It would take her on a day excursion out to and around, the Isle of Skye and bring her back to her hotel. She presented her ticket to the middle-aged driver who thanked her.
As she moved to take her seat she stopped and turned back, "Have we met before?" she asked.
"No, I don't believe so, though you must appreciate I do get to see a lot of people during the course of even a single year," he replied.
AnnaLee apologised but he just shrugged his large shoulders and said, "That's okay, take a seat and enjoy the trip."
The summer's day was beautiful. A few clouds lined the horizon but at nine in the morning the air was beginning to warm and the forecast promised a gloriously sunny day ahead.
Nowhere in the world is a hot summer's day more joyous than in the highlands of Scotland. The air is pure oxygen, invigorating to breathe and spellbinding to view through. The high peaks afforded the passengers many picturesque images for their ever clicking camera's and softly humming video's.
By mid-day, as they stopped at a small rural hotel, the passengers were all ready for their lunch. They filed out of the coach and made their lazy way through the heat towards the awning that stretched out its pink and white stripes from the side of the ancient building. Electric fans whirred amongst the many wooden tables.
AnnaLee went inside to find the toilets and wash her hands before the queues became too long. Passing the open doors to the kitchen area she saw someone she did recognise and found that her comment to the driver had been accurate.
Miss Morris, her English teacher at the start of her Secondary Education back in 1965, was supervising the kitchen staff.
At five foot five with slightly greying, fair hair, June Morris could still turn heads.
AnnaLee recalled a pale complexion to which was applied a trace of foundation cream, a dab of blusher and a quiet red lipstick. Her hair was clasped back to reveal a high forehead, pencil thin fair eyebrows, grey-green almond shaped eyes, prominent cheekbones, a straight nose and generous mouth, set within an oval face. Her slender figure, always dressed in white cotton blouse and knee length skirts of varying colours, walked gracefully erect wherever she went. She projected an image of slight disdain towards those around her and yet during class she was firm, yet polite, towards those she taught.
In class, she stood no nonsense and on a few occasions she detained her pupils at the end of the school teaching period.
It was her husband, Mr Rendle the PE instructor at the same school, whom she had recognised as the coach driver.
AnnaLee moved towards the toilets, she would speak to Miss Morris later.
She finished her meal and excused herself from the other guests seated around her table. Walking quickly inside the cool building she slipped unnoticed into the kitchen where she found Miss Morris alone and busily washing piles of dirty dishes.
"Need any help June, or should I call you Miss Morris?"
June turned to her right to see who knew her name. "I'm afraid that time and memory have dimmed to place who you are..." she queried. "Perhaps you can refresh..."
"I'm sorry," replied AnnaLee, slightly sheepishly, "I'd hoped recognition would be instant for one of your star english pupil's of 1963... it's AnnaLee... AnnaLee Bradley."
"AnnaLee? Yes, now I remember... You were the skinny girl with a pony tail in the third row. A very bright girl who was very good at storytelling. Your essay's were a joy to read, though you had stiff competition from a fellow pupil... Now what was his name... Burns, no, Brown..."
"I believe his name was Burnham, Geoff Burnham. He had brown hair and nice blue-grey eyes."
"Yes. I wonder what became..? I'm sorry AnnaLee. I'm digressing. It's good to see you again," said June, enthusing over someone whom she had not seen for over sixteen years. "What is it that I can do for you? I can tell that you're on holiday and that fate appears to have brought you to our door."
"It's good to see you again too, Miss Morris. Time has been kind to you."
"That's very gracious of you AnnaLee..."
Footsteps sounded in the doorway. "Are there you are miss, the coach is about to depart..." Mr Rendle said gruffily.
"You can't just disappear, AnnaLee, stay the night. We've so much to talk about. Ralf, this is an old pupil of mine who recognised you on the coach this morning. Take the others home. Will you stay over AnnaLee? Ralf can take you back tomorrow lunchtime."
"Of course, I'd love to if Mr Rendle has no objection?"
"I'll take the others home then," said Ralf Rendle, a scowl tinging his face. He was gone before AnnaLee had the chance to further remonstrate with him.
"Take no notice of him, AnnaLee," rebuked June in a loud enough voice that he must have heard. "He's just jealous that you may share my bed instead of him. During the week he stays overnight in Fort William. Now what were we talking about? Help me with the dishes and I'll make sure that you eat a supper that will last in your memory forever."
AnnaLee had been taken aback by June's comment concerning their possible sleeping arrangements but made no immediate comment. "Whatever happened to your teaching skills in the Chigwell area of Essex?" enquired AnnaLee, picking up a tea towel and selecting a plate from the drying rack.
