Chapter 1

When days are long, there is little time for introspection or for the opportunity to consider what if or what I should have done differently. However, during the long nights of a long harsh winter, an outdoor man finds himself alone, isolated, with little to do other than watch the snow falling and the wind blowing. On those days he thinks, dreams, and remembers. It is his memories that cause the man to wish he had made other choices. Yet when the sun shines and he can see that tomorrow will be a good day, he knows he made the right decisions.

... some memories are as clear as if they were happening now...

Walking down the stone steps of the local country club, he was loosening his necktie, happy to be away from the too-rich, too-polite crowd. He had just finished a long evening with a grateful couple who were pleased that The Gift Shoppe, a small retail store, had handled their daughter's wedding gift selections so professionally. He accepted the invitation when his brother and the other co-owner could not.

As he reached the bottom step, he heard a short scream of distress and turned around as a beautiful woman stumbled and fell into his arms.

"Oomph" was the only sound he made as he stood holding the woman.

"Oh, oh, thank you," she was panting and shaking from her fright.

Rather than let go of the woman, he did what, to him, seemed the natural thing to do. He bent down, slipped his arm under her knees, lifted her, and turned to find a place to sit down.

"Oh my," she exclaimed as her arms naturally went around his neck.

A convenient bench, beside the brick walkway, gave him a place to sit as people gathered, while he watched the woman he held settle onto his lap.

Amid the voiced expressions of concern from the people around them, he chuckled, brushed a few stray strands of hair from her cheek and asked, "Are you alright?"

"Yes, thank you," she answered, her breathing beginning to return to normal as she assured those around them that she was just fine. She turned to Timothy and smiled, "It's an unusual way to meet a handsome man, but I appreciate you saving me from a nasty fall."

"I'm Timothy Burleson. And you are?"

"Claire Prescott," she answered and held up one slender leg looking at her foot, where one shoe showed the thin straps across her toes had broken loose on one side.

Timothy slid his hand down the calf of her leg and removed the shoe, placing it in her lap. "I'm not sure, but I don't think you should try to repair that shoe."

Claire was nodding as a woman, standing with two men, and another woman, who did not walk away with the others, came over to ask, "Claire, are you alright? Are you coming?"

Claire looked up, speaking to those waiting for her, "You go on to the party, Marie. I'll find someone to take me home."

"You're sure?"

"Yes, yes, go ahead. I'm still a little shaky." After dismissing the two couples, Claire turned to the man. "You said you're Timothy Burleson. Would you happen to be Mark's brother?"

"Yes, do you know Mark and Aaron Bates?"

"Very well, or I guess, well enough." Claire laughed lightly. "I'm probably one of their most frequent customers."

"I don't recall seeing you in The Gift Shoppe in the last couple of months."

"Oh that's right. You're helping them while Aaron recovers from his back surgery. Is he doing well?"

"Yes, or as well as can be expected." Timothy held Claire a little tighter when she started to stand. "You'll ruin your stockings if you walk without that shoe, besides, I sort of like you sitting there."

"You're a gentleman, aren't you?" She paused for a moment, "I don't think I can avoid the ruined stocking. I need to find someone to take me home."

"May I?"

"May you what?"

"May I take you home?"

"Oh, well, I suppose so, if you're sure." She looked around for a moment, and then back at Timothy. "What about your date?"

He shook his head, "I have none. What about your own?"

"Oh, I ... I didn't have a date. I was just having dinner with some friends, before going on to ... well, it doesn't matter, now."

"Then, if you'll put your arms around my neck, I'll take you to my truck."

... there are some memories a lonely man enjoys more than others...

The ride to Claire's house did not seem long enough for them to say everything they wanted. Even sitting in her driveway for a while didn't give them enough time. When Timothy placed her on her feet inside her front door, she begged him to come inside for a cup of coffee so she could hear more about the ranch and the independent minded men who worked for him.

He wasn't sure how Claire did it, but she turned her back for only a moment and stripped the individual stockings off each leg before he realized what she was doing. Timothy laughed and said he didn't realize women still wore real stockings, rather than pantyhose. Claire teased that she could have taken them off at the country club, but wouldn't have had the excuse of allowing him to drive her home.

Before he knew what she intended, she had walked up to him, put her arms around his neck, and kissed him. Unable to resist her, his arms were around her, deepening the kiss to something that felt so good he did not want it to end, nor did she.

Without an invitation from her, or a suggestion from him, she took his hand and led him away from the living room. Timothy put his arm around her waist as they walked down the dark hall. He stopped her for a moment and slid his hands down her back to cup her bottom, pressing her against his hardness, while his mouth descended to taste her again. She brushed her hands down the front of his suit coat, reaching for his belt buckle. He captured her hands and pulled them up to rest on his chest. With his arms around her, he backed her against the wall, pressing his body against her to hold her still.

He buried his face in her neck as his hands rose up to cup her breasts. "Oh my God," he exclaimed, a catch in his voice as her nipples hardened beneath his palms. What he had thought was just the softness of her breast against him when he picked her up was more than that. She wasn't wearing a bra. Her silk dress moved across her breasts sending delicious anticipation straight to his groin.

Timothy stepped back, brushed Claire's hair behind her ears, kissed her gently, and asked her, "Have I told you how beautiful you are?" He watched her face as he brushed the backs of his fingers down the front of her dress, across the slopes of her breasts, and finally rested his hands at her waist.

