Robert and Sandy

Sandy was very restless this Wednesday evening. She just could not keep still. Her mind danced with all the possible but highly improbable imaginations that bedeviled her since she met Robert last Sunday evening. She could never have believed that she would find herself in such a position as this, fraught with excitement, intrigue and shame and possible scandal if things went askew somewhere. In brief, she had met Robert at the airport when his plane had arrived an hour behind schedule and, the last route taxi having gone, he was left stranded. Normally, there would always be transport for visitors but his destination was one of the apartment hotels in the rugged north of the island, a place that very few persons went after nightfall. The fact that he was from one of the islands was not in his favour as he would not be expected to produce a sizeable tip to the driver at journey’s end.

Sandy felt moved by compassion at his predicament and went to speak to him. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, she found that he was staying at Mariners’ Edge, a competitor to the Guest House which her family ran in the same rugged, aptly named parish of Northumberland. She thought about the anger that might be caused if it was discovered that she was aiding the fortunes of her family’s business competition. Nevertheless, being a helpful, loving soul, she decided to offer her assistance and afterwards deal with any negativity that her action might produce. On the way to Northumberland, some 40 miles from the airport, she and Robert started a conversation which grew from cursory remarks to interesting chat about the economics of everyday living and, towards the end of the ride, had moved somewhat warmly to reflections about family life, and decently, though delicately, to sensual banter and comments relating to sexual intimacy. She would never have believed it possible, all that in less than two hours!

That night, her mind had replayed nearly all that had been said, particularly that when nearing their destination. He knew that she had been widowed three years ago, and her two sons were living and working overseas. Her brother Gaston and her cousin Olga formed the management of their Guest House, named Sandy Beach Apartments. She had gathered that he was married, had four children, two and two, all of whom were themselves married and had produced three grandchildren, all boys, so far. On Monday, there had been a mishap at Mariners’ Edge, resulting in a loss of internet accessibility which, apparently was crucial for his work, and he had called Sandy Beach to find out if there were any vacancies. There were two of the more expensive rooms available, but Sandy, aware of the nature of Robert’s visit and the likely strain on his finances, managed to find room for him where she lived.

Robert’s quarters was like a one-bedroom apartment. The living area was large, comfortably accommodating all the amenities that a three-person family would need for a fortnight stay. There was a microwave oven, a small fridge, a two-burner gas stove attached to a small indoor gas cylinder - for those instances where there was no electrical power, and the usual electrical kitchen ware that would be found in the average hotel apartment. The sleeping area was fitted with a Queen bed with space for a single bed if it should be needed. A glass partition separated the toilet and bath facilities from the bedroom. In the living room, one of the three doors present served as entrance and exit to the living space, one led onto a small balcony facing east, and the third door, kept bolted one side and locked on the other, allowed communication to the rest of house where Sandy lived.

Its closeness to the Internet facility gave good grounds for the choice of that location. Why she would go to that trouble for someone whom she had met only hours ago, she could not know, but it seemed almost as if everything was fore-ordained.

On Tuesday, she’d had an irritating problem with one of the desktop computers which Robert, being on the spot, was able to solve easily, adequately and permanently. In appreciation, Sandy had invited him to share an after-dinner drink with her. By the time they were ready to tun in to their separate quarters, Sandy, having consumed nearly a bottle of wine on her own, revealed, perhaps, more of her sensual thoughts than she might otherwise have done, and after a goodnight hug and a kiss on Robert’s cheek, said, “Thanks for a wonderful evening. Have a good night kiss, but that is all there is. We won’t go any further.”

Robert had replied, “Thank you for your company. I enjoyed it. And don’t worry about the kiss. I don’t expect any more than that. In fact, I did not anticipate even that. Thank you. Have a good night!’

They say that little things mean a lot, and perhaps they do. There were some little things that occurred on Wednesday... Sandy had gone down to the beach for an early morning swim and as she was returning home, walking along a narrow hilly path which provided a picturesque view of the beach, the beautiful flora and the cottages in the village, she met Robert, in his running attire: v-neck vest and mid-length tights They surprised each other and Sandy stumbled. Robert reached out his right arm to prevent her falling and in doing so, his hand slipped along her arm and came to rest below her arm pits, gently brushing against her left breast.

“Oops! I’m sorry!” he said.

“That’s all right, I stumbled. I didn’t expect to see you so early. Are you going to the beach or just for a run?”

As Sandy tried to straighten up, she had not quite got her balance sorted out, and was in danger of toppling over. She held on to Robert who gradually helped her to regain her balance.

“Oh, dear! I’m falling all over the place”. When she had caught her breath back, she added, with a laugh and a smile, “I seem to be falling for you!”

Robert grinned back, “Not really! My appearance made you lose your balance. It’s my fault! In future, I will let you know I’m coming!”

“Well, people usually do!”

“What!” Then Robert smiled., “If we are likely to meet face to face, I’ll let you know. Please have a good day.”

“Thanks! You, too! I ‘m sure we’ll see each other before the day is through. Perhaps, at breakfast.”

“Yes, I should be back in time for that. See you later then.”

