Jessamy Beech Ch. 04: Keswick

As well as food, Bromden had raided the supermarket's pharmacy. Admittedly they were several years past their USE BY dates, but Threlkeld now had access to antibiotics and every other kind of medication they could possibly need.

Air Force One had had its own armoury. M16 assault rifles, M203 grenade launchers, handguns, body armour and enough ammunition to start a small war. The people of Threlkeld were peaceful but there would always be a need for defence.

It was dark by the time Jessamy, Merida and Ewan moored the inflatables back in Threlkeld. There were the inevitable tears over the loss of Scanlan and warm congratulations at the success of the expedition. Plans would have to be made for a return trip for the rest of the plundered provisions.

Jessamy said nothing of what Bromden had discussed with her and she kept the laminated list of names hidden inside her jacket's map pocket. Despite a thorough search of the President's office, she'd been unable to find any clue as to the control centre's whereabouts. She'd left Bromden's magazines.

. . .

Later that evening, Ewan brushed his teeth at a washbowl set on the dresser as Jessamy readied herself for bed. Merida had opted to help the other women sort through their spoils at Threlkeld's village hall.

"Ew?" said Jessamy softly, "I overreacted. I'm sorry."

"I understand Jess. It's me who should be sorry."

"You could've been killed!"

Ewan turned towards her, toothpaste still smeared around his mouth, "My first priority is protecting you two. I saw a threat."

Jessamy smiled, "Perhaps there's some way ... I can make it up to you?"

Ewan frowned, "Whaddaya mean?"

Jessamy slipped off her thermal top and advanced towards him in her sports bra. Part of her still felt angry with Ewan for killing Bromden, but a bigger part felt disgusted with herself for almost killing one of her only friends in a fit of rage. She knelt down on the threadbare carpet and fumbled with Ewan's Craghoppers.

"Wh ... Jess, you don't have to do this."

Despite his protestations, Ewan's cock was already hard as Jessamy delicately fished it out. She studied it, the way the veins pulsed along its swollen length, the way the candlelight danced on the bead of moisture oozing from the glossy tip.

"Yes, I do," without another word, Jessamy took Ewan's cock in her mouth.

"F-fuck," Ewan gasped as Jessamy allowed him to slide all the way into her mouth, and let her throat relax. He moaned softly.

Ewan held on tight to Jessamy's long blonde hair and thrust forward between her lips, as her soft hands clutched at his buttocks. She tasted saltiness on her tongue and knew it wouldn't be long before he climaxed. But knowing that made her try harder and she hungrily ran her tongue around the edge of his glans as he slid deeply in and out of her mouth.

"You b-better stop Jess or I'm going to cum on your face," Ewan warned.

"I want you to," Jessamy mumbled as he pushed between her wet lips.

Ewan's fists clenched in her hair as Jessamy's fingernails danced over his balls. She dug her fingers into the hard globes of his ass and relished the feel of him thrusting himself even harder, urgently, into her mouth. Had Merida ever done this for him?

If she ever did, Jessamy hoped she'd get to watch.

"Jess, please ..."

Jessamy was sopping wet between her thighs and desperately longed for her own release, but there would be time enough for that later. She wanted to taste Ewan. Taste him on her fingers and on her tongue. She squeezed her tingling thighs together.

Ewan's hands settled on Jessamy's head, fingers weaving a path through her hair while moans of ecstacy broke from his throat.

Jessamy began to move her whole head back and forth in long, swift strokes, deep-throating him, sucking and licking the whole time. She moved faster and faster, tongue probing at his foreskin, lips creating a tight seal around his hot shaft, until finally ...

Ewan pulled back and came hard, spurting rope after rope of hot semen over Jessamy's face and hair. She giggled out loud as salty white fluid splashed into her eyes and mouth. Ewan leaned back against the dresser, panting, his Craghoppers puddled around his ankles.

"Do you accept my apology?" Jessamy asked, delicately licking her fingertips.

"Yes," Ewan murmured.

"I didn't hear you."

"Yes. Yes yes yes," he grinned at her, "now get the rest of your clothes off and get on the bed ... I need to apologise too."

Without having to be asked again, Jessamy hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and pushed them down ...

. . .

An hour later, Merida still hadn't returned. Jessamy had dozed off in Ewan's arms after an orgasm that had made her literally scream. The instant she'd fallen asleep, she'd had the dream about Cornwall again.

