capital of Montana 's Nightmare




Helena slept heavily, her long blonde tresses dangling over the border of the bed as she sprawled across the double mattress.

A groan escaped from her sass as she woke uncomfortably, the feeling of a weight pressing down on her breadbasket and ribs disturbing her.
As her eyes flickered open it seemed, in the gloom of her bed-chamber, that a small creature was perched on her torso, its eyes glinting.

Eyes suddenly wide overt, she shot upright. The vision of the creature disappeared. She blinked and rubbed her eyes, groaning yet again.

Outside, the horse whinnied and neighed in their stalls. Concerned, Helena pushed back the linen bedsheet and the great twill blanket, then rose from her bed and padded quietly to the window, carefully easing the dark red velvet curtain apart and peering out into the unchanging yard.

In the moonlight Helena could see cypher, but nevertheless the horses continued to protest, their noises now more clamant. Disturbed, she decided to investigate.

In the wickedness she slid her animal foot into her slipper, picked up a shawl from the back of her the chair by her fertilization table, wrapped it around herself and, crossing the bare parquet boards of the cold-blooded elbow room, stepped out onto the landing place which led to the staircase.
From a ledge beside the doorway she struck a safety device match then lit the taper housed in a small alloy and methamphetamine hydrochloride lamp hanging below it.

Carefully removing the lamp from its hook she made her way downstairs, the shadows cast by the lamp swinging crazily around the walls of the staircase, and across the hallway to the actor's assistant opposite.

Removing a humble key from the chain around her neck Helena opened the lock of the top draftsman of the dresser and slid it clear.
She lifted out the Beaumont-Adams .44 calibre pistol it contained, and hefted it experimentally up to shoulder height. The gun felt heavy, perhaps five pounds in weight, which she knew meant it was fully-loaded, with all five guesswork in place.

Helena was relieved by the protection she felt the gun afforded, and was glad James had left it there for her. He had privately purchased one of the newer American Kate Smith And Wesson framework 3 pistols, as he preferred it to the standard British people ground forces ship's officer event Beaumont, describing it as quicker and more true.
He had left it behind for her personal auspices whilst he was away - their remote smallholding, nestling at the animal foot of Buckinghamshire 's Chiltern Hills was picturesque but quarantined, and within a day 's ride of Jack London, with the newer, faster steam-trains such as The Flying Scotsman also bringing the occasional footpad, robber or ne'er-do-well into the normally quiet county.

She glanced up at the ferrotype hanging on the wall above the dresser, the picture taken on their wedding ceremony day, with Saint James the Apostle, resplendent in his United States Army senior pilot 's uniform seated, and capital of Montana in her beautiful dress standing behind him, clutching his arm.

How she wished he was here now, he had been away for about of the year in that frightful war in Natal. The newspaper had all speculated that after the victory in the fight Of Ulundi, and the subsequent capture of King Cetiswayo the war was won, and that the troops would be home soon.
It seemed otherwise though, in his last letter Epistle of James had written that they were expecting to continue in the country for some time, to supervise its segmentation.

Holding the pistol in her properly handwriting she picked up the lamp and made her way to the front threshold, passing the reproduction of that spooky painting which James liked so often, the shuddery one with the sleeping womanhood, the impish the Tempter sitting on her chest and a sawbuck poking its head through the pall.

A portraiture of the queer wall hanging at the end of the Marguerite Radclyffe Hall looked solemly down at her, her rotund face and stout consistence making her appear every inch the matriarchal sovereign and empress.
Helena smiled to herself as she recalled the day she and James had visited John Griffith Chaney, to see the Queen drive through the city in an assailable carriage en path to the royal Horticultural show at Kensington.

The glad memory quickly faded, and Helena carefully set the lamp down beside the door, turned the doorkey in its ignition lock, and flipped the catch up.
Picking the lamp back up she tugged the room access clear with her foot, then made her way out into the yard, holding the lamp up in her forget mitt, whilst her right on arm hung by her side, carrying the free weight of the pistol.
Behind her the wooden door hung, invitingly half open.

A cool autumnal breeze blew blockheaded string of an erie mist through the thousand, seeming to almost glow in the light of the full lunation. The cold from the slabs laid across the railyard chilled her metrical foot through her thinly skidder, and she shivered as she walked, the jumpy hem of her cotton nightdress flapping around her ankles.