As Sandy continued back to the house, she was surprised at the obvious sensual banter, somewhat intimate, without being explicit, like when they talked on the Sunday night when they were driving home from the airport.
“I seem to be falling for you!
In future, I will let you know I’m coming!”
“If we are likely to meet face to face, I’ll let you know.

Sandy had to admit that she was intrigued by all this and wondered if the situation did arise, whether he would take the chance and be bold with her. It was such a long time since she held a man in loving embrace and this Robert excited her. She must have another after-dinner drink with him. He didn’t drink too much. He seemed to like wine, and nothing too strong like whisky and gin or rum. She loved her wine and enjoyed the feeling of warmth which she always got and which loosened her inhibitions enough to let her talk and imagine without going too far. Her glance at him in his running tights was enough to make her want to hold what she had seen outlined in his running gear, in her hands and to see how she could magnify it, make it elongate and increase in girth. That would be fun. But would he? She was coy. She did not let on that she would like him to be intimate with her. Just a little peck on the cheek, she had allowed him. Did she dare go any further, to allow some exploration, perhaps a touch here or there, but not there; would she be able to deny the fires in her that had long lay dormant, waiting only for the spark of excitement to inflame her private regions. She must have another drink, not alone, but with him. She must see how he responds. She will allow him, seemingly unintentionally, to go further, to touch her, to hold her breasts, and to hold her in his arms, and letting his fingers tease her, BUT no further!

They almost did not see each other at breakfast. Robert was late in getting back from his run and in his haste to get ready, he accidentally cut his chin while shaving. He then spent an inordinate amount of time getting himself cleaned up. Further, to compound matters, the zipper on his trousers malfunctioned so then he had to change what he was wearing, his trousers and a shirt to go with it, which meant some ironing to remove the travel creases. Eventually, he got down to breakfast just as Sandy was leaving to go shopping, to collect some supplies for the Apartments.

Realizing that he would not finish his breakfast in time to catch the shuttle to the Centre where he was doing his assignment, Sandy offered to wait for him - interpreted as a public relations gesture - which he accepted. On their way, after leaving Sandy Beach, Robert apologized for his lateness and told Sandy what had happened. She smiled and then made a suggestion. She said to him, “Robert, you are here for two weeks. I am going to make an offer, a purely platonic one, that you have your breakfast at my house. You can make use of the amenities there and all you will have to do is to purchase the food that you will need. I could write this up as one of the special offers that the guest house offers, so that it is official and that no hanky-panky is involved. You know what people are like, always in a hurry to find something salacious to gossip about. After all, the adjoining door between your room and my place is always locked and bolted and the key is kept in the main office. If you are in agreement, you could tell me what you want and when I am shopping this morning, I will get them for you. Sounds OK?”

Before replying, Robert looked Sandy directly at her face. The arrangement sounded very good to him, almost too good and his direct look was meant to spot any noticeable sign that there might be some little catch behind her proposal. He could detect none. It was just a business-like suggestion with obvious benefits for him. He wondered what might possibly be in it for her. His mind went to the banter they had earlier in the morning and their conversation on Sunday night, driving to the Apartment hotel. Not that he was suspicious, but so many things seemed to be going his way, and so quickly. Fate, perhaps?

“Yes, that sounds excellent to me. You are an adroit business woman, I must say. You are quick to see and make moves that might turn out to be very worthwhile for the Guest House, and for its guests also. A win-win situation!”

“Well, I did not think of it as a business venture, at least not at first. It was seeing you so rushed that I wanted to help to make things go more smoothly for you. I have to confess that I probably would not have done it so readily for the average guest, but, to be honest you seem much more pleasant that the average person that we get, and I am intrigued by your work in Information Technology and e-business. I am sure you might be able to help us improve our Internet facilities, for a consultancy fee, of course. I would not think of taking advantage of your capable skills without adequate remuneration.”

Robert laughingly said, “It would be a great pleasure to assist you in any way that I can when I have the time available. My firm’s clients can be very demanding!”

“Oh, I wouldn’t think of interrupting your commitments. I couldn’t do that. I would simply be most appreciative of any time that you could accommodate me, after hours, so to speak....” Sandy stopped abruptly.

“Oh,oh! I said that badly!” she continued. “Please don’t misunderstand what I mean. I...”

Before she could say any more, Robert interrupted with, “Oh, you don’t have to worry. I understand what you are saying. Sometimes, unintentionally, we say things that might be taken in a different light, depending on the circumstances. English can be a very funny language, full of holes to fall into if you are not careful how you say what you say and when and to whom you say it!” They both laughed, fully and clearly understanding all the innuendoes and plain speaking that their conversation had brought out. Robert wondered if they were saying what they really wanted to say but without saying it, leaving possibilities floating in the breeze to be grasped by anyone sufficiently brave to haul them in.


