tagRomanceSomeday...I'll Find You

Someday...I'll Find You


Hello and welcome to my readers. I appreciate your votes, comments and e-mails on my previous stories. My sincere thanks go to geekychick_76, glynndah and Mistress Lynn for their skillful editing and story suggestions. Have a Happy Halloween everyone.


Donovan Williams couldn't believe his luck. He thought his bid for the condominium unit was too low, but when his real estate agent called with the good news; his whoop of joy almost deafened her. A month later, he was sitting on his terrace looking out on the city reservoir. The view was the primary reason he had wanted the condominium to begin with. He so enjoyed the tranquil beauty of the water and the trees that dotted the shoreline. Why did the water hold such a fascination for him? It reached deep into his soul with a feeling of completeness, like returning home after a long trip.

On the fourth night in his new home, the dream began. He was walking through a pearlescent mist. He could not see, but his steps never faltered. He knew where he was going. The mist parted like a theater curtain and he found himself in a cave.

A woman reclined on a flat rock the size of a king size bed. She wore a flowing white gown of a translucent material, her full breasts all but visible in the plunging neckline. Her hips were wide, her legs long and her arms bare.

Hair black as night framed a face in comfortable repose. He thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

He walked to the rock, climbed upon it and kissed her pale pink lips. Her blue eyes opened and she smiled. I knew you would return to me. You are mine at last. Her lips never moved, but her voice was clear, resonating in his brain. She pulled him to her and their bodies molded together, he was one again, and he was complete…

Donovan awoke with a start, sweat pouring from him despite the coolness of the room. Try as he might, he could not get to sleep again. He wandered into the kitchen and ate some crackers. Who was this woman? Why was he dreaming of her? Why did he feel that he knew her? It was so vivid, so lifelike and the feeling of contentment being with her so comforting. He drank from a carton of orange juice, returned to his bed and fell into a deep dreamless sleep.


Sitting on the terrace in the cool of the evening, the night sounds barely intruded on Donovan's thoughts. The dream, why was it plaguing him? Filling his mind. Who was the woman? Why did he desire her? A movement on the reservoir's bank caught his eye. A dim, flickering light moved slowly, winking in and out among the trees. Someone's carrying a lantern. Who would be out there now?

He felt a compulsion to investigate. Putting on his shoes, he descended the stairs and went out into the darkness. The moon appeared from behind a bank of clouds, lighting his way. When he reached the bank, the light was gone. Puzzled, he walked up and down looking into the groves of trees. Where was the light? Who or what was it?

"Goed dat mijn vriend gelijk maakt," someone said behind him. He turned and saw a tall woman with long black hair standing by a tree. She smiled and walked towards him. "Een mooie nacht voor stroll niet denkt du?"

"I'm sorry, I don't understand…"

The woman smiled again. "Ikben droevig vrijis mign Engels...I apologize. It has been a while since I spoke English. I walk here at night. I have not seen you before."

"I just moved in two weeks ago, I live over there." He pointed to his building. "Aren't you afraid to be out at night alone?"

The woman's laugh tinkled like bells. "No one ever harms me. Besides, I have my light." She held up an odd-looking lantern, the flaming wick emitting a soft glow. "Walk with me, please. I enjoy company." They began to stroll along the shoreline.

There's the light. I didn't imagine it. She looks like the woman in the dream. I wonder…

Recovering from his initial surprise, Donovan saw the woman was barefoot, the hem of her flowing white gown trailing behind as she walked. The low neckline revealed her firm breasts and the off-shoulder sleeves her creamy white shoulders. Her face was gently rounded, her nose small, her cheeks and lips pale pink, and her eyes blue. When she spoke or smiled, she revealed straight, white teeth. He was captivated. Her beauty was in the classic mold. A generous figure well proportioned; she carried herself with dignity and grace.

Chatting amiably, they walked on. He told her of his life as a ship pilot, guiding vessels in and out of the city's harbor. How he loved the sea and how he felt more relaxed afloat or near water. The woman listened intently, almost eagerly as he spoke, occasionally studying his face as if searching for something. "I too love the sea," she said wistfully. "My true love was a ships captain, but he never returned from a voyage. My heart was broken. I mourned for weeks. He went down with his ship." A tear glistened on her cheek.

