After an early Spring morning jog along the Charles River, she dashed back to her apartment, quickly showered, changed into cool tan linen slacks and a black cotton tee, grabbed a yogurt smoothie and ran to her car, brushing out her streaming hair as she went.  Traffic was a bitch as usual, slowing her down to a snail's pace and adding to her pique, so when she arrived at the university, she zoomed rowdily into her parking spot with a feeling of entitlement.  She struggled crankily from the parking area, into the elevator, trying to find a finger not previously engaged to press the button up to her office floor, juggling briefcase, test papers, coffee, purse, smoothie and newly arrived mail.  It was too hot for her comfort and she felt herself becoming increasingly irritated with how slowly everything was moving.  Finally arriving at her floor, a sheen of sweat on her upper lip, she re-arranged her arm load of items and pushed her door open with her shoulder, and welcomed the blast of cool air from the air conditioner someone had thoughtfully turned on before she got in.  She had lived in Boston through college and grad school but doubted she would ever get used to the schizophrenic New England weather changes. 

The gold embossed sign on her door announced that she was Haven W. Keyes, M.Ed., Professor of  History/Languages.   With her class no doubt already in attendance, patiently awaiting her arrival, she had little time to settle down, cool off, and relax.  She looked briefly at the mail as she sipped iced coffee, brushed her long, dark-auburn-streaked-with-gold-highlights hair back into a pony tail, secured it with a clip, and generally multi-tasked briskly in preparation for her students. The return address on one piece of mail said DreamWorks Studios - "Interesting, she thought, now, what the hell could that be?"  Much later, when she looked back on the occasion in retrospect, she realized how unforgettable the day she received said letter was because it ultimately proved to be the turning point in her life - an offer that basically was the opportunity of a lifetime.

Haven was a recognized scholar, English and history teacher, esteemed, well connected, with a network of peers.  Her special fields were ancient history and languages.  DreamWorks had gotten word of her prestigious reputation from a  grateful and admiring ex-student of hers who was working in films  on the west coast as a script writer and had offered her name as a candidate for the historical expert they were searching out for a film they were currently doing pre-production on.  In the letter they offered her a position as a consulting film historian on an upcoming period epic which was to star the famously infamous Rick Crowell.

Despite the fact that she was so deeply entrenched in her tenured academic niche at the university, she secretly longed for a new experience, and this certainly sounded apropos to that quest.  After class, with trembling fingers, she phoned the contact person referenced in the letter and promptly accepted the offer.  Exhilaration was building by the moment.  She made the immediate decision to take some long overdue,  hard-earned, much needed time off, and started her travel plans to be in south Texas where the preliminaries of the film were beginning within the next two weeks.  She felt a heightened sense of animation and excitement with every detail of her plan as she laid it out on paper, studying the factors pro and con, making scribbled little notes to herself on the borders of her yellow legal pad as she wrote out her agenda.  She was nothing if not meticulously organized.

Compared to New England's quirky weather, Texas was the scathing pits of hell.  It was an enormous, flat, dust-dry, ridiculously hot skillet of a place.  From the airport to her taxi to her hotel she swore she lost a quart of fluid from her body.  Not at her best in the heat, (which was a nice way of stating that it put her in primo bitch mode),  she checked into her hotel, grabbed a cold juice from the hotel fridge and showered under chilling sprays of cool water.  After her long shower, somewhat assuaged, she poured through her suitcases and chose an outfit to change into that felt cool and floaty on her body.  She chugged down a diet coke and called her old college girlfriend, Jackie.  Jackie and Haven, sister-like friends since college, had remained close despite the current miles between them.  Jackie now lived, conveniently for Haven at this juncture, in the nearby lone star area sweating out her Masters while working as a riding instructor at a local ranch/riding academy.   They made plans to meet for a drink and some much needed supper.  

Haven rented a car and went looking for the popular bar/restaurant chosen by Jackie, as 'best bbq in town,' and spent a frustrated hour getting lost before she finally found it.  She wanted to appear as unobtrusively as possible, and to not bring attention to herself as the latest Yankee from up north to stare at and make fun of her accent, so she chose an outfit she was convinced wouldn't give any clues to the fact that she wasn't a local.  The attire she chose was a short, silk, navy blue and white polka-dot, halter top dress with a flirty hem that showcased her spectacular, long, tanned legs.  She wore a black cowboy hat and black cowboy boots.  Her long hair swung freely down her back.  She wore a light frosty gold blush on her cheeks, berry-colored lip gloss, and wore small gold hoops in her ears.  She was confident she fit right into the western pub scene.  

Jackie was already there waiting for her and exuberantly shrieked her greeting from across the room when she caught sight of Haven's lithe, graceful form entering the darkened bar area.  The two women ran to each other and flung their arms around one another, squealing in delight.  It had been months since their last visit, they had missed each other very much and loved each other dearly.  If opposites attracted, these were the perfect example.  Haven was all propriety, order, caution and fastidiousness; Jackie was a cyclone.  They were a perfect match. 

Their uninhibited, boisterous reunion was viewed with amusement by the bars' patrons and their girlish shrieks caused Rick to look up with interest from his position at the horseshoe bar where he was giving his bottle of Shiner the undivided attention he felt it deserved.  When her image jumped out of the dim bar lighting at him, his pulse jumped alarmingly.  She was throwing slim tanned arms around her shorter, red haired friend, her own hair swinging in front of her face with the force of the hug.  White teeth shone brightly in a sun bronzed, symmetrically perfect oval face.  Her mouth was full, lips a rich berry color, with a petulantly soft looking lower lip; her bright laughter was melodic and contagious. He found himself smiling as if he was privy to their joyful reunion conversation.  She was an image of exquisite exotic beauty unlike anything he had ever seen and she took his breath away.  Immediately his fertile mind went into overdrive trying to devise a plan whereby he could draw her into conversation as soon, and as inconspicuously, as possible.  Conversely, shortly afterward, both  women came up to the bar and stood next to him to order a round of drinks for their table, and the best he could come up with when her bright, deep blue-gray eyes found his was,

"God, darlin', do I know you?"

She stared, not breathing, and smiled.  She knew exactly who he was, and was suddenly unnerved.  His impossibly brilliant, long-lashed blue-green eyes were eating up her face as he offered her his hand. 

"Well, not yet." she said easily, and took his hand in hello, trying not to betray the fact that his proximity created waves of nervous tension in her stomach. 

They spent the rest of the afternoon at the bar rather than at their table, talking with Rick and his entourage, drinking, laughing, flirting and having the bawdiest best time she could ever remember.  He asked her to dance repeatedly, amazing her with his grace and ability on the dance floor.  He had a way of holding her that was intimate, sensual, yet not overly invasive.  His voice, whiskey and honey, rumbled in her ear going straight to her clit which pulsed as though he was pressing his finger on it.  Their chemistry heated considerably.  Warning bells went off in her head as her panties dampened warmly.  Unaware of this, Rick was busily admiring everything about her.  Thorough in everything he did, he asked her a lot of questions -  where she was from, why she was in Texas, what kind of work she did, what was the accent he detected, her relationship with Jackie, as if he was compiling a dossier on her. 

