Norfolk – Autumn
The sheets of rain finally stop coming down after five straight days of blowing in from the ocean. A warm sun does its best to shine some light on what remains of the day, the evening quickly approaching as autumn announces its arrival with orange and brown leaves flapping in tall trees and sticking to wet streets.
Celeste Hayfield hardly takes notice of the change, doing her best to focus, but the rapid pace of her heartbeat causes her hands to adjust on the steering wheel from the anticipation.
It’s been nearly three days since she’s received any word from Johnathan. She understands, though, letters take time to travel and, in their absence, Celeste finds comfort in his previous letters and the things he sends her from overseas.
With the Toyota left running, Celeste leaves the door open and trots to the mailbox at the end of her cottage home driveway on the south side of Norfolk, the grey ocean and hulls of war in the silent distance.
A brief, hardly contained laugh escapes Celeste when she sees a letter in the mailbox. She snatches it up, a round object wrapped and tied with a bow left inside. The cool breeze doesn’t deter Celeste as she pops open the seal, flips open the letter and smiles, her eyes taking in every word. She folds the letter and religiously returns it to the envelope, reaching inside the mailbox to remove the round gift wrapped in cloth.
Celeste’s abode is quiet, a little two bedroom that hardly anyone notices in this small neighborhood. Quaint and comfortable, it’s been Celeste’s perfect escape since she fled Texas nearly a year ago. It isn’t much, but it’s everything, an iconic piece of tranquility that blurs the lines between fantasy and reality. A British flag hangs idle by the brick entrance, Celeste giving it a light touch as she passes by with purse, letter, and gift in hand.
Having stopped counting her own birthdays at 34, Celeste convincingly passes as five years younger, hardly any makeup is required to sell her as the poster child for the pretty young lady next door. With chestnut hair and matching eyes, Celeste is beautiful, a woman who affords a passing glance from her five-five stature rather than an ogling stare of a man’s most primal instincts. Soft skin and delicate features accent her youth, though anyone rarely witnesses a smile, fine fingers coming to a point that hardly escapes a knitted sweater.
She places Johnathan’s open letter on a short stack of his previous correspondence, the small gift unwrapped with a simple twist and a tug.
Celeste turns with the gift in her hands, a clear sphere made of glass. No larger than a billiard ball, she walks it to the short bookshelf by a westward-facing window, the final rays of sun glowing orange as it lights her house. The shelves are tightly stuffed; Julia Quinn, Lisa Kleypas, and others are wedged together without any uncertain order. The glass orb is gently set on a stand next to three others just like it, all of them capturing the same rays of light to shine on a white wall.
Sunlight dances through the glass orbs, prisms of light changing before an image begins to appear.
Celeste beams with a smile, her sweater-clad hands covering her mouth as she tries to contain her happiness, brown eyes seeming to soften as they smile along. She reaches out and feels the colorful rays in her hand, stepping forward as the image on her wall glows.
The prism reflects a rocky coast holding up a sprawling villa, green fields on either side as white clouds slowly pass overhead. Blue seas crash against black rocks. White birds call, swoop, and flap against the gust created by the ocean.
Celeste walks further into the light. She can hear the distant waves, feel the warm air, and smell the salty sea. After closing her eyes, Celeste fully steps into the colorful rays, giving in to the idea and disappearing, leaving the cottage empty.
—
Celeste My Dearest,
I’ve no taste for the wine tonight, nor do I care much for the company of these men, as good as they are, while all I can think about is the last time we were together. Of all the things I wish to remember from our final night together in Montpellier, all I can see is you standing on the docks as we sailed away. I’m sorry, Celeste, but I believe the only thing my heart wishes to see is any image it can of you, as admittedly melancholy as that scene may be.
Don’t look so drab, my love. Smile for me. Nothing could warm me against this rain more than the sight of your smile. You have such a beautiful smile, dear. It’s your gift to the world. Shine your light.