Just after five o’clock on Wednesday afternoon, Robert was relaxing on the balcony, reading a book from his Kindle and with his earphones plugged in. On the small balcony table, there is a glass with beads of moisture on the outside and inside, a clear, dark-brown liquid. Most persons might guess the liquid to be a popular brand of cola, but a certain giveaway would be the froth at the top of the clear liquid. This is an indication that it is a local drink, made from the bark of a tree, identified botanically as colubrina elliptica, sometimes called snakewood but which most people just call mauby! Robert loved mauby, especially when brewed from the bark with a little cinnamon and nutmeg added. Some people blended it with aniseed, the taste of which is so strong that it depreciates the full mauby flavour. In some islands they ferment it, making it taste even more bitter and, if you are not careful, could produce a brew that could make your knees wobble!

As he enjoyed his mauby and his Kindle, Robert was looking out for Sandy to, first of all, thank her for the shopping which she had done for him and, secondly, to invite her over for a ‘business drink’ during which time she could tell him how he might be able to help the Guest House with its Internet management, and so on.

At about a quarter past five o’clock, Sandy was just about to leave the manager’s office when the phone rang. She stopped to answer it and afterwards, almost wished she hadn’t. It was her cousin Olga.

“Hi Olga! What’s up?”

“Nothing serious. Just thought I’d let you know that the ‘competition’ is calling you a “sheep stealer”.

“What? What do you mean? Explain!”

Olga continued, with half a chuckle in her voice, “Well, apparently you have put somebody’s nose out of joint, at Mariners’ Edge. The Robert Stevens guy who came to us after a day at Mariners’ and who is lodging in the bed-sitter over by you...”

“Yes”, Sandy interrupted, “What about it?”

“Well, he left abruptly, claiming that the Internet there was not satisfactory, as we know that in this area, we have had some problems ourselves.”

“So what about that?”

“They promised that they would look into the matter for him as soon as possible. But he apparently told them that he needed a trusty system as his work depends on good internet usage. He said he would have to leave and find somewhere where the Internet was more dependable. He then asked to come here. Just like that!”

“So, how does that make me a sheep stealer, as you put it?”

“Well, someone recognized you as the person who took him to Mariners’ Edge, rather than one of the taximen. And that person says your farewell was, perhaps, more than cordial.”

“What the...what am I hearing?”

“Wait, let me finish!”

“Okay, go on!”

“You know how it is in this place. People always looking for news, and if they can’t find any, they are not above making some up. Well, someone saw the two of you in close embrace earlier this morning on the beach road and started the rumour.”
“Rumour! What rumour?”
“They say that you put the idea in his head that Sandy Beach was a better place to stay than Mariners’; that you could make special provision for him here and that he should find some reason to leave there as soon as he could! That’s the rumour!”
“What a load of rubbish! Can’t a person be helpful and courteous to a stranger, nowadays, without some overtone of dishonesty?”
“Well the fact that he left there to come here, and is lodging in the bed-sitter - which you know is often reserved for family and close friends and when space is needed urgently. Well, that would add fuel to their fire of outrage.”
“Olga, I cannot deny that I took him to Mariners’ Edge. His plane was late, over an hour and you know the taxi men do not like being all the way out here after dark. I recognized his predicament and I offered to help. What is so wrong in that?’
“Nothing, and knowing you, you would go out of your way to help. Trouble is, in this business, good deeds can always be attributed to ulterior motives.”
“It is true that we conversed along the way. Forty miles is a long way to travel in complete silence. I found that he is quite a pleasant person. And I must admit, I did think that it was a pity that he was going to Mariners’ and not coming to Sandy Beach. BUT I never for one moment put any ideas into his head about scrapping them and coming here. I would not do such an underhand thing.”
“Well, you did get your wish. Anyhow, what about this lovey-dovey business this morning?”
“There was nothing lovey-dovey about this morning! I was coming back from the beach and just around the corner by the two almond trees, I met him running down towards the beach. I was surprised and stumbled. He saw that I was falling and put out his arms to stabilize me. That was all. What was so lovey-dovey about that?”
“Maybe whoever say you and reported, just said what they wanted to say. The truth, yet not the whole truth.
“So, what am I to do? What are we to do? Send him back to Mariners saying that we have been accused of being sheep stealers and therefore we are returning him to the fold?”
Olga laughed! “Don’t be silly!” She paused and then said, “Perhaps we need to be careful in how we pay attention to him. If we are observed to be treating him specially, then the rumours will be sure to intensify. Anyhow, don’t worry too much about it. Just be careful in what you say and do.”


Sandy drove over to the Manager’s House as she didn’t really want to be seen walking with the bag of groceries that she had got for Robert. She was glad that she had left them in the Land Rover and that Olga had not seen them. Given what Olga had told her, it might have led to unnecessary questions and, innocent though it was, the purchase of the items for Robert might have caused Olga to feel that there was more than professional interest in the welfare of that guest. When she reached the MH (Manager’s House), Sandy parked in her garage rather than the lay by closer to Robert’s quarters. Had Olga not spoken to her, she would have parked in the lay by, and taken the bag of groceries through the front door, regardless of whoever was around. Now, she felt a little bit intimidated because of what her cousin had just told her. She would take them over to Robert later but would call him before so that he would know that she had not forgotten him.

