Kayla Comes Home Ch. 01

Kayla Moody drove up the lane, flanked on either side by majestic, oaks. The main house of the sprawling, plantation stood in front of her. An enduring, symbol of the antebellum South dating back to before the Civil War, she had inherited the plantation from her Grandmother who had recently passed away. The sprawling, estate had been in the family for generations once having belonged to her Great Grandmother.

The inheritance could not have come at a better time as she was in the process of working on her first novel. An erotic romance set in the Deep South. As she drove down the tree lined lane the fragrant, perfume of Jasmine and Honeysuckle wafted on the gentle breeze.

Stopping her black, Toyota Corolla in front of the slightly run down main house she couldn't believe she was finally here. It had been a long, drive down from New York. She swung the door open and stepped out of the car. Her slender, coltish legs leading upwards to a tall, willowy frame and a mane of hair the color of copper, she retrieved the duffle bag containing her clothes and her laptop and strolled leisurely up the steps to the porch. She wanted nothing more then to settle into a nice hot tub and sleep. She reached into her faded Calvin Klein jeans and fumbled with the keys to the door. The sun was beginning to set turning the sky into vivid hues of orange and red. She opened the elaborately, hand carved oak door of the house and retrieving her duffle bag stepped inside. It was as if she had stepped back in time. The grand interior was well preserved and almost all the furniture was as it would be in a home of that era. She shut the door behind her securely locking it. A force of habit from living in New York City for twenty five years, she padded softly, up the stairs with its hand carved banisters and down the long, elegantly appointed hallway with its oak, woodwork.

She opened the first door she came too and walked inside. The room was as elegant as the rest of the house. A massive, cherry wood four poster canopy bed occupied one wall. A matching vanity occupied the opposite wall. The dying rays of the summer sun filtering in through the sheer, lacey curtains. "This must have been her Great Grandmother's room." she thought to herself.

She threw her duffle bag on the floor. She would unpack later. Right now a hot bath and a good sleep was what she needed. She rummaged through her duffle bag and pulled out a long, nightshirt and cleans underwear and headed down the hallway in search of the bathroom. She found it across the hallway from her room and shut the door behind her not bothering to lock it since she was the only one in the house. As she reached for the faucet to fill the antique claw footed tub she was glad that the house had been upgraded to the twentieth century with running water. She laid her soap and other toiletries on the sink and poured some lavender scented bubble bath in the tub swirling it around with her hand.

She stepped into the warmth of the tub and lolled her head back against the porcelain letting the warmth of the water wash over her. Shutting off the water she basked in the luxurious bubbles. Her eye's drifting shut as she relaxed and drifted off to sleep.

Stepping from the claw footed tub she wrapped herself in a large terry clothe towel and dried herself vigorously before slipping the underwear on and her nightshirt down over her shimmering copper, curl's.

Leisurely she strolled back to her room. Before sliding between the sheets she ventured over to the French doors leading out to a balcony which overlooked the grounds of the grand plantation. The alluring fragrance of Jasmine and honeysuckle and lavender greeting her nostrils as she opened the doors and stepped out into the balmy night air, she turned away walking back into the bedroom and leaving the doors ajar to get a breeze blowing through the room slid beneath the sheets of the bed.

She awoke as the first, rays of the morning sun beckoned over the horizon. She felt refreshed and invigorated by her slumber. Throwing back the covers from the bed she slid her legs out. Her nightshirt, falling to about the middle of her thigh as she stood up, her coppery, mane rumpled by her sleep, She padded on bare feet to the bedroom door and ventured out into the hallway. She crossed the short distance to the bathroom and froze in her tracks as through the partially open bathroom door she noticed the tall, muscular form emerge from the bathtub. For a brief moment she couldn't say a word as she ogled the perfect, male specimen. Marveling at the rippling muscles of his arms; the broad shoulder's; smooth bronze expanse of streamlined muscle and sinew tapering down to a taut, flat abdomen

Of their own accord her eye's dared to drift lower and she let out a gasp as she briefly, studied the flaccid, length of his penis and the corded, sinews of his thighs. Her cheeks coloring with abashment as her gaze seemed to linger on the virile length between his muscular, thighs.

