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*Marie:*

Patrick offered me his hand and helped me get to my feet. He was looking at me thoughtfully with his kind, honest eyes and smiling with his dimples on display. Patrick's smiles make my heart melt. He touched my face gently and
said, "Thank you, Marie," just like that, and he meant it.

I was thinking, *"What a sweet thing to say. Little intimate things mean so much to him,"* I remembered how he stood up to thank me when I brought him his cup of coffee. He didn't sit back down in the swing until I sat first.
It was such a little thing, that cup of coffee, and the smile on his facetold me how much he appreciated it, like now. What nice manners he has. I just adore is his polite and gentle ways with women, unless he is making love to them of course, and then, oh and then.

I put my arms around his neck. They belong there now. Patrick is mine. "When are we going to our bedroom to do the broodmare stallion thing."

"That was just dirty talk, Marie."

"You promised," I teasingly said, mussing his hair for a change.

"I still promise. It will be after the Firemen's Carnival later this evening, and only after I eat you out first, my hot and spicy girl. As you well know I'm committed to selling tickets. I planned on asking you out on our first date and taking you there. Would you do me the honor? I won't be selling tickets the whole day."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," I replied, thinking, *"Nope, not for all the money in the world. One way or another I will let that redhead know that she had her chance years ago and blew it, or maybe she didn't blow it and
that is why they broke up. Nevertheless, you belongs to me now,"* and then I offered, "I'll help you and Susan sell raffle tickets."

"That's wonderful. I'm so glad you're being such a good sport about it. Do you like French fries with salt and malt vinegar? They also have Tabasco sauce there. If I'd known that you liked hot and spicy I would have added
hot peppers to the fried potatoes….."

*Patrick:*

While I was washing in the tub getting ready to go, Marie came into the bathroom wearing only a bra and panties, and I thought, *"It is a shame we don't have the time for Marie to join me."*

"Which of these shirts to you want me to iron," she asked.

"Did you hear what I said, Patrick? Do you want to wear the red one?" Marie asked holding them up by their hangers, "or this white one with the pearl buttons?"

"The red one will be fine, and you don't have to iron it, Marie."

"Of course I do. My outfit is already ironed and the iron is still hot. It will only take a minute," She then opened the vanity cupboard leaving the door ajar, hanging the shirts on the cupboard door and took out my baby
shampoo and conditioner.

"Sit back and relax while I give you a nice shampoo," I thought, *"who was I to argue with that."*

"If you expect me to grow my hair long, then it will be your job to help me care for it."

"Yes, and it will be my pleasure….that feels wonderful.

"Do like the color of my hair, Patrick?"

"I love the color of your hair. A little bit more to the left."

"Would you like me better as a blond?"

"No, I can't see you as a blond, that's it use your fingers."

"What about if I dyed it red, and then cut my hair really short in a pixie?"

"It is your hair and your choice, but no to a red dyed red hair, and definitely not in a pixie….use your fingers on the crown."

"Why did you go out with Susan in High School? What was the attraction?"

"I know that I'm not much to look at Marie, and I see where this is going. A little bit more to the right…yes right there. I accept how God made me. Does that seem simplistic to you? What you see is what you get. You are a beautiful woman and that's a fact. You are as God made you… beautiful. Yes I like long hair on women, and yes I like your God given hair color very much. I will like it when it turns silver gray or white as will mine, " Marie thought, *"Silver gray or white, perhaps marriage is in my future,"* "Yes, I was attracted to Susan at one time because of her long red hair. Susan would let me brush her hair or do anything I wanted to with it like…ouch, not so hard and stop pulling."

"That was an accident. Close your eyes so that I can rinse."

"No it wasn't and now it is my turn to ask some questions. Don't even think about rinsing with just cold water. Did you ever dye your hair really or cut it really short?"

"No, but I was a blond for most of my marriage."

"You became a blond because your ex-husband preferred it that way, right?"

"Yes, it was blond for him and long for me."

"Your father didn't approve of the change in color, did he, Marie? As a matter of fact, I bet your Dad didn't think much of your ex right from the beginning but kept his mouth shut for you and your mother's sake. My intuition tells me that the Jerk was a self-centered wimp who basically ignored you and was most likely intimidated by your temper and no doubt was scared silly of your father."

Marie was thinking to herself, *"Bingo, I assumed right, Patrick wouldn't approve of any dye job, either. He would let me, but he wouldn't approve and that was all the difference in the world. With the Jerk blond was almost a mandate,"* I didn't answer right away, lost in thought, *"I am amazed how close Patrick hit to home, but I am somewhat relieved by it as well and I do want his approval."*

"After your divorce you cut your hair shorter as a statement of sorts, a new beginning so to speak. You also went back to your natural color to assert your new found independence?"

"Right again. I'm ready to rinse out the conditioner now."

"I can pretty much guess the rest. That being said, this can be a new beginning for the both of us, Marie. We can share a life journal, start a clean white page. I want this eventually to be your home, our home, as well as the house on Long Island. There is no reason when the time comes not to keep both.

I suggest that you call your mother and father and tell them where you are. You are lucky to have them you know, I miss mine. I'm sure that they are worried by now. Eventually I would like to meet them…"

*Marie:*

It is almost as if Patrick can read my mind? I was going to be a little playful and rinse with cold water. But he was one step ahead of me about that and about the living arrangements. Now I really can't wait for Patrick to meet my parents. It seems that we are on the same page about everything so far. Later today we will be putting an entry in our life journal, our first date at the Fireman's Carnival……………….