Some time later, as Robert was preparing to get himself ready to go to the Restaurant for dinner at 7 o’clock, he thought he heard a nearby knocking. It wasn’t at the front door, which was a glass sliding door with a door bell and wind chimes which made a very pleasant sound when the wind caused the many sized cylindrical tubes to collide with each other. The sound wasn’t behind him where he had left the balcony and it seemed too close to have been on Sandy’s side of the house. He paused and listened. There it was again, a little bit more insistent, he thought. Where on earth was it coming from? Did the house have hidden rooms and doors and perhaps cupboards as well. And then, suddenly he realized that it was coming from the direction of the adjoining door to the MH.. He walked over and uttered an inquisitive, “Hello?” A slightly breathless reply came back: “Mr Stevens? It is me, Sandy Rogers. Sorry to come to see you by this means without due warning! If you open the door, I can explain. She added with what seemed to be a nervous chuckle, “I hope you are decent”, and with the slightest of pauses, added, “ in attire that is! I have some things here for you.”
“I’m never indecent, I am always decent, unless it can’t be helped - which is seldom the case. I guess I have to unbolt the door. These bolts look big and stiff.”
“Not surprising. This entrance hasn’t been used for a while, so they must be a trifle rusty. They could probably do with some oiling. There are no bolts on this side, just a double lock, which makes it easy, once you have the key.”
With little difficulty, the communicating door was opened. On Sandy’s side, the door led into a passage with a corner coming up about thirty feet away and no indication of what was beyond the corner. Sandy had changed from her working wear to something loose that allowed easy body movement but which was not overly casual. Any light breeze would cause the material of her bodice to sway along the contours of her upper half. The bottom half was more form-fitting yet the garment was not indecently tight but hugged enough to satisfy an appreciative glance. As she spoke to Robert, she did not seem to be as calm as he would have expected her to be. Her manner betrayed some degree of anxiety, and her choice of entrance made him think that there was a particular reason for that choice.
“Mr Stevens, I’m sorry I had to use this mode of entry, I was to call you, but something has come up which put me off a bit, and I ...forgot!” As I was leaving the office, my cousin Olga told me something which surprised me somewhat and I wanted to let you know about it as it concerns you. I suppose, it got me angry and ...”
“Whoa, calm down, you have me all at sea because I don’t know what you are talking about.!”
“”I know, I know, that’s why I came to tell you.” She paused. “I’m sorry, I’m just so agitated... Let me start properly. First of all, here are the things I managed to get for you from the supermarket. I hope you will find them all to your liking. I selected the brands that I either liked, or thought you would like. I hope you won’t be disappointed.”
“Thank you very much. I do appreciate what you have done. Not only your suggestion, but your execution. Now, before we go any further, let me offer you a drink - as short or as long as you would like - and then you can explain to me all that I need to know. Does that sound reasonable? I guess you are probably going out, judging by your attire, so I won’t keep you any longer than you want. But I would like to know what has got you so agitated as all the time I have seen you since my arrival, you have been cool, confident and very capable.”

Sandy thanked Robert for his comment, accepted his hospitality in the form of a glass of wine, the kind which she liked, and which she had included in his grocery bag. In better composure than when she entered the room, she told him what Olga had told her. Robert listened without interrupting her, though at one or two instances, his faced creased into a smile, and he did raise his eyebrows also once or twice. When she had finished, he took her hands thoughtfully in his and said, “Sandy, you don’t mind if I call you Sandy, do you - at least when we are having a private discussion. In public we shall give each other due deference and you shall be Mrs Rogers, or Ms Rogers, whichever you prefer, and you can call me Mr Stevens. What you have told me is very interesting, for a number of reasons. First, let me tell you that you are not, as you have been called, a ‘sheep-stealer’. That is a most insulting and degrading remark that has been made and there are simply no grounds for it. The Internet situation at Mariner’s Edge was simply intolerable and the management did not make an immediate effort to rectify it. They could not really unless they make a substantial investment in equipment and software. At the best, there is insufficient bandwidth to satisfy their customers, the security is nothing to shout about, and they seriously need to acquire up to date materials and manpower. I have to tell you though, that your situation is slightly better than theirs simply because you have fewer customers/guests to satisfy and your infrastructure is more up to date. However, if you are going to be able to compete profitably in the next two to five years, you need to do some serious thinking about your plans for development. The minimum in today’s world, internationally, is free wi-fi and security that is capable of withstanding malicious attacks, competent hacking and the use of ransom ware. But more about that another time. Out here at Northumberland, Mariners’ Edge and your place are the only ones capable of providing the kind of Internet coverage that would be useful to me. So, if theirs becomes inadequate, there really is only one other place to turn to: Sandy Beach Guest House - by the way, I think you should change it to something else because this really is more than the average Guest House.