"Who are you and what are you doing in my house!" she exclaimed as she found her voice.

"You must be Kayla...I was told you would be coming sorry I didn't make my presence known yesterday but I was otherwise engaged." he apologized.

"And who might you be I'm kind of at a disadvantage here?" she queried?

"I'm Trevor Watson the caretaker here." he replied.

"It's quite alright...but would you mind." she gestured averting her eyes.

"Oh I'm sorry!" he said as he wrapped a terry cloth towel about his waist.

He squeezed by her and strode to his room down the hall from hers. "The bathroom is your's!" he said with a smile.

She walked into the bathroom and made certain to lock the door securely behind her. She emerged a short time later and padded to her room. From downstairs, the alluring, aroma of freshly, brewed coffee and frying bacon drifted upstairs and through the house. The enticing aroma making her mouth water as she hurriedly slipped into a pair of jeans and a tee-shirt and strolled leisurely down the stairs.

"Ah there you are!" he smiled. "I took the liberty of making breakfast,you know breakfast is the most important meal of the day."

"It smells absolutely delicious..." she smiled. "It's rare to meet a man who can cook."

"That's just one of my many talents." he chuckled as he sat a dish piled high with two, sunny side up eggs, bacon, a buttermilk biscuit and a pile of grits in front of her.

"I think I've died and gone to heaven." she smiled as she partook of the breakfast. "Everything is so delicious!"

"I'm glad for the delightful company." he beamed. "Ever since your Grandmother passed on this place has been kind of quiet and neglected I'm afraid."

"It's really not to bad...could use a woman's touch though." she said.

"Oh my I can't eat another bite!" she groaned. "it was so delicious I didn't realize how hungry I was."

"Was my pleasure." he replied.

"Please let me return the favor and fix dinner." she smiled.

"If you insist." he replied.

"I do." she smiled.

"Very well,I think you will find we are well stocked with everything you may need." he commented. "Now if you will excuse me I need to tend to the horses."

"Oh you have horses here?" she asked? "Yes we have a couple of Arabians. Your Grandmother was quite the equestrian. In her younger days she won awards for dressage and jumping." he answered. "I think I may take a ride around the grounds later." she smiled.

"I will be happy to show you around." he said with a warm smile.

"I think I'd like that." she replied,warmly.

"I'll take care of the dishes." she said as they arose from the dining room table. "And tidy up a little and I shall look for you later."

"I'm very easy to find." he commented, offhandedly. "If you need anything just holler and I'll come running." he said. "Anything at all."

She cleared the dishes from the dining room table and carried them into the kitchen loading them into the sink. Her mind whirling as she found herself drawn inexplicably to Trevor's charm, There was something that held her captivated about him maybe it was the darkness of his mysterious eye's. Trying not to dwell on the subject she got busy scrubbing the dishes and laying each one in the dish rack to dry. She went into the parlor which was elegantly furnished with a grand piano as its centerpiece. She had always loved music and had learned the piano as a young girl. The parlor was musty so she strode to the window to open it but it was stuck. She struggled with the window for long, minutes until she faintly heard Trevor's voice in the kitchen.

"I'm in here Mr. Watson damn windows are stuck...can you help me please." she answered.

"Be right there." he replied

She was still struggling with the window as he entered the room and reached around her torso to help her. His body pressed against hers. "Maybe with both of us!" he said.

She grew weak in the knees as she felt the heat of his body pressing against her. Using every bit of strength at her disposal the window flew up nearly shattering as it hit the jam. She turned around to thank him and stared directly into his dark, brown eyes. He was so close she could smell the alluring scent of his maleness. Strong and musky yet pleasantly sensual in her nostrils.

