The Art Of Desire Ch. 01

"Don't worry, dear, I'll be back before you know it," the man said as he bent to give his young wife a brief kiss on the cheek.

"But you promised, Charles," the woman softly replied, her quavering voice doing little to cover the desperation in her eyes as Charles gave a frustrated sigh. He was not fond of having to repeat himself.

"Look Meg, it's only a week. I have to go, we've been over this!" Charles shrugged into his trench coat as a rap sounded at the already open door.

"Good morning, Miss Becker. Mister Becker, sir, if we're to make the airport on time," the spindly driver commented in a dry voice, beckoning to the waiting Jaguar that purred idly in the driveway.

Charles nodded once before the driver returned to the car and waited beside the rear door, ignoring the gentle spring drizzle that had just begun to fall. Meaghan could not help thinking that the man's stiff black uniform and the dull black of the car in the cloudy half-light reminded her too much of a funeral. As she turned to face Charles, all thought of protesting further fell into gloomy resignation. "Have a safe trip, Charles," she murmured, her gentle soprano hovering just above a whisper.

Her apparent acceptance of the situation caused Charles' features to soften immediately, a warm smile appearing on his tanned face as he raised his hands to brush Meaghan's cheeks, his fingers gliding through her silky waves of hair, the cinnamon-tinted auburn tresses falling well past her shoulders.

"God, kid. You're too beautiful for words sometimes," the man said in a still voice, bending to press his lips firmly against hers, his hands curling around her slim waist just as a polite cough came from the direction of the Jag. "Sorry, Meg. Gotta run." Charles flashed a bleached-white grin at his wife as he placed a hat over shortly cropped hair almost blond enough to match. "Don't forget, the carpenter and his crew will show up sometime this afternoon. You'll know what to do."

Meaghan began to speak, but her husband turned and dashed out to the car as the drizzle began to fall in a determined shower. The car was soon speeding down the winding drive through the trees. Meaghan waved them off, but neither husband nor driver saw the gesture, nor the tears that finally spilled over the woman's cheeks, her bright green eyes shimmering like well-polished emeralds.

She leaned her petite frame against that of the doorway for a long moment, not caring as the rain began to blow into the foyer to cover her face in a thin film of water, the raindrops quickly mingling with her tears. The commotion inside the house of the usual goings-on roused her from her inner thoughts as she pushed the door shut and paused to regard herself in the mirror next to the coat stand. Nimble fingers quickly put her hair back in place before dabbing at her face with a clean handkerchief. "Quit acting like a child," she admonished herself under her breath. Her hands clenched at her sides for a brief moment as she took a deep breath. Then composed as ever, she went on with the day.

* * *

The early afternoon sun had just begun to peek through the clouds as the doorbell rang, but Meaghan was too engrossed in her work to take much notice. It wasn't until one of the house assistants poked her head in to announce the arrival of the carpenter that Meaghan blinked up from her paperwork to frown at the young woman. "Carpenter? Oh, for the renovations," she muttered to herself as she slowly stood from the desk, motioning towards the maid. "I'm sorry, I'd completely forgotten. Please show him in." Quickly settling into her brisk business attitude, she smoothed the mild wrinkles in her slacks and straightened her blouse while silently cursing Charles for dumping this in her lap.

The door opened wide to admit a young woman just a touch taller than Meaghan and perhaps a couple years older but not much beyond that. Meaghan's eyes drifted past the other woman at first, looking for the expected carpenter, but a polite cough brought her eyes back with a surprised flash. In a couple quick seconds she took in the woman's hearty build, the toned muscles of her arms, the tan covering her body in warm tones. "I had assumed," she began in an embarrassingly unsteady voice.

"Always a dangerous thing, assuming," the woman interrupted with a light chuckle as she strode over towards Meaghan, holding out a hand. "Samantha Kirsson, though most call me Sam."

Meaghan began to smile as she took Samantha's hand and gave it a quick shake, her mood already improving thanks to the sheer charisma of the other woman. "That would explain the confusion," she answered lightly. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Samantha." She hesitated then as Samantha took a step back. The carpenter's eyes were the warm brown of seasoned oak, a few shades lighter than the hair she kept pulled back into a pony-tail, leaving bare a neck that looked to be both strong and softly smooth.