“Second”, he continued after taking a sip from his own glass of wine, “I really have to thank you for a number of things. You came to my rescue at the airport after my flight arrived late and the local taximen were not too willing to offer their services. Perhaps, and I wish I did not have to say this, but this is reality, if I had been obviously a tourist, with a white complexion, a dumb look and someone likely to grease their palms with an enormous tip at the end of the ride to Mariners’, someone might have acquiesced. I despaired of being able to get to my destination on Sunday night. Lady Fortune smiled on me. In the shape and form of Mrs Sandy Rogers, she appeared on the scene, took matters into her hands and brought me safely to my intended lodgings before Sunday turned to Monday. Not only that, but the same Lady Fortune engaged me in many delicious discourses along the way causing me to reveal much more than a stranger would willingly disclose to even an acquaintance of many years duration. Sandy, you interested me and you captivated me. I would be telling no lie to admit that I counted it a pity that I should have to spend the night at Mariners’ Edge and not at your place of management. It was not without some pleasantness that I was forcibly able to change my place of accommodation to be able to come here. But Lady Fortune had much more for me in store. My run to the beach in the early morning, your stumble in surprise, on seeing me, my willingness and ability to prevent you from falling by catching you and holding you in my arms, even though for a fleeting moment, our exchange of words of ambiguous meaning, you cannot imagine how it has stirred me up. These could not have been just plainly fortuitous. When you include your offer to me, on account of my hurrying in getting ready and my tardiness in getting to breakfast, your cousin’s relay of information about the rumour - which I am sure we shall hear more about - leading to your use of the seldom used communicating door (which I now am thinking of as a secret passage), I have to confess I am too much of a romantic not to think that we have come to this place and time in our lives for a reason.”

Sandy didn’t quite know how to respond to this. She looked at Robert, started to say something, paused before any words actually came out, took a sip of wine and walked over to the door leading to the balcony. Turning around, she said, “Mr Stevens, no - sorry, Robert, I don’t quite know how to reply to you. Your words have set a lot of wheels spinning in my head. You have been forthright and frank. I don’t know if I can trust myself to do so at this time. Everything has happened so quickly and the week is only four days old. To be fair to you, I must let you know that you captured my interest on Sunday night, and I was more than pleased to be able to offer you alternative accommodation when you left Mariner’s Edge. I cannot put my finger on quite what it is that has warmed me to you. I will be bold and say that I do think of you more often that I do of the average guest and I enjoy your company, spending time with you over a glass of wine and having wide-ranging conversations, not to mention statements with ambiguous meanings, some with clear sensual overtones. It has been so long since I have had this kind of meaningful social interaction and word play - banter, you call it - that it has thrilled me enormously. We need to have a serious talk about this ‘rumour’ that Olga has just told me about and decide how we should respond to it, if at all. I used the ‘secret passage’ as you called it because I did not want to bring attention, unnecessarily, to (as I guess some people would see it) my bringing you grocery shopping after office hours, dressed in very casual attire. That would probably add grist to the ‘lovey-dovey’ mill! Tell you what! Let us dine separately, as we probably would have done anyway, and afterwards have an after dinner drink. That would give me time to think about how best we can work out a plan of action for the remaining time you will be here.
* * *
The after-dinner meeting was cordial in every sense of the word. It started with an air of almost mischievous delight when Sandy used the “secret passage” to meet Robert at his place. Sandy opted for a Kahlua while Robert settled for an Irish coffee that included some Glenfiddich. He wasn’t really into heavy drinks, but felt that their meeting was special, even if only unusual. The conversation started with both of them affirming the quality of the meal, the ambience in the Restaurant, the music, the lighting, even though they ate at different tables and not at the same time. Eventually, the topic got around to the ‘plan of action’ - how they were going to scotch the rumour that Olga had mentioned and prevent others from taking too much of an interest in their relationship. Robert rubbed his chin with his left hand and said, “You know, Sandy, we are thinking too far ahead of ourselves. You speak of a relationship. We don’t have one - yet!” Sandy was about to say something, but Robert stopped her, pointing his forefinger in the air just in front of her face. “Wait, don’t say anything yet! Let’s look at our situation matter-of-factly. We have known each other approximately72 hours, or rather, it is less than 80 hours since we met. Fate has directed our meetings so that they have been neither boring nor inconsequential. Indeed she has engendered feelings in us that the average couple would have taken weeks to encounter. I will be honest and say that your conversations and your kindnesses have awakened an interest in me that I thought I would not feel for anyone outside my marriage partner, and those such feelings have, over the course of the last few years, greatly abated. You stir me up and, I hope you don’t mind me saying so, if I were younger and single and disengaged, I would certainly hope that I could be one to stir your honey pot! I mention this because I want you to be aware of the effect you have on me and it must be taken into account in how we conduct ourselves.
In the way that people speak of relationships nowadays, we don’t have a relationship apart from the business one pertaining to being a guest in your family establishment. We know nothing of any rumour apart from what you have been told by Olga. Is what she said true? Has she really heard something said? Is it possible that she may be using a sprat to catch a whale, hinting at possible scenarios hoping to find out something intriguing? Had she seen me preventing your fall this morning, she could hardly call that ‘lovey-dovey’. In fact anyone who had us in view could only be intent on spreading a malicious rumour by referring to the circumstances as ‘lovey-dovey’. I say that we should ignore or at least play down what you have been told, and act as you normally would towards a guest who has attracted your interest, but without going overboard about it.”
“Robert, you caused a shock - and a flutter - when, speaking of relationships, you said we don’t have one - yet! My mind was fanciful when you started, but when you said ‘yet’, your words jolted me. I had a rush of thoughts immediately. On the one hand I fancied you in my imagination yet realizing that it was nothing that would come about for three reasons. First, you were not available because you are not free, single and disengaged and second, you did not seem to be the person to start a casual relationship just for the fun of it without due care and concern for your partner - both at home and abroad, so to speak, and thirdly, there was simply not enough time for any kind of relationship to develop. I, too, have a confession to make: in the short time (less than 80 hours as you put it) since we met, there has been some kind of magnetic pull towards you that increases each time I see you. It is as though I do not have complete control over myself, neither in mind nor body and, yes, as you so sweetly put it, you make my honey pot tingle and I am sure you have the right stick to stir it. BUT, again to be honest, I don’t quite see how that is going to happen.”
“Well, let’s just be comfortable in what we do, whether privately or publicly. As you have said, the time for any thing to develop is short- that might be a blessing or a curse. Let us be positive, be our natural selves and let our togetherness be a blessing. I sense the hand of fate around us and I am prepared to let her guide us to whatever place she wants us to be.”
“Yes, Robert, I have a sense that everything is not under our control, but I am not fearful about it.” Sandy paused and then continued, “Well, my dear, today has been exhausting. It has had its moments. And I could do with a good rest. Come, let me thank you for easing my anxiety. You sure know how to make a woman feel good.” With those words, Sandy got up and they walked into each other’s arms. Just then, as if on cue, the lights went out - a power outage - and they were in darkness. “Don’t worry”, she said, “the generator will cut in for the main building, but not over in your section here. However, there are some portable LEDs here which work quite well. I’ll show you where they are in a minute. First let me thank you. You don’t mind me doing it in darkness, do you?”
“Of course not. Sometimes, it is better not to see what’s happening. You can imagine, and you can let your sense of touch tell you what is what.”
Warmly, they embraced. Robert felt Sandy’s lips upon his lips and as his lips parted, he could feel a probing tongue making its way into his mouth. This was no goodnight peck upon the cheeks, this was a passionate kiss of the French variety. For some seconds, which felt more like minutes, their tongues played with each other, sending pulses of nervous energy to various parts of their bodies. Arms and hands then started to play a more active role: they hugged and squeezed working in unison but provoking exciting harmonies. Like an orchestra, violins together, trumpets together, flutes together, yet interspersed in such a way that the output was stirring and exciting and wonderfully blended. Then, similarly to the way in which a solo piano would be called upon to introduce a new tune to add to the flavour of the orchestral mix, a single hand sought, and found, the masculine bulge below his waist. There was a gentle, lingering squeeze and he could feel the increased flow in his veins as a gentle massage occurred. She said, “I hope you don’t mind.” What could he say? He hesitated briefly, and then quietly and clearly said, “No, not at all.”