I haven't been this excited about a date since high school. I dressed carefully for the occasion wishing that I could wear my makeup for him. For the most part we were wearing the same clothing. Patrick was wearing his signature blue jeans, jean jacket, plus the red western cut shirt. The borrowed jeans that I was wearing fit me like a second skin. I was wearing a similar ladies red western shirt. The back of my jean jacket had two beautifully executed, and exact to scale, hand embroidered red cardinals, male and female on a white birch tree branch. Even our moccasins boots were the same, triple vamped construction and made from buffalo and elk hides by the Russell Moccasin Company of Berlin Wisconsin. I have to say that they are the most comfortable footwear that I have ever worn. There is a wicker basket in the reading room (bathroom) mostly full of catalogs. I'm going to have Patrick measure my feet per the instructions on the template in the Russell Catalog for them to make a wood last for my feet so I can order another pair.

Patrick was in the east pasture talking to White Cloud and feeding her apples when I came out to model my outfit for him. Those moccasins were quiet, and I was almost able to sneak up on him, but White Cloud saw me. She backed up and trotted over where I was walking quietly along the fence drawing Patrick's attention over to us. I now understood why his wife named the horse White Cloud. This gentle old mare was all brown except for a large white patch extending the entire length of her back.

Patrick walked over to me carrying a small bucket with a smile like sunshine to greet me. Putting the bucket down, he picked me up and swung me around if I weighed nothing, and he was laughing, "You look lovely my lady, my Marie. We could almost be twins by the way you are dressed, coincidence, I think not."

Patrick was absolutely beaming, and my mind was racing as he kissed me, *"He said, my Marie…my Marie, this was so wonderful! Things do not happen like this in real life, therefore I was going to make the best of it and never wake up from this wonderful dream. This was my chance to climb every mountain and follow my dream of painting and drawing in my own little studio and accountable to no one other than myself. Patrick offered to let me the studio if I wanted it,"* he continued, "You have no idea how beautiful you look dressed like that Marie.

I believe White Cloud thought that you were her Mistress returned. She came right over to you and horses can sense things. Many Native Americans believe that horses can read your auras and will choose us, and then their love and loyalty is absolute. Would you like to be White Cloud's Mistress?" he put me down and took a piece of carrot from the bucket, "Put your hand out like this," he put a piece of carrot in my hand, "she won't bite your fingers, but don't pull away…that's it, can you feel her lips?

White Cloud, this is Marie Antoinette, not Anne Marie, but you probably know that now," White Cloud shook her head up and down and then nuzzled my hand, "Here is another piece, you may pet her, like this, and talk to her….that's it, tell her she's a grand old lady….."

*Patrick: *

When Marie came out dressed like that she looked so beautiful it was enough to almost make my heart stop. As I was swinging her about and kissing her, I was thinking, *"Marie is so patient with me. She lets me pick her up and kiss her and puts up with my silly antics…I just couldn't help myself. It is only the two of us; I would never embarrass Marie by acting like this in public, well, maybe I might, just a little.*

*White Cloud is used to that kind of behavior from me when I am happy. That had to be it, horses can sense such things. White Cloud would only Anne or me hand feed her and will only eat her treats out of this bucket for Sam. White Cloud allowed Marie to eat out of her hand and then to hug her neck. That was the clincher. I'm not the most handsome cuss in the world, but Marie chose me, while White Cloud chose her. I can't wait to walk around the Carnival and show Marie off and too introduce my love to everyone.*

*I haven't attended the Carnival in three years and Susan has been after me to take her there for two. I have to get Susan alone and explain things to her, I owe her that. I just hope that I am not making a mistake by taking Marie with me. But God bless her, Marie is not too proud to wear borrowed clothes for now. What we need is an Adventure to go and get hers…."*

*Marie:*

It was a half hour ride to the Fireman's Carnival. We were like teenagers sitting close and I held his hand while we drove there. Patrick confided in me that he is amazed that White Cloud took to me the way she did. I can't wait to ride her and Patrick is going to teach me. Until then I have to learn to groom and care for her. He explained that I was chosen by White Cloud. I think that's so cool. We also talked a little about the living together. Patrick said that we can go on our first Adventure in three weeks when the owner of the pregnant mare came and got her. He was very secretive about the details and said that it would be a surprise.

Before we went to the ticket booth, Patrick and I took a quick walk around the Carnival to look around. I was hoping that he would put his arm around my waist as we walked, but I was content when he firmly took my arm, as a gentleman would a lady.

I felt so safe being on his arm. He walks with a confidence that few men posses. I have observed that many men of wealth and privilege walk as he does, but without Patrick's open and friendly manner. I wonder, take away their wealth and power, would they walk the same, especially those with their arrogant swagger, what do they have in reserve to back it up.

We casually strolled along as if we owned the ground that we walked on but were willing to share it, or make way if politely asked. I stood as close as I could to him when we stopped for the introductions, silently claiming Patrick as mine. He introduced me to quite a few people on the way to our first destination, Darby's French Fry Stand.

Those delicious fries were just as Patrick described them. I watched as Darby or his wife tore a portion of butcher paper from a huge roll to form that section of paper into a large cone and then tape it closed. Every order was made fresh and served in those paper cones.

We took our fries to a picnic table where Patrick unrolled the cone for a makeshift plate. A little salt, a little malt vinegar and a dash of Tabasco Sauce, they were delicious. We sat together on the bench and shared them. We also shared a bottle of ice cold Yuengling Lager, passing the bottle back and forth.

After we finished, Patrick put his arm around my waist and gave me a hug. He then kissed my cheek.

"Is that all I get?" I asked, mussing his thick unruly blond hair.

"I suppose we must face the inevitable and help sell raffle tickets," he sighed, leaning forward and kissing mouth, "We had better get going."

"Wait, Patrick, I have something to tell you," I put my arms around his neck and whispered in his ear, "I want you to talk dirty to me."

"Not here, Marie. Not with all these people around," he said quietly trying standing up.

"Are you embarrassed to whisper naughty words in my ear, a big strong man like you?" I asked teasingly, knowing that he wouldn't. I tried to make him sit down which was impossible, so I got up with him.

"I'm not embarrassed, but this is not the time and the place for it."