"We lived in a four bedroom detached house in Brook Way, Chigwell and taught at a local school for over twelve years before calling it a day when they introduced the policy of not being able to discipline pupils. Now, pupils can run rings round the teachers and enjoy the same priveleges within their home life. It's a crazy policy. Whoever introduced it could not possibly have had children of their own to measure its effect.
"We sold up and moved to Fort William. You're wondering why? Well, we had vacationed there a number of times and it so happened that the owner of the small hotel, where we stayed, had decided to sell the business together with this building and parcel of land. We decided to buy her out and supplement the income from the two buildings by offering day excursions out of Fort William to the Isle Of Skye. This all happened four years ago and it is paying off handsomely. Though, as you see, sometimes I have to get my hands dirty when we are short staffed."
"So, I caught you on a bad hair day?"
"Just doing my bit while Karen is away looking after her sick mother."
"Any children of your own to help out?"
"No."
AnnaLee retreated from further questioning as the kitchen staff returned from their waitress duties. June introduced AnnaLee to them and explained her presence.
Once the dishes had been washed and dried the rest of the afternoon was taken up by reminiscing events that had happened and aspirations fulfilled. They strolled through woods and heathland as the sun beat remorselessly down. They sat together in the cool shade of a large oak tree. June admonished AnnaLee that she had not pursued a writing career of her own rather than correct other writer's mistakes in her job as a proof-reader.
"You were good, AnnaLee, very good and you would have made a comfortable living from writing. What made you not take it up?"
"Not so much as give it up, as where to start, and who to approach, really. Don't forget that back then it was harder to make a living from writing than it is today."
"I disagree, I don't believe it's any harder for someone starting out to make their name. Today, there are more publications, more editorial columns, more paperback writers and let's not forget the internet, where you have millions of readers eagerly awaiting stories to quench their desires and fetishes. It's all a question of writing what you understand and what you have experienced. Don't be afraid of that blank screen or blank piece of paper. Just formulate your ideas and plan around your character's. Watch them come alive and if you don't like something that happens in the plot you can always go back and revamp the storyline. And don't be afraid of rejection slips. What may suit someone may be totally unacceptable to others."
"Keep in mind that a rejection slip from a publisher is just part of the game. Get used to it and learn to carry on. The hurt never goes away no matter how much you sell. Okay, people such as Tom Clancy, John Grisham and Nora Roberts don't get rejected much, but remember that even multipublished writers with scores of books under their belts get stories of their hearts shot down. Publishing can be a very hard world.
"Remember too that the hurt you feel from rejection will soon evaporate, at least temporarily, when you get something accepted and see your name in print but that day won't ever come along if you don't keep submitting.
"They may also be able to place your course work with their contacts in the literary world. This could bolster your confidence and enable you to place future work with them.
"Yes, I see what you mean but suppose I've lost that talent. Suppose it is buried in the past. How can I resurrect my ability?"
"Talent never dies, AnnaLee. Genius is the spark of invention. Be inventive. First, you need to contact a good writing school that can hone your dormant skills. They'll provide you with the prctice that is necessry to bring out the best in you. Just as an opera singer needs to practice their scales or a golfer needs to perfect their skills, they both have to practice to become proficient at what they can accomplish. Anyone who wants to be the best at what they are interested in, needs to hone their skills.
"Sounds good, but where do I find the time to write?"
"Make time. Instead of watching Eastenders go and write a short story."
"You make it all sound so easy."
"It is, if you put your mind to it."
"What experiences do I have to enable me to write about them?"
"Have you been abroad for a holiday?"
"Yes. I've travelled to Canada, Malta and northern Italy."
"Let's start with Italy. You can relate to the people living around you. They have characteristics that can be used in a story plot that will be understood and acknowledged by the reader because you will be able to describe them and their actions in a positive manner, a believable manner. That is what I meant by experiences. Have you ever made love to another woman?"
"Well..." AnnaLee looked startled. "Yes... I have."
"Then write about it," continued June, unashamedly. "Tell the world what a wonderful, emotional feeling it can be. Don't keep your emotions hidden, expand your horizons. You'll see the world in a different light and it will reflect in your writing."
"Have you... Have you made love to other women?"
"Yes."
"Many women?"
"A few. It gets lonely here when Ralph is away for the week. I'm very discreet. It wouldn't look too good if the local people found out that one of their employer's was bisexual."
"Do you mind if I ask when you found out that you were... bisexual?"
