Tea and A**

The local dish was that he ran a Home for Wayward Youth- sending them wayward, that is. I was sandwiched in age between his two sons, who echoed to varying degrees his devil may care good looks, but neither could channel James Dean quite so well as Daniel.

As an exchange student, it was his older son that I met first. He'd seen my confusion in the taxi queue and taken me under his wing, in a "maybe I can score with the American" kind of way. We also had a few classes in common, and wound up going on several casual dates.

I was there as a biology student, but I planned to take advantage of my time in Ireland and brush up on my cultural studies. My family was a few generations removed and mostly Americanized, and other than the unfortunate name of Colleen I had none of the sense of heritage that my older aunts and uncles had.

I met Daniel and his younger son early in the spring semester when I was invited to the house for a "study date" that was almost certainly not about test preparation. It had been a last minute change of plans that had kept him home, and Thomas was most put out at not having the house to himself. At least I had come prepared to maintain the scholarly pretense and had actual schoolbooks- unlike Thomas, unfortunately.

It was his brother Dermot who brought up that little gem in the middle of dinner. Evidently Thomas had taken his book money and spent it out having the craic with his teammates. Having failed to come through with the promised bribe for his brother's silence, Dermot decided to rat him out at what he perceived as the most damaging moment, and clearly the boy had a decent sense of timing.

I excused myself to the bathroom and spent an inordinately long time washing my hands, fixing my hair, and watching a spider crawl around the baseboard until the sounds of the argument subsided. When I emerged, Thomas had stormed off to spend the night with a friend, and Daniel apologized and offered me a ride back to my flat so I wouldn't have to spring for a cab.

The conversation was pleasant, if a bit strained. He asked about my studies, life in America, and how I was adjusting to the dreary Galway weather. I made the usual polite inquiries about job (history teacher) and hobbies (played in a band- I've yet to meet any self-respecting Irishman who doesn't) and local color (I was encouraged to try a warm Guinness at least once, and to avoid any large red and green crowd of Mayo fans.) Five minutes of silence followed, until we were at my door. I was surprised to find a pair of tickets pressed into my hand, to see his band play this coming weekend, with the tip to find a more respectful date than Thomas.

Having had my fill of the local dating pool for the time being, I ended up setting off with one of my flatmates and fellow exchange students, a young blond midwesterner named Ida. The band was fairly decent, a mix of traditional ceilidh and rock and roll, and I was interested to see both Thomas and Dermot take a turn up on the stage along with their father. Everyone on stage switched instruments handily enough, so you could hardly tell who was supposed to be playing what, but the playbill listed Daniel as a guitarist and singer. Dermot impressed both of us with his knack for the squeezebox, and Thomas mostly stuck to the bass, looking through his bangs and trying to sneer.

After their set, the band simply boxed up their instruments and wandered over to the bar. Thomas had been avoiding me and was lurking in a corner with the ever-present teammates, but Daniel had a clearer conscience and waved Ida and me over to join them. There was something in the combination of the dim pub light, the sweat from a mighty effort on the stage, and seeing him relaxed and happy that took a decade off his face, and it was then that I realized exactly where Thomas's good looks had come from. In fact, there was an added quality to Daniel's face- or maybe it was just less cockiness- that made Thomas look crude and unfinished by comparison.

Dermot, who must have favored his mother, was busy making eyes at 18 year old Ida. She was impressed enough that I was only getting nods and one word answers from her when I tried to draw her into the conversation, so I found myself following Daniel to a small table where we could talk below a shout. Now that I'd realized how handsome he was I was having difficulty keeping my mind on other subjects. Eyes of green, rimmed in gold, looked out from a lined face but shone brightly when he hit on a passionate subject. Mostly this meant football, but he struck me as very intelligent and a devoted, if frustrated, father to his boys. His hair was just beginning to show grey, and it looked like silver mixed in with the reddish gold waves, this evening tamed in a simple ponytail. We'd divided the men into giants and leprechauns, my girlfriends and I, and he was clearly of the leprechaun variety- slender and short, maybe 5'7" or so. His smile was charming and his laugh infectious, and as I was plied with the local ale I was laughing more and more and gradually moving closer to him.

After 3 pints I realized that I was near my limit and had to excuse myself to the ladies' room. A splash of cool water was enough to settle me, and I took the opportunity to fix my makeup as well. I had the obligatory red curls, which I preferred to wear short since they were prone to frizziness otherwise. Eyes of turquoisey blue, freckles that showed through any foundation so I'd given up and just wore a light dusting of powder and some pinkish lip gloss.