Instinctively, He moved to brush it from her cheek. Her skin is cold. Yet she's not shivering. Her dress is damp. Did she fall in earlier? What was that language she was speaking? It sounded so familiar. Does she live around here?

The woman took his hand in hers. The coolness of her touch sent a quiver through him. "I must be going. It is late and you need your sleep. Maybe we will meet again. Goodbye."

He looked about; they were back where they started, his building looming in the distance. Turning, he saw the woman walking away, almost gliding along the bank. "Wait! My name is Donovan! I don't know your name!"

"Ingrid. Ingrid de Bakker. Goodnight Donovan." She disappeared among the trees, the lantern light blinking once, and then all was dark.

He walked slowly back home. His mind filled with questions about the strange woman. He put his hand to his cheek and felt coolness. It was as if she had touched him again. Sleep came easily and he did not dream.


A week passed and there was no sign of Ingrid. Donovan waited each night, straining to catch a glimpse of her lantern, but there was only the moon on the water. Then as he was preparing for bed, he glanced out the window and saw a glimmer on the shoreline. Grabbing a robe, he ran down the stairs, out the door and toward the dancing light. The grass wet under his bare feet. She was there! Standing and looking across the water, her dress glowing softly in the moonlight.

"Ingrid! You came back! Where have you been? I looked for you…"

A merry laugh, "Did you miss me Donovan? How sweet. I have been…away.

I am glad to see you. Shall we walk?"

It seemed to him that they strolled and talked for hours, returning to the place where they began. He knew she was about to leave and said "I had a dream. I was in a strange place. A woman was there, lying on a rock. She looked exactly like you." Ingrid took Donovan's face in her hands, her cobalt eyes gazing into his very soul. "Am I familiar to you? Do you remember me? Am I a faded memory perhaps?" She smiled. "It will come to you; it will come to you in time." She picked up her lantern and glided away.

Donovan waited until the light disappeared, then walked back home. His slippers were wet with dew, but he felt no chill. Her hands! They were warm! She seemed more…alive…happy to see me. I was happy to see her. What did she mean when she asked if I recognized her? Her eyes, so blue, like they can see right through me. I don't understand…Climbing the steps, his mind was whirling; What does it all mean? She's so beautiful…He fell into bed and was instantly asleep.


The next morning he stood on the pitching deck of the pilot boat as it pulled alongside the supertanker. Crewmembers were waiting to help him on board to guide the ship into the open sea. Gripping the railing of the boarding ladder, Donovan swung easily onto the platform as he had done hundreds of times. His foot slipped and his head slammed into the tankers side.


"She won't answer the helm, Cap'n!" The sailor bellowed. "Rudders gone. There be breakers ahead. What shall we do?"

The captain glared at the raging sea and barked, "Brace for collision. All hands stand by to launch boats."

Sails reefed and rudderless, the Verijheid plunged helplessly toward the jagged half-submerged rocks. Another three hours and they would be in port, but a squall overtook them with powerful winds and slashing rain, towering waves briefly submerging the ship in green water.

Timbers groaned, splitting and crumpling as the schooner swept against the rocks. It shuddered like a dying creature, the foremast snapping like a twig. Sailors scrambled on the pitching deck, readying the l, their sea bags slapping against their shoulders. A howling gust blew the ship sideways, tilting her hard starboard, spilling many crewmembers into the sea.

The captain gripped the port rail with all his strength. He would see his true love again if he had to spit in the Devil's eye. They were to be married when he returned. Her face flashed into his mind; blue eyes, long black hair…

It was his last thought. The toppling mainmast crushed him as the Verijheid broke into a thousand pieces. The sea was triumphant once more.


Donovan regained consciousness, his head throbbed and his body ached abominably. Byron, his assistant pilot was bathing his forehead with a wet cloth. The motion of the boat told him they were traveling at top speed.

"Mr. Williams, are you alright?" Byron said anxiously. "You've been out almost an hour. We're almost in port. There's an ambulance waiting. The doctor's concerned you may have a concussion."

"What…what happened? I don't remember…"

"You slipped boarding the tanker. Hit your head on the hull. The crewmembers got you before you went overboard. I took her out, and now we're headed back. The doctor said you shouldn't move."

He lay back on the bunk, head spinning. A shipwreck! I was in a shipwreck! I died in a shipwreck! I thought of Ingrid! We were to be married. She can't be alive. What is happening to me?