I know that you would shine that light now, seeing this rocky coast of Italy that I send to you now – Italy! – what I would do to have you here with me now. You should see it, Celeste, a beautiful coast with blue skies and flocks of white birds.
We’ll drop anchor in Messina soon. Come to Italy. Find our ship, you know the one, and I’ll be waiting for you there. Look for His Majesty’s colours.
Yours ~Jack
—
“Sails on the horizon, sir!” a crewman calls, everyone taking notice over the sharp echo of six bells.
Down below, Leftenant Johnathan Keel makes a quick trot along a wooden deck, past rows of iron guns, and up the stairs to confirm the sighting with the captain. Within his blue and gold-trimmed coat are beautiful words and a matching picture from Celeste, every cursive stroke memorized as he reads over them – day in and day out – until he hears from her again.
Upright and astute, handsome and focused, Johnathan is a credit to Nelson’s fleet. Having come from a poor family, being aboard warships at sea has been the stuff of his memory since he was nine years old. Twenty years have minted this man, a gentleman in every right. Leftenant Keel is someone of honor, truth, and integrity. Johnathan commands men and respect, a ripe steal for plucking by any young woman lucky enough to capture his attention. Any woman could have, that is, before Johnathan met Celeste at that Christmas ball in Northampton.
Thunder rolls in a cloudless sky, the unmistakable billow of cannon accompanied by screams of nine-pounders directed at the Albion. It’s a near-miss, but the response from both ships is a definite announcement that neither side will depart one another’s company without making a public display of denouncing fear.
Johnathan hops down into the gun deck, the tall bicorn hat firm on his head with blue coat waving behind. “Ready the shot, boys!” he yells, heavy cannon heaved into place as the French vessel comes into view, the tricolor flying defiantly behind.
“FIRE!”
Twenty guns open fire as both ships exchange iron. Johnathan holds fast as the rounds impact, balls of iron blowing through open gun ports or shattering the Albion. It’s smoke, gunpowder, and fear; good men like Johnathan shouting orders and running along the ship’s gun deck to keep an eye.
It’s ‘Fire!’ and ‘Reload!’ with a ‘Come about!’ and ‘Steady now, boys!’
The roar of cannon continues, white clouds floating over blue water as both ships become shrouded in waves and smoke. Someone shouts for them to reload, the scene unfolding in slow motion as Johnathan draws his sword, points it toward his enemy, and screams his command to fire as he’s surrounded by blasts of gunpower and smoke.
—
Celeste’s heart races as she descends elegant stairs, the anxiety of not having seen Johnathan for nearly three weeks placing her on the verge of being both excited and emotionally drained. A long dress flares at her hips and drags on the ground, the bustier pushing the girls up nicely. Her hair is up in curls, her outfit topped with a touch of makeup and perfume that Johnathan bought her during their time together in Dublin.
The room at the top of the Hotel di Caruso comes courtesy à la Johnathan, no expense too great when reuniting with his Celeste.
“Jack!” she shouts, letting out a laugh though Celeste feels as though she’s about to cry. “Oh, my God! Jack!”
The bicorn hat under his arm drops as he catches Celeste, her collision with him nearly pressing the air from his chest. “Celeste, honey,” his British accent breathes between her rapid kisses along his mouth and cheek, feeling her tightly squeeze his neck. “I’m so glad you made it, love.” He can’t help but let out a laugh from the way she squeezes and buries her face into him. “You’ve missed me, it seems.”
“Of course,” her muffled voice replies. “I’ve missed you so much. I love you, Johnathan. I’d go anywhere to be with you again. Anywhere.”
Celeste latches onto Johnathan as they ascend the stairs together, making it to their room before Celeste finally releases the iron grip she commands on Johnathan’s hand.
There’s no time to lose as Celeste is intent on expressing just how much she’s missed her hero. Walking over to the corner, she helps a pretty lady in a pink dress stand. “This is Amanda,” she informs Jack. “I hope you don’t mind that I brought her along.”