She mystified herself because she found that she gave him only the sketchiest information, without outright untruths, about why she was there.  She didn't want him to know at that time she was going to be working with him on the very project that he was currently involved in.   Maintaining a standard of professional ethics was important to her and it meant keeping a safe distance from emotional entanglements.  Prudence suggested she not mix romance with business and she definitely felt the seductive pull of his magnetism.  As she spent the long afternoon-into- evening with him, she tried not to stare too obviously into his intense gaze as he talked, regaled them with stories, and charmed her to distraction.  It had always been a matter of proper ethics to her that she keep work relationships a separate entity from personal and social interactions.  This time, however, she soon conceded the battle and was a casualty long before the night ended.   Rick astutely observed, deeply intrigued, not only her beauty, but the dexterity of her mind, her quick wit, and the slick way she evaded most of his prying questions. 

The evening wore on, the brew flowed freely, the mood intensified, until Jackie, yawned ungraciously, and announced that if Haven was going to meet her early morning commitment, she'd "better get her ass in gear."  Haven and Rick looked quickly at one another, reluctant to bring the magic to an end.  His warm hand was rubbing small circles into her lower back, rendering her boneless, as she sat beside him nursing her beer.  He tried to postpone the inevitability of saying good night, but Haven knew she must go, and soon, before she had a chance to change her mind, drag him into the dark parking lot and have her way with him, like she really wanted to.  When he asked for her number, she gave him Jackie's, telling him she wouldn't be available for a couple of days because of career commitments.  His brows arched suspiciously at the ambiguous nature of her explanation, but he accepted it without question. 

All the way back to Jackie's where Haven had been invited to stay for the time being, the two friends argued over her 'deception.'  Haven felt justified that she had not revealed all her cards at their first meeting.  Jackie told her she was just postponing the inevitable - that she deluded herself and misled Rick.  She accused her of showing bad form when she basically lied to him, and warned her, "Girl, God help you when he finds out who you really are.  He'll go out of his rabid-ass mind.  The shit will hit the fan - count on it."  Jackie could be counted on to be colorfully, brutally honest at all times. 

When, after a shower and a cup of tea, Haven finally lay her head on her pillow, sleep eluded her.  She was a mass of doubt concerning her mysterious evasive rationale and she subsequently dreaded her next, and inevitable, meeting with Rick. 

Rick called Jackie's number the very next day but she explained to him Haven was at "meetings" and couldn't be reached.  After the third call, baffled and more than a trifle pissed off, he didn't call again.

It was a few days later at a meeting on the set when they finally officially met as co-workers on the current film project.  All the players were in attendance around a table under a heavy blue tarp to protect them from the unrelenting Texas sun, but allowing what breezes existed to blow through.  Rick's shiny head was down, his hair fell forward and covered his cheek.  He was deep in conversation, speaking in quiet tones with the man who sat beside him.  It was only when the meeting and film director spoke up as he spied her quick, unobtrusive slide into an empty seat, and announced expansively,  "Everyone, I'd like to introduce you all to our newest team member, our expert in  history and languages for this project, Haven Keyes,"  that Rick looked up.

 His eyes flew open in complete shock.  She read his perplexed expression and immediately knew with bitter regret that it had been a huge mistake for her to have withheld the truth from him.  He worked quickly to recover his equilibrium, then stared coldly at her, nodded when they were introduced, and ignored her for the rest of the meeting.   

He couldn't comprehend why or how she could attempt to deceive him.  The audaciousness of it rendered him unable to deal with her on any level but fury and he seethed with it.  It bubbled out of him at every given opportunity from that day and throughout the following days of shooting.  He considered it an act of flagrant discourtesy that she would deliberately mislead him.  Whenever she was called upon for her area of expertise, he would invariably interrupt, interject his own ideas, and question her authority of the subject.  He never referred to their previous acquaintance and dealt with her only on a superficial, business level.  He refused to admit to himself that she had humiliated him by needing  to conceal who she was in front of him as if he was some kind of threat.  His feelings were hurt all the more keenly because of his extreme attraction to her, which annoyed him, and his pride had been severely wounded by what he considered to be her duplicitous dishonesty.  The icing on the cake was that she refused to grant him the apotheosis he considered was his due as the star of the project.  She wouldn't even look at him. 

He had reduced her to feeling inconsequential and effete.  Her resentment of him grew to monumental proportions.  She refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he upset her, and continued to freely offer her considerable knowledge on the subject matter essential to the project when it was requested.  The film took place in the 1800's in the rich soup of historical drama known as the early West.  

Rick was relentlessly obstreperous whenever the mood struck him and at every  opportunity delighted in raising doubts about her credentials and her knowledge.  He presented his own ideas as gospel, and on one such occasion he was arguing with Haven and the director about the style and material of clothing worn in the time period.  She, having had enough of his omniscient bullshit, deemed his argument unsubstantiated, un-researched, unprofessional and stupid; that last bit really drove him around the bend.   Her stultifying attitude insulted him and he railed against being summarily treated by anyone, especially by a deceiving, misleading, unreliable albeit gorgeous woman.

"I'm not wearin' this fuckin flowery shirt.  It looks like a fuckin flour bag."  he rudely yelled in her face when she suggested that this was one of  the kinds of cloth used to make clothes for the general poor public in the time period, because women bought the material by the bolt and made clothes for everyone in the family or the same cloth.  It was economical and a common practice.

He continued, undaunted.  "What makes you such a fuckin' expert?  You read a book or two, did ya?   Well, so did I!  I read a shit load of books on this stuff.  Who needs your almighty opinions on everything?" 

This was the her last straw; she reached the boiling point, and disregarding everyone around the scene she let fly, screaming  back at him as he stood in front of her, running his hands through his thick hair after tearing the offending shirt off over his head.

"You insufferable, obnoxious, idiotic, insignificant, uninformed little piss ant.  I'm not asking you to play three level chess on the holodeck here.  I'm just telling you to wear a fucking shirt that is appropriate for the time and you can't even do that without a fight.  What the FUCK do you think you know?  'You read a book?'  Please.  I wasn't hired because you were the expert.  You didn't hire me, you can't fire me.  I stand on my reputation and my credentials.  I don't need your permission or approval of my qualifications to do this or any other job.  Take your unsolicited, uncorroborated, uneducated input and shove it." 

She spun on her booted heel and stalked off the set, heading for the insulation of her trailer with hot tears of debilitating rage pouring down her flushed cheeks.  She had rarely been so exasperated. 

Rick watched her leave the scene as if in slow motion, her long hair flying behind her like a banner.  As irate as he was, he admired her confidence in her own expertise.  She was the expert, not him, and just maybe he'd pressed his luck too far on this one.  He knew he was right most of the time, but just maybe he needed to concede on this one point.  The others on the set looked sheepishly away from his glowering face and got busy doing other things until peace could be restored.  A crisis or two on a Rick set was an everyday occurrence, and peace usually returned in time.

Evening was darkening the sky and the shooting was pretty much over due to the disappearing light, so things came to a rather abrupt end for the day.  The directors decided it was wiser to allow their cantankerous star to regroup than prod him into possible further black fits of fury.  

What Rick didn't know was that Haven had called a meeting of the power heads on the film right after this altercation and had in essence handed in her resignation.  She considered she was no longer effective on the project because he continued to denounce her as an unnecessary addition to the company.  They tried every approach to talk her out of this decision, but she held firm.  She would give two weeks notice and depart as quietly as she had arrived.                                                    

With a Herculean attempt at nonchalance, Rick finished reading some script changes and checked out the dailies, deliberately delaying what he intended to do later.  He didn't want to give the impression that he was doubtful about his vitriolic outburst, or that he was in any sense repentant.  No one had ever had at him like she had in full view of cast, set members and directors, at least no one he gave a shit about, and he was more than a little rattled. 

