Dreams to Die For

by Alan G Boyes

  Cindy changed into a different pair of jeans and sweater, then eagerly accepted Gordon’s earlier offer of being shown around the house. In some rooms the art was contemporary whilst in others it was modern or fine. Watercolours and sculptures were tastefully placed to supplement the décor rather than overwhelm it. An estate agent would describe Mealag as possessing a 100% ‘wow factor’. Superior design consultants had been employed on every aspect of the house, but it was clear that Gordon had not given them free reign and had been very much part of their team rather than a remote client. Most of the downstairs rooms showed aged, but gleaming dark wood polished floors onto which were laid an assortment of Persian carpets and rugs, whilst the upstairs bedrooms and Gordon’s computer room had fully-fitted carpets. There were two dining areas in addition to the kitchen. One was clearly for more formal dinners and set at the side of the house. Not only could this room comfortably seat fourteen around the splendid oval table, but leading off was a sitting room where easy sofas and chairs allowed guests to relax comfortably between or after courses. The other was a small dining room, adjoining the kitchen / bar used to make snacks and serve refreshments for those guests enjoying the cinema or snooker facilities. On the way to the gym and pool, Gordon pointed out the laundry room but it was the large, indoor pool that took Cindy’s breath away. She was over-awed, and was sorely tempted to strip off and dive in. The cinema room was housed adjacent to the gym but its neat, red chairs had been carefully stacked against the walls to permit a full-sized snooker table to occupy the centre of the floor.

  “Have you ever played?” enquired Gordon.

  “No, never, but I’d like to have a go another day, maybe?”

  Gordon smiled. “I expect that can be arranged!”

  Lighting throughout the house was controlled by a variety of sophisticated switches and there were electronic systems that also controlled the heating, in-built music and televisions. Data outlets had been installed in nearly every room, large or small. As she went around the house what really impressed Cindy was that despite its size and the obvious expensive furnishings throughout, it was still very much a home. No room, with the possible exception of the main dining room, was overly tidy to the point of not looking lived in. Ornaments were not always in the correct place and the normal household accumulation of miscellaneous items that get put aside here or there was much in evidence. This was not an impersonal baronial type home where she might be frightened to break anything or leave a dirty fingermark on the light switch. She could relax here.

  They finished in the drawing room – a truly magnificent room which she estimated to be about thirty-five feet long and almost as wide. The large glass patio doors that she saw from the path did indeed afford a wonderful view of the loch, now darkened to almost black as the last light faded. An ornate white and grey stone fireplace was the central feature of the room and housed a well burning log fire, the flames providing a welcome, intimate feel to the room and which supplemented the background heating system supplied by the two ranges in the main kitchen. Double, eighty-piece crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling but were not switched on. Obscured side lighting glowed discreetly upon the walls which coupled with the lights illuminating the various pictures provided a soft ambient glow. A Christmas tree with a few presents already placed underneath its spreading branches and lit by numerous single white miniature bulbs was placed in a corner. To Cindy it was like being in Wonderland, and she struggled to really believe this was really happening to her. It was just so perfect.

  Their tour over they sat on one of the large sofas and started to talk about Mealag and Gordon’s background. He added little to what she already knew. He started out writing various games programs but his big break came when he wrote a program based around owning an imaginary oil tanker. Evidently, the object was to send the tanker to various ports, buying and selling oil and overcoming hazards on the way and over time to enlarge ownership from a single vessel to a fleet of twenty tankers or other cargo carrying vessels. The program was quite sophisticated as to how the end user had to use the information held at the various ports and thereby select the most economical routes to the ports and what to purchase or sell. The speed of the ships and associated fuel running costs had to be factored in as well as the risks of sailing the slowest yet safest route versus the quickest more dangerous route. Various sub routines about the company’s accounts and profitability added to the game’s complexity. Random perils like storms or engine failure would occur to add to the game’s authenticity. The program was so successful it resulted in Gordon being approached by an executive of a real international oil company who astounded Gordon by telling him that the program was more sophisticated than anything they had on their main frame computers, and invited Gordon to join his company and head up a team to write bespoke programs for use on their new PC’s. Gordon’s career took off, and within a short time, had his own business and a large team of analysts and programmers working for him on many varied commercial applications.

  As the company expanded, he found he was spending so much of his time running it that he was not able to continue with the aspect he most cherished – namely that of programming. Neither was he able to simply enjoy the opportunities afforded by his wealth. Leisure time was minimal, travel was always related to his work, and living out of a suitcase as he journeyed between continental hotels seemed a total waste of his young life, so he disposed of his shares and went into property development in a big way. Again, he built up a multi-million pound organisation and had just sold it for the same reasons as he sold the software company, plus he feared a collapse in property values. He told Cindy he had retained ownership of a number of overseas and UK properties as part of the portfolio within his own private investment company, but otherwise he was now, as he put it, unemployed. This was not strictly true as he explained that the Mealag Estate was, of course, a business and operated on broadly commercial lines, but he could afford to be a little more lenient than his normal strict assessment of businesses performance when studying the financial statements of the estate. He also now had time to indulge, just for fun, in playing around on his various computers.