"Can we compromise then," I asked still holding on to his neck, "I'll whisper dirty words in your ear. A pig fell in the mud."



*Patrick:*

What a pleasure it is to have a beautiful woman on my arm. Marie was very charming when I introduced her around and has a nice way with people, she seems to fit in, or is trying very hard to fit in. I haven't been on a date in years and I was worried that things might be a bit awkward. That was not the case at all. I can be myself with Marie and everything just seems to blend together without keeping score.

Not that Susan kept score, but Susan is a negotiator and an organizer. She would always give me what I wanted, but always wanted something small in return and she would get sulky if I forgot. She was also much more mature than I was at 17, and I had a one track mind then, getting laid. Susan had a one track mind as well. I was being groomed to be a husband. Every date was almost an orchestrated event with a script to follow. Not that she wouldn't compromise, or was controlling, she just wanted everything in its place, and when it was, Susan is a pleasure to be around. In other words, Susan is not spontaneous and will not just drop things and go like Anne and I did. That would put Susan out of her comfort zone.

Did Susan make a good wife? She absolutely did make a good wife, making a good home for her husband. Susan never left her husband's side when Frank took sick, which was why Sam kept trying to fix me up with her.

When I arrived at the ticket booth Susan was not at all pleased to see Marie on my arm. She was wearing a nice green dress knowing how much I like to see women in dresses. In her case it emphasized her voluptuous, buxom figure. She was also wearing her long red hair in a ponytail, as she wore it high school.

Like the great organizer that she is, Susan was prepared for anything. Although she packed a lunch for two, fried chicken, potato salad, coleslaw and apple pie with sharp cheddar cheese for dessert, there was enough for six. It was neatly packed in two traditional wicker picnic baskets; complete with china plates and cups, crystal glassware, her sterling silverware, and a linen tablecloth… everything.

Susan had decorated the booth with blue and yellow crate paper and red and white balloons, the same theme as we did for the homecoming dance in high school. She also brought a large plastic storage box full string and twine, various kinds of tape; glue, a staple gun, extra pens and pencils. She brought magic markers, chalk, and paperclips, sticky labels, a label maker, scissors, name tags, etc. I'm sure that you get the picture.

It was an interesting afternoon to say the least. We did sell, or I should say the ladies sold a plethora of tickets, each trying to outsell one another. They were polite to one another, much like two tigresses circling a piece of meat (me) with their claws retracted. Marie complimented Susan on the wonderful lunch. It was a genuine compliment because everything Susan served us was delicious and exceptional. Susan accepted it as such. There was a momentary truce, a time out that lasted for a few seconds, and then game on. I was back on the menu again.

An hour before the draft horse competition, which was delayed, Sam came over to ask me to help him with a temperamental and difficult horse that had thrown a shoe. Perfect, if I milked it I might be able to catch a good part of the competition and the girls seemed to be getting along fine. Perhaps the Susan problem had solved itself and she finally got the message. Just before I left I took Marie to one side and made her promise me not to start anything.

Sam and I were standing alongside the judges, a privilege afforded to the attending blacksmiths when we both noticed people leaving their seats and rushing in the direction of the ticket booth. I stopped a couple of teenage boys and asked, "What's going on?" The larger of the two replied, "There are two women fighting," and then they were off like a shot.

Sam and I looked at one another and no doubt we were both thinking, "Oh shit!" We both took off it that direction and when we arrived there was a crowd of people watching them rolling around on the grass, fighting.

"This is partly your fault, Dad," I said, "You get Susan, and I'll get Marie," and we waded in much to the disapproval to some in the gathered crowd, and you know, one big mouth idiot grabbed the back of Sam's jacket and tried to stop him. The idiot learned the hard way; don't mess with a man who pounds on anvils for a living. Before the idiot could shout, "Hey Rube", and before I could get there to help him, Sam had twisted around and hammered him in twice with his fists, rearranging the idiots face. Sam and I were then back to back facing the crowd of people before the idiot slumped to the ground, unconscious. We were silently daring anyone else to step up, which they didn't, and surprisingly the girls were still at it.

While we were separating the girls the volunteer firemen were breaking up the crowd and passing out complimentary tickets for rides on the modest midway. Sam and I met with the Fire Chief and a few of the Carneys. It turned out the idiot was a Carney, an employee of the traveling amusement show that the Volunteer Fire Department brought in to run the Midway Rides. It was agreed that their man was out of line and that was the end of it. Sam and I knew better. We threw one hundred dollars each into a hat to buy beer tickets for the 20 or so Carneys working the Midway. It was a goodwill gesture on our part and they could redeem the tickets at the beer tent after hours.

But getting back to the girls, they were a mess, torn clothing and covered in dirt and grass stains. They both got their punches in though. Once we separated them we brought them to the firehouse and had them sit in different rooms with a cold pack. Susan had a fat lip and was crying. She wouldn't even talk to me. I suppose I had it coming for my poor judgment in bringing Marie to sell tickets.

*Sam:*

I sure messed things up for my son-in-law. I love him like a son. He tried to explain things to Susan and got slapped hard in the face for his apology. I imagine he thought that he had it coming because he didn't try and stop her. I should have told Susan right out that it was my idea about selling tickets and that Patrick didn't know anything about it. He didn't want me to look bad and went along with my stupidity hoping for the best. But hot damn, for a city woman that Marie is a little scrapper. Susan is a good four inches taller and outweighs her by a good twenty five pounds. Apparently ultimatums don't sit well with Marie. I still think if he hadn't found Marie, Susan would have been a good match for him. That's not going to happen. What a lucky bastard he is having two women fighting over him, and I still can't get over my daughter's mare taking to Marie like that.

Patrick shows up with her out of the blue and won't tell me a thing about her except that he met Marie in New York City. Something happen between them because he looks at her like her always looked at my Anne Marie. That Marie woman better not break Patrick's heart though or she will answer to me and in the afterlife, Anne Marie.