A grin comes to Jack, giving his coat a toss before unbuttoning his shirt. “Not at all. Pleased to meet you, Ms. Amanda.”
Amanda follows Celeste as she is by the hand, greeting Jack with a hug and light kiss. “Good to finally meet you, too.”
Celeste drops to her knees as Jack lets Amanda suck on his tongue. Amanda’s corset is pulled open, Jack’s shirt given a toss as he feels Celeste haul his pants to the floor.
“Oh, shit,” he lets out, feeling Celeste push his already hard cock into her mouth. He grips Amanda’s bare tits, giving her nipples a playful squeeze.
Amanda closes her eyes, her head and blonde hair falling back. “Yes,” she lets out with a pent-up breath. “That feels so good…”
She reaches down and helps stroke Jack while Celeste sucks, Celeste’s top missing with tits swaying as she vigorously sucks.
Jack humps Celeste’s mouth, his hand on Amanda’s face. He looks Amanda in the eyes as she breathes heavily, trying to spread her legs as his hand is being forced down the front of her dress. “Can you help me figure something out, honey?” he asks Amanda.
Amanda desperately looks him in the eye as she humps his hand rubbing against her pussy. “Yes, baby. Anything.”
“I’m just trying to figure out who exactly you’re here to serve. Me or Celeste?”
Celeste pops Jack’s cock out of her mouth. “I can answer that.” She rises to her feet, taking Amanda in her arms and touching their lips together. “Show me who’s mine.”
Amanda opens her mouth and sticks out her tongue, the girls giving into one another, eagerly kissing and licking they switch angles.
Jack removes the girls’ dresses, helping them kick the garments away. “Now that we know who’s in charge,” he begins, leading the girls to the bed, “why don’t we all get more acquainted?”
“I love that idea,” Celeste replies, hopping on the bed and laying back. She spreads her legs and makes eye contact with Amanda. “Get over here, girlie. I still need that mouth.”
“Yes, mistress,” Amanda replies, crawling onto the bed while kissing her way up Celeste’s leg.
“Nice and slow, honey,” Celeste commands, closing her eyes as she feels Amanda’s warm tongue slip over her knee and begin working its way up her thigh. She lets out a low hum, hips shifting as Amanda’s soft, wet kisses get closer to her aching pussy. “You’re almost there, baby,” she urges. “Lick my pussy, baby, please…yes…Oh, Fuck!”
Amanda’s mouth covers Celeste’s pussy, gently licking and sucking, licking and sucking, taking her sweet time as Celeste wiggles in her grasp. She can’t help but moan as she tastes Celeste, adoring the way it sounds when her tongue laps at her soaked pussy.
“Speaking of that,” Jack begins, stepping up on the bed and straddling Celeste’s head. “Why is there nothing in your mouth?”
Celeste doesn’t hesitate, opening her mouth to suck Jack’s thick, swollen cock. She does her best to focus, but the beautiful way that Amanda licks, coupled with her soft fingers beginning to play with her ass, makes giving a concentrated blowjob very difficult. Celeste moans around Jack’s cock fucking her mouth. She grips the sheets, curls her toes, and tries not to cum too early.
Jack pulls his cock from Celeste’s mouth, spreading his legs wide as he takes hold of his cock. “Let’s go, girls,” he says, gently jerking as the girls get close and kneel, their mouths open in the hopes that Jack cums enough for both of them.
It’s no contest, Celeste getting the bulk of Jack’s load while Amanda helps lick what remains off of Celeste’s cheek.
The girls turn to one another, exchanging a look before engaging in a deep, passionate kiss.
Jack reaches over and smacks Amanda’s curvy cheek. “You’re up first, honey,” he tells her, positioning himself between her legs from behind. “I’m going to take my time with you.”
—
Four Days Later
It’s early, but its Saturday, Celeste’s dew-covered car parked in the driveway as it promises to be a sunny Virginia day.
