DescriptionThis beautifully produced eBook is a collection of six sapphic stories exploring the sensual side of lesbian loving. With stories including the Harbour, Seduction and Caravan, these varied stories around one central theme are sure to fulfil your fantasies. Written by erotic author Carla Blake, this version has been specially formatted for today's e-readers.
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Maggie Trevigue stood at the window of her small cottage and stared out into the darkness. Her eyes saw nothing and sighing, she pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. Shivering at the foul weather the night had seen fit to bring in.
The wind, she decided, was by far the worst of it. Howling round the eaves and threatening to lift the slates off the roof, Maggie was in no doubt, that come morning, there would be a fine mess to clear up. The tiny harbour where they lived littered with the storm’s debris and rubbish from the bins, forcing her out there for hours, where she would sweep and tidy up and making ready for the next batch of foul weather to come and undo all her hard work.
It wasn’t much to look forward to, she thought, and watching it happen wouldn’t help either, not when she still had a batch of sewing to do on her husband’s shirts.
Lord knows what he did with them, but Matthew’s shirt cuffs were always frayed somewhere and he would have nothing to put on tomorrow if she didn’t put a stop to her gawping and get back to her needle.
But it was so hard. So hard not to peer out into the filthy night and make sure the fair lass was alright. ‘ Cos who else did she have to look out for her an’ see she were still breathing?
“ Maggie.” Matthew’s voice called from his seat by the fire. “ Come away from the window, woman. You’ll catch yer death if you stand in that draught much longer. Come sit by the fire and warm yourself. There ain’t nowt you can do anyway.”
Maggie knew he was right. There was nothing she could do, but it still didn’t stop her taking one, final look.
She couldn’t see a thing.
The rain, coming in off the sea, streamed down the glass like someone was pouring a bucket of water from the roof and the wind, howling and screaming, whipped everything into such a frenzy she couldn’t see further than a few feet. She could still hear the tide in the harbour though; crashing against the slip way, and what a fearsome, lonely sound that was. And how contrary the sea could be. Hours she spent sometimes with her children, William and Beth, wandering along the shore, collecting shells and picking up driftwood to burn on the fire. And the paddling! Oh, they loved that they did. Splashing about in the shallows till the hem of Beth’s dress grew damp and William had water stains up to his armpits, but when the sea was like this, all fury and spite and filled with uncontrollable rage, it frightened her.
Because she knew what it could do. And how quickly it could change. One minute all calm and gentle like, with hardly a ripple to stir the surface, and the next, well, the next it was like a bear with toothache, growling around the harbour and menacing all in its path, and on certain nights, when the boats were out and the men folk away, all the lights in their little community would come on and she and the other wives would wait anxiously behind their doors. Praying the boats would make it safe back to harbour with a hull full of fish and praying, that this time, there would be no reason to dig out their long, black skirts.