The Gift Of Freesias

CHAPTER ONE

Alex awoke slowly from his dream and rolled towards his nightstand. He already knew what time it would say. 12.01am. The dream always woke him at this time and then seemed to disappear, leaving him with only the vaguest recollection of its presence. Impressions mainly. A hint of emotion. An elusive caress. He never saw any physical images in this dream, but the feelings it gave brought about a growing awareness in him; an awareness of himself and his life. He was learning very fast that neither looked as good as he was always led - or allowed himself - to believe. But the dream was different this time. When Alex woke, it was to the scent of freesias. The dream left him this before scuttling back into his subconscious or where ever else it dwelled during his waking hours.

The dream had been his bedtime companion for almost a year now. Since the night Chloe walked out on him, with a flick of her gorgeous blonde hair and a continuous stream of tears that served to reverse the look of control she tried to maintain. He remembered looking at her with a mixture of remorse and pity. Remorse because it wasn't in him to be the man she needed him to be and pity because she learned only that night what he had known for a year: she was in this relationship alone.

Alex had had no interest in maintaining a connection with Chloe but lacked the courage to tell her. When a relationship ends it is too easy to make excuses for oneself. But Alex wasn't interested in this kind of ducking and diving. The blame was his and his alone. And although he did not have the balls to be honest with Chloe, he did have the balls to be honest with himself. He had no interest whatsoever in staying in a relationship with her.

Alex didn't make the time to explore the 'whys' and 'what fors'. Instead, he chose, as he always did, to throw himself into his work. "Software engineer" was not just his job title, it was also his home. It kept him warm. It challenged him. It praised him. It inspired him. Alex realised this was a rather creative way to call oneself a workaholic but until the night Chloe left him he didn't see anything wrong with being a workaholic. His work, up until now, always fulfilled his needs; but, with the ensuing loneliness that followed Chloe's exit from his life, the doubts came. For months Alex was convinced he made a mistake in letting her go. He lost count of how many times he rung her direct dial at the office and heard "Chloe Andersen" professionally answer, before sending the dial tone as his reply. The e-mails he wrote but never sent must have numbered in the thousands. He remembered that first month without her as being especially dark. His work didn't hold his interest as much as it once did. He wasn't as inspired as he used to be. Pretty soon his self-analysis took him to the view that he might have made a huge mistake in letting Chloe go. That led him to become a silent phone stalker and a keen visitor to his e-mail trash compactor. If his self-analysis had stopped there, Alex might well have called Chloe again and asked for another chance.

Luckily for both of them Alex's self-analysis was not done with him yet. One night, three months after his break up, on a boys night out with Simon and Daniel, two work colleagues, it tweaked his brain right between the merlot and the first course. It whispered, "Wasn't the first night you had your dream the night Chloe left?" Simon and Daniel looked at him with concern when he sprayed his merlot into his napkin. His growing realisation dawned on him. But their concern, both from Alex's merlot-filled gasp and having watched him struggle through his break up, was erased when Alex raised his glass suddenly in a toast and said with a grin, "To moving on!" They clinked their glasses with his and smiled. Neither of them realised that their relief paled in comparison to Alex's as it occurred to him he had not made a mistake when he let Chloe go. The fact that he still didn't know where his sense of dissatisfaction was coming from was not strong enough to stop him from enjoying the rest of the night. And so the merlot flowed.

When he got home a few hours later it was well after 3.00am. He fell asleep knowing it was too late for the dream to catch him that night. He was too drunk to analyse how he could possibly have known that. A dreamless sleep claimed him soon after and he was glad of it. He didn't need a dream to tell him his life wasn't where he needed it to be. His hangover the next morning would no doubt take care of that.

CHAPTER TWO

Victoria liked to sit on her balcony as the sun went down. She always felt hopeful at sunset. Her melancholy of late was not strong enough to stop her from thinking that although the sun was going to leave her for a while, it would come back again soon and with it would come a new day. "Another chance to make things better for myself." Sometimes this thought was the only thing that got her out of bed.