Quickly abandoning such strange and dangerous thoughts, Meaghan smiled a bit more and gestured to a door off to the side. "If you'd like, I can show you the 'project' my husband and I have in mind." At Sam's quick nod, Meaghan turned to head towards the door a bit more quickly than intended, leading the carpenter through the house at a brisk pace as she chattered quietly about the work they'd done in the past couple years and the history of the estate.

Samantha couldn't quite hold back a grin as she silently followed Meaghan throughout the house. She'd noticed the rather studious look her patron had given her in the drawing room, but you could never tell sometimes. Perhaps she was just surprised to find a woman when she expected a man.

As they began to climb the stairs to the second floor, Samantha let her eyes wander over Meaghan's form at a leisurely pace. Not a bad view at all, she thought as the amused grin spread into a crookedly appreciative smile. The silk blouse clung in gentle folds to the woman's form, all but inviting someone's hands to glide across the material, cupping those firm breasts before trailing across her back to slip behind the hem of the khaki riding pants that hugged her enticing hips...

"Here we are," Meaghan announced, interrupting Samantha's perusal just a moment before she turned to regard the carpenter. "It's really a mess, but... well, that's why you're here, isn't it?" she commented, grinning brightly as Samantha turned to survey the room, hoping the dingy lighting would mask the soft flush she was sure would be obvious in her cheeks by now. Meaghan brushed her hair behind her ears before crossing her arms, stepping to the side.

With a short, shallow breath, Samantha turned to give the rather large room a quick study, ideas already spinning in her head. "Actually, it's quite beautiful," she remarked with sincere approval, ignoring the dust and the dismal wall paper, the old plastic over the windows and what little furniture had been left behind. "The lines, the architecture... Definite potential." She gave Meaghan a warm smile as she walked back and leaned against the open door. "So, what's the assignment, miss..."

Meaghan gave a short laugh, embarrassment tinting her cheeks a faint rose. "Meaghan. Just Meaghan," she replied quietly, fingers fidgeting with a button on her blouse as she glided past Samantha into the room. She tried to ignore how near she came to the woman and slowly relaxed as she moved farther into the large room.

"Obviously, you're not here to clean up," Meaghan joked lightly, beckoning for Samantha to follow. "This place was such a disaster when we took over the estate. We've been able to touch up the bottom rooms ourselves, but this is all a bit beyond what we have the time or skill to handle."

Samantha stayed close as Meaghan went on to describe what they'd like to do with the remaining rooms on the second floor, eventually taking out a small notebook to scribble down some notes now and then. She could quickly see why they'd decided to hire a carpentry crew, and as Meaghan continued, she began to feel a real appreciation for the plans the other woman eventually unveiled. So many of her previous clients had no sense of style or aesthetics, but Sam was never really in a position to argue as long as the checks came in on time.

At last, the two returned to the first room. Samantha slowly walked along the far wall to check the moldings around the windows, and Meaghan found herself simply watching. This woman fascinated her in a way she couldn't quite puzzle out, though she was determined to try. Samantha was athletically feminine in a way that had always appealed to Meaghan. Her jeans were just tight enough to show off the nice line of her legs and the smooth curves of her hips, and she wore a heavy, flannel shirt of evergreen that she had tucked into the jeans. Her trim waist seemed to give the solid appearance of an athlete while her small, rounded breasts did a beautiful job of softening the overall effect.

A tiny prick of frustration nestled in the back of Meaghan's mind as this mystery refused to be solved. She must have given some outward sign of the struggle, because Samantha suddenly turned to her with a questioning look. "Perhaps I should call in the crew," she said, a light tone of uncertainty in her voice that seemed horribly out of place.

Meaghan blushed, abruptly clasping her hands together as she began to shuffle towards the stairs. "I'm sorry, I'm probably in the way. If you need me for anything, I'm usually not too far away." She then turned and left the room at a pace that reminded Samantha of a startled doe.

A curious little smile crept over the carpenter's face as she tapped a finger against her lips. Then, with a secretive laugh she put her musings aside and began to prepare for the day's work.

* * *

Meaghan couldn't wait to get out of the house, her heart racing as she dashed into the cool air of early spring, the light rain helping to dampen the furious blush that had infused her cheeks. She shut her eyes as she leaned against the closed door, willing the chilled air to draw the heat from her body as she tried to slow her breathing.