  21

  Later that evening, Margaret prepared a meal for them both and then left for the night returning to her bungalow. Cindy and Gordon spent an enjoyable evening relating stories to each other of their past and of their hobbies and could not stop looking and smiling at each other. They were both very happy and having finished their last glass of wine, Cindy jumped up from the sofa.

  “Race you to the shower” she shouted excitedly, and started to run out of the door along the hallway and up the stairs to the bedroom, chased by Gordon.

  As Cindy entered the room, she kicked off her moccasins and turned to face him. He took her in his arms and kissed her whilst slipping his hands down her back. She lifted her arms so they were outstretched above her head and Gordon gently removed her sweater and let it fall to the floor. Repeatedly kissing her quickly and softly on her face, neck and lips much as a butterfly flutters from flower to flower, his fingers skilfully detached the small fastenings of her bra. He bent down and kissed first her left nipple then her right, and felt them instantly swell under his tongue. His hands again searched her back, sending shivers of delight through her spine, and he pulled her against him so she would feel the urgency within him. She undid the zip on her jeans and removed the rest of her clothes in one movement, whilst Gordon quickly undressed himself. As she lay on the bed she whispered to him to come closer, and put her arms around him as he lay beside her.

  Her mind was filled with the images and sounds of the day. Glencoe, the dam, the echoing sound of the outboard, the rush of water from the boat’s bow wave; one after the other, over and over, and over again, the excitements of the day came back to her until her mind closed out. She was no longer the independent woman she thought she was. She needed Gordon and needed him now. She turned herself over to lie on top of him and began by covering his face with sh
ort, strong kisses, gradually working her way down his body. She could feel his flesh jerk as she reached between his legs and opened her mouth, taking him in. He moaned and squeezed her breast but could do little more. The gentle rhythmic pressure of her lips and tongue were now acting in unison with her hands, making him powerless to move except in reflex movements of his hips. He tried to stop her, to turn her over on her back, but the exquisite delight at what she was doing to him was so intense, he stopped resisting and raised his hips higher to urge her to take more of him into her mouth. The harder and faster she sucked, the louder he groaned until he exploded in a series of uncontrolled spasms. She slowly released the grip of her lips and lay beside him, both panting rapidly. Gordon had exceeded any previously experienced delights at oral sex and he stared into her eyes, almost disbelieving at what he had just enjoyed. Cindy noticed his slightly quizzical look.

  “Before you ask. No, that’s not something I’m used to either!” she laughed. “Anyway, I’m going to have that shower and then you can get your own back,” she giggled as she ran naked into the cubicle. They showered together, enjoying the sensuousness of touching their warm, wet bodies and lingered over their frequent embraces under the soft spray. They were drying each other when Gordon suddenly put his arms around Cindy, lifted her up and carried her to the bed where he dropped her onto her back. She smiled and held out her arms but he ignored them.

  He knelt between her legs and gently brushed his hand over the soft mound of hair, whilst licking her nipples. They were full now, hard and erect, sensitive to any touch and he cupped her firm, round breasts to his lips. Whilst not large they felt full and heavy and he delighted in their smoothness. Cindy began to moan softly, and her thighs were straining to engulf him. He lowered his head. His eager tongue first traced the outline of her opening then, probing, he gradually increased the pressure until her slit opened. He pushed his tongue just slightly deeper into her, and with short rapid movements of his tongue, her moans grew louder. She was breathing heavily, her legs straining to be let loose, and as he sucked at her pearl he could feel her hips raise.

  “Harder, harder” she cried out a few times, but Gordon did not obey. “Now, Gordon, now!” but he wanted them both to wait, to heighten still further their shared ecstasy. He slowly eased the pressure of his lips and just flicked his tongue occasionally as he began to remove his face from between her legs.

  “Don’t stop. Don’t stop now. Please Gordon, don’t stop,” she pleaded but again he ignored her.

  Instead of entering her he took her hands in his and placed them around his engorged penis. Then he knelt slightly forward until its tip just touched her opening. He felt her straining to take him in. She urgently wanted him now and she pulled his cock hard against her jerking it back and forth, round and round, in an effort to satisfy her desperate hunger.

  “Gordon, come nearer, nearer” but every time she pushed herself onto him he backed away slightly. He knew she was coming now, deep, slow and uncontrollably. Her body had taken her over completely and was writhing up and down, synchronised to the rhythm of her rubbing him against her. A wave came across her and she yelled for him to give her what she wanted. She was still yelling when she climaxed and as she did Gordon squeezed her nipples a little harder.

  “You bastard, you bloody bastard,” Cindy panted, swearing in-between taking breaths.

  They continued to gently caress each other for several minutes, and when Gordon felt they had both recovered sufficiently he whispered, “Now, Cindy, this is for real.”

  He entered her. As he slid easily into her wetness, she gave a long sigh feeling his warmth and size. He nestled his mouth over her right nipple sucking hard. It was more than she could bear.

