A Dame

Timothy's breathing was labored, panting from his exertions, as he held himself above her, giving her breathing room as she was taking progressively deeper breaths, exhaling each is a gust.

When Claire opened her mouth to say something, Timothy held up his hand, "NO! DON'T" He looked around for a moment, "Where the hell is my shirt?"

"Timothy, Tim, stop, wait."

Rather than responding to her, he was on his feet and zipping his pants, despite the huge wet area on the front of them. He took a few steps, swept his shirt off the floor, pulled it on as he opened her front door, and sprinted to the van, unlocking the door of the vehicle only moments after her front door slammed behind him.

For the moment he could pretend his actions had been an attempt to expunge her from his system. He knew the past three weeks of rigid self control had done little to alleviate his desire for a woman he could not have.

"Damn, damn, damn," he cursed himself all the way back to the store, left the keys on the hook inside the back door, and drove his truck out of the parking lot. He was not sure where he was going, or what he intended to do, but he could not go to his brother's and be civil to him or anyone else. A hot shower would not work. A cold shower would not help. About the only thing a man could do when his mind would not release the thought of a woman was to find another. Since that was not something Timothy could do, a drink, or many drinks, maybe a whole bottle, was the next best option.

* * *

As the first rays of the morning sun were shining through the upright boards of the fence around the back yard of the house where Timothy's brother and his lover lived, Timothy was lifting his chin from his chest. An empty whiskey bottle was beside his chair. His mouth tasted like something unmentionable. His clothes smelled like a woman he knew, and his head was pounding, but for one whole night, he had slept without thinking about that woman.

Timothy went inside the house, took a hot shower, brushed his teeth, and crawled into his bed. His last thought before he went to sleep was a promise. Within two weeks, he would be back to his land and his cattle, men who understood him, and as far away from Claire Prescott as he could get.

If he couldn't see her, perhaps he wouldn't want her so badly.

* * *

It was a grueling winter, snows were deeper than usual, and lasted later in the spring than anyone expected. Even some of the old timers said it was unusual. When the cows started dropping their calves, there were still some patches of dirty snow in the shaded areas of the ranch. Castrating, culling, and doctoring animals took their toll on men, leaving them tired, solemn, and short tempered, but willing to forgive, knowing they would need forgiveness for their own outburst before the day or the week was over.

Leaving half the men on the range, Timothy took the other half to the ranch house for baths, a better than usual hot meal, and a full night's sleep. He hoped he could do the same for the other half of the men the next night. Maybe he'd kept too many heifers from last year. The young cows giving birth to their first calves made the men's work harder than usual and cold hands caused men to be clumsy, even wearing gloves. The blood and gore soaked through the gloves and made the cold that much worse.

"Hey Boss, heads up, rich dude comin'," one of the men yelled from the back porch, bringing Timothy outside, with half of his face still covered with shaving cream. He watched as the large SUV left a swirl of dust in its wake. To his men, anyone who drove that fast down a dirt road was rich or dumb, with rich being the lesser insult.

Timothy watched in amazement as the driver slammed on the brakes, making the vehicle come to a sudden stop. The cloud of dust billowed around the SUV and began to settle as the driver's door opened.

"Damn!" Timothy muttered and went back inside, knowing he had less than a minute to finish his shave before one of the men came to tell him that Claire Prescott had come to call.

"What the hell does that woman want?" Timothy muttered as he felt a definite tingle in his groin. He added a few other choice curse words about his own anatomical reaction to knowing the woman was within smelling distance. He had almost convinced himself that leaving her was the smartest thing he'd ever done. He refused to respond to her letters, yet, he had not returned them. On separate occasions, he'd told his brother, and his brother's lover, to mind their own business. Now he was going to have to tell her again, and in person, that she made a mistake, only slightly less of a mistake than he had made.

"There's a lady ta see ya, Boss," one of the men yelled in the back door. "Shall I let her inside?"

"Hold your horses, I'm coming," he answered and muttered to himself, "But I'm not happy about it."

Instead of walking out the back door and going around the house, he walked through the kitchen, not caring that his boots weren't clean enough to walk through the front room. He opened the front door, walked out to the long front porch and there she was, in all her glory. Looking at this woman, Timothy realized he was in big trouble.

Her hair was a little longer than when he'd last seen her. Every inch of her body was exactly as he remembered it being when he'd held her naked in his arms for the longest and most satisfying night of his life. Her eyes were still just as brown and just as beautiful. Her lips were just as full, and looked just as delicious as they had the time he'd kissed her until he couldn't think straight.

"Hello, Claire," he greeted her, watching as she turned around. She stood with her arms crossed under her breasts, her hands cupping her elbows close to her body. She was as apprehensive as he was.

"Timothy," she whispered, and then cleared her throat. Her voice was a little stronger, when she said, "Timothy, it's nice to see you."

"You shouldn't be here, Claire." Timothy was holding on to himself by the thinnest of threads. If she moved toward him, he wasn't sure if he could prevent himself for picking her up and taking her to his bedroom without allowing her to leave until he'd satisfied his lust, her desire, and the roof was crumbling around his bed. His need for her was that fierce.

"Where should I be, Timothy, huh? Where else should I be?" She started to take a step and stopped, standing her ground. Timothy's hands twitched wanting to reach out for her even if she was standing twenty feet away.

"You don't belong in this kind of a place."

"Well, I don't belong back there either. In fact, I never did." She tilted her head toward the southwest, surprising Timothy by getting the direction correct.

"It didn't look that way to me. I thought you looked like you were in just about the right place, among your own kind. You had a comfortable life, people to care for you, and all the comfort a person could ask for."

"I wasn't happy, Timothy." Claire looked around for a moment and then looked straight at him, "For twelve years I had one night of happiness, and then it was gone. I thought I'd see if I could find happiness somewhere else."

"Why did you come here to look for it?" Timothy spread his arms, wanting her to take a good look around at what she was talking about, a far cry from what she had. "What makes you think happiness is here?"

"You're here, Timothy. I came here, because this is where you are."

"Claire." Her name was a groan coming from the depth of his soul, a cry of pain, fear of a repeat of his agony for the last few months, and a plea that she was real and not the figment of so many nights' dreams.

Neither of them moved, and then they were both moving. He took the two steps down to the ground in a single leap. Her steps sent her flying into his arms. He was kissing her and holding her as her legs tightened around him, determined not to let him go.

He staggered, took a few steps back, until the back of his knees hit the porch, and he sat down.

"Oh my God," she kissed him.

"Merciful heaven," he kissed her.

"Timothy, please," she groaned and kissed him again.

"Oh God, Claire," he groaned and kissed her again.

She was unbuttoning his shirt and he was holding her breasts. He was pushing his groin against her and she was grinding her hips against him. As suddenly as their frenzy began, they stopped and just held each other.

"Please, please, please," she pleaded as he took her hands away from the opening of his shirt.

"Not here, and not like this," he told her and watched her eyes close. "Not like animals rutting in the dust, never that kind of mindless fucking."

"Okay, alright," Claire took a deep breath. "May I stay with you?"

"I'd like that. I would like that very much. Let me see to my men. I'll be back in an hour or so. I'll send someone to take your bags inside the house. We can have a civilized meal and I'll make love to you all night long."

He stopped talking for a moment, as her head came to rest against him. He looked down at her, "Claire, if you stay tonight, you stay forever. Agreed?"

"Yes."

* * *

Thank you for reading this work. Please vote to indicate how much you enjoyed it. Leave your feedback, even if the comments are negative. I will respond if you will leave contact information.

Thanks again,

2Xwidderwoman