For at least a minute, she made a conscious effort to fill her mind with the images of her husband while flashes of her encounter with the carpenter kept intruding. Finally with a defeated sigh, she opened her eyes to stare at the driveway her husband disappeared down that morning as a sad little smile crept across her lips. It finally dawned on her just what she'd been struggling with at the first sight of the carpenter. "That hasn't happened in years," she murmured in a defeated drawl, pushing herself from the door to wander towards the barn.

The rain had dwindled to a gentle mist once more that clung to her hair and her face, causing her white, silk blouse to cling all the more to her skin, a sensation she privately enjoyed. Once she reached the barn, she slipped inside quietly and closed the door, leaning against it as her hands clasped behind her neck, her head tilted back against the sturdy wood door.

Like flipping through the pages of a photo album, memories ran through her mind in that hazy way that time creates. Memories of high school, of college, and particularly of past lovers, only one of whom was a woman. The one before Charles entered her life. Meaghan sighed softly as her fingers ran over the wet skin of her neck, gliding along the fabric at her shoulders to slide across the silk blouse, her hands cupping her breasts in a gentle, forgotten caress.

Her mouth opened slightly at the subdued pleasure of her own touch, her fingers trailing down past her breasts, rolling over her stomach to her hips as a memory played in her mind. Alone in the dark, her lover's hands pulled her down to the bed, lips softer than gossamer kissing her own, caressing her neck in unbelievably warm waves that thundered against her heart, the passion only fueled by the sensations those addictive fingers caused, gliding along her skin to discover the ever secret, ever wanting, ever forbidden desires of her heart.

With a start, Meaghan opened her eyes once more, her body freezing as she took in the warm interior of the barn with its familiar sights and smells so different from the scene that had all but overcome her. She slowly pulled one hand away from her gently throbbing breast and the other from her equally throbbing crotch, a furious blush racing across her cheeks as she searched the barn for any possible spectators.

Finally, she laughed with both relief and embarrassment. There would be no one here at this time of day. She pushed herself from the door and began to prepare her favorite mare for a leisurely trot through the large, forested estate, calling the house to leave a message with her whereabouts. Then slipping into a light riding duster, she and the mare disappeared into the mist of the spring afternoon.

* * *

Several hours later, Meaghan was curled up in the couch of the drawing room, a small fire pleasantly burning its way down in the fireplace. Night had already taken its grip on the world outside, and the warm light from the hearth was the only source in the spacious room. Meaghan's green eyes stared dazedly at the fire, one hand resting lightly on the glass propped against her stomach, the amber liquid of whiskey shivering slightly with every breath.

To the more observant, a door opened to admit a solitary figure, closing just as softly. Meaghan, however, may as well have been a thousand miles away, her thoughts lost in a dreamy landscape of forgotten recollections.

Samantha took a moment at the door to do what little she could about her appearance. She was hardly an unattractive woman, but she wasn't really drop dead gorgeous either, clad in her 'come hither' outfit of flannel and work-stained blue jeans. That wasn't really the reason for her hesitation, of course. This project of hers might take incredible skill, and she had much to lose.

As quietly as she could, she crossed the floor to stand behind the sofa, peeking over it to study the woman sprawled beneath her. Meaghan was still clothed in the same outfit from earlier that day, minus the riding boots. Obviously, however, the woman had been out in the rain, the wet weather adding its subtle stains to the silk blouse, the doe-brown jodhpurs clinging to her thighs. It almost took Sam's breath away, like looking down on a goddess caught unaware.

Very slowly, not quite sure if Meaghan was genuinely unaware or simply unflappable, Samantha leaned against the back of the sofa, pausing a long moment to both give time for a reaction and to continue studying her patron. Reaching down, she took the glass of whiskey from Meaghan's hands and held it up to her face to take a deep whiff.

Startled, Meaghan turned her head to peer up at Samantha, eyes blinking slowly as if trying to match reality with the haze of her thoughts, one hand rising slightly in a numb reaction to reclaim the glass plucked from her grasp.

"Jack Daniels, hmm?" Samantha drawled pleasantly before taking a tiny sip of the intoxicating liquid. "Not quite what I thought the upper class was prone to drink, but lovely all the same," she continued, her eyes focused on the woman below her rather than the drink in her hand.