Anne Marie's mama was a medicine woman and if Marie does break his heart, Anne might find a way before then, it's in their blood. Well it is time for me to face the music and spill the beans...

*Marie: *

I can't believe the nerve of that woman. After Patrick left her entire demeanor changed. Susan deliberately kept bumping into me. I tried to keep my temper for Patrick's sake and I stepped out of the booth to give her room. When Susan followed me out of the booth and then gave me an ultimatum to step aside and get out of her way, I laughed in the bitch's face.

Then there was a shouting match. At least I didn't curse or swear though. Patrick will have to give me that. Susan tried shoving me to the ground so I grabbed her ponytail and it was game on. We were rolling on the ground, punching one another and the next thing I knew Sam and Patrick were breaking us up. Susan is one tough bitch. If it wasn't for Patrick I could almost like her. I hope Patrick isn't too angry. He explained to me on the way over that he would tell Susan in his own way. I already told her in mine, but she asked for it, I tried to avoid trouble. In any event Patrick is mine. I have him and Susan doesn't. He has to be angry. When he was satisfied that I was all right he didn't kiss me or anything. He went to check on Susan and didn't look happy at all when he came back.

I think Sam punched somebody because there was a meeting with the Firemen and the Carnival people. I only picked up bits and pieces because Patrick told me to stay put and keep the ice pack on and I did. After their meeting I didn't have the particulars. Patrick and Sam did something to smooth things over. We then quietly walked to the truck and Patrick helped me in. He gave me a funny look, asking," Are you sure that you are alright?"

"I'm fine, Blue Knight, we need to talk about…" but he interrupted me, "Not now Ms. Bernardino," I was thinking, *"He is angry."* "We can talk about it when we get home, Marie, not another word."

Patrick played the radio all the way home looking straight ahead and ignoring me. Earlier in the day he couldn't keep his hands off of me. Boy was I in trouble. I should have left when Susan started bumping into me. We really caused a scene and I suppose I can't blame him for being angry.

When we pulled into the driveway he put the truck in park and shut the engine off. I waited to see if he would help me out and he did, offering me his hand, saying, "I'm going to check on the horses," and then he walked
away.

"Patrick wait, let me explain, can we talk?" I then started walking after him, no answer, "Patrick, Susan started it!" still no answer, "Are you teasing me? Did you hear me?" I said, rushing past him to get in front of him. I put my hand on his chest, stopping him and only because he let me. "Are you angry with me?" He closed his eyes, sighed and then opened them. He took my hand and held it gently in both of his.

"I'm angry with myself. I should have handled the entire situation differently. I'm disappointed that you didn't just leave when Susan got pushy. Although I suppose a confrontation was inevitable. I have to tell you, I still care for Susan in my own way and basically she is a very good person. Susan is not your competition. I am not interested in Susan that way. That is ancient history…period."

Patrick then pulled me close to him and put my hand over his heart and held it there, "My heart only beats for you, Marie," and I was thinking, *"Did he just say that he loves me?"*, Patrick continued, "I'm not one for flowery speeches and I offer no love sonnets," he kissed me, his hot lips scorching mine, "All I can do is show you. Go into the house and put another ice pack on your eye. It really doesn't look bad so let's keep it that way. I will be in shortly, and then we can grill some steaks."

*Patrick:*

When I finished with the horses, I got my grill out and started a fire with oak and apple logs. They would burn down into fragrant cooking coals. I put a dozen roasting potatoes wrapped in foil in the far corner of the grill to get them started, and it would take a good hour to get a bed of coals for the steaks which was why I didn't use charcoal. I was going to have my dessert before supper, Marie.

I found my Marie in the kitchen standing at the counter preparing homemade Italian dressing for a tossed salad. She had changed out of the blue jeans and blouse and was now wearing a simple house dress without a bra underneath, perfect. I put my arms around her waist while rubbing her ass to see if she was wearing panties, nope, perfect again. I then kissed the back of her neck and nuzzled it with my face. Marie was wise to my tricks now. She turned around and offered me a taste from the spoon before I could put my finger in the bowl, "What do you think?" She asked, "Does it need more garlic?"

"No it is perfect," I answered, "the fire will be ready in about an hour and then I will put the t-bone steaks on. How do you want yours cooked?"

"Medium rare will be fine. I glad you're not mad at me, and I'm not wearing panties either."

"Was I that obvious?" I asked, kissing her mouth."

"Perfectly obvious," Marie answered, returning my kisses, "I've been going through the cupboards and we need to go grocery shopping. I want you taste my sauce."

"No we don't, I will taste your sauce momentarily, any objections?"

"Not that kind of sauce," she said laughing, as I caressed her firm ass.

"You said you want me to taste your sauce, your sauce, Marie's sauce. What other kind of sauce is there?"

"I meant tomato sauce and you know it, so stop being obtuse."

"What, tomato sauce down there? Won't that be messy? It will stain the sheets. What if I get tomato sauce in my eye brows?" How undignified," And then I waved my hand as if dismissing the silly notion, while keeping a straight face, "And I won't stop, I love squeezing your little caboose."

Marie started mussing my hair vigorously and was laughing, "You are impossible, Patrick, do you know that, do you? You can be so stern and unyielding, but then so silly. That is why I love you."

*Marie:*

I was thinking, *"There I said it, I love you, of course I have fallen in love with him. How could I not. Patrick is the least passive aggressive man that I have ever met and the most truthful. He doesn't hide behind words and fancy talk. He told me straight up about Susan. I have to admit that I am a little bit afraid of him though…or is it respect…make it both. But I love him, and he loves me. What you see is what you get."*

"Do you have anything to say to me, Patrick?"

"Yes, your eye looks much better."

"Thank you, anything else?"

"Yes, you look lovely in that dress."

"Anything else," I asked, tugging on his hair.

"Yes, you are hot and sexy."

"You are getting warm, please continue."