After casually engaging in conversation with some of the other actors, his minders and other staff, he excused himself sometime later into the evening and jogged quickly to his trailer.  He ripped off his shirt, popped open a cold VB and threw himself peevishly on his bed, lighting up his 20th cigarette in a couple of hours.  This was getting out of hand.  He had gotten wind of her resignation and he refused to consider it.   He was of the philosophy that regrets were a waste of time - just weights holding you back from your future and what you want.  Direct action always worked best for him.  Resolutely, he got up, showered, pulled on a pair of faded jeans, a black tee, and headed out for her trailer with a modicum of humility and tons of confidence.  He knocked sharply on her door.  She opened it, said "Fuck off." and slammed it shut. 

He knocked again, harder, and she ignored him, sitting inside on the sofa with her hands over her face, praying he would go away.  More confrontation with this wild man was the last thing she wanted.  She had hoped to disappear without a trace before he knew she was gone.   He continued to bang on the door until, embarrassed that someone would hear him, she finally opened it.  He yanked the door out of her hand and shoved on past her.  She looked at him incredulously as he stood in her face and, slamming his fist down on the counter in the kitchen area, he began to rant, "What's this fuckin' bullshit, Haven?  You're quitting the project?  You're actually leaving?  Just like that?  Over a little disagreement?"   He was beside himself with frustration, rage and fear.  "You will not leave, I forbid it!"

"You 'forbid it'?  Are you fucking kidding me?  Who the hell do you think you are?" she countered.

"This project has my name all over it." he said with hubris.  "I'm responsible for its success or failure, and I only work with the best.  I don't accept second best.  You will not leave."

"Now you're saying I'm the best?  Are you, schizophrenic?  You won't even attempt to work with me; you argue with me on every issue.  You fight everything goddamned thing I say.  Who can work like that?"  Caustic, righteous, her blood rising, she continued. "Listen, Ace, no project needs two experts, and since you seem to be the unquestionable authority on every-single-fucking-thing-in-the-entire-world, you definitely don't need my input.  You question my authority on every given subject, you doubt and belittle my abilities, you refuse to work with me and you fight me even on minutiae.   I'm fed up.  I don't need to prove myself to you.  I don't need to tolerate the shitty way you've been treating me, and I don't need you.  So, yeah, I'm leaving.  I gave my notice to the director already." 

He shook his head, automatically dismissing her words as if, in essence, she never said them, and grabbed her by the shoulders, pushed her up against the door, and hissed in her face, his mouth an inch from hers. 

"Nobody walks out on my projects.  Got that?  Nobody."  She shoved against the muscular chest pressed against her, incredulous at his unmitigated balls and blatantly bullying tactics.  Her pulse was racing and she could feel the tension in him beneath his fingers as he grasped her upper arms.  With sudden clarity, she realized this wasn't just a fit of pique.  She felt an unmistakable steely erection pressing against her pubic bone.  She thought, "He's into this ...."    All of a sudden, more afraid of herself than him, she pushed again against the wall of his chest.

"Let me go, you obnoxious asshole.  What is your fucking, problem, Rick?"  

With deft movements of his head, he followed every evasive twist of her head until his mouth came down completely over hers in a blistering kiss, sucking the air out of her lungs and the starch out of her spine.  She fell against him, boneless and motionless against his assault.  Leaning into him instinctively, she pressed her crotch into his erect flesh.

"You." he gasped into her mouth.  "You're my fuckin' problem, Haven.  Jesus.  Don't go ...." he kissed and licked up and down her throat ... "Please, I'm sorry .  I couldn't let you know how I felt ...how much I wanted you."

His breath tore roughly out of his throat.  "I've been fighting me, not you ... don't go, love, please, please, stay."  He kissed her again, pulling her lips into his mouth, opening them with his tongue, tasting her.  She flowed into him fluidly as if in a dream.  Hot moisture surged into her vagina, seeping into the crotch of her jeans as she kissed him back, circling his tongue with her own, sucking on it hungrily, completely lost in madly erotic wild lust.

"God, what are you doing, Rick ... Rick?  No ..." she feebly protested after long minutes of feasting on his hot, soft lips.  "We can't do this."

"Sh-h-h-h-h......" he purred, nibbling on her lower lip.  "We can't not do this, baby.   I want you so much ... I've wanted you for so long - and you want me, I know you do."  His hand made a warm path as it snaked down inside the waistband of her jeans and cupped her crotch, his thick fingers testing her readiness.  He groaned into her mouth, "Jesus.  You're so wet, so hot ..." 

They slid down the trailer door onto the floor as he removed her tee shirt, happily tortured to find she was naked underneath and her nipples were hard little pebbles throbbing against his hand.  She pushed his shirt over his head, kissing his skin as she exposed it. 

"Rick ....." she kept whispering, over and over, inhaling his spicy fragrant male scent.  He pushed her jeans down and off and pushed himself between her legs in a frenzy of passion.  He fisted his throbbing cock and pumped it to lubricate himself on the pearly drops dripping from the end, and further moisturizing it on her creamy wetness, pushed it silkily inside her.  She cried out ecstatically, unable to contain her surging need, and enveloped him in the burning wet sheath of her sex, her inner walls squeezing and rubbing against him in a steady rhythm as she lifted her hips to meet his every thrust, driving him over the edge.  They broke simultaneously into a soaring, crashing climax.  He roared his waves of coming into her neck, panting heavily.  She tensed, feeling his pulsing spasms sharply inside her, and gently stroked his head.  Breathing in gasps, she wiped tears of rapture against his glossy hair as they lay in each others arms, cooing in desperation and limp with sated passion. 

"What the fuck was that?" she whispered in awe.  

He giggled silently, "I don't know, but it was fuckin' fantastic." 

"You say fuck a lot." she said glibly.  

"So do you, for a school marm."  

She slapped his shoulder, laughing.  "School marm?'  Does this feel like a school marm to you?" She reached down and cupped his balls, kneading gently.  He groaned, rocking against her hand to increase the stimulation.  She smiled into his lidded eyes and gently prodded, "U-m-m-m ... Rick, baby?  We're, like, on the floor?"

"Yeah, comfy, ain't it?" he snuggled in deeper.  

"No, honey, it's not comfy, it's cold and hard.  Let's move to the bed."  

They stumbled around taking off and picking up discarded clothing and kissed their way to the bed where they eventually fell in and stayed for the next several hours, lost in red mists of passionate oblivion.

After this significant occasion it was too difficult for them to meet unseen very often.  They had acknowledged their past conflicts, buried the hatchet in no uncertain terms, and had decided to carry on as professionally as possible.  The growing desire they shared made this difficult if not impossible since Rick was so much in demand and had such a high profile.  If the set people and suits weren't looking at him, the fans and paparazzi were.  He lived a fishbowl existence when working and she wondered how he could continually tolerate it.  No matter where he went he was accosted by someone wanting something from him whether here in this country or in his own Australia.  She watched him handle the attention with laconic grace and sometimes with thinly veiled disgust. 