"You were dreaming," murmured Ewan.

"I know. I keep having the same dream about ... before. Before the strikes. When I was a girl living with my family in Cornwall."

"You want to tell me about it?" Ewan pushed himself up onto one elbow and gazed down at her, circling a fingertip around one engorged pink nipple.

"We're on the beach ... the four of us and the dogs. We had two dogs. Springer Spaniels. I can still remember their names. Frodo and ..."

"Chester," said Ewan suddenly.

Jessamy nodded, "Yeah. How did you ... know that?"

She frowned, studying Ewan's face closely. An icy finger began tracing its way up her spine as it slowly began to dawn on her just why she'd thought he had looked familiar, ever since the first time they'd met in Oban.

Before being sent to Mull, it was a face she'd seen every day of her life. A face she'd loved, but in a much different way than she did now. Jessamy self-consciously tugged the duvet up to cover her nakedness, "Ross?"

Ewan's eyes bored into hers, puzzled, "Sis?"

THE END OF CHAPTER FOUR

Jessamy Beech gazed out across the churning water of the Pentland Firth, supposedly one of the most treacherous stretches of sea in the world. The long deserted island of Stroma sat halfway across between Orkney and mainland Scotland, once something of a curiosity to tourists, but nowadays much like anywhere else. Crumbling buildings, discarded belongings, lives abandoned in mid flow.

Her first problem on reaching Orkney would be keeping Hamnavoe alive. Protecting him from the mobs who would undoubtedly be baying for his blood.

The voyage from Nairn had been interminable. Stops at the shattered remains of Tain, Brora, Helmsdale and Wick to take on more passengers and more supplies to help with the reconstruction of Kirkwall. She'd laughed to herself as they'd passed Golspie, at the splintered, cratered site of the Duke of Sutherland statue on the hillside high above. The statue of a figure so reviled in these parts that some locals had even tried to dynamite the thing. The duke had, after all, been instrumental in the infamous highland clearances of the early 19th century. Thanatos had achieved what generations of Scots hadn't and obliterated it.

"I brought ye a coffee," a voice at her side interrupted her train of thought. Hamnavoe, making the most of his new found freedom. She noticed he was still looking a bit green around the gills, even after almost two days on board.

"Thanks," said Jessamy and gratefully accepted the battered tin mug. The wind annoyingly whipped her dreadlocks across her face as she turned to face Hamnavoe, "I suppose if we're going to track down Trevithick, you better tell me everything you know about him. Because let's face it, once we land on Orkney, you may not live long ..."

"Thanks for that cheery thought JB."

"Well?"

"Well," began Hamnavoe, "he's a tall fella, aboot 6' 4" wi' a wee limp from an ol' gunshot wound. He must be late sixties, maybe even seventy now but still fit and strong as a fuckin' ox. He's got grey hair an' beard. An' I can tell ye fer a fact that Trevithick is no' his real name. It's Dale Fredrickson, he used tae be an Admiral or something wi' the Royal Navy, before Thanatos ..."

Jessamy stiffened. Her hand went involuntarily to the chest pocket of her jacket, "What did you say?"

"That Trevithick used tae be an Admiral or something wi' the Royal Navy before Thanatos."

"Before that. His name."

"Admiral Dale Fredrickson."

Jessamy had read her laminated list of names so many times that she knew them all by heart. She had never understood why she'd kept it for nearly twenty years. Possibly guilt for being an accessory to Bromden's death, possibly curiosity to see if there was any truth in the story.

Jessamy remembered Bromden well, the half deranged scientist in the crashed airliner in Keswick, his wild story about the President, a network of satellites and a mysterious control centre. Was any of it actually true?

She remembered every detail of that day because it was the day she discovered that one of her lovers, one of her truest friends in the whole world, Ewan, was in fact her brother, Ross Beech.

Just minutes after he'd been plunging his cock into her silken depths, making her scream his name. The name Merida had given him because he looked like the younger version of some long dead actor.

Jessamy turned to Hamnavoe and stared at him, tears stinging her eyes. But whether from the bitingly cold wind and sea spray or the memories that had just resurfaced she couldn't tell.

"Thank you," she said and went back below deck, leaving Hamnavoe feeling utterly mystified.

COMING SOON - CHAPTER FIVE: SOUTHPORT