Her hand remained in position, and so did he. Following her lead, he gently squeezed her and moved his hand to the join of her legs, where there was some warmth and, he thought, a wetness? There was a slight tremble at his touch and a gentle moan when he squeezed. And then, without a sound, but with a startling brightness, the lights came on again. Electrical power had been restored and rational power barged in. It was as though an invisible hand had intervened to prevent further progress. Their actions stopped, they looked each other in the face.
“Let’s not start what we can’t finish”, she said, to which he calmly replied, “Yes, we had better stop before we get carried away – without a plan!”
* * *
Now, at 2.15 a.m. there he was, thinking about her, unable to get to sleep. Having returned from the bathroom, he was just thinking of her and how the evening had ended - quite different from a peck on the cheek.
Even though they had let it be known how they were excited about each other, he had not really expected her actions - a passionate kiss and a squeeze ? How improbable – and yet it happened. How much further would she have gone, he wondered. She knew that he was married but what she didn’t know was the fact that he and his mate had not made love for well over a year and a half. Did it show? How would she know that he needed companionship and tender, loving care. He needed a woman, not just any woman, but one who would understand his needs and also understand his situation. He would never give up his partner. But he was a man, he had urges, he would not go out of his way to liaise with any other woman. Sometimes, the urges were so strong that he would have to find relief in some way. As he would have to do now. He eased his shorts off and put his hand between his legs. Gently, very gently, he touched himself and pretended that some other hands were touching him. Female hands, teasing hands, Sandy’s hands. He thought of her playing with him, putting him here, and there, and everywhere. Tempting, teasing, caressing and suppressing his urge to enter her moistness, her cavern of secret delights. Now, flat on his back with his instrument of delight standing erect and regal, standing tall in the dim light of the room, he imagined her mounting his steed and positioning her opening directly above his rigid banana and slowly, but surely, lowering herself on this organ of delight, sliding down and gliding up, almost effortlessly, made smooth by the juices of passion and fervour. Up and down, intoxicatingly, with a gasp on the descent and a moan on the ascent, a motion so controlled by the rider, that the speed and intensity were all that she could desire. No wonder some women like to be on top. They know exactly which parts they want to press, and where and how often and how deliciously. She could rock backwards and forwards, from left to right or just up and down, up and down. Oh! what sweet motions and gyrations ensue. When she came down, he would rise up to meet her; when she began to withdraw, he would move with her to make sure that no contact was lost. As her breathing and her movements increased, so would his ministrations to her nipples, touching, twirling, squeezing, and from time to time, his hands would move to appreciate the roundness of her rump, squeezing each half and pressing them into him to magnify and electrify the sensations which had enveloped his whole self. Oh, goodness! What a warm, enticing feeling, what breathtaking sensations, as they get more and more noticeable, dispelling any thoughts of wanting to stop.

