat matching pencil skirt. She strove to look every bit the professional as her mentor, but there was little Tina could do to downplay the distraction of her 34 inch D cup chest she supported on her five foot five frame. Curves were just the curse Tina was born to bear. Her skirt was strained taut by her firm heart-shaped ass and, 'yes, you could bounce quarters off that, ' Caitlin thought, quite out of the blue, as Tina turned and swayed back to her cubicle.

After lunch Tina returned to Caitlin's office to deliver the afternoon mail and, as usual, get caught up on any afternoon assignments. Caitlin was seated at the chairs by the windows in an area of her office where she often conducted these informal meetings, her stocking legs tucked up under her as she gazed absently out the window, her mind drifting back to her dream. With a shake of her head she was back in the present and welcomed Tina with her customary warm smile.

Tina was one of Caitlin's favorite interns. Now that Tina was starting her third year with Caitlin and the firm, Cait looked on her as a protégé. In addition to her feminine appearance, Tina was bright, perceptive, and bookish. The round glasses that accented her dark eyes helped to foster her studious appearance.

As Tina came in to take a seat, she noticed the reddish tint in Ms. Corey's normally sandy blonde hair, and wondered why she hadn't noticed it before. She assumed that it might have something to do with the light through the windows.

"That shade of red is a nice color on you, Ms. Corey," Tina remarked. "May I ask what you're using on it?"

"What do you mean?" Cait asked unaware that anything was any different, outwardly at least.

"Your hair seems a bit redder, but it's probably just the light in here. So, what's on the agenda for this week?"

'Tina was always so focused on the here and now, ' Caitlin thought as she untucked her legs. As the stocking legs came out from under Cait she crossed them, and the light reflected back at Tina catching her eye and catching her attention momentarily.