Looking out over the seaside suburb of Uxbridge as the sun fell lower in the sky, Victoria sipped her merlot and breathed in the scent of her freesias. Well, technically not her freesias. Technically, freesias belonging to somebody else who, for reasons known only to them, kept leaving a fresh bouquet on her doorstep every morning. Her first bouquet arrived three days ago. How she loved these flowers! Their subtle scent. The delicate shade of cream and lemon on their soft petals. Springtime always brought the freesias. But this spring was like no other. Her Mum wasn't here this time.

Perhaps, if she wasn't in the grip of her own melancholy and grief at the death of her Mum, might have been curious to find out who was leaving their freesias on her doorstep. She hoped one day she would know who was doing this for her but for now she was just content to breathe in their fragrance and sip her merlot.

At that exact same moment, in somebody's house, in somebody's lounge, overlooking some beach and in the hand of some man, there was a card that should have accompanied that last delivery of freesias. It simply read "Because I know these used to bring you smiles..."

Between the freesias and Victoria's wineglass sat a picture of Victoria and her Mum. As she gazed at the smiles pasted on the faces of these two very similar looking women she felt a brief wave of self-pity and knew this evening was probably going to take the same course of every evening she'd faced since her Mum died. It was not for her, the route of the alcoholic who can't stop at just one glass of merlot. Try the wannabe writer who sits in front of her computer and makes engineering inept paper planes to throw around her study while her dreams of literary recognition go up in smoke.

One of the fortifying thoughts Victoria had in the brief moments she managed to overcome her melancholy is that she was not a wannabe writer. She already had one successful novel under her belt. But the short-lived victory she gained from dwelling on this point was very quickly – and as always - completely undone by the thought, "If not a wannabe writer, then perhaps we should try one-hit-wonder!" Her melancholy pretty much hit a home run at that point. It was time to get out of the apartment and go for a walk.

Victoria left the balcony and went into her lounge, locking the ranch slider behind her. The beach at the end of her street was a 5-minute walk away. She decided she needed to feel the gentle ebb and flow of the tide that always relaxed her as it caressed her bare feet. She headed out of her driveway and walked briskly down the softly sloping footpath towards Uxbridge Beach. She arrived just as the sun met the horizon. The beach was hers.

Victoria removed her sandals so she could feel the warm sand between her toes. Uxbridge Beach wasn't very big but for Victoria this was always part of its charm. She had lived in Uxbridge for three years and loved its small village atmosphere and cobblestone walkways. The beach, with its ever-changing horizons and softly lapping shoreline always calmed Victoria. There was peace for her here. She removed her barrette and allowed her long brown hair to fall down her back.

She walked towards the water as it stroked the still warm sand with it's soft, sensual caress. The tide was coming in as the sun cast its last golden rays on it. She walked into the water until it was licking at her calve. She lifted the hem of her dress to her thighs and allowed the water to move higher up her body. It was still warm and when she looked around the beach and saw nobody else she submerged herself up to her shoulders, her long hair fanned out in the water behind her. Despite the warmth of the water, when it licked at her nipples they hardened as if it were ice cold. The sensuality was not lost on Victoria as she widened her legs and let the salt water lick softly at her aching clit. She felt the sudden sexual tension building in her. The wet caress of the sea felt good to Victoria but it was not enough. She needed warmth, and call her unadventurous, but she also needed the comfort of her bed as well, before she could ease the tension building deep inside her. She knew she wouldn't find a full release at home in her lonely apartment but at least it would be safer there than on some quickly darkening beach by herself.

She turned back to the shoreline and decided to head to her favourite bench. She could remove the sand from her feet there, as she looked out over the sunset. She also needed to somehow make her dress less revealing for the short walk home. Though as she looked down at her erect nipples and their large areolae, clearly revealed in the transparent cotton, she realised she had her work cut out for her. She left the water and walked back up the beach. The thin cotton of her dress clung to her like a second skin. When she got to her favourite bench she was disappointed to see somebody else sitting on it.