She had the impression at times that he was purposely ignoring her; sometime she knew she was purposely ignoring him.  The intensity of their attraction proved to be too much of a distraction for both of them and she tried to ease the tension by looking for ways to distance herself from him when her presence wasn't actually required on the set. 

She spoke often about this turmoil to her beloved friend, Jackie, and together they sought out ways she could find distraction from the brilliant beam of irresistible light that was Rick.  As they rambled on about this one evening on the phone, Haven remembered suddenly - she loved horses.  She often rode at home, and she would look for a way she could indulge this hobby while in Texas.  What better place to find a horse to ride than on a western set where they were everywhere.  Preferring to be as anonymous as possible, she further explored the idea with Jackie who, though working at a riding academy herself, was too far away to be convenient for Haven, but gave her the name and directions to a local ranch where she could ride without detection to her heart's content.  It was called Lancer Stables, and was a rarity in the area because it was predominantly an English riding academy. 

Haven found it late one afternoon after following Jackie's simple directions.  It was perfect because of its proximity to the set and her trailer, and still offered endless space in which to ride where it was unlikely she would ever run into anyone she knew.  She found herself missing her own horse at home where she rode either along the beach at the Cape or along the Charles River on many sunny afternoons. 

She requested a placid, docile animal who would allow her the luxury of a peaceful  ride and not disturb her reverie by trying to unseat her at every turn in the path.  She was given a compact little quarter horse with a blond mane and tail.  Mounting him effortlessly, she cantered off into the surrounding green woods, completely blissed out by the feeling of the animals' strong flanks between her legs and with the potent memory of another strong body between her knees not too long ago.

It was a spectacular afternoon and her soul soared upwards as she threw her head back, reveling in the freedom of being in the saddle again.  Birds chirped and twittered at the intrusion as she rode deep into the woods on a trail seemingly unused for a long time.  The path was overgrown with weedy grasses and the shrubbery on either side seemed to be trying to overtake the track worn down by years of countless hooves. 

Her mind wandered to the conversations she shared with Rick as they lay in her bed earlier, and she became aware of his proclivity for conveniently skipping over some significant aspects of his life, precisely that he had a girlfriend of some consequence for a long time, who showed up periodically in his life when he was on the downside of  things and to whom he seemed to turn in times of emotional crisis.  This was a well documented fact, and she realized the full impact it had on her as she came to the full knowledge that she was hopelessly in love with him.  She knew they needed to discuss this as soon as possible.  If they were to continue with their romantic involvement something had to change.  The realization squeezed her heart like a cold hand as she cantered on, lost in troubled thought, until the path opened up suddenly into a little orchard full of gnarled old apple trees.

The trees were all bent, twisted and gray with age and the fruit was wrinkled and probably un-edible, but they were so charming to her eye, all rosy-pink and fragrant.  She dismounted, led her horse over to the nearest tree, and let him munch some fruit that had fallen to the ground.  The sun was golden and warm and bees were humming around the fallen fruit.  She tethered the horse to a sturdy tree branch, sat down underneath its canopy, and leaned against its twisted trunk dreamily, polishing a not-too-bad piece of fruit on her faded jeans.  She nibbled cautiously at the sweet flesh, smiling at the taste.  While puffy white clouds drifted overhead she gazed languidly up at them.  Her eyelids dipped slowly and she fell into a comforting lulled sleep. 

It was like this that Rick found her sometime later, asleep under the tree with her arms down at her sides, palms turned upwards like a child, holding a small puddle of irregularly shaped apples in her lap.  The sunlight filtered down through the leaves dappling her cream with roses skin.  Delicate zephyrs lifted diaphanous strands of silky auburn hair from around her face, framing it in the air like a Renaissance painting.  His heart leapt into his throat as he beheld her ethereal beauty.  He studied her for long moments before he leaned down and gently, reverently, kissed her awake.  She jumped at the contact then leaned upward into his warm mouth in a kiss of happy surprise.

"Rick.  Hi, baby.  What are you doing here?  How on earth did you find me?  What time is it?  I must have fallen asleep."

"Yeah, I guess ..." he chuckled.  "I've been looking for you for hours.  You had me scared to death.  Don't do that again, baby, ok?   Don't go off without telling me where you're going.  I've been a fuckin wreck."

"How did you find me?" she asked.

"Y'know, your friends are like fuckin KGB double agents.  They wouldn't tell me anything."

"So, how did you find me?" she repeated curiously.

"Jackie.  She caved easy, but I had to charm the pants off her...."

"You didn't ..." she gasped.

"Figuratively, my sweetheart, not literally."  You really have some doubts about me, don't you?"  

"No, my darling, I don't.   I just don't know how to be as happy as you make me.  I guess I have to get used to it.  I'm sorry.  I just had to get away for awhile.  I have had so much on my mind, Rick.  I'm so unsure."

"About me?"

"No.  About us."

"What about us?  Are you having second thoughts about what's happened between us?"  he sounded wary and nervous.

"God, no."  she breathed.  "It's just that ...."

He distracted her thoughts then.  "Will this help?" he smiled, and pulled her leisurely into his arms, pressed against her and pushed her down slowly until she was lying flat on the grass. He pressed his crotch wickedly into her crevice while sucking on her lower lip and began to unbutton her shirt with determined fingers.  Her reply was buried in the flesh of his tongue as she sucked on it hungrily.  She started undressing him, her fingers moving down the smooth tanned skin of his shoulder down to the soft fur of his chest to the button fly of his jeans.  They kissed deeply and explored each other's mouths with probing hot tongues.  Their hands were everywhere, touching, undressing, kissing, murmuring incoherently, breathing in each others' scents. 

His breath was ragged as he pulled tender mouthfuls of her breast into his mouth. "Jesus, I want you so much.  As soon as I've had you I want you again.   Touch me, baby, feel how much I want you."

She moaned deep in her throat, her sex flooding with warm wetness as her fingers explored him through the denim.  She slipped her fingers inside the material and pulled his heavy length free.  He sucked in his breath as the warm air touched his engorged cock.  She stroked it slowly, rubbing the silky pre-cum into the deep purple head as she kissed him.  He slid her jeans down, cradled her backside in his strong hands and pushed his knee between her legs.  He slid into her fiery wetness in one easy thrust, burying himself as deeply as possible. She shuddered and trembled in wordless rapture as he moved inside her tight walls.  They made long, slow sensuous love under the apple tree.  She wrapped her legs around his waist bringing him in deeper and they rocked together rhythmically until he put his hand down between their bodies and touched her stimulated bud of nerves.  She came instantly in a series of ecstatic spasms, calling out his name.  He breathed her name as she felt him come, exploding jets of hot seed against the back of her womb.  He cried his release into her neck and collapsed on top of her totally spent.  They lazed for a long time under the little tree, calming down, stroking each others faces and smiling into each others eyes.   Whatever had been bothering her spirit had long since lost its power.  She was dazed with happiness. 

As the shooting of the film went on, she was increasingly distracted, and at first she blamed him in the silence of her thoughts, as if he was fully aware of just how strongly he affected her with his innate confidence and the self assurance that gave such power to his presence.  She felt safe when he was near.  His aura of masculine strength and ability to go into a deep soothing calm was more seductive than all the subtle psychological mind games of all the men she had ever known.  