"That is the best Italian dressing that I have ever tasted…ouch."

"You are impossible, Mr. Buchanan," I said, kissing his mouth.

Patrick then lifted my dress up around my waist and started rubbing my pussy with his hand, "Tell me my sexy little bitch, do you want me to lick and suck your plump pussy, or do you want to fuck?"

Not answering, I took my dress completely off and dropped it to the kitchen floor.

*Patrick:*

Marie told me that she loved me. I knew she would, I just knew it. I picked her up, and then carried my darling Marie, who felt as light as a feather into the bedroom where I put her gently on our bed. I didn't bother to undress as I was intent on pleasing her. I could wait until later.

I put a pillow underneath her shapely ass and spread her legs. I started kissing and licking Marie's beautiful rounds breasts until I could smell the sweet moistness between her legs. Marie's moans and deep breathing were like music to my ears. I was somewhat humbled by it actually, that Marie could be herself with me. I then went down on her, licking and sucking, probing her clitoris with my tongue. Marie's hands were in my hair, pushing my head against her dripping pussy while verbally urging me on. I could feel her swollen clitoris pulsating against my tongue as if it had a life of its own. She was moaning softly and rocking her hips from side to side. Marie tasted
delicious, vanilla spice delicious. Performing oral sex on a woman is something I enjoy greatly. I could never understand why so many men distain it. Obviously they didn't know what they were missing or how much women enjoy it. Many married women deny their husbands oral sex and the disdainers can't understand why. They just accept it or make jokes about it, such as, "The minute I said I do, she didn't"…. the dopes.

Marie's orgasm came in waves with her sweet juices covering my face as I licked like mad and held her in place to keep her from sliding off the bed. Afterward, I lay down next to her playing with her hard nipples as she lay
stretched out on her back relaxing, like a large cat, no make a tigress.

Marie ran her fingers through her own hair and was frowning thoughtfully. "Thank you, Marie," I said, "you are the best tasting little Italian I have ever had." Smiling, Marie rolled over and hugged me, kissing my face over and over. That is when I accidently found out that she was ticklish. I held her down and tickled her until she was practically begging me to stop through her laughter.

*Marie:*

As I was kissing and hugging him I was thinking, *"Patrick is so wonderfully impossible that I can hardly believe it. He used his tongue like a conductor directing an orchestra, me. He did everything right and my orgasms were so good. I was ready for more when Patrick stood up and thanked me. But then he started playfully tickling me and I was just about breathless before he stopped. He then excused himself to check and see if the grill was ready for the steaks, leaving me in a content, happy flutter on our bed, our bed…my Patrick.*

*I have the rest of my life with him. What I really can't believe is that he enjoys eating me out as much as I like sucking on his big cock, you can't fake that kind of enthusiasm."*

I got dressed, set the table for two and met him outside where he was grilling the steaks. Patrick was sipping a bottle of Yuengling Lager. He smiled, handed me the bottle and I took a sip. I then gave his ass a pinch, "That was for tickling me. When will the steaks be ready?"

"They will be ready in another five minutes. The baked potatoes are done. I made enough potatoes to put in the fridge to get cold and then slice up for fried potatoes for at least two meals and look," he lifted the cover to show me, "I am roasting some jalapeño peppers for my hot and spicy lady. Just add a tossed salad to the meal and it doesn't better than that?"

"Yes it does, dessert, sweetheart," I answered, "I'm going to taste you after I take you out for ice cream at the Upstate Dairy Store that we passed on the way home. It will be my treat," I put my arms around his neck and kissed him, "please, sweetheart."

"As you command, my Queen, as you command……………….."

We were having a very cozy little dinner, candles, soft music, when the doorbell rang. Patrick looked up smiling making no attempt to get up and answer the door. It rang again. "It's probably for you, my love," he said, smiling. Puzzled, I got up and answered the door. There was a young man standing there and his Florist Delivery Van was parked in our driveway.

"I have a delivery for a Marie Antoinette Bernardino. Will you sign for it Ma'am?"

"Yes, thank you," I said, smiling, "I don't have cash to tip you, but if you come back tomorrow I will."

"Oh no, Ma'am, the tip has already been paid."

I returned to the table with 3 dozen long stem lavender roses, they being my favorite flower by far.

"My, my, Marie, roses you must have a secret admirer," Patrick said, cutting his steak.

"How did you know lavender roses are my favorite, and are you familiar with the mystique associated with them?"

"I didn't know. Most women like red roses. Red roses are popular and heavily promoted as the most desirable. They are also the most abundant and most common place. You are not most women, you are my Marie. It is well known that purple is the color of royalty my Queen. Many believe that the lavender rose is a sign of enchantment and love at first sight. It is often said that those who have been enraptured by feelings of love and adoration have given lavender roses to express their romantic feelings and intentions.


"I thought you didn't know poetry," I hugged him as tight as I could, "Thank you for the beautiful flowers."

"Was that poetry?" He asked, while keeping a poker face, "It certainly didn't rhyme. Would you please pass the salt?"

I wasn't fooled, Patrick's eyes gave him away, they were saying, I love you Marie…………….



After dinner, I washed while Patrick dried, listening to music while we did the dishes. Patrick pulled me away from the sink three times to dance with me. If this keeps up there is need to buy a dishwasher. After the dishes were done we danced into the bedroom for me to get ready. We then danced out to his truck, turning things off and locking the doors on the way out…it must be the lavender roses.

I snuggled up close to Patrick in the truck and held his hand while we drove to get our ice cream cones. I was a woman in love, rescued from and ogress and then enamored with the whirlwind romance that had figuratively and literally sweep me off my feet. When we arrived, I didn't care what anyone thought when we acted like teenagers, both of us adults in our thirties. We ordered our ice cream, double-dip ones in waffle cones. I had a scoop chocolate with a scoop of strawberry on the top. Patrick chose maple walnut and butter pecan. We sat outside on the tailgate of his pickup truck passing our cones back-and-forth, tasting and sharing maple walnut, chocolate, strawberry and butter pecan flavored kisses.