Music always helped her to think when she had a difficult decision. Sitting on the piano bench she began to play. The melodic strains of the piano filling the house, Even though it had been years since she played it all came back to her. The lingering, memory of his finely chiseled torso seared into her brain.

Arising from the piano bench, reinvigorated she scurried up the stairs to explore the upstairs. The stairs creaked showing their age as she ascended the stairs to the second floor. Opening the door of her room, she walked slowly towards the French doors that led to the balcony overlooking the sprawling, grounds of the plantation. The sweetly, fragrant scent of Jasmine and Honeysuckle wafting into the room on the gentle,summer breeze.

She returned to her exploring striding across the room to the closet. Opening it and clearing the cobwebs in her path she discovered a cache of dresses that dated back probably to the turn of the century at the very least. She wondered what other treasures she would find. But right now the dresses fascinated her.

She ran her fingers over the dresses, pulling down one and gazing at it enviously. It seemed to be made of the finest linen with lace embellishments accenting the bodice. Shaking it to rid it of any insects and accumulated dust she glanced around nervously to make sure she was alone. The dress looked like it had never been worn. The paper covering over it had protected it somewhat through the years. She looked closer at the dress and noted that it was accented with tiny, pearls. She couldn't resist the temptation any longer. Glancing around nervously once again, she skinned the tee shirt over her head.

She slid the dress down over her head and smoothed it about her hip's. She shut the closet door and looked at her reflection in the full length mirror. With a keen eye, she studied the way the dress accented her perky, breasts and set off her auburn, mane. She worked the buttons of the bodice free from their closures and skinned the dress over her ruffled, auburn locks and donning the tee shirt once again.

For the rest of the day, she busied herself with cleaning. During her cleaning she stumbled upon an old photo album that she guessed had belonged to her Grandmother. She sat down on the bed Indian fashion and opened the album. A flood of memories whirled through her brain as she leafed through the pages.

Shutting the album she ventured back downstairs heading for the kitchen. She and found some lemons in the fridge and she thought of bringing him down some cold, fresh squeezed lemonade as he must be hot and thirty from cleaning out the stables. She cut and squeezed the lemons into a pitcher and added some cold water and a couple of spoonfuls of sugar and put the pitcher into the refrigerator to chill.

A short, while later she walked down the path from the kitchen to where she saw the stables off in the distance carrying a tray with the pitcher and two glasses filled with ice. All around her birds chirped and the fragrance of jasmine filled the air. As she neared the stables she spied Trevor's ruggedly, handsome figure mucking out the stall of one of the horses. The pungent, odor of fresh manure assailing her nostrils.

"Care for some lemonade?" she beckoned as she got closer to the stables.

He turned and stopped what he was doing at the sound of her voice. Setting the pitch fork down against a wall of the stall, "Thank you Kayla I could sure use a drink." he replied,wiping the sweat from his brow.

"I thought you might." she smiled. Nearly growing faint as she saw once again the sun bronzed perfection of his physique. He had his shirt off and his wonderfully broad chest glistened with beads of sweat. Shakily, she poured him a glass of the ice cold lemonade as she sat the tray down on a bale of straw. She poured herself a tall glass hoping to quench the fiery pangs of desire between her thighs.

"What beautiful animals." she smiled as she walked up to the nearest stall and petted the head of one of the horses. "I think he likes me." she giggled as she stroked his mane.

She turned and walked toward the bale of straw where she left the tray with the lemonade. Her left, foot caught in a bucket she hadn't seen and she was sent sprawling to the ground with a thud.

"Are you alright!" he exclaimed running over to help her to her feet.

"I think so." she replied.

He wrapped his strong, sinewy arms about her and helped her to her feet. Only to have her slump against him in pain.

"I think I twisted my ankle." she said as she winced in pain. "I guess I should be more careful and look before I step."she laughed.

He helped her over to a bale of straw and sat her down. "Let me take a look at it." he murmured. "it might be broken." He knelt down on the floor of the stall and gently removed her flip flop. His fingers, maundered ever so slowly over her ankle. Massaging her foot with gentle, caresses, her flesh, smooth and soft beneath his fingers, "Does that feel better? I don't think it's broken." he murmured still kneading the pliant, flesh.