I was short enough that even in heels Daniel's 5'7" was noticeably taller, but I'd also inherited a stunningly curvy figure that made up for it. My breasts were large, but not ridiculously so, at a 36C, and I frequently displayed them to my advantage in v–neck sweaters. The charcoal one I'd worn this evening contrasted nicely with the pale skin. I just couldn't get used to the local dress for the female students- it seemed like everything was worn too low and too tight- and I stuck to my American jeans (God bless Old Navy online) for going out.

When I came back my chair had mysteriously moved itself right next to Daniel's, and he was offering to buy another pint. I declined in favor of a ginger ale- not the most popular decision, by his face, but perhaps he didn't realize the alternative was me eventually throwing up in his lap.

The thought of my head spending time in his lap send a sudden blush over me from hairline to toes. Or maybe it was the way his leg was now brushing mine in deliberately casual fashion. When he placed his hand on my knee to emphasize his lesson on the finer points of gaelic football, I stopped caring that I was younger than his first born by a year and focused on keeping it there, or possibly convincing him to move it a little higher.

I tried to blame it on the drink, but as I sobered up I didn't feel any less giddy in his presence. In fact, when we stepped out into the night, the last of my buzz disappeared with the raw wind that blew right through me. Despite having weathered 23 Vermont winters, I hadn't reckoned on the power of the wind that blew in off of Galway Bay and hadn't brought suitable outerwear. I managed to cobble something together with flannels and sweaters and a windbreaker, but I'd gone for fashion over function this evening and shivered in a fleece coat. Daniel's arm, now flung gallantly across my shoulders to pull me in close, went a good distance in staving off the chill, but even then reality did intrude enough to keep me slightly uncomfortable. A sneezing fit alerted him to my plight, and he cupped my chin in his hand as he peered at the ever so attractive red hue my nose had taken on. "What you need is some tea. Why don't you come on up and I'll make you a cuppa?"

My insides melted at the most popular Irish pickup line after an invitation to hear someone's band play, and as I realized he'd already used the first I nearly giggled. I covered it with a cough, and was rewarded with his coat draped over my shoulders. Having his scent and warmth wrapped around me like that went straight to my head, as did the sight of him, arms crossed against the wind, in snug jeans and the popular fisherman's sweater. He wore a green wool scarf and gloves that picked up the emerald hues in his gorgeous eyes, as well, and the ubiquitous navy fisherman's cap.

"I left Dermot the car, so he can haul our gear home. Will you be alright to walk another few blocks?"

I was confused, since his house was on the outskirts of town, but at that point I would have followed him most anywhere with a promise of balky steam heat and a warm cup of tea and more of Daniel's company. We stopped across from a school, and to my surprise he had a key to an office building, where he led me up to the 3rd floor and into what I realized was his office. It was actually two rooms, one with a desk and the usual books and plants and papers, and then a second smaller room with a loveseat and a fireplace and precious little room for anything else. I saw a toilet tucked into what I'd thought was a closet, as well.

"Sometimes I've got to stay here overnight, though as you can imagine I try not to do it all that often." He patted the loveseat, which squeaked and sent up a puff of dust. He smiled sheepishly. "Nor have I had to do it recently." He'd set a kettle on a hot plate on his desk, and pulled two mugs and a tin of tea down off the mantle. He moved around the office, taking off his winter things and brewing tea. I huddled inside his coat on the loveseat, still thoroughly chilled, and watched him quietly. The close-fitting jeans were marvelous, especially for someone used to the baggy American fashion. I felt pity for a generation of women who'd never get to witness what tight jeans could do for the male backside. Underneath the sweater he wore an old tshirt proclaiming his allegiance to the GAA. There was no question that he kept up on his athletic endeavors, and he was still lean and powerful as he must have been in his younger days.

The tea brewed, he sat down next to me. The loveseat was small enough that we couldn't help but touch. I had a suspicion that I was far from the first girl who'd sat down there, and that he'd set up quite the cozy little love nest, but frankly, I didn't care. The tea was actually just what I needed, and after a few moments of sipping in silence I was able to take off coat, fleece, and sweater and wore only my jeans and a white v-neck undershirt.

Daniel set his mug down and we turned to one another with an air of inevitability. The first touch of his lips to mine spread a tingle through every nerve, and we tasted one another. Slowly at first, then the kiss deepened and he slid a hand slowly up the back of my shirt. Rather than removing my bra, as most of the younger men I knew had done, he moved his hand between us and stroked lazy circles around the nipple through the thin satin of the cups.

He was not only a skilled lover, but he was also adept at reading my response, so things started to heat up rapidly at that point. His mouth replaced his thumb at my breast, still covered with my violet bra, while his hand travelled south to knead my ass gently. I gasped when he finally unclasped the bra and took a throbbing nipple into his mouth.