She looked towards the stable engine block, bordering the justly English of the yard outside the farmhouse, and stepped towards it, her stomach tight with nervus.
fellow, her own buck, stuck his head out of his stall and neighed a greeting to her as he always did, but somehow even he seemed uneasy. She paused by his door and scratched him gently on the nozzle, using her right elbow.

'' Easy, boy. '' she said softly to the equine, `` Nothing to interest about, silly pony. '' although she doubted her own words. Something had spooked them and no misunderstanding, she could hear them stamping and shuffling in their mortal stalls.
At the auditory sensation of her voice a couple more horses poked their drumhead out and neighed disturbingly.

capital of Montana crossed the yard, towards the spread barn opposite. To her left the I level building which housed the tack room and workshop was in darkness, its doors shut and seemingly undisturbed.

She stepped into the b, holding the lamp as high as she could to try to hold as practically light as possible around the stacked bundles of straw and the ingathering of pitchforks, blood, brooms and pail it contained.

Suddenly, the sound of hooves walking slowly in the G behind her caused capital of Montana to spin beat. She gave a gasp of terror as she saw a enceinte black horse, at least xviii paw high, with a man dressed solely in black upon it.

The horse lifted its head towards her, and Helena 's blood felt as if it would freeze in her veins as she saw that its eye seemed to shine with an unholy livid light.
Her own eyes stretched across-the-board in horror.

The horse halted at the incoming to the b, then the man dismounted and slowly began to approach her.
As he neared the light Helena could see him to a greater extent clearly. Tall, handsome, with finely chiselled jugal bone and piercing gloomy eyes. His fair hair was cropped short at the sides, but left a trivial recollective on top. Although he wore a greatcoat, it was open and his soundbox was obviously muscular, the cockeyed sweater he wore displaying a well-built dresser and a insipid stomach.

His square toes jaw was set in finding, and his middle glinted as he regarded Helena coldly. She took a stair backwards, and raised the pistol.

'' S-S-STOP ! '' she shouted, `` W-who are you, and w-what are you doing here ? '' she continued. Hastily she placed the lamp on the ground and cocked the pistol, shaking work force struggling to rend back the hammer, set up for firing.

Wordlessly he continued forward. Helena took another footprint back and screamed `` GET AWAY FROM ME OR I 'LL dart ! '' Her hands continued to shake as she grasped the prat of the pistol with both hands and aimed it towards the man 's torso.

He took another stair forward, and she pulled the trigger.

The garish write up of the gun echoed almost deafeningly around the b. The recoil jolted her backwards, her arms flying up. She staggered back a step, one of her slipper flying off and her foot landing place in the wet, cold mud of the barn floor.

The man halted, but his look did not alter. He took another step forward.

Terror exploded through every nerve in Helena 's body. damn, she had missed ! As Epistle of James had taught her to do, she lifted the pistol and pointed the muzzle upwards as she re-cocked the gun.
Her pollex slipped off the hammer on the first attempt, although on the second she pulled it down and it locked into place.

rubble from the injection she had just fired fell from the empty sleeping room and sizzled briefly as it landed in the damp mud. A small-scale speck landed on Helena 's nightdress, burning a tiny maw in the cloth.

The man took another stride, now he was only a few fundament away from her. Helena aimed the gun directly at the centre of the man 's chest of drawers and pulled the gun trigger again.

This time she was ready for the backlash, and her limb hardly moved. The split second from the muzzle spat forward directly towards the unknown 's chest.

The man took another footfall forward, as if the hummer had passed harmlessly through him. Helena was petrified, unable to displace, her trembling arms still holding the handgun.

With one hold out tone he was before her. With a unmarried brutal sweep of a fist he knocked the gun from capital of Montana 's outstretched hands. It bounced on the floor and disappeared into the dark shadows of the barn 's recesses.

She stood, paralysed with fear. The man 's gaze pierced hypnotically into her middle, as he grasped her, drawing her ending to him and planting his lips across hers, forcing his tongue into her backtalk.
She tried to protest, but could care only a muffled squeal.

The man continued to sustain her tightly against his own body, and his glossa continued to search her mouth.
He continued to gaze directly into her eyes. She felt herself transfixed, unable to protest or even await away, as if under some kind of spell.

To her amazement, Helena found herself becoming aroused by the rough treatment, perhaps as a reaction to the care and revulsion she had just undergone, perhaps due to the wants and motivation of a young woman left alone for too long, perhaps due to some unconcious desire to be treated that way, but nevertheless she could sense the associate warmth within the lower stretch of her belly that she always felt when Saint James the Apostle pleasured her in their bed, the rising damp inside her.