The thumping of the boat against the dock ended his reverie. Paramedics were examining him, and then lifting him on a stretcher. The ambulance doors closed and they sped away.


Home sweet home. It's good to be back. When Donovan opened the door, a flood of wonderful aromas filled his nostrils. Several vases of wildflowers were on the mantel. A plate of cookies and a loaf of bread were on the table. Puzzled, he looked in all the rooms. Nothing had been touched. Who could have done this? Only maintenance has a key. I know no one else.

A scrap of yellow paper under a vase of flowers caught his eye. It felt odd to the touch. In a precise, copperplate hand it read: My Dearest Donovan. I am so sorry for your accident. I am happy you are well. Enjoy the treats I have prepared. I will see you soon. Love, Ingrid. Parchment! This is parchment! Love Ingrid? She was here! How did she get in? A wave of dizziness swept over him. He stumbled to the couch. His head ached. He lay back and stared into the deepening twilight.


When Donovan awoke, a new moon bathed the living room in a silvery light. He removed his clothing and took a hot shower, careful not to dislodge the bandage on his forehead. There was no damage other than a large bruise and a lump. The doctors were reluctant, but they released him.

Toweling off, he thought he heard a noise come from the bedroom. That sounded like a woman's laugh. That knock on the head really scrambled my brain. He heard it again. He opened the door and gasped in surprise. Ingrid lay on the bed, naked. "I thought you were never coming out. I've been lonely. Join me, please." She patted the mattress next to her and smiled.

He walked slowly to the bed, his eyes sweeping over Ingrid's alabaster body. Her neck curved gracefully into her shoulders. Her full lips matched the light pink of her thick nipples, rising proudly from puckered areolas. Her round belly and ample hips gave her a Rubenesque quality.

At the juncture of her long, tapering legs, a generous growth of black pubic hair hid the treasures that lay within. She stretched her arms above her head, opened her legs and stretched luxuriantly.

Donovan dropped his towel, his cock so hard it hurt. He climbed on the bed, positioned himself on his hands and knees between Ingrid's legs and lowered his mouth to hers for a kiss, the smooth head of his cock brushing her belly.

Ingrid's lips were soft and warm, her tongue wriggling wetly into his mouth.

Her arms encircled his neck and pulled him to her. Their legs entwined and his cock pulsed against her. Their kisses became more passionate, more demanding, each trying to entrap the others tongues in their warm mouths.

Donovan's arms slid under Ingrid's, his hands gripping her shoulders. She tightened her grip on his neck and legs. They continued to kiss as if the only source of oxygen in the room was the other person's mouth, muffled animal like moans coming from deep in their throats.

Ingrid tore her mouth from Donovan's. "Take me, my sweet one, take me. I want to feel you in me. Take my maidenhead, it is yours, I am yours, forever."

She released his legs and lifted hers, digging her heels into the mattress, raising her hips offering him her creamy pussy. He released her shoulders, rocked back on his knees and guided his aching cock to Ingrid's moist lips. He drew the pre-cum slick head teasingly up and down between them until she moaned, "Please my darling, please. Now, I want you now. Fill me, take me, I want…ohhhhh…"

Donovan pushed his cock slowly into her pussy, the tight pink walls gripping him tightly, the sensation so overwhelming it took every ounce of his will power not to thrust all the way in her. He clutched her hips and eased slowly in as she writhed on the bed, moans escaping her throat as she enveloped him in her softness.

He felt her hymen against his cock. Their eyes met.

"Are you ready, my love?"

"Yes, oh yes. Take me."

He thrust into her. She gave a squeal as he penetrated her hymen and filled her to bursting. Locked in an embrace, their hips churned together and they began the ageless dance of love. He plunged repeatedly into her as they began kissing once more, her moist pussy clasping his cock. They acquired a smooth, fluid rhythm, their bodies moving as one in pure pleasure.

They rolled over, Donovan on his back, Ingrid riding his cock. He pulled her towards him, mouth and hands on her bouncing breasts. Ingrid gasped as he filled his mouth with her soft breast flesh, tongue lashing the stiff nipple. She raised her hips until his cock head was between her pussy lips and plunged back down, her body shuddering as the sensation of fullness surged through her.