He felt the urges escalate within him. He moved his legs from one position to another. He was being overwhelmed with excitement and almost uncontrollably his whole body seemed to take on a new energy. All over him seemed on fire. Not just his loins, but all over - chest, arms, ears, head, everywhere. He fidgeted. He writhed. He kicked. He started battling with the pillows. One went here, one went there. One hand took total control of his organ. From top to bottom; from head to shaft to crown jewels. As an organist, he played a lively melody around the head, then andantes along the shaft, the trumpets and the flutes and the trombones all had their moments. As the excitement grew he played rousing fanfares - no more andantes, this was the time for allegros and allegrettos. He arched his back as if he were a conductor bringing the orchestra to a stupendous climax. With a flourish, he imagined a volcanic eruptive cast of semen rushing their way along the female passage of sensual orgasmic delights. He had reached the pinnacle. A clash of cymbals, not once, not twice but thrice! He was not disappointed. He had come. He had come. He had come! He hoped that by some telepathic means, Sandy would come too. Now he could sleep. But not only did he sleep, he had dreams, dreams of Sandy walking along the secret passage and going to her room. He dreamed of her as she prepared herself for rest, comfortable and happy and peaceful. His dream was in beautiful technicolor, as all his dreams were and they always seemed so real, as if what he dreamed was really happening. Sandy, getting herself ready for bed, carrying out her bedtime routines.

Sandy had walked back to her place in a mixture of thoughts and feelings. That brief period of darkness when the electricity was off proved to be very revealing. It told her, in no uncertain way, how strong the power of attraction was between Robert and her. How on earth was she going to be able to control herself? If anything were to happen – and she felt sure that something would happen – it would happen very much sooner rather than later. She half expected that he would hug her closely, perhaps let his hands explore the contours of her body, touch her breasts, squeeze the nipples, gradually working his way along her body, but, no! He went straight for the jugular! Directly to her pussy! He touched the softness of her flesh, squeezed her vulva, and moving his fingers through her pubic hair, he felt the wetness of her labia and the heat in her crotch. He could guess how much she anticipated him stirring her honey pot with his stick, and what a stick it was. She could feel it in her hands. The outline in his running shorts that morning was exciting, creating a sense of enquiry, and causing a gleeful anticipation of what might be lying there, dormant. In her imagination she had seen what could be aroused by loving manipulation by excited hands. Now those hands could not be restrained from reaching out and, not only touching, but seeking to enfold. She really could not imagine what would have happened had the lights not come back on so unexpectedly. It was as if the traffic lights had suddenly turned red without the warning amber. There was an immediate impulse to stop from her brain. She was very glad that he had agreed with her not to start that which could not be finished.
However she mused about what he really meant by what he said. He clearly knew her number, how to get her going. Wasn’t this going too far too fast? She was hot and a little bothered because she could not think straight. Everything seemed to be going too fast for her equilibrium. She would have to cool herself before she went to sleep, she must steady herself and deal with her body’s present demands. Her desire for fulfilment had been aroused. The energies sparked between them, in that short period of darkness, had inflamed her and she knew that before she could have a pleasant, comfortable, peaceful night’s rest, she would have to ‘please herself” or as one friend, Hannah, used to say, “give herself something to smile about!”. Hannah would often greet her at the start of the day with a WhatsAp stating, “ I had a smile early this morning!” Yes, Sandy would have to have a smile!

After a warm shower, Sandy used a soft fluffy towel to dry herself and followed that up with a moisturizing lotion that she got from a specialist store overseas which also supplied her with her massage oils, creams and gels. These came in a variety of flavours and accents. From early on, soon after her college days, she had become very interested in aromatherapy and Swedish massage and when the Guest House was opened some ten years ago, one of the attractions was the availability of massage for all sorts and conditions of the guests who might be interested: massage for seniors, massage for children, including infants as well, exercise massage, deep tissue massage and various other forms of treatment. After the Guest House had grown and expanded by the addition of two extensions, she was able to acquire one full-time and one part-time person to deal with the massage interests that guests might have. She was still able, in times of necessity, to fill in to satisfy a particular demand and she did so with a view to retaining her expertise. When her husband had been alive, he benefitted greatly from her ministrations, in much the same way as she had benefitted from his. She thought of the way he used his hands to relase the tension in her body, to soothe the aching muscles in her legs when she had done her long weekend walks. She remembered the gliding motion of his hands as they moved from knee to upper thigh, circling on the inside and causing little tremors as his finger tips approached and touched the perimeter of her private area, sometimes outlining its periphery and sometimes, apparently unintentionally, touching that sensitive nub of hers, as they wandered through the brown curls of her pubic hair, soft and silken to his touch.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she lightly rubbed some of her mix along her front from head to feet and several places in between. She paid particular attention to her upper thighs and her private areas, applying just enough to allow her hands and her fingers to slide effortlessly along her smooth skin, whose complexion reflected a history of racial intertwining but one in which it would be difficult to guess at the proportions of the different races, african, oriental, european which contributed to the final visual impact on those who saw her.