The mailbox at the end of her driveway is closed without a sound, Celeste’s latest letter to Johnathan in hand as Brian walks back to his car with a sniffle from the cold air. He stops when he hears a silent, slow car pull up along the curb. Looking back, Brian is forced to take a deep breath. “Here we go,” he mutters, knowing there’s no escaping her now.
Celeste’s friend hops out of the car, pulling the cardigan close to her body as she walks along the early morning driveway toward Brian. “We need to talk,” she directly states.
“Not now.”
She shakes her head, pushing aside blonde hair caught against the wind. “This isn’t helping, Brian.”
“We’ve already talked about this. It’s what Celeste wants. There’s no harm in it.” Brian turns back for his car, but he can hear her ankle boots on the concrete following close behind him.
“Brian. Stop. Look at me.” She wins a little bit of Brian’s attention, wanting nothing more than to slap that stupid, irritated look off of his face. “Celeste is my friend, too, so don’t think that you’re the only one who cares about her.” Her eyes burn into Brian’s, her pressed brow remaining though he tries to break eye contact. “What do you think will happen? All of this will end for her and you’ll sweep in to scoop her up? Wake up, Brian!”
“I’ve asked Celeste what she wants –”
“And it’s Not You! I know Celeste and, I’ve gotta tell ‘ya,” Amanda continues with a near laugh, “you have no clue as to what’s going on in there. Celeste has been through a lot, much more than you could ever understand. She’s confused at the moment, Brian, and you can’t help her. This,” she gestures, a wide arm sweeping out to nowhere. “This is crazy.” She points to the mailbox. “That is not you. And no – I don’t think it’s helping. At all.” With that, she turns on a hard heel, grinding down the concrete driveway before marching hard for her car.
Amanda reaches out and flips the mailbox flag down in anger, hopping into her car and slamming the door closed, leaving Brian where he stands with Celeste’s letter in his hand, the lone word ‘Johnathan’ scribbled on the front.
—
A buzzing sound wakes up Celeste. It takes her a moment, but she hears it again before reaching through the sheets in her dark room to make the damned thing stop vibrating.
Celeste pulls the phone close to her face and sees a single message on the banner, the clock reading 8:45 p.m.
@Mandy: Hey, you. I just sat down for the night. Wondering how you’re doing.
Celeste types away, glad to have someone familiar reach out.
@Cece: I’m good, actually. You woke me up. I was just so tired from the week.
@Mandy: Oh, I’m sorry! I’ll let you get back to sleep! Don’t mind me! Just doing the wino thing.
@Cece: No! It’s totally fine. First glass? Or already drunk?
She isn’t sure what it is, but maybe it’s the feel of warm blankets or just the sensation of waking up. A tingle slips along Celeste’s warm body. She slides a hand along her neck, down to her naked chest, giving her tit a squeeze to try and ease the pressure.
@Mandy: Nope! First of the night (many probably) but I was just thinking about you. If you’re in bed then I know you’re not decent enough to chat.
@Cece: I dunno. I kind of like being naked and texting, especially with you.
A moment passes before a picture comes through. Mandy’s down-shirt pic showing the bust of braless tits. @Mandy: There. Ok, so I’m not naked, but now you won’t feel so alone.
“Fuck,” Celeste mutters, running a hand between her legs to find a warm and lonely pussy.
@Cece: I like it! It does help. I want to see that pretty face, though. Can you show me you right now?
The next image comes through, Amanda holding the wine glass to her cheek while her mouth is open, a wet tongue sticking out.
“Yes,” Celeste mutters, holding the phone to the side as the sheet covers her head, a soft hand rubbing her swollen clit.
@Cece: I love that pretty mouth.
@Mandy: Yeah? Do you have a good use for it, honey?
“Oh, fuck.” @Cece: Get over here and I’ll show you.
Amanda’s nipples are erect under a thin shirt. She uses a pillow on the couch to hide the fact from her husband. @Mandy: Yeah, baby? Just need someone to give you a little kiss?