I noticed that Patrick likes to drive on all the back roads, perfect. I never had done anything like this before, but this was a big roomy truck; in for a dime in for a dollar as they say.

*Patrick:*

We were driving home from the Dairy Store, "Stop the truck, pull over there," Marie said, pointing.

"Is something wrong?" I asked pulling over and putting the transmission into PARK.

"No, everything is perfectly wonderful and I love you." Marie replied, leaning over to kiss me. I was starting to catch on. Marie turned the key shutting the engine off. "It's dark out. There's nobody around, and I want to suck on your cock. But first I want to neck. We haven't done that yet."

I started the truck again and started driving away, "Just up the way a bit is the Power Company's access right of way which intersects with an abandoned road that used to run along the creek. The county road is pretty rough and overgrown but is a wonderful ride on horseback. I cleared out most the brush on the west side of the old stone bridge foundation. My great-great-grandfather helped build that bridge. The county shut the bridge down in 1920, it being unsuited for trucks and autos. We will park there, out of sight and out of mind."

"Did you ride there often with your wife, sweetheart?"

"Yes, I had an arrangement with a riding stable. We bartered our services. I have never had a horse of my own and never rode until after I was married. Anne taught me how to ride. No horse ever took to me, not even White Cloud."

"But I have seen you feed and pet her, Patrick, you own her."

"That's true, and I have ridden White Cloud, Marie, but only one time since Anne died. The grand old lady's heart just wasn't in it. Yes, legally I own her. On the other hand, philosophically speaking, some would say that White Cloud is her own sentient being with feelings and a soul. I don't buy the scientific theories promoting animal behavior as purely instinctual. I base my opinion on my experience with horses and dogs. My little female beagle, Brandy, blew those cold clinical theories out of the water, and then there is White Cloud.

"I never had a dog growing up in the City. There was no room in our apartment. Was Brandy your only dog?" I asked, squeezing his hand.

"There is only one Brandy, and yes she was my only dog. Brandy died just before I went into the Service. There are a series big bumps coming up and then we will be there. If you want we can start a fire. Now as I was saying; take material possessions for example and my land in particular. When I am dead and gone the land will still be here. I am merely borrowing it for awhile as with everything I own. Others will say, "Do we really own things, or do they own you.

It is also said that you can't take it with you. I disagree. Love transcends all, my beautiful Marie."

*Marie:*

As we traversed the rock strewn road riddled with deep ruts, I was thinking, *"I have fallen in love with a philosopher knight, and to think, the Ogress Clara called Patrick a hayseed?"*

When we finally parked I could tell even in the dark what a beautiful little spot this was, quiet and peaceful except for the sound of water splashing and gurgling over the rocks in the creek bed. It was a warm, balmy night with the lilac bushes growing along the bank in full bloom. We put the windows down to catch the fragrant, lilac scented breeze. Being here with Patrick is so different from my life in the City. Even when seemingly alone in Central Park you are surrounded by multitudes of people. This was now or special place secluded, cozy and safe.

Patrick turned to me and gently took my face in his strong, callused hands while kissing my mouth, "I love you, Marie," he said softly, holding my face, "I love you more than words can describe," and he kissed my mouth again, "I am truly blessed to have found you, my Queen."

*"No my love,"* I thought, *"I am the one who is blessed, for I am a changed woman. My money and my possessions owned me. I was proud, and I was selfish, and I was hell bent on self destructive revenge to get even for what the Jerk did to me. I haven't spoken with my parents in almost a year I'm ashamed to admit. You make me feel like I'm an eighteen year old girl again, my Blue Knight, my Patrick. You have reminded me who I really am. I sorry, Mom and Dad, I'm going to make it up to both of you. Patrick told me that his biggest regret in life was never having children. You were right my dear parents, family is all that matters."*

Patrick held me close as we kissed, running his fingers through my hair. They were warm kisses, gentle, passionate kisses, no hurry kisses. We had all the time in the world, the night belonged to us. He held me for awhile, and I could hear his heart beating. It was beating only for me. Patrick felt so warm and solid as he held me, stroking my hair and rubbing my back. There was no need for words; the creek's soothing music was the only sound we needed.

*Patrick:*

This is one of my favorite spots in the world. I would hide out here as a boy when I was angry with my father or to get out of the cow barns. During the summer I would disappear for days on end like Huckleberry Finn or Tom Sawyer on the Mississippi River. I drove my Dad mad with worry and was grounded almost continuously, all to no avail. Corporal punishment or grounding didn't faze me one bit, I never gave up my hiding place. Sure, thesame creek ran through our property, and we had a 4 acre pond not far from the house, but the bridge was my private clubhouse. It was my get away where I could let my imagination soar in books. "Robin Hood" by Roger L.Green, "Ivanhoe" by Sir Walter Scott, and I loved all the original "Conan the Barbarian" stories by Robert E. Howard. I read everything by Edgar Rice Burroughs.

I was intrigued by "The Once and Future King" by T. H. White, and I was fascinated by Tolkien. I would climb up on the bridge foundation and settle into a hollow crevice, to sit and read out of sight. My adventures for the day were contingent on what book I was reading. I would run up and down the creek banks fighting evil black knights or slaying dragons with my sword, a stick, or wrestling crocodiles in the creek. I would kill the pretended crocodiles with my knife, a real one, a fixed blade Ka-bar knife. A word of advice, never swim like Tarzan with a sharp knife in your teeth. I still have the scar on my tongue for that stupidity.

I even had my own secret magic gold ring that I always wore around my neck on a chain. It was my ring of invisibility and it kept me safe from harm and discovery. I wore it every day on a chain around my neck right up to the day I was married.