Sensing my approval, he pulled off his shirt and encouraged me to do the same. His lips sought mine out again as we stood pressed naked chest to naked chest, but he never took his attention away from my breasts- brushing the nipples until they stood out as hard as diamonds, turned deep pink in their arousal. He rolled them between his finger and thumb, occasionally dipping his head to take one between his teeth or suck it gently.

I was dripping wet by then and desperate for him to explore below the waistband of my jeans. By way of encouragement I let a hand slide up his thigh to cup him at their junction and was pleased to feel him jump under my hand. Sure enough, he took the hint, and after unfastening his pants he began to stroke between my legs with a maddeningly light touch. He hadn't unfastened my jeans yet, but continued to tease, adding pressure now and again with the heel of his hand over my clit.

I was ready to explode with need when he decided that it was time for the clothing to get out of his way and tugged his jeans down impatiently. His cock sprung out proudly, and he was not afflicted with the Irish Curse in the least. He was probably around 7 inches or so, and a good 2" in diameter at the base. My jeans came off with similar speed, and I was ready to push down my lucky thong panties when he stopped me and pushed them aside instead to slide a finger into the moist heat. That finger slid inside me while another sought the hard nub hidden in the soft folds.

When he found it and began to stroke it gently, I cried out against his neck and began to nibble at him. His ears were quite sensitive, and I enjoyed hearing the sharp intake of breath every time I drew his earlobe between my lips and scraped it gently with my teeth. A firmer bite provoked a deep moan, and he moved to lay me down on the loveseat and cover me with his body. This time when I lifted my hips to remove the flimsy thong he didn't object, and we lay naked in the lamplight, entwined. His hard member nudged insistently at the entrance to my overheated pussy, and I sent a silent plea for him to drive forward and fill me with his beautiful cock.

He seemed to enjoy teasing me somewhat, and grinned as he tormented me by sliding just the pulsing crown in and out. I squirmed and wriggled, but no matter what I did he kept up a strict pace, never giving me more than just the head. I couldn't take much more, and I reached down between my legs to help matters along myself.

The sight of my fingers sliding across my aching clit must have done something for him, because suddenly he braced my legs on his shoulders and thrust deep inside me. I could see in his eyes that he was barely restraining his own orgasm, so I stroked faster in hopes that we would peak at the same moment.

I'd miscalculated, though, the efficiency of the position he had me in, and I had scarce found a rhythm when I felt an orgasm explode over me from out of nowhere. He smiled a devilish smile and slowed his thrusts a little bit, but I was determined that he'd have to fight to keep the upper hand. I withdrew my fingers and traced across his lips with them.

They left a trail of moisture on his face, and the musky, coppery tang filled both our nostrils. He opened his mouth to suck my finger expertly, tongue circling to lap up every drop of my juices, and was reaching for the second finger when I slid it into my own mouth instead. I made a great show of licking it clean as well, and his eyes widened. Suddenly he began to thrust like a man possessed, and one well timed bite on his earlobe was enough to send him exploding over the edge of his own release, and fill me with his hot seed. One flick of his thumb against my clit sent another orgasm shuddering through my frame as well, and we lay there sated and sweating on the dusty couch.

***

After that evening, he developed a sudden need to work late that coincided with my sudden need to "study" at the "library" in the evening. Neither my flatmates nor Thomas, who'd resumed speaking to me and would occasionally ask me to join him out on a date with no success, caught on, though I think that Ida and Dermot, now an item, were beginning to put our absences together when it was time for me to return to the States.

We'd never spoken of anything beyond the end of the term, so I wasn't surprised to receive a chaste farewell hug (granted, it was the morning after a night of ferocious farewell sex) and a flowery card with no mention of any future contact in it. I had his phone number, but what was there to say? I wasn't in a position to return and find employment, and until I took a few more classes the grad program at UCG was out of reach as well. I also couldn't fool myself into thinking that I'd make a socially acceptable stepmother to a man a year older than myself, and I doubted I was meek enough to resign myself to a lifetime of secret trysts.

I attached myself to a local high school, helping out in the honors biology lab, and went on the occasional date with the regrettably accentless men that I met in classes or at bars. If anybody had known me well they might have noticed a tendency to favor long, wavy gold hair and green eyes, and I was often bored to pieces by men my own age and their constant jockeying for status. For the most part, I preferred to spend my nights at home studying and daydreaming.

I was tossing a mental coin to decide between the convent and spending my entire tax return on a wide sampling of vibrators one chilly fall morning when I spotted a familiar silhouette leaning in the entrance to the school.

"Did you know that there's an exchange program for teachers between Ireland and the states?" he asked with a smile. "I don't suppose you've got a proper bed, do you?"

My smile spread from ear to ear. "Come on over, I'll make you a cup of tea."