Rick, by his very presence, created in her such depths of emotion, such tides of breathless passion, that sometimes she would have to leave the space he was in, the room or the set, or office.  It was impossible to continue her concentration on whatever she was immersed in if he suddenly showed up, materializing in front of her like a dream.  If he was there, and there were other set people around talking, laughing or   whatever, at some point the moment would come when their eyes would meet and lock on, during which time the world stopped, she became frozen in time, unable to look away. 

Their secret seemed to be safe; no one appeared to be aware of the depths of passion being played out under their noses.  They were careful, but in reality, nothing seemed to matter but that they find a way to be alone in their private universe as often as possible.  They didn't speak about their personal histories, their families or any other emotional attachments, focused solely on each other; which, after a time, began to bother her and disturb her serenity.  She knew she had to begin the painful process of getting him to open up to her about his romantic entanglements, his family situation and their future relationship, if indeed they had one. 

Toward the end of the shoot, they left a local bar where everyone had met for a few cold ones on a hot summer evening, and they went for a quick drive in Rick's Mercedes before going back to their separate trailers.  They pulled off to the side of the road and began to make out with abandon.  The bars' music and the sensual ambiance had gotten them both so passionate they could barely get out of the parking lot fast enough.  What he had been doing to her under the table with his talented fingers made her sigh into his neck and threaten that if he didn't stop she was going to have to go to the ladies room and finish herself off.  He chuckled evilly.  The reality was she had been distracted all evening, worrying about the exact state of his other commitment, the well publicized one of which he never spoke.  The subject was always on her mind now and in his car, between kisses, she murmured softly,       

"Rick, baby, you're not free..."  

"I am free."  He sucked on her lower lip and nuzzled her neck wetly.

"No," she corrected him gently.  "You're not, and you haven't been for a long time.  I know this - and I respect it.  I don't want to come between you two, I swear, but, something has to give here.  I'm going need to let this go between us, Rick.  I have to protect myself, don't you see?  I love you too much - I do - but I can't keep doing this any longer ... I cannot, I will not - share you."  She was prepared to do without him rather than face the possibility of sharing his affections with any other woman.

"Share me?  Good Jesus, Haven.  You don't share me.  You have me - in every sense of the word ... you have me." 

"Does she know that?"

"I haven't told her, no." he murmured with his eyes down.

"Until you do, love, this has to end."

"You don't trust me?"

"I trust you."  She kissed him, holding a hand on either side of his face.  "I trust this. Now. Here.  Months from now when the film is over and you're back in Oz and I'm back home will I still trust it?  Will we even still have it?  I don't know.  I'm afraid."

"Then come with me, sweetheart."

"Come where?"

"To Oz. To my farm.  Meet my family.  See my cows." he giggled lightly.

"To Oz?  Are you serious?"  She was astounded at the idea.  He stared intently into her eyes and nodded slowly, tracing her face with his index finger.  Headlights pierced the darkness between them at that point and they were unable to continue the conversation as traffic kept coming by and they were too nervous to remain by the road.  He dropped her back at her trailer after many hungry kisses, forced to leave her because they had such an early call in the morning.  He drove off to his own trailer after promising they would talk more.

The next morning came way too soon.  She felt like a vampire as she blinked against the alien brilliance of the sun.  Haven, resplendent in bare feet, inside-out pink sweatpants with matching inside-out sweatshirt, stumbled out of her trailer and gravitated to the set, on a dead serious hunt for a cup of diesel fuel coffee.  She squintingly looked around to catch a glimpse of Rick or his minders, but no one was around.  She noticed his car was gone.  There was a canteen truck on the lot and she ordered the biggest, strongest, blackest coffee it sold to get her through the morning, and grabbed a whole grain bagel to nosh while she read the notes a stagehand proffered as he walked on by. 

Once she pulled herself into some semblance of order, the day progressed rather smoothly.  She was called into a conference regarding the historical accuracies of some of the set buildings and architecture. This really wasn't her forte but she gave it her best appraisal and spent some time on her computer researching examples of early western architecture and furniture.  She was more comfortable in the language department, but this was an interesting aside.  The hours passed in busy absorption and her attention to detail, until she realized her back hurt from sitting too long at the computer, and she found she was again in need of a caffeine fix. 

She looked outside her trailer door to check the weather situation as it seemed to be getting on toward dusk, when she noticed a new vehicle parked by Rick's trailer.  She studied it with curious interest when suddenly his door opened and he stepped out with his arm around a very attractive small blond woman.  Haven immediately recognized her as his long time girlfriend from Oz.  They were deep in what appeared to be friendly conversation as he opened the car door for her, kissing her on the cheek as he did so.  They both got into the back seat and the car backed out off the set with his minder driving.

For an interminable stretch of time, she stood rooted to the spot, as an anvil dropped with increasing pressure onto her chest.  She didn't know how to process this vision and was unable to clear her head to think.  Her hand trembled as she opened her door and stepped outside.  She just stood there staring at nothing, not able to decide where to go - what to do.  She knew one thing - she needed a drink and turned on her heel, going back inside her trailer to find her bottle of Scotch.  Pouring herself a healthy shot, she sat on her sofa, staring into space as her brain attempted to put sort itself out.  Why was she so shocked?  He did say he hadn't ended it yet.  He hadn't lied to her.  But he also had not told her he expected a visit anytime soon.  He gave her no forewarning.  She suddenly felt like an interloper, an intruder, a fool.  She knew in her bones she was not up to this kind of a contest.  She also knew she couldn't wait until he deigned to give her an explanation.  She tossed back her drink, stalked outside looking for the director, fully intending to give him a reason why she had to leave the project immediately ...family emergency or something.  As she scurried around looking for someone of authority to speak to she saw the black Mercedes come back onto the lot and she braced for battle.  However, it was only Matt, Rick's friend and minder, who got out.  As he walked casually up to her she thought he looked uncomfortable but resigned, as if he had done this sort of thing many times in the past.  She didn't give him a chance to start his rehearsed explanation on Rick's behalf.  She attacked,

"So this is what he does, Matt?  This lowlife habit of starting relationships, then panicking and running back to her to bail him out?   The sick fuck."

"No, mate.  You got it wrong.  He loves you."  Matt began.

"Then where is he?" she demanded, irate.  "Why doesn't he face me?  Why didn't he tell me she was coming?  Why did he just spring this on me?" 

"Give him time, luv.  Please, just give him time." Matt said, without defending him, without offering excuses.  

"Time my ass." she snapped, "He invited me to Oz, for Christ sake.  "What was he thinking?  People don't do this to each other.  And what about her?  If he wasn't lying to me, doesn't she deserve to be informed?"

"That's what tonight  is about, luv." Matt interjected quietly.  

"Balls.  I'll just bet it is."  She was glad for the steel courage the Scotch put in her spine because she didn't cry.  

"It's more about putting out yet another of the little fires he's always starting, isn't it?  What a pathetic way to live.  And you.  What?  Did he send you back here to lie to me?  He lies, and you swear to it?  Is that it? 

Matt's ruddy color heightened and he shook his head in disagreement.  "No, Haven.  I told you.  He loves you."