Unlike the one ring to rule them all and in darkness bind them, from "The Lord of the Rings" by Tolkien, mine was a ring with a mother's love forged into it. It was my mother's plain gold wedding band….Mom died when I was nine years old. Dad never remarried and I assumed wrongly that that fate would be mine.

*Marie:*

"Do you still want your cock sucked, Sweetheart?" I asked, knowing that he did. Patrick was so good by patiently waiting. Nevertheless, I could feel his erection straining against his jeans the whole time we were there.

"Do I have to talk dirty?" he asked.

"Not if you don't want too," I answered, pulling his zipper down, "Just get comfortable and enjoy."

"I can smell your sex, Marie, my horny little bitch. You are wet between your legs. You are a wet and willing hot little number. Just remember you are mine now. If you are a good little cocksucker, I will reward you with a good hard fucking."

"I love it when you talk dirty to me," I cooed, kissing his stomach.

Patrick opened his door and we switched sides. He took his jeans and boxers off before he got back in. I slid over and lay down on my stomach the long way across the seat with my feet hanging out the driver's door. He got comfortable by leaning up against the passenger door and waited for me to start. I couldn't wait to suck on his big cock. Patrick wasn't the only person that was horny.

I started by kissing and licking his stomach, working my way up to his cock. It was standing at attention for me, patiently waiting to be licked and sucked. I started licking the base of his cock to the tip, rolling my tongue around the tip, and I had my love squirming in the seat as he played with my hair.

I continued to lick and suck, his hands buried in my hair, taking his cock deeper into my mouth, anticipating when he would flood my mouth with his luscious seed. I teased him, bring him to the brink of sweet release and then backed off. I did this several times until he growled, "Enough," he then took control of me by my hair, setting the cadence.

"Enough teasing, little bitch, lick and suck and you will swallow it all." I love it when he talks dirty.

Patrick's breathing increased, deep steady breathes and he was making a low noise in his throat, a low deep primal growl that turns me on so. I was squeezing my legs together, pushing my pussy against the truck seat trying to stimulate myself. I wanted to come so bad.

I tried sticking my hand into my blue jeans to get to my pussy. Patrick slapped my ass with his hand and it stung even through my blue jeans, "Enough of that, Marie, that's my job. You will behave and wait."

Of course I would wait. Patrick was the first man since my father who could actually handle me. He would make me behave, and I loved it, thinking, *"A spanking now and then might be just what I needed, followed of course by a good fucking afterward?"*

My thoughts were pushed aside by another of his thunderous orgasms releasing a deluge of hot creamy cum into my mouth. He pulled out slightly so that I wouldn't choke, and as before, it was a delicious relentless barrage of semen for me to swallow. I was almost overwhelmed by his onslaught of creamy semen as my first little orgasm washed over me.

I got up to kiss him but Patrick got out of the truck and said, "Thank you, Marie." I watched him run off into the bushes taking off his shirt and dropping it. Now he was completely naked. I got out of the truck smiling, and was thinking, *"Life with my Blue Knight will be anything but boring."*

I started to undress, getting into the spirit of the game. I remembered the times I spent with my Mother. Mom acts in several small community theatres and that is where she met Dad. He was hired in to do the plumbing work in the restored theatre where she was rehearsing. This was something we did as a family, going to Mom's plays and helping out. Mom and I would rehearse her lines, and eventually I had my own small parts, or walk on parts in the small and mostly adult theatre productions. Dad helped with the props and the lights. He joked that he couldn't carry a tune in a bucket, although he bragged about carrying his acting skills in a thimble in his pocket.

I also took voice and singing lessons from Mom, and we sang together on Sunday in our church choir during mass. In high school I really got involved with all the school plays, and in my senior year I played the star role as Maria, in the Musical "The Sound of Music". That was followed by the same part in Mom's theatre group, the pinnacle of my acting career to both my parent's delight. Mom was the Mother Superior. Mom and I rehearsed our parts with a passion and then we would laugh and talk afterward, she was sad that I would be attending college in the fall and living in the dormitory.


In retrospect my Mother is far more talented in the singing, dancing or acting that I could ever hope to be. Mom stole the show and out shined everyone when she sang "Climb every mountain", although I did get by pretty good, coming in a close second from the reviews in the entertainment sectionin the newspaper. Dad told me afterwards that he never heard Mom sing with such passion and love and that song "Climb every mountain" was for me, Marie Antoinette, not the character, Maria. I was my Mother's pride and joy and her inspiration, that song a precious gift that a Patrick would say "transcends all".

Mom could have gone places and then I came along. During the first five years of my life until I entered school, Mom's entire world was me. I could read when I was three. I entered kindergarten reading at a third grade level with and was able to express myself with a vocabulary that was unusually large for my age. My drawings and paintings were displayed in every room of our small apartment and then saved in a leather portfolio to make room for new ones. My real talent is painting and drawing, something which my mother nurtured and encouraged. In my early years my days belonged to my mother and in the evenings my father. It just about broke their hearts when
I dropped out of college.

*Patrick: *

I quietly circled back and followed Marie down to the water. As I hoped she was completely undressed and waiting for me. My lover's trim figure was adelight to my eyes, faintly silhouetted by the water and dim mellow moonlight light from the half moon. In my imagination I was seeing Marie as one of the mythical Naiads, a fresh water nymph as she waded in the shallow water near the shore. My heart was pounding in my chest with enraptured love for Marie, pounding so loud I was certain that she could hear me coming and would return to the water whence she came.

*Marie:*

It was almost a mystical night as I waded in the swallow water along the banks of the creek. The light from the half moon caressed my naked form and I felt as if I was almost part of nature. It was an odd but lovely thought, me, a horny water sprite. I was already wet and aroused between my legs and I imagined that Patrick could smell my woman's scent as I was looking and listening for him, stroking my breasts and getting hornier by the minute, knowing what was to come, a good hard fucking as only he can do it. Then Patrick was there with his hands around my waist, nuzzling and kissing my cheek, his rock hard cock pressed against me. I reached back with my hand and touched his face.