"It must have been around three years ago. Ralph was away for three weeks, due mainly to the coach breaking down. It was a combination of events that led to Karen and I making love one saturday evening after work. I mentioned Karen earlier. She's twenty-eight, so full of life, with a wonderful sense of humour and a sexual appetite that sometimes is hard to fulfill."
"She was so responsive, so eager that emotionally I was swept along on a roller coaster ride... So many mixed feelings that, when I climaxed, my god, it was a totally different experience. There were no emotional hangups between us either. It felt so... so right. She's married as well. Men, they believe they know sexually what a woman want's but really they only know what they want."
"I understand how you perceive what you feel you know is right from your own experiences," said AnnaLee, "but from my own encounters with the opposite sex I have very different and opposing views."
"Do you want to tell me about them or are they too personal?"
"I was raped when I was eighteen."
"Oh no... how awful. Did you know your attacker? Did they put him behind bars and throw away the key, the bastard?"
"I don't want to talk about him but after the... attack, the following two years were a living hell. I existed in purgatory, then I allowed someone to come into my life. She showed me how to love again. During my time in purgatory I wrote six novels, each one of around eighty-five thousand words. Once I found love I burned them all."
"But why. Why expend all that energy and then destroy two years work?"
"Someone else wrote those stories. A person bitter and twisted inside, someone in need of psychiatric help but who incorporated her feelings into her writing. God, when I look back and remember some of the things that I wrote I wonder how on earth I ever managed to regain my sanity. If it hadn't been for Corrin... She introduced me to the joys of making love. She brought me back from the edge. I do really owe her my life."
"A remarkable woman. I know that sounds patronising but I'm glad she saved you otherwise you would not have stumbled across your old english teacher."
"You're not old. You've become more beautiful. You have lost one thing though..."
"Oh, and what's that?" asked June, quizzically.
"Your haughty manner."
"Haughty manner?" retorted June. "What exactly do you mean?" she asked, puzzled by the expression AnnaLee had used.
"At school, wherever you went, you walked... imperiously, as though those around you should bow down. Now, you walk as though life owes you nothing except health and happiness and you're glad to be alive. I like this person more than the one I knew. I'm more comfortable around you and feel that I've found a friend rather than my 'old teacher.'"
June reached over and covered AnnaLee's hand with her own. "That's the nicest thing..." AnnaLee leant forward. Her moistened lips tenderly kissed June's open mouth. June responded passionately enough to confirm to AnnaLee that she had made the right decision.
Time hung suspended as their first kiss lingered on into a lustful embrace. They lay entwined, side by side. The warmth from their bodies mixed with the heat of the mid-day sun. Gasping for air, AnnaLee pushed June away and struggled out of her light cotton dress. On cue, and without a word between them, June stood up as well and quickly undressed.
Eyes from the edge of the small copse enviously watched their ardent caresses. The same jealous eyes lusted after both women. The watcher lifted her summer dress and took off her panties; licentious thoughts moved her fingers to strum her already engorged outer vaginal lips.
Karen knew just how long her fingers should remain on any particular area of her pussy. Years of practice on her own and with other women had elicited knowledge that any budding author would have been delighted to have transformed into a best-seller.
With acute longing Karen gazed as her lover used her pupil's body in a frenzy of lust. She could almost feel her partner's sexual yearning build towards a climax that would release her emotional valve and sweep away all inhibitions between the two people of them.
Karen's wet forefinger found the hard bud at the juncture of her trembling thigh's. She gasped in amazement at the length of her highly sensitive clitoris that bloomed wetly. As the couple before her lecherous gaze climaxed together, so too did Karen; two fingers of her right hand busily pumped her vagina; her thumb nudged her clitoris on each inward stroke; her other hand pinched and squeezed her left nipple through the thin dress. Her body convulsed and shook with the force of her orgasm. She stifled an ecstatic cry that would have reached the ears of the lovers in the secluded grove.
Unaware of their audience the two women clung together in love's afterglow. Soft, gentle hands stroked and caressed slippery, hot skin attired with a sheen of perspiration.
Neither woman spoke. Neither of them wished to break the acknowledged spell of silence that accommpanied such tender moments. Each loving caress scorched across sensitive skin, eliciting small gasps and moans of delight. Their's was a world of lustful emotions building slowly and inexorably towards a peak. Shyness, awkwardness and all inhibitions that had previously been a barrier between them had now dissolved. They touched their partner anyway they could, to please their own sexual ego. By contributing to their partners sexual arousal by way of a lingering caress up along the inner thigh, a delicate but firm twist to a warm, pink protruding nipple, they caressed their own libido. Extending their own pleasure, exultant at finding the right mixture of pain and pleasure that culminated in a ripple of warmth deep within each other's belly, washing upward in a wave of emotional release. Vaginal juices flowed copiously to be eagerly lapped up with busy mouths and tongues.