"In his fashion, correct?  Well, "mate," that's just not good enough."  She spun around and ran back to her trailer where she slammed, locked and dead bolted the door, poured herself another shot and collapsed on the sofa to think.  This lasted exactly ten minutes and she was up, pulling her wild hair into a pony tail, throwing her clothes into suitcases, other various and sundry belongings into boxes, and writing quick "sudden emergency in the family" letters of apology and or resignation on her computer.  She absolutely hated him for reducing her to this atypical fight or flight woman who cannot or will not stand her ground and runs away at every provocation.  Nevertheless, that was the situation.  She was wounded profoundly, in ways she never knew existed, beyond her depth to accept pain inflicted by someone else.  He was in imbedded in her soul so deeply she couldn't see herself regrouping even to the most minimal functionality for a long time to come.  To be put off, held at arms length, or compromised in this way was totally unacceptable and reprehensible to her.  She made all her rushed, unprepared, disjointed plans for travel that very night and called a taxi to drive her to the nearest airport, praying she wouldn't run into anyone she knew.  It was dark by then and she could move with relative anonymity about the set as she made her departure.  She put off thinking - she put off crying - she delayed sobbing.  Get away.  That's all she could think of to do.  She called Jackie and relayed her plans in a cold, clipped, calculating voice that chilled her friend.  She promised to get in touch with her as soon as she was able and not to worry about her.  She hung up, before Jackie could attempt to dissuade her.

The cab ride to the airport and the plane trip east to her home imprinted themselves in her brain as the most depressing, miserable, life-sucking experience of her existence.  She had made the choice to leave; now she had to begin a new life.  It must begin now - no looking back.  She had always taken pride in her ability to roll with the punches, adapt quickly to change, to overcome tribulation with relative ease and strength of character.  However, this situation proved to be more of a challenge than she had yet faced, and getting over Rick would take far more than just her decision to want to do it.  As she glanced out the plane window into the blackness of the sky that reflected the darkness of her soul she could feel scalding tears filling her eyes and she let them run free unheeded. The painful knife in her heart was so sharp she couldn't draw a full breath and she just sat, taking tiny gasps of air to keep breathing, grateful there was no one in the seat next to her.

The morning sea air as it blew gently across her bare skin was cool and crisp, waking her out of a disturbed dream. She stretched, swung long, tanned legs off the bed and stood up to survey the state of her beloved ocean beyond the French doors of the bedroom.  She walked out onto the portico in a tiny pink silk chemise, shivering, anxious for the sun's warmth to embrace her, but turned back around and went into the house for a cigarette.  She had picked up the habit again and was not proud of it.

The morning light filtered softly through filmy white curtains billowing at the bay windows.  They tossed about gently in the ocean breezes as sunlight gleamed on the highly polished hardwood floors, on the touches of crystal and glass that added a quiet elegance to the simplicity of the decor.  The house was like a forest glen, filled with large green and blossoming plants, hanging ivies and small trees, all of which gave the impression of bringing the outside indoors.  

She wrapped a soft white cotton robe around her supple body and lit a cigarette as she padded to the back door.  She peeked out into the brightness of the light, and wrinkled her nose as she stared at the vista before her.  She tried to enjoy its beauty, majesty and peace.  People paid dearly for prime isolated locations like this on Martha's Vineyard, both in the summer and all year round.  She thought she really ought to enjoy it more.  As far as she could see in both directions sand dunes flowed like creamy icing, in shades of beige, pink and white; hardy, weather-beaten tufts of sea grass sprouted, and piles of cottony clouds filled the azure sky.  A single gull circled slowly overhead, screeching plaintively, its solitude intensifying the reality of her own. 

She stretched out on a wicker chaise, closed her eyes and listened to the enchanting music her huge collection of wind chimes was making in the morning breezes.   The sounds soothed her spirit in a Zen sort of way as she smoked and left her mind free to wander in its fevered reverie.  She dreamt of him again last night; she could still feel his hot hard flesh inside her and taste his kiss on her lips.  He was always with her, always in her mind ... she was possessed, obsessed.  All this time away from him had proven to be an endurance test that left her no doubt that she was unable to further maintain her stamina.  It was far more painful than she had anticipated.  

She had run back to her summer home to regroup - to hopefully recover from her one desire - Rick - plain and simple.  She let herself remember again the pressure they both felt because of wanting to spend all their spare time together and being unable to do so.  She remembered her own frustrated pain of seeing him so often but not having him, wanting him constantly but not being free to touch him at will, all the pretense they had to maintain to prove that they were just colleagues - just friends, and the pressure on her work ethic as the conflict began to reflect in her performance.  The moral and physical struggle, Rick's apparent deceit, combined with the overriding effects of continually stifling her emotions left her bereft of the powers she thought she possessed, proving her to be only human, and she had fled in utter defeat.  

She had allowed time to pass, and after enough days had gone by for her to get herself well in hand in the time she estimated it should take, to her utter dismay she found the exile she so willingly embraced was not having its desired effect.  Being home was a lonely, barren, miserable experience without redeeming romantic drama or relief.  She strove valiantly to be comfortable in her own company and in her own skin.  She gracefully shunned all social intercourse with friends or neighbors as the summer wore on, but the loneliness manifest in her breast assured her without doubt, he had successfully ruined her ability to be alone.

She went inside to fix a cup of tea, reflecting wisely that to want a man who belonged to someone else brought nothing but abject misery, but now that she had had him, she acknowledged honestly to herself that she could not find serenity again without him or his heart-stopping passion.   She surrendered in grief to the inevitable fates. 

"Better get used to it, Haven , you ass, you did this to yourself.  To thine own self, be true." she intoned bleakly, but the realization was true  and, try as she did to divert herself -  smoking, walking along the dunes, listening to music, drinking tea by the gallon, cutting flowers for the dining room table at which she never sat for a meal, pulling randomly at little weeds sprouting in the flower boxes hanging over the railing on the portico, picking up and putting down a book at least four times an hour, filling her bird feeders, meditating ...nothing worked.  Her emotional battle wore on, wore her down.  He was in her blood, a force that demanded to be reckoned with.  The memories were a physical ache -- of his touch, his intense green eyes, the passion of his incredible kisses ... after her first experience of making love to him she was changed forever, now - at last - she could finally admit it.

She was going slowly mad.  Now that she submitted to the fact she had no power over his hold on her, she asked herself bitterly, 

"Ok, and what the fuck do I do now, great oracle?"  The summer stretched on before her in endless perfect days and she moved through each one of them like a ghost.  

Rick had found her.  Once he realized she was no longer around, that Matt was right and she had disappeared, gone away without a word to anyone except maybe Jackie, his heart broke apart in his chest.  He began a frantic, relentless, face-to-face and on the telephone psychological bombardment of Jackie --pressuring, threatening, pleading, begging and finally crying, without respite, until finally, she stopped ignoring him, stopped hanging up on him, and  took a deep, long, scrutinizing study of his eyes.  She witnessed the sheer agony in their green depths, and was finally convinced.  She told him where Haven could be found. 

Rick had come to accept that Haven brought out his best and his worst, that she completely triggered his every gut reaction, good or bad.  In a way he had been unwilling to surrender that much of himself to anyone before her - to give up that part of him which made him so distinctively unique.  His unwillingness to comply with the usual accepted and expected relationship protocol had been a problem in all his past affairs.  He was monumentally offended that she would leave him without giving him a chance to speak a word in his own defense and scared to death he would be unable to convince her of his utter sincerity.  He had to find her, talk to her, reason with her.  He had tried, but could not escape his need to be connected to her at all times, and he couldn't do that if he didn't know where she was. 