"I've been good," I said, taking his hands and squeezing them.

"No you haven't. You have been wonderfully sexy and naughty stroking your beautiful breasts by your creek my little Naiad. I can smell you from a distance and now you can't get away. You will have to grant me one wish."

"Is a Naiad like a water sprite?" I asked.

"A Naiad is a fresh water nymph and cousin to the tree nymph. They are much larger and sexier than a water spirit," he said, putting his hands on my shoulders and turning me to face him. He then took my hand and we walked out of the water to the soft grass of the creek bank.

I put my arms around his neck and then kissed him long and deep, "You have your fairytale creatures mixed up Patrick. Genies grant wishes."

"You have already granted two of my wishes," he replied, pulling me tight into him and kissing my mouth, "One, you have agreed to stay, and two, you love me. Three will come in time. I am content to wait," he said, pulling me down into the grass next to him.

"Get on your hands and knees, Marie and brace yourself.

Straddling my dripping and welcoming pussy with his cock, Patrick then leaned forward until his face was close to mine kissing my cheek, "Please and thank you, my love," he said as he entered me, pushing slowly, making me gasp and moan while stretching my tight cunt until I could feel his balls caressing my ass cheeks. As before it seemed that Patrick's huge cock filled my entire uterus and I started to orgasm immediately, moaning and squirming from side-to-side when he suddenly pulled out slapping my ass, sharply, "Not yet, Marie," and then he lightly slapped my pussy as he stroked my clitoris with his fingers until I was literally begging him to fuck me.

Patrick started fucking me slowly again, in and out, in and out, bringing me to the brink several times before I was allowed my first little orgasm. Just as it peaked, his thrusting becoming more forceful and his cock seemed even bigger and harder as his balls spanked my ass. Amazed, I felt the beginning of another orgasm building. Patrick was spanking my ass just hard enough to sting, enhancing our love making. He timed his orgasm with mine. I was overwhelmed as that massive orgasm burned though me. I was moaning and swearing and for the life of me I don't remember what I said to him. Patrick was pulling my hair as he pounded me, the sharp intake of his breathing, and the deep growl in his throat that was so Patrick, the Patrick I loved. Perhaps he is a little rough and wild but I like it when he fucks me that way. I have never made love to a man outside in the grass like this, nor have I ever had grass stains on my knees or the palms of my hands from fucking. Afterward we lay there not talking and he held me. I was thinking about my mother and started crying. They were happy tears and he intuitively knew it. Patrick held me and stroked my hair.

*Patrick:*

I have noticed that Marie likes it a little rough and that is good because sometimes I get a little carried away. I noticed how she getsturned-on when I pull her hair while I bang her, or when I spank her ass and pussy. I absolutely adore Marie when she moans and pants, squirms and swears. There is nothing intimidating about that at all. Wow, talk about an ego booster. There is nothing like making love in the grass at night, it is so wild and primal. Afterward I held her and stroked her hair. Not so much to comfort Marie, they were happy tears, but because I love her and I could share the moment if not the memory. When we got home I was exhausted and went right to bed. Marie checked on the horses, and let me sleep.

*Marie:*

Patrick was exhausted when we got home. I must have worn him out, but what an eventful day we had. He went to bed while I checked on the horses and locked all of the doors. Afterward, I went into the kitchen and called my parents. I lost all track of the time talking to Mom. This was the first time in our life that we talked as equals. We both had a good cry, talked some more and then had another cry. We talked about everything. I didn't mention the Club or how I really met Patrick. I wasn't ready for that yet, maybe someday. I told her that I met him in the City while he was on business. That was partially true and I told Mom that I loved him. Mom was intrigued about the fact that Patrick was a sometimes farmer and a blacksmith. She also wanted to attend one of his reenactments when I told her that he was part actor and had to stay in character and period dress the whole time the public was there.

As I said, I lost all track of time and was still talking at six o'clock the next morning. While I was talking to Dad, Patrick walked into the kitchen fully dressed. He then leaned over and kissed my cheek. Dad tends to have a loud telephone voice and when he talks his voice tends to carry. While Patrick was making the coffee, he must have heard some of the comments that Dad made about him being a shit kicking farmer, and remarks about his Scottish heritage and not good enough for me, things like that.

Patrick brought me a cup of coffee grinning from ear to ear and took the telephone from me.

"Good morning Mr. Bernardino. This is Patrick Ian Buchanan. All those things you said about me will have to be settled when we meet……. No, Mr. Bernardino, I was not listening in on another line. You are loud and have a big mouth," I just sat there stunned, nobody dares to talk to my Dad like that, "No, you have no expectations of privacy unless you talk quietly……..Yes, I know you are Marie's father. God bless you for that…… Is that what you think, I'm am eavesdropping punk, how interesting. Is that anyway to talk to a future son-in-law......You forbid me to see your daughter. I can assure you that's not happening, I love your daughter and nobody is standing in my way including you……. You are coming down here to kick my ass. I'll save you the trouble. Marie and I will be coming to visit you……

I'm not welcome in your house, that's fine, it is your house. You are welcome to visit mine anytime…..When, we will be coming to visit in about three weeks……Yes I know you want a piece of me. Good luck with that. If you can't wait three weeks Marie will give you our address. When we know for sure you are coming Marie can put on a pot of sauce. That is of course if you are not afraid to meet with me……. Such language is that the best you can do. You swear like a girl…… At least curse me out in English, Mr. Bernardino……You are quite the tough guy on the telephone…… You don't say……oh, you do say. I disagree. Obviously somebody does talk to you like that, I just did……. in English, Mr. Bernardino, in English, unless you want me to finish this conversation in Gaelic." Patrick said laughing, "and then I will share some Gaelic swear words with you," he then handed me the telephone before walking out the back door leaving me to deal with my now irate father….....