Dryad's Glen

This is a work of fantasy. It is not about real people, and if it is, it's not what they would do. (not that you are likely to know them anyway). If you are under 18, go away, since I donít like to get in trouble. If you are turned off by perversion, what are you doing at ASSTR? In other words, go away. If none of this applies to you, great! Read on! Have fun! Let me know what you like!

Oh, and I work hard on my writing...so guess what? Itís mine. Thatís right boys and girls...itís copyrighted...so if you want it? Just ask...weíll talk.




She was too old to believe in Santa Claus.

At least that is what she kept telling herself. Ever feel like you wish you could just step off the merry go around? The view is always the same, some horse's ass in front of you. Nothing changes.

But then she found out she wasn't on the Merry-go-round at all. It was the rollercoaster; and at the moment, she was staring down the track of a 300 foot drop.

He didn't leave her much, not that it mattered since it all fit in the 2 bedroom apartment. Some furniture and Michael. She smiled. He was precocious for a 6 year old.  It was probably the last year he would believe in Santa, and she found that it made her sad, sadder in fact than his father leaving them.

She looked at him, sleeping in Sean's old recliner, curled up in his Bob the Builder pajamas. He had an old baby blanket wrapped around his legs, his mischievous eyes hidden behind drooping eyelids.

"Will Santa bring Daddy's presents?" he murmured sleepily.

She mentally sighed, cursing the circumstances that made him need to ask.

"Of course, sweetheart. Santa knows Daddy is far away."

The milk and cookies were placed strategically next to the stocking hung on the fake mantel.

She turned off all the lights but the Christmas tree, and sat on the couch. She missed him. Sean would have loved to help him put out the reindeer food, as he had done since Michael was two, when he promised to help him feed the reindeer. Sean always kept his promises.

She pulled up the afghan around her legs and felt the tension sing through her system. I'm doing the best I can without you, Sean. She sniffled, and finally gave in to a bout of self pity. ************** She felt warm. Safe. Secure. She didn't want to wake up, she knew it had to be a dream. The last months had punctured any feeling of security she had had. She felt the hand brush the hair off her cheek, slide down her shoulder, her arm, her hip and back up. A warm touch slipped inside the gap of her flannel nightgown. Rough fingers caressed her breast and she turned into touch, not wanting it to end. The hand moved, from one breast to the other, as she felt the second hand tracing lines up her thighs to her quickly moistening center.

"Sean," she cried quietly when the fingers stoked her core. Her body trembled with need, and a desire so strong, she thought she was going insane imagining her husband was there.

It was then she awoke and opened her eyes. The hand on her breast left and clasped over her mouth.

"Shhhh. You don't want to wake Michael." He smiled down at her. Her eyes widened and she nodded. He removed his hand, only to replace it with his lips.

He kissed her hungrily, desperately and she returned the feelings. Her hands peeled off his tan camouflage shirt quickly.

"I hope you brought his Christmas gift. He thinks Santa is going to drop it off for you." She whispered cheekily, before attacking the belt of his pants. "I don't care how you are here. I don't even care if you're a figment of my imagination anymore. Just touch me." She murmured low, cautious of waking her son. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly, then lifted her up in his arms. Swiftly he carried her to the bedroom, and laid her out on their bed.

"You have no idea how many times I pictured you like this." He said.

He leaned over her, kissing her passionately again, her arms wrapping themselves around his neck then down the tight muscles of his back.

It was then she felt it, the hard ridge of a scar over his left shoulder blade. She broke off the kiss suddenly and asked him quietly. "Is this why you're home?" in a small, scared voice. She watched him nod in the half light. She clung to him harder, realizing how close she was to losing him.

"I promised I'd come home." He whispered. His eyes looked suspiciously bright, but it was only a moment before his head dipped to her breast again, nuzzling their warm curves before taking it into his mouth. His fingers danced across her skin, remembering each curve, each dimple. His tongue followed suit and her hands reached for his shorn scalp. She wiggled beneath him, until he found her core. She whimpered. It felt so good, but it had been so long. She pulled on his shoulders, pulling him up against her length.

"Please just make love to me. I've missed you so much..." She breathed.

He pressed gently but insistently at her center, his arms supporting his weight over her. He slid smoothly into her. Slowly he built her up, then stop when he felt her getting to close. She pulled the pillow over her face, alternating muffled screams with deep moans. Finally in frustration with his teasing, she pressed him back, riding him hard, fast until she screamed unmuffled in climax then fell forward onto his chest. Sean pulled her into his arms, and pulled the comforter over them.