Alex had seen Victoria a full 10 minutes before she saw him. He liked the way the sea air whipped her long brown hair across her face. He watched as she walked into the water, lifting her dress to mid thigh and let the water move against her legs. He could feel his cock move restlessly in his surf shorts when Victoria gave up the effort to keep her dress dry and submerged herself almost completely in the water. He couldn't help but think that despite the fact she was fully clothed, she still looked sexy as hell. He loved the way her wet hair clung to her neck and cheek as she made her way out of the water.

It wasn't until Victoria was about 20 metres from his bench that Alex realised she intended to sit in exactly the same spot he found himself in. It was also at 20 metres that Alex realised her dress was almost completely transparent. Her nipples were so hard. And from the way her dress was clinging to them, and the gentle way her breasts moved, it was obvious they were bare beneath the wet cotton. He allowed his eyes to drop lower and rested them on the perfect V of her mound. But for her dress this beautiful woman was completely naked. His cock got so hard he had no choice but to quickly take his sweat-shirt off and lay it over his lap. His skin reacted immediately to the sudden chill of the early evening air and the coldness of the wooden bench against his bare back. Victoria chose that exact moment to look up and realise he was there.

Her first thought was, "Oh no! I'm sure he can see through my dress!" She should have felt scared, but strangely she wasn't. Stranger still she felt desire welling up in her as her eyes gazed slowly over his muscular shoulders and chest.

Alex and Victoria stared at each other for what felt like hours. Neither of them moved nor spoke a word until Alex finally said, "I'm sorry, I think I am sitting in your seat."

Victoria smiled and said, "I should be the one apologising. I've obviously disturbed a quiet moment for you. There's another seat further up the beach. I'll leave you to your thinking."

Alex was surprised that she had read him so well. A need for a quiet moment was exactly what brought him to the beach this evening. But seeing Victoria, beautifully feminine in her pleasingly poor impersonation of a dress, also reminded him of another need. He wanted her. He slipped the card back into his shorts pocket. There was plenty of time later to figure out what prompted him to write its brief message.

"You don't have to go. There is room for two. Besides, the sunset looks better from this seat. Alex Shawncrosse."

"Victoria Lindsay." She returned his warm smile and sat. In silence they looked out over the water.

The silence was comfortable and neither of them felt inclined to break it. But Victoria started to shiver a little and Alex instinctively moved closer to her.

"You're cold," he whispered.

"A little," she replied. He couldn't remove the sweatshirt from his lap until he suceeded in willing his erection down, so he instead pulled her into the haven of his arms and wrapped them around her. It felt right somehow.

Victoria was at first surprised by Alex, but like him she too felt it was right for him to wrap his arms around her. She could feel his warm breath against the nape of her neck and she knew she wanted more. She moved closer to him but in so doing raised the hem of her damp dress until it barely covered her.

They both looked down and it seemed so natural for to spread her legs a little and ease the hem of her dress higher. She leaned against Alex's hard chest and listened to his heart beat as she absorbed his heat. When he reached down to gently move her dress until her bare pussy was revealed to both of them she closed her eyes for a moment and sighed.

Alex moved his face into Victoria's damp hair and whispered, "I want to touch you, Victoria. Can I touch you, baby?"

She nodded and they both looked down as his fingers moved against her smooth moist lips. Victoria maintained only a thin triangle of soft brown hair over her mound, preferring to keep her lips free from hair.

"Your lips are so soft, baby. I like that."

She could barely move her mouth to form the words, "I don't like so much hair." She managed.

Alex kissed the back of her neck before whispering, "Neither do I, honey."

Victoria's eyes closed as she let her head fall back against Alex's shoulder. Alex stopped his caress for a moment before whispering, "Open your eyes. I want you to see how beautiful you are."

Victoria had never been spoken to in this wonderfully gentle way by any of her lovers let alone someone who had known her for as brief a time as Alex had. She couldn't help but obey him.

They both looked down as Alex's fingers played. Her juices were making them very wet. The skin chilled by the sea was now warming fast.

"Spread your legs for me Victoria," he whispered.

She lifted her right leg and brought it to rest on his muscular thighs while she moved her left leg further away, burying her toes into the sand. Her pussy was open to him now and he wasted no time in spreading her lips with the index and middle finger of his left hand, forming an inverted V so that her clit rested right in the middle of it. With the index and middle fingers of his right hand he started stroking the inner lips of her pussy and was rewarded with a soft and sexy moan from Victoria.