@Cece: Come over! I’m completely naked, my legs are spread, and I JUST shaved. Celeste is on the verge of cumming, doing her best to edge as long as possible. Moments pass.
@Cece: Mandy?
Celeste continues rubbing, putting the phone down as she grabs her tit, kicking off the sheets as the heat has risen within her.
Another moment passes. @Mandy: Just got in my car. I’m on my way.
@Cece: Please tell me you didn’t put on a bra.
@Mandy: No bra, honey. Save some for me.
—
Two Weeks Later
My Dearest Celeste,
They all laughed when I showed them what you got me in Messina. ‘It’s the Mediterranean!’ they said. ‘It’ll have better use as a pillow!’ they all sneered. They may have been right at the time, but when we got orders to sail as quickly as possible to Denmark and warm winds turned to bitter cold, their glances were less mocking and more envious. Standing on the foredeck writing you this letter now, coat about my body with the collar up, I’m happy to report that, without you, I’d be just as miserable as this horrible lot.
I do believe, however, that the only thing that could truly cure me of this horrible curse of cold weather is to have you here by my side. To be with you in the cold nights. I miss you, Celeste. More than words can express. You are my love and my life, my shining light in the northern night streets that even Copenhagen could never match. I love you, Celeste. More than anything.
Always yours ~Jack
The museum is larger than life, tall paintings bigger than the walls in Celeste’s cottage that depict scenes of nature, society, and adventure.
Celeste’s shoes echo off of the hardwood floors, a coat draped over her clasped hands as she slowly strolls, one hard-soul shoe after the other.
“I’m going to go look at something,” Amanda says to Celeste, gesturing to where she intends across the main atrium.
Celeste acknowledges with a nod, returning her attention to the large painting in front of her as Amanda’s hand slips from hers.
This is just a spur of the moment idea from Celeste, Amanda more than happy to tag along on this lazy weekday evening. It’s their second outing together in two weeks, but the first time they’ve held hands since Celeste picked Amanda up at her home across town.
Celeste continues her examination of the large artwork. It’s an oil painting of some distant shore, an ocean separating swaths of land with rockface cliffs leading to gray waters. Small boats sail this way or that.
“That’s Gibraltar,” his deep voice comments, causing Celeste to jump and let out a sharp yelp that echoes across the atrium.
Her rapid reaction causes Celeste’s heart to race, a hand to her mouth while she sees the man beside her. His boots are shined and the ocean blue coat fits his form well. A smart ascot is tucked into his white shirt, a sword at his side as an officer’s bicorn hat is tucked smartly under his arm. “Johnathan,” she lets out, immediately wrapping her arms around him. Her face is in the crook of his neck. “What are you doing here?”
Jack holds onto Celeste, touching a kiss to the top of her head as they gently rock back and forth. “You’re the one who was thinking about me,” he notes, a smile on his face before kissing Celeste.
Celeste holds onto Jack, looking up to him as she takes in his handsome features, moving a strand of jet black hair behind his ear. “Of course I was thinking about you. I’m always thinking about you.” She rests her head on his shoulder. “But you can’t be here, Jack. Not right now.”
Jack hushes Celeste’s words, gently rocking them both back and forth as he hums a tune they both know. “Gibraltar,” he comments in a whisper. “That’s where we’ll go next. The shores of Spain…the cliffs of France…past the channel and to the flats of Belgium…”
“Jack…You can’t be here, Jack. Not right now…”
“Celeste,” Amanda’s voice calls, breaking Celeste’s thoughts as she stands alone by a large painting of coastline, ocean, and boats.
Celeste turns, a somewhat surprised look on her face before regaining herself. “Yes,” she says a little too formally. “I’m good. Should we move on?”
Amanda nods, tapping Celeste on the arm with a museum flyer before linking their arms together.
Celeste walks with Amanda to the next exhibit, the distant sound of two bells and a high-pitched whistle sounding from somewhere far away. No one else may have noticed, but Celeste knows who it calls away.