As the film drew to a close he was tying up the loose ends ...  cast parties he didn't want to attend, business meetings, endless press junkets, photo shoots, and appearances.  He had called her cell phone, Boston apartment phone and university office numbers so many times his fingers could dial them blind.  Apparently she had disconnected or turned them all off; he never did complete a connection.  He tore his hair out, swallowed his pride one more time, and went back to Jackie, explaining that none of the numbers worked.  She listened patiently, realized where Haven must have gone, and gave Rick the number at the Cape.  Jackie had again come to his aid, and told him that by now he owed her so big that nothing would suffice but his first born.  He laughed insanely, kissed her all over her face and promised he would give it everything he had.  

Mollified, she convinced herself she had indeed done the right thing.  Haven wouldn't accuse her of ruining her life, but would come to see she had actually made her future life possible, because, even from the beginning, Jackie had known as only an onlooker, and a true friend can see clearly, they were meant for each other.  They just had to go through all the usual bullshit to discover that for themselves. 

He looked at the new number in front of him on his desk in his trailer, and as he dialed, tears misted his eyes.  Everything rode on this.  He had tied up all his loose ends, ended his long time affair, made amends where it was possible, and had completely changed his life.  He was free and clear.  He knew how fortunate he was.  He had his supremely successful career, a loving family and a huge farm back in Australia, hundreds of friends and thousands of fans around the globe, yet he knew something was missing.  He knew what he wanted - he was going after it. 

That weekend, shortly after Rick's meetings with Jackie, Haven's phone had rung twice in morning as she watered her plants.  The first time she ignored it, let it ring, not suspecting who it was, just knowing she didn't want to speak to anyone.  The second time it rang she picked up and heard his whiskey velvet voice after such a long time, entreating her, and she hung up, stunned by the way her heart leaped to sudden life in her chest.  Her hands trembled as she lit a cigarette and she dropped down into a crouch on the rug beside the phone.  She knew he would call back immediately, and he did. 

He knew she was afraid, he knew her so well, and just as he knew this, he also knew his words of love were like balm on her soul.  He felt her tears before he could hear them.   She wept silently in joy just at the sound of his voice; her broken whispers and choked back tears rent his heart like a sword.  She was weakening; he was breaking her down, he could feel it.  She was humiliated to be so predictably manipulated by her own passions that she couldn't function objectively.  She had so wanted to be stronger than this.  She criticized herself that she was too soft, too weak, too undisciplined...

When he called for the third time that morning, her sensation of being swept away was complete.  He knew he was home free then she would relent and let him come to her.   He was incredibly seductive, persuasive and relentless as only he could be.  At the sound of the telephone's persistent ring, she turned from the portico off the kitchen where she watched the motion of the sea as she waited for the coffee to brew.  Her hand shook on the receiver, and the desire to hang up and regain her self control was strong, but she couldn't do it.   She found herself in the ridiculous juxtaposition of continually refusing the prospect of actually having what she had wanted for so long, more than she wanted to breathe - to be alone with Rick - truly alone - for the first time.  She wanted this with all her heart, she wanted him and she knew the fight against it had truly gone.   She could hear his suffering; the passion in his words as he beseeched her wore away at any residual reservations and, defeated, she propped the phone into the cradle of her arm and shoulder and wept into it without speaking.  She dropped to the oriental carpet rug on the floor and sat cross-legged, her hair cascading in a long dark curtain on either side of her face.  When he spoke, Rick's voice was like a soothing emollient. He let her cry a bit without knowing how to prevent it, but suddenly he couldn't abide her feeling pain.  No.  This wouldn't do.  Her mood must match his.  His frustrated lover's heart sang for joy and he wanted her to share it ... no misgivings, no guilt, just elation.

"Please, Baby.  Don't cry.  Haven, please.  It'll be wonderful.  Don't feel guilty.  I will explain everything.   Please, Sweetheart.  No one but Jackie need ever know about this, and for once in our lives we can really be together.  Haven, I don't want anything to ruin this.  I adore you, my love.  Don't you know that?  I've been in fuckin' hell.  I want to see you, to be with you -- that's all I know or care about.  It's been so long.  We've tried so hard.  I don't want to wait anymore.  Do you understand, darlin'?   I know I browbeat Jackie.  I'm sorry about that.  I know I shouldn't have invaded your privacy like I did, but to me it was worth the risk of pissing you off if there was one chance in fuckin' hell you would let me come to you.  I was demanding, relentless, and intrusive and I'm sorry.  Forgive me, love, but don't change your mind, 'cause I swear I'd fuckin do the same thing all over again.  And you want me, too - I know you do - I can hear it in your voice.  I can feel it. This is me, remember?    I know you."

She lifted her head, breathing deeply through her nose, attempting to compose herself.  She knew any further negotiation with him was useless. He had sabotaged her completely and to struggle with motives or reasons from that point on only cut down on the time they actually could spend together.  She reasoned, "If it's inevitable, let's have at it." 

"How soon can you get here?" she asked, trying not to sound too impatient.  Now she was counting the seconds.  She heard his high pitched giggle as he told her he was flying out as soon as he could make the arrangements.

As his blue helicopter descended slowly over Martha's Vineyard, he scanned the runway of the little island airport below, sighting her in an instant, the beautiful oval of her face peering into the darkness as she stared expectantly upward, her eyes huge and dark.  Her hand waved back and forth frantically, afraid they would not see her.  They landed a safe distance from her and Rick disembarked.  He stood in the lights as the chopper lifted off again, and watched her come to him as if in a dream.  His throat muscles constricted, his groin throbbed as his cock hardened.  He felt joy like never before in his life. 

She darted forward into a run down the stretch of runway that separated them, her hair flying behind her, but her mind was in slow motion as she took in the scene.  Rick's incredible broad shouldered frame standing in back lit in silhouette as he  waited for her, the wind ruffling his long hair, his slow sideways bend as he put his travel bag down, never taking his eyes from her face.  He smiled as he watched her run to him, committing the moment to memory, admiring the picture she made ... the grace of her movements, the sensual flow of the pale mango silk shirt and khaki linen shorts against her body as she ran.  He stood transfixed and slowly opened his arms as she approached and exploded into his arms, never slowing her pace until she reached him.  She flung her arms around his neck, squeezing the breath out of him and kissed him, his softly bearded cheeks, eyes, nose, throat, chanting, "Rick, you're here.  Oh my love, you're here," into the hollow of his neck.   He held her so close to him it felt like they were one person.

He buried his face in her hair and neck.  She smelled like the salty sea air - fresh, citrusy, delicious.  His eyes glowed hotly, filled with and urgency as he took her face in his hands, scanning it lovingly.  He held her head, ran his hand through her hair, over her face, her neck, her lips, down to her breast and kissed her with aching hunger.  His tongue explored the warmth of her hot mouth; she tasted him, so sweet so warm, as their tongues teased each other.   This had been his dream from the first time they met - to be alone together, in love and free.  They stood locked together for a long time, unable, unwilling to break the connection, breathing in each other's essence.