The two recessed lights in the wall, dim and directed upwards to the ceiling, helped to produce an atmosphere of calm enchantment, enhanced by the aroma from the lavender and geranium scented candle on a nearby table. She felt no need to rush. Her urgency had died down, and she positioned herself, on her back, on her towel with one leg bent at the knee with the feet flat on the bed and the other leg lying straight out before her.

Albinoni’s Adagio in G Minor https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XMbvcp480Y4 was the music that Sandy selected to start her night of delight. The violins and organ and strings set the background for the movement of her hands along her thighs and across her upper body. Her hands attended first to her chest with her fingers performing gentle circular motions on her breasts, kneading and squeezing, and touching and twirling the nipples, sometimes alternately, sometimes simultaneously. One hand continues its ministrations on the left breast while the other hand makes its way downward, pausing at intervals to make what appeared to be random motions, rubbing from one side to the other, down the area from breast to waist and playfully rubbing her navel. The left hand then joins the right, palms down moving with gentle pressure along the curly haired pubic mound till they encounter a pea-like bump just above a glistening opening, a centre of delight, a place where joyous expectations can be fulfilled and bring mind-blowing excitements sometimes too marvellous to explain. As her hands touched the outer lips of her vulva, she adjusts her right leg so that she is more comfortable and can ‘expose’ herself more and more as her excitement increases. Her fingers engage in deft touching as her mind guides them to those areas which abound in sensitivity, so that each touch of her lips and each gentle rub of her clitoris causes her body to squirm and move to the little sharp but enjoyable pangs of voluptuousness. She moans, briefly and almost silently. Her legs move, not by her own intent, but as if urged by some unseen power. Her private cave secretes wetness, as if love’s dews cannot be contained and as the wetness grows, so does the slippery feeling of sweetness, urging her to continue to stroke and caress her femininity. The yearning increases, she raises her bottom and she opens even wider her legs to expose her channel of love to whoever or whatever would like to enter and to fill her and ultimately fulfil her. She longs to fo feel an organ inside her touching the sides of her inner cave, all along its length and by movement in and out, massaging her and satisfying her with every lascivious thrust, deeper and deeper till it can go no further and she can feel its head bruising her insides and causing her to abandon herself totally and helplessly in the ferment of love’s harmonious unison. The pulsating and almost frenzied opening of Holst’s Jupiter [ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MhHwr1tLrrY ] matches her excitement and the lively motion of her fingers as they touch, titillate, massage and enter her, swiftly but yet with care and tenderness, since they know where to go and what to do and how to do it best. An unyielding yearning to go on and on, like from dusk until dawn, never ceasing but only increasing, pelvic thrusts and rotating hips, upward movement with sighs, and gasps and moans followed by a downward subsidence as if to recharge for the very next upward thrust of approaching ecstacy. Ultimately, there comes the giddy excitement of a climax, the peak of pleasure as in the rush of a mighty wind taking you to heights of splendour that can only be reached by love’s eruptive forces. Yet, even for so delightful an ending, perfection has been denied. There is a need for sharing, to make the feelings complete and completely sweet. The pleasant surprises that one gets from another being, with you, and in you, underneath you or on top of you are specially sublime and there are no substitutes for it. True love was, and is, and is meant to be, shared. No amount of self love, or even selfish loving can really compare to the togetherness shared by two in love and harmony with each other. But, the saying is true, half a loaf is better than no loaf, especially when you are very hungry. Nevertheless, there will always be the craving for that which truly satisfies, love of, and love by, a given someone as you would love yourself, with sincerity and kindness.

Sandy enjoyed herself, she smiled, not once but twice. She had been very hungry, starving almost, and her appetite was ferocious. The recent events of the week, particularly, the last few hours, had made her ravenous and she needed to be satisfied. Perhaps the occurrence of the power outage brought her need into focus and, had it not been for the power returning, she felt sure she would have shamed herself into making it known to Robert, a complete stranger up to a few days ago, how much she wanted him to stir her honey pot. In fact, in what could be only be considered an act of madness - nowadays, that would surely be classified as sexual harassment - she had brazenly grabbed him below the belt, and not only that, aroused him with her meaningful strokes! True, he had not told her off or shoved her away. Regardless of that, she had been out of order. She owed him an apology and she resolved not to get carried away like that again. She must be reserved and in complete control of her feelings. She must lot let him go as far as he went tonight. Perhaps he was simply indicating to her, in response to her overture, the magnitude of what she had done to him.

After her solitary pleasures, her lack of partnership did not allow her to experience that afterglow that should usually follow satisfying lovemaking. She took out her tablet and Googled the Internet to find two pieces that she knew would calm her and ensure a peaceful rest:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mpgyTl8yqbw

and

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4fvo_iOuSck


END OF CHAPTER 1
(To be continued)