  “No, no, I can’t, it’s too soon” but it was a half-hearted protest. Anyway Gordon wasn’t listening. He slowly increased his thrusts until she was wide open with her legs wrapped around his back. He moved carefully and deliberately, waiting for the reflex responses that would tell him she was ready. Slowly, they came. He felt the contractions deep within her, clenching his penis and then releasing it in firm spasms. He quickened and her clenches grew stronger, sending her mind uncontrollably wild with delight. This was no act. It was for real, as he had said, and she was about to enter the unknown, out of control and screaming loudly, “Oh, my God! Fuck me! Fuck me now, you bastard!”

  Her spasms were rapid, her breathing loud and heavy. He climaxed with her, filling her with his warm liquid as their mouths became united.

  Gordon slowly rolled away, breathing hard next to her. Tears filled her eyes and she started to cry. Gordon understood and let her relieve the emotion of the moment as best she could. He wiped away the tears with his hand and held her in his arms.

  “Thank you,” he said simply. “Thank you for being so wonderful.”

  They lay together, not moving, for several minutes, and it was Cindy that eventually broke the silence after her senses had returned to something approaching normality – though she could hardly speak through her own breathlessness.

  “I’m really sorry,” she said. “I have never, never cried out like that. I… er… don’t. It just isn’t me. I thought it was made up for movies,” she laughed.

  “Apparently not always,” said Gordon drily. “Anyway don’t apologise, you were fantastic. All I want is for you to be happy.”

  They both woke early on Christmas Day and Cindy immediately went to the window and looked out at the loch. She had hoped it might be snowing but was disappointed. Low white clouds were being driven across the sides of the mountains, whose tops had disappeared under a heavy, leaden sky that was reflected in the grey colour of the loch. It was a complete contrast to when she arrived but was still attractive to her. Gordon joined her and remarked that rarely were two days the same. The vista was ever changing with the seasons and there was always something different to see. The varying light and cloud formations resulted in great changes to the appearance of the landscape, not just daily, but often hour to hour or even minute by minute. He pointed out some deer, just below the snow line, herded together for warmth behind a knoll on the mountain opposite, and the circling buzzard high above them. Cindy was spellbound. At that moment she thought it magical, like a fairy story come true, and she remained fixated on the view until Gordon had dressed and asked Cindy what she would like for breakfast. She stepped back from the window and put her arms around him.

  “You” she whispered, looking up at his smiling face.

  An hour later, they both made their way downstairs. Mrs MacLean had already prepared the Christmas venison, and after a quick bite Gordon showed Cindy around the grounds. As was his custom Gordon had invited his estate workers and families to pre-lunch drinks in Ruraich on Christmas morning, and at eleven o’clock a slightly nervous Cindy was introduced to them as they arrived. It was not long before she found herself chatting away and acting the perfect hostess. She made sure that everyone’s glass was refilled and that a steady supply of the various canapés prepared by Margaret was proffered whenever she saw that someone’s plate was empty.

  After everybody had left, Cindy and Gordon returned to the house and changed for a very late Christmas lunch. Margaret had beautifully prepared the grand dining table and the four of them spent most of the afternoon enjoying the splendid roast dinner and sumptuous food.

  “I think you excelled yourself this year, Margaret” her husband’s words only slightly slurred as he finished his second cognac.

  “Indeed, Margaret,” said Gordon. “I echo what Sandy says. It was tremendous. Thank you.”

  “Ach, it was nothing, a real pleasure it was. Visitors are rare enough here and to have someone at Christmas time… well, what better incentive could I have?”

  Before anyone could respond Margaret stood up. “Come along Sandy, time for us to go. Cindy and Gordon will be wanting some time on their own now. Just leave everything where it is Gordon, I’ll see to it in the morning.”

  She turned to Cindy and
winked, causing Cindy’s already ruddy cheeks to redden still further.

  Some considerable while elapsed as Gordon and Cindy relaxed in the drawing room leisurely unwrapping their presents. He was thrilled with his cufflinks and she received several gifts including an expensive diamond necklace. It suited her perfectly and she wore it that evening. Whilst they were both relaxing in front of the large open fire piled high with a mixture of wood and peat, the telephone rang and Gordon answered it in the hall. Several minutes later he returned.

  “That” he said, “was a good friend of mine, Dean Assiter, from Washington, with his Christmas greetings. He mentioned that he’s coming over in September for some meeting in London and I’ve invited him to stay on if he can for a week or so and come here. He thought it a great idea and will try to clear it with his security people. If it all works out OK he’ll bring Paulette.”

  “Security people? Paulette? Is that the Assiter who is the US Secretary of State?” enquired Cindy, the name familiar from her Downing Street days.

  “The very same. I met him years ago at an international symposium aimed at addressing the technology imbalance between the rich and poor countries, and remained friends ever since. Good guy. Not a hot head and, unusually for a US politician, is not in Washington for what he can get out of it.”

  Cindy was impressed.

  “You’ll like Paulette. Only met her once, but she’s a hell of an attractive woman. Ex French model and twenty years or so younger than Dean, who I think has just turned fifty. I’m not sure if Paulette came before his divorce or after. She likes the outdoor life so it should be a great time. It will be something for us to look forward to.”

  “You’ll still want me in September, will you? You might have found someone else by then.” Cindy cheekily retorted.