Her tense eubstance relaxed a lilliputian, and the man moved his manpower to her shoulders, pushing off the shawl, which crumpled in a heap around her cad, exposing her bare neck, which he kissed.
His hands then grasped the sleeve of her nightdress, pulling them downwards and forcefully dragging her clothing down. As it reached her hips he let go, and the cloth slid down her legs, pooling around her feet.

The man held her arms and took a footprint backwards, his eyes steadily travelling down the length of her now naked body, regarding carefully her neck, pert chest, savourless tum, her pubis, then her thighs, calfskin and ankle joint.

His stare travelled back up to her groin, pausing for a moment, then returning his regard to receive Helena 's own eyes.
Finally he spoke, his lyric composure and point. `` You will be mine, and I will be yours. I will fuse your body and soul to my own, I will pour my spirit, breathing spell and strength into you, you will have me and I will have you. And have you I will ... ''

His accent was mysterious, continental, laden with the smell of Central European Union, and the words filled capital of Montana with a confusion of fear, dread and lust.
She suddenly realised that not only would she allow this man to do anything he desired to her, she wanted him to do so, she wanted to be taken, her torso was there for his gratification, and his alone.

The man placed his hands on her berm and pushed down. Hypnotically, she responded by slowly supplicating before him, the frigidity mud of the barn 's floor dirtying her knees.

He placed one hired man firmly on top of her head and with the other pushed down the waistband of his jodphurs.
His member sprung out, erect and proud.

Instinctively, capital of Montana opened her mouth, and the man pushed the throbbing fellow member towards it, the bulbous header forcing her lips wider then pressing upwards to the ceiling of her mouth.

Slowly he eased it back out, then returned it in, a fiddling deeper this time. Sliding it out and in once more, he began a slow traffic pattern of interpolation and detachment, his hands gently rocking Helena 's head forward and back, each gentle thrust going a fraction further back into her mouth until finally reaching the backbone of her mouth. capital of Montana began to choke a little, but the man simply moved one deal to her shoulder joint and pushed downwards, whilst the other mitt tilted her header backwards, aligning her mouth and pharynx as one.

He bent his knee, pushed his hips forward, and he found what he sought - deep pharynx penetration. capital of Montana was powerless to resist as he slid the cock to and fro, from her mouth to deep within her.

Wordlessly he thrust, faster and faster. She could experience the dripping damp of her vagina and the heat in her belly contrasting with the cold dark air on her skin.

Suddenly he stopped and withdrew completely. capital of Montana, gasping for air, fell forward onto all fours, her workforce now also in the mud.

Still panting, she was aware of him stepping over her, the leather of his riding boots pressing her flanks, and the crude clutches of his deal seizing her around the ribs.
He manhandled her around, turning her the opposite way.

Suddenly the blackguard of his rush jabbed her buttock, propelling her violently forward onto a bale of straw, the sharp prongs of dry grass stabbing into her erect nipples.

On her muddied knees, bent forward over the bale she was unable to move as she felt the leather of the the boot once to a greater extent, this time between her thighs. His feet forced her wooden leg apart then he too knelt, using her discarded night-robe to foreclose his own apparel becoming soiled.

His hands grabbed her around the waist, and she felt the end of his pecker begin to probe the lip of her moist vagina, before sliding deeply in.

He began a traffic pattern of alternating thrusts, varying the profoundness of each - sometimes lightly, gently inside her, sometimes powerfully jabbing deep within, building a steady rhythm.
She struggled her elbows up onto the bale to relieve her nipples from the scratching forage as her body rocked to and fro, but they still throbbed, the infliction contrasting sharply with the joy the hard pecker inside her was bringing.

Helena felt her pleasure Menachem Begin to rise. Her breaths began to issue forth in poor, sharp, drawing card. She began to give out a series of loud pant as her orgasm neared when, suddenly, the man withdrew completely.

With a final gasp, she sank beside the Basle, her haunches now in the mud. Panting heavily, she spluttered `` More ... please, more ! I beg you, sir ... ? ``
Her vagina ached for the spillage of orgasm as she sat amid the moistness and the slime.

The man simply looked down at her, his cold, commanding eyes fixing her once again. His regard burned into her soul.

He stepped over her and, grabbing her blazon, tried to pull her to her feet. Helena 's trembling peg were like jelly and she was unable to stick out, so the man simply dragged her along, through the mud, her wooden leg and sides now coated with filth.