They progressed beyond the airfield parking lot with difficulty, stopping often to kiss and caress, murmuring endearments.  When they finally reached her car and let themselves into it, she put the key in the ignition, her eyes searching his in the darkened interior.  They melted into one another again -- held his head and licked the edges of his lips before swallowing his mouth as he probed between her legs, groaning into her mouth as they touched and tried in vain to separate.  She stroked the swollen hardness of his crotch; he cupped her wet sex through her shorts, until finally, when she moaned pitifully and pushed him firmly against the door, he allowed it.  They needed oxygen - in their haste and heat they had not opened the windows, which were now steamy and wet.  He rolled the side window down and opened the door for a few seconds, standing with his head thrown back, staring up at the stars.  He breathed in several lungs full of cool night air.  She got out too and Rick looked over at her, giving her an appraising glance from half closed eyes.  She had a glowing sheen of perspiration across her cheekbones, forehead and upper lip.  She was darkly tanned and teasingly smiled at him from across the car's roof.   Her chest rose and fell rhythmically beneath the thin silk of her shirt as it clung to her damp breasts and erect nipples.  It made him weak.  She laid her arms slowly across the car's roof, her shining eyes considering him awhile in silence.

"So ... "She murmured seriously.  ".... You think you want to go home with me, do you?"   A sudden gust of laughter burst from him and he ran long fingers through his chestnut hair.  He nodded, also seriously, and responded. 

"U-m-m-m- yeah ... I thought I might, y'know .... if you can spare a bed, preferably your bed of course, or the living room floor, or the beach, or the nearest motel, I don't care - whatever, wherever, Lady ... as long as you're there."  He reached across the top of the car and their fingers intertwined suddenly, squeezing hard. 

"Come on, Darlin'  ... let's go."  He urged gently.

The summer home on the Cape Cod island of Martha's Vineyard belonged to Haven's old colleagues and mentors, the Dr.'s Neville, and was a uniquely designed two-houses-in-one style to reflect their two distinctly different architectural tastes.  The front was traditionally old Yankee white weatherboard clapboard shingles so as not to clash with the Cape's historical ambiance.  In the back, however, facing the ocean, it had a softer, west coast stucco mission-inspired decor, with huge arched windows overlooking the sea, the outside slanted roof line was festooned with tons of hanging frothy greenery and flowering pots of vegetation.  Beneath, on the portico and out onto the expanse of lawn were many  unusual pieces of artwork, collected on their many travels around the globe.  A pink flagstone patio led down to the white sandy beach.  At high tide the sea seemed ominously close to the house, but being raised up on the dunes, it was on higher ground than it appeared to be.  The two large weather-beaten trees on either side of the patio were hung with all manner of bird feeders and wind chimes of all sizes and tones.  The music of the place had lulled Haven's spirit into serenity and sleep many times over the years.  She loved it here.  She wanted Rick to love it, too.  It had been her refuge from the pressures of the city and her academic world on many occasions.  When her friends were away on one of their trips, the house was all hers.  When they were deceased she was to own it.

She watched him surreptitiously as he surveyed the house and grounds in the dusky light of the evening, pleased with his reactions.  It was important to her that he liked her home away from the city, and he seemed to be as impressed with it as she had hoped he would be.   Because it was dark outside he could not get the full effect of the magnificent view.  That would have to wait until tomorrow.  Tomorrow.  They would actually have a tomorrow, after a night together.  She was too excited to think about a night together in her bed, so long empty.  They had dreamed of an opportunity like this; no friends, no witnesses, nothing but each other and the time to explore everything they ever wondered about each other.  It was too heady an expectation for either of them to grasp fully at the moment.

From under the portico's roof, with their arms entwined, they watched what they could see of the gentle white caps rolling in across the bay and listened to the music the water and the chimes made.   His soul was as calm as a temple pond as he heard the lapping of the waves.

"Would you like to go swimming?' she asked lightly. 

"Pool or ocean?" he inquired, kissing her temple, tempted. 

"Your choice." she smiled, easing him out of his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt.  He watched her intently, his nose almost touching hers as her fingers worked the intricacies of the buttons and holes.  He nibbled down the silky side of her fragrant throat and felt himself harden, filling his jeans with steel intent.  She neatly turned her head to fully absorb all his attentions, while making haste with the buttons on his fly.  She eased her hand inside and smoothed along his hip and down between his legs, cupping his heavy softly furred balls, kneading gently, rubbing against his shaft.  He moaned and hissed between his teeth...

"I think the ocean would be.... m--m-m-m .... exciting ..." he murmured, lowering her shorts to the floor and lifting her legs up around his waist.  She buried her face in his neck as she slipped the shirt from his shoulders, biting his flesh in gentle nips.  He groaned, stepped out of his jeans, kicked off his blunnies, and with his long thick cock standing proudly at attention, walked with her down over the dunes to the waters edge. 

"You got no knickers on, Lady ... what about your neighbors?" he giggled.

"You don't either, you horn pout, and you don't seem worried."  They knew they were secluded by the arms of their private bay as they waded into the warm water.

They stood in the warm surf kissing wetly and ground into each other as he lifted her up, placed her legs around his waist and pushed his throbbing cock deeply up into her in one smooth thrust.  She moaned into his mouth and grasped him around his solid torso with her legs, squeezing him until he thought he'd lose his balance and topple into the water.  She kissed him repeatedly, tasting and licking his salty baby smooth lips, keening,

"Oh, God, Rick ... o-h-h-h ...baby ... you're such a beautiful man.  There's no one like you, you are so ...so ... perfect."  

His legs wobbled uncontrollably as the pressure grew in his balls.  "M-m-m-m ... baby .... Haven, Jesus ...  can't hold on.... God, you feel like so good .... Oh, God, I'm gonna come.......  -- o-h-h-h-h ...f-u-u-u-ck ...."  He stifled his sob into her neck, shooting hot thick torrents of semen deep inside her as she spasmed around him, calling out his name.  They fell into the water and let the surf wash around their entwined bodies as they came slowly back down to earth.  She stroked his wet, sand-crusted face, his hair, and kissed his water-slicked lips.  He lay there, eyes closed, in a state of blissful unconsciousness while she played with his face and features.  They allowed the water to cleanse them, then stumbled back up onto the beach where they fell down and made love again on the still warm sand until they looked like sugar-coated nymphs.  They lay in each others arms, totally spent and whispered into each other faces like the lovers they were.  She turned her lips into his ear, running her hot tongue around the pink shell and lobe and breathed,

"Rick, I love you."

"I know." he breathed.   "I love you."

"I know."

"Marry me."

"Be serious."

"I couldn't be more so.... Haven ... Marry me and have all my babies."

"What?  - babies? ... All? .... So ... what do I do, my love?  Drop my life here in Massachusetts?"

"Right."

"Move to Oz with you?"

"Right."

"To the farm?  But I'm a teacher."

"So... you can home school our kids."

"Rick, I'm serious......"

"So am I."

"But ... I can't ..."

"Yes, you can."

"Y'know ... you sabotage me, Rick ...  you deliberately make me talk when there's a part of you in me somewhere and you know I can't think straight."

"That's right."

"Is this how you always negotiate?  O-h-h-h ... m-m-m-m, God, don't stop ... You know I can't think when you do that ..."

He smiled sinisterly, "Hey, I use what works."

"But it's not fair bargaining tactics."

"This ain't a negotiation, baby, it's a non-hostile takeover.  I invade you and conquer; you submit and concur."

She shook her head, chuckling softly and brushing hair out of his eyes, "You're such a Neanderthal sometimes."

"But you love me."

"No, my soul, I adore you..."