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Love Takes Time
"Good morning Mrs. Browning" John said in his
velvety slow voice.
"Good morning John," she replied with the ease
of one who was talking to a long familiar
employee "How are the children doing?"
"Fine Ma'am Beth is doing well in college and
Sky's practice is taking off" he answered her
with an obvious pride. John had worked for
Amanda Browning for almost thirty years now. He
had been there through the birth of her child
and had been the rock she clung to when a
drunken driver took her beloved husband.
"John," she said with some asperity "Do you
think, just once, you could call me Amanda? It
is really not a difficult name" His eyes
crinkled at the long-standing joke. "Certainly
Mrs. Brown," he laughed, "I'll get to it sooner
or later."
She watched him as walked away, off to tend the
million things it took to keep a gentleman's
farm running. Almost involuntarily she looked at
the solid width of his shoulders and back as
they tapered to his slender waist. Almost fifty
his long hair was gray now and he was quite
proud that he had never given in to the
temptation to dye it. She could not help but
notice how fluidly he moved striding with a pace
that kept men half his age panting to keep up.
Sighing she turned back to her own work managing
the details of all the charities and
philanthropic organizations her husband had left
money too. "Millions" she thought wryly "a
fortune breeds a ton of responsibility"
It was approaching midnight when she left her
shower and wrapped herself in her silk dressing
gown. By chance she looked out to the caretakers
cottage and was startled to notice the light was
on. Concern flooded her she knew John was an
early riser and so tended to retire early as
well. Quickly she slid her feet into slippers
and pulled a jacket over her nightclothes.
She got to the window, suddenly feeling silly,
and decided to look in " After all" she reasoned
"He is an attractive widower, maybe he is
entertaining" Telling herself that she was being
foolish she peeked into the window. John was
sprawled on the floor.
Even years later she did not remember opening
the door. It seemed to her as though she
materialized at his side, bending to check him
for injuries and recoiling slightly at the smell
of alcohol on him.
"What the?" she thought, confused " I have never
known John to drink more than a single glass"
Then she saw it. Sitting on his table the faded
yellowing obituary of his wife. Tears leaked
from her eyes as she remembered that day, the
birth of his youngest daughter, and the fatal
blood infection that took away his wife.
"Simone" she heard him call drunkenly "Honey
please, I miss you so much..."
"John" she said tenderly " its me, Amanda, c'mon
lets get you to bed."
The sunrise found her sitting quietly in his
kitchen. She had cleaned up the spilled whiskey
and the tattered newspaper clipping,
respectfully putting the photo and the article
into the folder he had left on the table. She
jumped slightly as she heard the shower turn on
in the small bathroom adjacent to his bedroom.
Rising smoothly she cracked several eggs into a
battered cast iron skillet and put bread into
the toaster. A moment later he emerged, dripping
and slightly blue, from what had obviously been
a medicinal shower and walked into his kitchen
clad in a bathrobe.
"Mrs. Browning, " said softly, shame bringing a
measure of color to his cheeks.
"John" She interrupted, firmly and decisively,
cutting off his obvious start at an apology. " I
understand what you went through, I was there,
remember? " he nodded mutely. "And when Lawrence
died you spent many nights with my tears on your
shoulder, and don't you dare say that it is
different for men. Now I don't want to hear an
apology or see any regrets about you being
human. Do I make myself clear?"
"Ma'am if I don't get those boys out to the
fields and working on the irrigation ditches,
there'll be hell to pay." He said looking into
her eyes smiling.
"Mrs. Browning" she heard him rumble softly as
he paused at the door " Thank you"
That afternoon found her in her study as her
foreman walked in. She was, rather out of
character for her, clad in a loose cotton
sweatshirt and pants. They pale soft pastel blue
a radical departure from her customary black.
"Your kitchen chair is not exactly the most
comfortable place I have ever slept," she
responded to her foreman's raised eyebrow. " I
am stiff all over," she teased playfully.
"Mrs. Browning let me show you something Sky
taught me." He moved around her chair and began
to knead her shoulders with strong, callused
hands. She marveled at how wonderful his touch
was and moaned softly. Slowly with strong sure
strokes he began to knead lower down her back as
she leaned her head onto the desk.
" My God John" she gasped softly "you are better
than the 150 dollar an hour masseuse who comes
out here. Where did you learn this?"
"Well you know Sky needed to practice and I
reckon I have as much time in those classes as
she does" he stammered.
"John." she said in a rising note, recognizing
his attempt at evasion.
"I practiced on the horses." He admitted
ruefully.
"The horses?" She exclaimed incredulously,
beginning to titter, then to laugh.
"Ma'am if you like, " he said to her " I will
try to work the kinks out of your back" He was
actually roaring with laughter now. " even
though ya only have 2 feet"
Wordlessly she rose and took his hand in hers
and led him to long divan. "I'll take you at
your word" she said lying down on her stomach.
Gently, with just the right amount of pressure
he began to knead her tight muscles. His strong
hands were cushioned by the cloth of her sweat
suit rather than hampered by it. He stroked her
long and lovingly, pressing into tired muscles,
rejuvenating them. After about an hour of
luxuriating in his attention, she turned over
and sat up.
He extended his hand to help her to her feet and
she rose, stepping close to him her right hand
rested lightly on his chest while her left still
had not relinquished his hand. She looked up
into his jade green eyes as he stared down into
her soft brown ones.
"Amanda...." He breathed softly, his mouth
parted slightly as their lips met. She slid her
arms around his neck and returned his kiss with
a sudden fervor that surprised her. His huge
strong arms slid around her narrow waist making
her feel doll like and fragile. Their tongues
danced together as she became light-headed in
his embrace, reveling in his strength and almost
over-powering masculinity.
"My God" she thought, almost incoherent" Where
did he learn to kiss?"
Gently with complete control and amazing ease he
picked her up into his arms and laid her softly
back down on the divan. He knelt along side it
and began to run his hands over her exploring
and kissing her. She gasped softly as he
unzipped her shirt and his warm sucking kisses
trailed across her exposed flesh. Tenderly,
almost reverently, he took a nipple into his
mouth. She gasped as tingling fire shot through
her. His hands and lips moved downward to her
stomach, sliding her pants down as he cupped the
moist flesh of her aching, longing pussy. Gently
he lowered his head to the throbbing temple of
her femininity and slowly, languorously he began
to lick.
Amanda felt as though she would melt from the
inside out as heavenly sensations unfelt in so
many years rippled and bubbled through her.
Gasping raggedly she surrendered herself to his
flickering teasing tongue as wave after wave of
pleasure accosted her, carrying her higher and
higher till she could stand no more. With a
final shuddering sob she clenched his head with
her legs and screamed in orgasm.
He rose to his feet, looking up she could see
fire in his eyes equal to her own still
smoldering desire. Fumbling with his belt she
desperately tugged his fly open and his pants
down. She wanted this man, wanted him more than
she had ever wanted another. He gasped as he she
took him, suddenly and savagely into her mouth.
She could smell his days sweat on him, not
unpleasant, just masculine. She began to work
his stiff throbbing cock with her mouth and
hands. Faster and faster her head moved as she
felt the glans swell and his balls begin to
rise. With one last squeeze and thrust she
buried him into her throat feeling him rain his
hot fire into her.
Afterward they lay, her head on his shoulder.
They had gone upstairs to her bed and spent the
rest of the evening listening to the angels
sing. The caretaker's cottage would be empty
now. Their love had taken time to grow, as a
fine wine takes time to age, but grow it had.
Somewhere, out among the stars, two angels
rejoiced.
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