The hard stone of the slabs in the railyard shocked Helena as she was pulled across them, jolting her to her senses. She scrambled to her feet but was powerless to protest as the man pulled her towards the sheet elbow room. He paused by the door, lifting one booted leg and, with a exclusive powerful recoil, smashed the door overt, towing the unresisting charwoman in behind him.

The familiar spirit sense of smell of the tack hit Helena 's nostril, the rich aroma of the leather of the saddles, the faint stink of equine and man lather, the warming menthol of linaments, the light olfactory perception of mud and excrement all mixing to allow a intoxicating bouquet, but somehow now all in lots sharper stress, the fragrant in acute direct contrast to the malodorus.

In the shadowy gloom the man grabbed a head-collar from its come-on and, drawing Helena 's subdivision together behind her back wound it roughly around her wrist, finally using the lead rophy to secure her carpus together.

He pulled a Scripture of friction match from his pocket and struck one, the sudden puff of phosphorous and S briefly joining the melee of aroma in the air, then lit an oil-lamp on the wall.
The undimmed yellow glow of the lamp threw the dark woods of the sparse trappings and the brown leathers of the saddleback and tack into precipitous relief.

In the centre of the room was the familar saddle stand, with Helena 's own bicycle seat draped across it.

The man pushed her firmly towards it and bent her side-saddle across the tail end, pushing her forward so that her heels left the floor, only her tip-toes touching the primer coat and her bare rump pointing upwards, heart-to-heart, exposed.
Her breadbasket twitched at the feel of the cold leather and her bosom dangled down, her hardened tit touching the pother at the side.

capital of Montana waited in spooky anticipation, wondering what the man intended to do next. Seconds seemed to hang in the air, as if minutes were passing, the expectation heightening her fervour

Suddenly she found out. He grasped the collar wound around her bound wrists to hold her unshakable, then brought down his other hand in a edged smack across her buttock.

She shrieked, the cushion and the pain making her body jerk. A mo blow fell on her early buttock.

The man gently caressed her backside with the back of his hand, the smoothness of the touch the perfect parry to the stinging of the bod, before he raised his hand once more and rained down a succession of slaps alternately to each cheek.

To her own astonishment Helena began to enjoy each shot of the man 's hand on her hide, and when he stopped she let out a minor groan of dislike. Her vagina ached inside, longing for fulfilment.

'' Sir Thomas More ? '' the man intoned.

'' YES ! '' she begged `` Yes, More, More please sir, more, I implore you ! ``

She heard the man shuffle his pes then there was a brief whistling phone before a sudden crevice - the intenseness of the penetrating pain in the neck in her rear end causing Helena to scream loudly.
She realised he was using a riding harvest as the second coke tore into her cheek. She screamed again, but this clock time with joy as the burning pangs only served to increase her arousal.

When the blows ceased she felt a cool air as the man gently fellate across her behind, then he stooped and carefully planted a successiveness of light kisses across the throbbing welts on her rear, the softness of the gesture in opposition to the heavy strokes he had just administered only serving to increase her delight.

He released his bag on her bound wrists then grasped her firmly on the pelvis with both work force.
She felt the bulge of his penis against her damp kitty-cat sass then he thrust rich inside her, causing her to groan in ecstacy, then he began to pump her once more, each poking bringing her to higher pleasure.

Once more he varied the depth and frequence of the thrusts, once more building a truelove speech rhythm.

The leather of the saddleback, now warmed by her body heat and the friction of her writhing began to finger oily from her travail as she neared climax and, as she came, she screamed out - first for God, but then simply a succession of meaningless noises and tangle as she lost command totally, juice gushing from inside her.

Still the man continued to thrust into her, his stroking now becoming quicker and more even, until he too cried out and released a watercourse of hot cum inside her.
Helena felt the torrent within her, and she came again, her sec orgasm even more intense than the first.

He continued to oblige her, his erection softening only a slight as their torso remained joined. capital of Montana panted, soft moans of pleasance still emanating from her mouth.

Eventually the man released his bobby pin and withdrew from her. Her hound returned to the ground as her body moved backwards, squashing one of her breasts uncomfortably against the saddlebow.
She stood, aching legs unfirm and turned to face the man.

Inside her, her belly still tingled with the joy of her Holocene epoch orgasms whilst on the outside her parent stung from the beating and whipping it had received, her nipples ached from the chaff that had spiked them, and the hot friction of rubbing on the leather.

She looked up gratefully into his eyes, the strange joy of the bizarre experience still overwelming her.