"Mommy, are you okay?" Michael came in dragging his blanket. "I thought I heard you yell." His eyes opened wide when he saw his father in bed. He dropped his blanket and launched himself at Sean.

"DADDY!! I knew you'd be here! I knew you'd be here!" Sean hugged the little boy close to his chest.

"And how did you know that, Kiddo?"

"Well, you promised that you'd get me a gift from over there. And well, Santa isn't here yet, and we haven't fed the reindeer..."

"Well, then, I guess we better hurry and put out those oats! We don't want Santa to forget whose house this is!" He smiled at her over his head. "Let me get some clothes on, Mikey, and go get your coat on." Michael scampered out of the room.

"I'll just be a few minutes." He leaned over and kissed her, then pulled on his pants and grabbed a coat from the closet. In the light, she could see the large scar, and she shivered in fear. How he survived from such a large hit was beyond her, but she thanked God that he was back with her. Cursed the Army for not letting her know he was wounded, but knowing Sean, he'd asked them not to tell her, to spare her worry.

After they came back up, and a potty break, Sean tucked Michael into bed, reminding him that Santa couldn't come if he wasn't asleep.

"I love you daddy." He murmured quietly.

"I love you too." He whispered over him and he kissed Michael's cheek.

Once he was out, Sean went into their bedroom, and pulled the Christmas presents out of the closet.

"Let me help you put them under the tree." He carried the stack into the other room, placing them around under the already crowded tree. He went to the door, and reached into his duffel.

"Put this under there too. It's small, but I think he'll like it."

"What is it?" She asked, curious.

He chuckled. "It's sort of a gag. It's a snow globe. A Middle Eastern snow globe. Filled with sand, a few lumps of coal and some sticks for the arms."

She smiled. "That is a gag. Which of course means, he'll love it."

"And this is for you. I hope you like it." he handed her a box. Looking at him for permission to open it, he nodded.

She ripped off the paper, letting it fall to the floor. In her hand was a jewelry box, intricately and carefully carved.

"I bought this when I was in Saudi. Out in one of the small towns, and older man was selling these. They were made of olive wood. Do you like it?"

"It's beautiful," she said as she turned it in her hand, "A work of art. Thank you sweetheart!" She placed it under the tree then turned to him.

They curled up on the couch together, looking at the tree. He told her about some of the things he'd seen, what he missed. She curled up against him, just happy he was home, feeling the warmth of his body against hers, until she too, dropped off. ****

Surrounded by tissue and Christmas paper at dawn, after watching Michael open all his gifts, Sean stood up. "Sweetheart, I need to go. I have another promise I need to keep." She looked up at him, seeing the determination in his face.

"You and your promises. It's Christmas morning. Can't it wait?" she smiled at him, already aware of the answer.

"You know I wouldn't leave if it could." She stood up and wrapped her arms around him once more.

"I love you." She whispered into his ear before giving him a kiss.

"I love you too, sweetheart." And he stepped out the door.

It was bright morning, the snow glittered in the sunshine when she heard a knock on the door.

"Maybe it's one of Daddy's friends." She said, then called out, "Just a minute."

She opened the door and saw some sort of ranking officer standing there, looking abashed.

"Sorry, ma'am to bother you on Christmas like this. May I come in?"

"Certainly." She stepped aside allowing him in.

"Is Sean in some sort of trouble? He shouldn't've been here last night, should've he?"

The man looked startled.

"Ma'am, is your husband Sean McConnell? Social Security number 554-67-9891?"

"Yeeeessss. What is this about...?"

"I'm sorry, I'm lieutenant Prentice. I'm sorry to do this, but Sean was hit during a cleanup mission."

She twittered in relief. "Oh, is that all?!" she laughed. "I know. I saw the scar on his shoulder last night."

The lieutenant grew pale.

"Mrs. McConnell, This was yesterday-- in Iraq. He was shot by a sniper in the left shoulder, in the back. They did everything they could for him. I'm sorry."

She looked at him in shock. This couldn't be happening. Sean was here!

Then she realized, he hadn't said he'd be back this morning. In her ecstasy in seeing him, she hadn't noticed.

He wouldn't be back.

"But, but...Lieutenant. Sean brought us gifts back. They're here. He was here." She looked over her shoulder at the gifts still sitting beneath the Christmas tree. "He promised to come back!" she cried out, then stopped short. She fell to the lieutenant's shoulder, crying.

"He always kept his promises."

© Dryad (gbbjg@yahoo.com) 2003

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