Donovan sucked and kneaded Ingrid's breasts sweat standing on his brow. He struggled not to cum until she did. His balls ached and his cock felt as if it would burst. Ingrid's body stiffened, she shuddered, threw her head back and gave a thin, wavering scream. Ingrid's powerful orgasm blazed through her as she bathed Donovan's cock in warm cum. Donovan's moan was almost a shout as he jetted thick ropes of cum into Ingrid's wetness. They clung together, trembling from their exertions. He pulled the sheet over them and they fell asleep.


Ingrid awakened. She padded naked into the kitchen, brewed a pot of coffee and began preparing breakfast. Donovan awoke to the aromas of frying bacon and fresh toast. He went to the kitchen to find Ingrid wearing only an apron, her round ass and long legs on display. Donovan put his arms around her waist and rubbed his semi-hard cock between her ass cheeks.

"Good morning, beautiful," he murmured, kissing her neck. "What a wonderful surprise."

Ingrid wiggled her ass against his cock and sighed as his hands cupped her breasts through the thin cloth. "Good Morning to you too, now stop that before this bacon burns. I'm slaving over a hot stove and all you want to do is play.

Sit down and behave yourself. The food will be ready in a minute."

Donovan reluctantly released her and sat at the table. She placed a plate of fried eggs, bacon and buttered toast before him, then a cup of steaming coffee. She served herself and sat next to him. They ate in silence, rubbing their bare feet together, smiling, and winking between bites.

When Ingrid arose to clear the table, Donovan playfully pulled the ties on her apron. It fell away from her body and she turned to face him. He slid his chair away from the table, his stiff cock bobbing. Ingrid smiled and licked her lips. He held out his arms to her and she straddled him, brushing the velvet head of his cock with her wet pussy. He groaned as she lowered herself on his cock until their bellies met and her breasts were in his mouth. Grunting and moaning they rocked back and forth, the thrusts becoming more frantic as their passions increased.

The chair creaked dangerously and Ingrid lifted herself from Donovan's cock. Her pussy dripping, she bent over the kitchen counter, lifted her ass in the air and wiggled it at him. He was on her instantly, his cock slipping back in her gripping sheath. They locked ankles and he bent over her back, hands cupping her breasts. Ingrid braced her hands against the cabinets, pushing backward to meet his jabbing strokes. The room filled with the sounds of flesh slapping flesh, the slurp of a wet pussy filled with a hard cock and the moans of lovers out of their minds with lust.

"I…I can't…hold…back," Donovan grunted. His cock surging in her pussy felt like stirring paint.

"Cum in me," Ingrid panted. "Fill me. Let go. Let go."

He cried out as he shot his load deep in Ingrid's hot pussy, squirting thick cum until his balls were empty. Ingrid felt him erupt as her own climax spread through her body like liquid fire. Her gushing pussy squirted warm juices past his rigid cock and splattered his thighs. She stood up shakily, turned to Donovan and they embraced.

"I love you Ingrid," Donovan sighed. "Will you share my bed every night?"

"It is my greatest desire to be with you my darling, but alas I cannot. Not now, not yet." A look of sadness crossed her face. "I must go my sweet. I will see you soon. Look for my lantern."

She retrieved her dress from the bedroom, slipped it over her head and was out the door before Donovan could ask why she was leaving. He ran to the terrace in time to see her running towards the water and disappearing among the trees. Sadly, he walked in the bedroom, looked at the blood on the sheet and sat heavily on the bed. His body ached from their intense lovemaking, and his heart ached for Ingrid. Why did she have to leave so quickly? Where does she go? Where does she live? Why does she always wear the same dress? He changed the sheets and dozed off, smiling as he thought of her lying next to him for the rest of their lives.


Donovan stretched, yawned and pushed the pile of books away from him. That morning he decided to visit the library and research the early settlers in the area. Hours of searching for any clue to whose Ingrid's ancestors might have been had come to naught. A book about shipwrecks off the coast did list a schooner named 'Verijheid' (Freedom) captained by one Willems van Weert. He and most of his crew were lost.

The dream or whatever it was when I was unconscious. That was the ship. I was the captain. How can this be? My last thoughts were of Ingrid. But that wreck happened in 1623. How can she be alive today…?

"Pardon me Mr. Williams," said a librarian. "I saw you researching Dutch history in our city and I thought you might be interested in this volume. It's from our rare book collection, so I'll ask you to wear these. Oil from the hands damages the paper."

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