"That's it, Victoria. Let yourself go. Nobody else exists right now; just you and me. Keep your eyes open, baby. Watch what I'm doing to you. Do you like me playing with you like this?"

She nodded and moaned softly.

"That's good, honey. I like touching you; making you wet. I can't keep my finger on your clit, baby. It's too slippery. Let me try something…"

Alex moved his right hand lower and managed to position his thumb over Victoria's clit, leaving his index and middle finger free to slowly thrust in and out of her moistness. With Victoria keeping her thighs wide apart for him, Alex was able to free his left hand to unbutton her dress. He wanted to remove the wet cotton completely so Victoria would stop shivering. He didn't realise that it was his touch and not the dress that was affecting her in this way. If the affect he had on her was less powerful, Victoria might have been able to form the words to express herself to him. But she had little chance of forming any coherent words while his fingers were bringing her inexorably closer to climax. Despite Victoria's inability to find language she did have the presence of mind to lean slightly forward and allow Alex to remove her dress completely.

When Victoria's hard nipples were revealed to him, Alex found himself devoid of words. They sat atop two firm cup D breasts and were the colour of dusky pink. He was impatient to feel them against his tongue, but greater than his impatience was the need to feel Victoria explode against his thrusting fingers. He knew that would have to wait. Alex wanted to make Victoria come and if there was a God in this world he would hear her scream his name when she did. He not only wanted this for himself, but for Victoria as well. He wanted her to feel pleasured by him; aroused by his body and words. This was more so than was ever the case with Chloe. He didn't understand why but knew the truth of it as soon as it occurred to him.

He breathed in the scent of her as he drew her closer to the edge. She began to writhe against his fingers as they played along her lips and stroked her clit with their unhurried caress. His fingers continued to move inside her, deeper and deeper as she arched her back and thrust her hard nipples into the air. He loved the way they jiggled atop her breasts almost begging for his tongue.

"Oh God! Come for me, baby! I can feel you gripping my fingers. I want you to come so badly, honey!"

Victoria didn't want to lose control too fast. While she still had it she pulled Alex's moist fingers from her pussy and sucked them into her mouth. She was too aroused to understand how much control she took from him by allowing him to see such raw sensuality. She licked her juices from his fingers oblivious to Alex's awe-struck stare.

Alex quickly moved from behind her and stood up to remove his shorts. He wanted to be free from his clothing like Victoria. But, to Victoria's chagrin, he didn't give her a chance to absorb to memory the details of his body. Instead, he knelt down on the still-warm sand and bent his head between her legs. He captured her clit gently between his lips and rubbed them together. She moaned loudly and reached her hands up to capture her swaying breasts.

"Oh God, Alex!" She moaned. "What are you doing to me?!"

Loving you, he thought simply. I am loving you. She looked down at him, her expression dazed. Eye contact lasted only a moment before she brought her right hand to the back of his head and ground her pussy hard against his tongue. When he stood to remove his shorts earlier she had changed position by lifting both feet onto the bench. This allowed her to squat above him now. Spreading her thighs wide she watched in dazed wonder as his tongue and fingers continued their sweet torture.

"Oh Fuck! Alex... oh God!! Yes!!" She lifted her ass high off the bench and thrust her wetness towards him. Her clit was still trapped between his relentless lips and the same two fingers she sucked clean thrust in and out of her tight pussy. Alex's eyes were closed now as he savoured the taste of her. Victoria's body swayed in time to his tongue and her breasts slapped against each other more loudly now as her movements became more erratic. The full force of Victoria's climax was approaching and neither of them were prepared for it. She shook violently against him and gripped the back of the bench with both hands as she spread her legs wider and looked down at Alex using his delicious tongue on her sensitive clit. A long moan escaped her lips as wave after wave hit her. Alex moved his hands to her buttocks to stop her from toppling over. But he continued to lick her, more gently this time, bringing her down from her high. Long minutes passed before the sexual storm faded.