She winced as he probed and prodded her ankle the pain fading as he massaged her instep. His touch so gentle and soothing, "Mm...hmm..." she murmured. "Feels wonderful." His touch sending tingles through her flesh.

"Let me help you inside you should stay off that ankle today." he said as he helped her stand up.

"What about our horse back rides...and I was going to cook dinner?" she asked sadly. "The horse back ride can wait till you feel better and I'll cook dinner tonight." he smiled. He helped her as they walked slowly up the path to the house. Letting her put her weight on him as each step caused her to wince in pain. He helped her up the staircase and to her bedroom. He walked her slowly over to the bed and helped her sit down taking the weight off her ankle. "You slip into something more comfortable and I'll get some ice for that ankle it looks like its starting to swell and some aspirin." he suggested.

"Can you hand me my duffel bag please I haven't had the chance to unpack yet?" she asked. "I'm sorry I'm such a bother just a natural born klutz I guess." she chuckled.

"Here you go." he said handing her the green duffel bag. "And you're not a klutz accidents happen." He turned and left the room returning after a few minutes with the aspirin and ice.

She reached into her duffle bag as he left the room and quickly doffing her jeans and tee shirt slid a thin, nightshirt down over her auburn, tresses and slid beneath the covers.

"You don't know me very well I am too a klutz." she giggled.

"Are not!" he exclaimed.

"Am too!" she said.

"You are not now I don't want to hear another word about it!" he said.

"Am too!" she giggled goading him on. Her finger's reaching for her pillow and bringing it down to hit him over the head.

"Oh now you're going get it!" he chuckled. He pushed her backwards on the bed a straddled her slender, hips. His finger's finding her ribs and tickling her unmercifully.

She was no match for this superb male animal in primal condition. Her willowy, torso bucking and writhing beneath him as he hovered over her, His perfect, powerful, muscular frame hovering mere inches above her. Would he kiss her now? Her heart was thundering beneath her breast. "Ok ok...I give up!" she laughed uproariously.

"Ok now you try and get some rest. That's an order!" he barked. "I'm gone back to the stables to finish up and start dinner."

She tossed and turned as her brain whirled with vague memories of her Grandmother and this strange, alluring man. He certainly was the most dark, mysterious man she had ever met. A man who could make her wet with just a heated glance, make her melt with just the slightest of touches.

Her thoughts, alternated between Trevor and her Grandmother. Some of her most treasured memories centered on the summers she spent with her Grandmother. Memories of her Grandmother brushing her hair at night and braiding it while telling her fairy tales of princess's and prince's who lived in some magical place. She dozed off her mind filled with happy thoughts. She felt at home at peace here. She could almost feel her Grandmother's presence in the house. Could almost here her voice.

Her mind, drifted to one of her fondest memories of her time with her Grandmother. She was around nine or ten years old and her Grandmother had allowed her to stay up late and witness the miracle of birth of a new foal. She remembered the look of amazement on her face as the new life entered the world.

As she lay in bed, floating along on a sea of happy memories she could almost hear her Grandmother's voice to trust Trevor. That he was a kind, gentle person and that he would be a good choice for a husband.

Working on her first, novel with all the deadlines, she focused all her energy on her writing as she had done most her life. Foregoing any type of social life in order to get her degree and achieve her goals she set for herself. This also meant foregoing any type of relationship with men at least until she had finished her novel. She had male friends of course but strictly on a platonic level. She had no time for games and all the problems a sexual relationship entailed at this point in her life. Was she using launching her writing career as simply an excuse to keep from getting hurt as her mother had?

Her brain was filled with questions to which she had no answer. Her mind was a jumble of thoughts, punctuated by the recurring images of his muscular physique. The outline of his straining, shaft boldly displayed beneath the denim jeans. The way it felt as it pressed against her as he held her close.