"I'm not," Meaghan responded quietly, brows drawing down in a confused frown. "Upper class, I mean." Slowly pulling herself into a sitting position, she pulled her knees to her chest.

Samantha smiled, her tongue darting out to touch the middle of her upper lip as one eyebrow arched in amusement. Instead of replying, she simply looked around the room in leisurely perusal, her actions speaking much louder than words might.

Meaghan couldn't help but blush as her own eyes fell on her surroundings. The baby grand in the corner, the paintings, the antique books, the wooden easel near the windows... "I didn't marry him for all this, you know," she mumbled in defense of an accusation Samantha never uttered.

The carpenter returned her gaze to the woman beneath her, the mocking look from before completely disappearing from her face. "I never said you did," she said gently, moving around the end of the couch to sit next to Meaghan as she offered the glass back to her. "Sorry... I'm too damn cocky for my own good," she apologized quietly, hands falling to her lap as Meaghan took the glass.

Smiling softly, Meaghan gave a slight shrug. "I should apologize as well. It's just something I've had to deal with for the past couple years." She paused then, studying the carpenter for a moment too long before giving a quick shake of her head. "Anyway... I hope you haven't been waiting around for me. I went out for a ride earlier."

"So the housekeeper told me," Samantha replied in an amused voice. "She said you often go out riding to clear your head." Her eyes trailed down to rest on the other woman's jodhpurs significantly before snapping up to Meaghan's face once more. "So what was it that caused this needed ride in rather... uninviting weather?"

A feeling close to panic took hold of Meaghan for a brief second as she simply stared at the other woman. Most unprofessional of her. "I..." she began in a quavering voice, "I was thinking of my husband. He's not here." Obviously.

Samantha tried to keep her smile subdued, her head tilting to the side a degree or two as she regarded the other woman. "Yes, down to Atlanta, if the household gossip is to believed. Atlanta is a long way from Maine."

"Business," Meaghan supplied quietly, already uncomfortable since she hadn't wanted him to go in the first place. "Can I get you anything to drink, Samantha? I didn't really bring anything but the whiskey, but I can probably find whatever you want."

Samantha couldn't keep the amused grin from her face as implications of that offer wandered through her mind. "J.D. is just fine by me," she answered simply, brown eyes twinkling mischievously.

Meaghan got to her feet somewhat unsteadily, and wandered over to the fireplace where the bottle rested on top of a small cabinet. As she bent to take a glass from the cabinet, Samantha took unabashed pleasure in the woman's form.

"Here you are," Meaghan announced, intruding on the carpenter's fantasies and heading back to the fire-lit couch. "I won't keep you too long, though. I'm sure you need to get home to your family," the young woman announced with a lazy smile. Obviously, her own glass of whiskey had not been her first of the evening.

Samantha laughed softly as she took the offered glass. "Don't worry, I doubt my cat is waiting up for me." She winked at Meaghan as the woman all but fell to the couch, sloshing a tiny bit of her drink onto her thigh, just inches from her hip.

"Oh damn," Meaghan muttered in a voice just barely above a whisper.

"Allow me," Sam interrupted, leaning down to place her glass underneath the couch. She began to reach for the handkerchief in her pocket as she studied Meaghan's unblinking gaze. Suddenly, a smile inched across her lips as she leaned down, lips falling to the place the whiskey had spilled, her mouth sucking in gently as her tongue lapped against the damp fabric.

It took a long moment for Meaghan to react, her eyes widening at this act which seemed to take a long time to seep into her whiskey-numbed mind. "What..." she uttered quietly as her hands rose to rest softly at Samantha's temples. "Very resourceful of you," she finished slowly as she smiled, eyes half closing as she took a deep breath.

Samantha rose, eyes searching Meaghan's face. Finding that pleasured look, she scooted toward the other woman until she was sitting right next to her, their legs touching. "Always prepared," Sam answered in a drawl, "that's me." She let her hand stray over to the spot of the spill, fingers playing lightly against the wet fabric.

For Meaghan it was simply too much: the stress of the day, the flashbacks, the fantasies, and now this strange encounter. She reached out towards Samantha as she carelessly set her glass to the side, finding the small coffee table more by instinct than awareness. She grasped the fabric of Sam's shirt at her stomach and leaned forward, eyes closing as she sought the woman's lips with her own, finally meeting them with a heated caress, eyes closing as if to enjoy the single sensation of that kiss.