A warmth surrounded and embraced them. A sweet muskiness hung heavy in the air. Their energies were fuelled by their desire to pleasure each other. The more pleasure they gave then the greater became their own sexual fulfillment.
They cried out together as their climax peaked and dropped then peaked and dropped again. AnnaLee could not remember when she had been so sexually stimulated and fulfilled.
"No more..." she laughingly begged, each small hand gripping one of June's pendulous breasts. "Please, no more. My clitoris is so sensitive that it aches." She rolled out from beneath June whose own aroused body listed towards one side and she too rolled onto her back gazing up into the thick green foliage.
"Wow," sighed June, "that was fantastic, though I don't think I could've gone on much longer without first taking a rest."
"You're incorrigible, June."
"I am but in a way that helps me through life," June chided thoughtfully. "But let's not dwell on it. Have I made you happy?"
AnnaLee eased her sated body onto her side and, reaching out a hand, she playfully tweaked one of June's erect nipples.
"Oh no, you're not ready for more are you?" June queried.
"No. I'm saying in my own way that you have made me extremely happy and that I want to remain with you beneath this tree and make love to you forever," said AnnaLee, chewing on a long stem of grass.
"We'd die from starvation."
"What a wonderful way to go."
They talked for awhile then decided to make their way back to the hotel to freshen up and enjoy an evening meal together.
Karen watched them dress and depart. She rearranged her clothing and followed them at a respectable distance.
The meal was secondary to the main event. AnnaLee and June knew what would happen afterwards. This sexual expectancy heightened their desire.
Karen calmly served them, saying nothing of what she had witnessed that afternoon beneath the cool spread of the large oak tree.
June introduced AnnaLee and they smiled politely and shook hands. Perhaps it was AnnaLee's way of intimating that she knew more about Karen than she let on but her grip and smile allowed Karen to bathe in the promising warmth of another's sexuality. Time, however, was short and Karen knew that they would be naked in bed before she had cleared the table.
The full-bodied, red, Chilean wine worked its magic by embracing their senses as they climbed the stone staircase to June's bedroom. Giddy from wine and desire, AnnaLee closed the bedroom door behind them and swiftly turned June around. Her full, moist lips pressed eagerly against June's expectant mouth.
Arousal spread its wings around both women. Each undressed the other with hot fingers that fluttered over exposed warm skin. The combination of June's Chanel No. 5 and AnnaLee's Angel eau de parfum, created by Thierry Mugler, suffused the small bedroom. Their caresses, kisses, expert tongues and deft fingers explored each other's sensitive genital regions, provoking delightful groans and cries of sexual excitement. A new sweeter, muskier, sexual scent was created as their fingers delved along vaginal walls. Slick with the fruits of their labour they rubbed each other's clitoris into bloom from beneath their hooded entrance.
Undercover of this torrent of sound Karen slipped unnoticed into the room. She quickly undressed and silently joined the lovers on the creaking double bed. Karen inhaled their sexual arousal as she rubbed her own clitoris into a firm bud. Her juices flowed easily over her deft fingers. She used this to moisten and cajole AnnaLee's light brown, puckered hole to slowly open then grip the two fingers that Karen inserted. From between her own legs she took out the long silver dildo warmed and wet with her own arousal. She quickly positioned it at the entrance of AnnaLee's back passage and switched it on.
AnnaLee squealed in delighted anticipation and thrust backwards onto the slender, vibrating shaft. Within moments of its entry, AnnaLee's climax racked her body. Her momentary cries of ecstasy intensified her actions. June's body went rigid as her orgasm washed over her. A deep moan heralding the exact moment of her euphoria.
The couple rolled apart and it was then that they became aware of Karen kneeling on her haunches, holding the silver vibrator. With a beaming smile she said, "I hope you don't mind me intruding m'am but your afternoon session got me so hot that I just had to have you both tonight."
AnnaLee sat up and hugged Karen to her, then kissed her long and deeply. Karen enjoyed the flavour of June's sex upon her lips.
The evening hours slipped by as the three lovers immersed themselves in providing as much pleasure for each other. At last, sexually sated and replete from a prolonged session of lovemaking, they slept.
End
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