Timothy smiled and bent to kiss her, his lips barely touching hers. Claire felt herself tingling a little, the sensation so fleeting it was barely there. It wasn't enough and she wanted more, so much more. She could feel the heat of his hard body pressed lightly against her. She wanted him more than she had thought as he reached up and opened the top button on the silk dress.

Her hands moved inside his jacket brushing across Timothy's chest and up to his shoulders as he opened several more buttons down the front of her dress. She slid his jacket off his shoulders, neither of them giving attention as it fell to the floor behind him. He was just as aroused as she was when she moved her hands back down his chest to feel his nipples. They were hard as pebbles as she brushed her fingers across the fabric of his shirt. He shivered in response and pulled her closer, capturing her hands between their bodies.

Suddenly he was in a hurry. Timothy took her hand and led Claire into the bedroom. He sat on the side of the bed and pulled her between his thighs. Timothy took a deep breath, trying to slow down, as he looked up at her while he slowly ran his hands from her waist, up her body and brushed against the sides of her breasts, pressing the heels of his hands against the fullness.

It had been too long since a man had touched Claire so tenderly and she wanted more. Keeping his gaze fixed on her face, Timothy slowly unbuttoned more of her dress. Claire was almost afraid to breathe, thinking about what it would feel like when he was finally touching her skin. One by one, he undid buttons, enjoying himself, as if he was opening a gift, until he finally pulled the sides of her dress apart and slid his hands along her ribs before cupping each breast gently.

"Merciful heaven," Timothy breathed, "You are beautiful."

He watched as he slowly rubbed his thumbs across her erect nipples. Claire flinched as a soft sound of pleasure escaped her mouth at the sensation. Timothy just smiled, pulled her close then captured a nipple in his lips and suckled gently.

"Oh Tim..." She breathed his name in a deep exhale of her breath, as he began to nibble on the captured bud. Her hands rested on his shoulders as her eyes closed, her head turned from side to side, and she lost herself in the feeling of his hot mouth on her nipple. Tiny shivers of desire shot down her nerve paths straight to her feminine core as she pushed her pelvis toward him, seeking relief from the delicious torment.

His mouth moved to the other breast as a hand moved around to her back, holding her still and helping her press herself to his mouth. Claire felt him opening the few remaining buttons and pulling the dress down her arms as it slid off her shoulders, pooling around her bare feet.

"So soft, so wonderful, and soft," Timothy told Claire and felt her hands moving down his back, holding him against herself.

Timothy rested his cheek against her stomach, while his hands stroked from her calves up the back of her legs to hold her bottom, enjoying the feel of her softness, unwilling to rush something that was growing in its intensity for both of them. He could smell the musk of her arousal, the deep rich aroma of a mature woman.

He pushed her back a step and stood, helping her unbutton and remove his shirt. When she reached for his belt buckle, his hands went up to thread through her hair, watching the heavy thickness fall back to her shoulders, and then doing it again and again, as she lowered the zipper of his pants and pushed them and his boxers down his hips.

He turned her, backed her up, and laid her on the bed while he braced one hand on the bed and leaned over her as his fingers moved up and down the crotch of her panties. His touch was light as he teased her.

"I need..." she paused. Her legs parted and her hips moved with a grace that fascinated him.

"You need what, Claire?" He asked as her hands reached for him, and he avoided her touch.

"I ... I want..." She gasped as his finger brushed over her cloth-covered, swollen clitoris and then moved farther down, teasing her, stroking her, listening to her moan of want.

"What do you want, Claire?"

Instead of an answer, she lifted her hips and slid her panties down, rushing to get them down her legs and kicking them away, while his fingers lightly brushed through the soft curls of her sex.

"Tim, please..."

"Please what, Claire? Please do ... or please don't?"

With only her shoulders remaining on the bed, she lifted her hips as high as she could, a wordless plea to him as he pushed his finger between the lips, across her clitoris, and slid deep into her, withdrew, and slid back inside her.

"Oh my God," she whispered, her body vibrating as she shuddered, and then cried out a wordless sound of pleasure as another finger entered her, sliding in and out.

He twisted his hand and used his thumb, gently rubbing her clit, while his fingers, wet with her juices, continued their exploration. Claire moved back and forth, her hips not yet touching the bed beneath her. Her breathing was fast, almost panting, and her hands were tight, the satin bedspread beneath her, bunched in her fists.

She could feel her orgasm approaching. The muscles of her inner thighs were quivering as the pleasure pushed higher and stronger.

He twisted his fingers inside her, turned his palm upward again, and rubbed the tip of one finger across the rough sensitive spot at the top of her vagina. That's when it happened. She exploded, her body shook, a flood erupted filling his hand, running down his arm and splashing around them. Without stopping to let her relax, he did it again, pulling the rough tip of his finger across the spot inside her and an additional gush of her juice splashed on him, ran down her legs, and hit him as he leaned over her.

For a few moments, she was unaware of anything around her, and then she began to descend from the height of her climax. She realized what she had done. No man, not even her husband, had ever elicited such a strong climax from her. Despite the pleasant humming of her body, she wanted to move away from Timothy. She wanted to hide, escape, or ask his pardon.

She started to turn away, unable to look at him, and she did not want him to look at her; and then she could not look away as he was pushing his hardness into her, groaning with the first feeling of her heat surrounding him. Claire closed her eyes, feeling every inch of him as he entered her. Then he was going deeper, pausing for her tightness to adjust and envelope him, letting her accept him. His balls rested against her, letting her know he was all the way inside her.