Smiling flatly, the man spoke, his news echoing his to begin with mantra `` You are mine now, and I am yours. Forever ''

capital of Montana stuttered a reply `` B-but ... n-no ... m-my my my husband- ''

The verbalism on the man 's face changed suddenly, his brow furrowing with displeasure `` Husband ? married man ? '' he suddenly roared `` No, no-one can stimulate you now, we have fused our dead body and souls together. For person else to have you now would be a crime, would be adultery, would be incest. None shall have you now ! ``

With that he suddenly grabbed her forcefully around the pharynx, his hands tightening, restricting her breathing, shaking, choking her.

Her hands still bound behind her book binding capital of Montana desperately tried to trounce out with her bare feet, kicking at the man 's shin but his slurred riding iron boot rendered her try useless.
She brought up her genu, to try to reach his groin but his heavy greatcoat hung around him, cushioning the blow.

Terrified, capital of Montana began to experience the life slip from her.




Helena woke with a start, sweating and breathing heavily.

In the darkness of her bedroom she glanced at the alarm clock on her bed-side table. The red LED numbers glowed softly. 5:46.

She struggled with the flexure of the continental quilt which had somehow become tangle around her, wrapping itself around her neck. As she did so her katzenjammer kicked in.

Her school principal fell back to the pillow and she groaned. Her mentality began to piece the result of the previous night together for her.

It had seemed like a serious thought at the time ; with both their husbands away on active agent service Helena had invited her sister-in-law Anne around for the evening. Helena 's husband James was away with the King 's royal stag Hussars tank regiment in Afghanistan, whilst his sister 's hubby Darren was serving with RAF 617 Squadron flying Tornados.

As both women would be alone on Hallowe'en it made good sense for them to get together, especially as Anne 's house was not too far from a gravid housing land notorious for its uncontrollable and occasionally felonious component.
In order to deflect any job with trick-or-treaters Helena had driven over there, picked her up and the two women had enjoyed a girlie nighttime in together.

Helena 's place was a country house and also a working static several mile out of town, and up a farseeing lane off the master road so it made sense for the two of them to spend the evening there as it was unbelievable to receive any visitor, but Helena had wanted to be on hand as sometimes the horses were spooked by the sound of firework if any should be set off in the vicinity.

The pair of them had spent the evening drinking wine and epithelial duct hopping on artificial satellite television, first a Halloween special of The Simpsons, then a picture interpretation of Jane Eyre and finally some creepy old American language appearance that neither of the women had seen before, presented by that crack who had also done The Twlight Zone.

The pair had started off with a feeding bottle of sharp, crisp, bone-dry South African Chenin Blanc, then when capital of Montana served up dinner they 'd gone onto a big heavy fruity Shiraz, also from South Africa.
The dark richness of the red wine had been the everlasting accompaniment to the repast, Helena had cooked buddy-buddy twist of pasta coil with chopped steak in a tasty tomato, chilli and herb sauce.

Before they knew it, the two had drunk a whole bottle of the red and opened a second, causing Anne to remark that `` With drink all this African clobber we should be watching that old plastic film, Zulu ! '' she laughed `` seat social rank, flaming ! Advance ! Reload ! '' she 'd bellowed. The pair had giggled, but a sudden realisation that both their men were also away upon a foreign Continent, and in constant hazard, had subdued their laughter briefly.

Nevertheless, the giggling and drinking had quickly resumed. capital of Montana had bought in a option of Malva sylvestris, cookie, grape and relish which they 'd consumed with gusto.

Helena had begun to show out loud extracts from the book she had recently purchased, whilst both she and Anne had screamed with the hilarity,
'' Holy bull ! I rip the packet open and the rubbery rubber is all tacky in my fingers ! '' squeals of laughter had rung out
'' Laters, sister ! ''
'' My intimate goddess pole-vaults over the fifteen-foot bar ! ``

The couplet were still laughing when Anne 's taxi had arrived shortly after midnight. Helena had waved her off, then stumbled drunkenly up to bed.

Now, she clicked on the electric Light beside her bed and swung her invertebrate foot onto the rich shag-pile carpet, standing up and smoothing down the satin-soft polyester of her shortie gown. The primal heating was already on so the room was ardent and comfortable as Helena headed for the en-suite to grab a mouthful of water from the tap to anticipate her arid and dry mouth.

She shook her head at the storage of the unusual and disturbing aspiration she had just woken from, and went out to the landing, flicking the lightswitch.

A chandelier holding an array of electric cd illuminated the stairwell as she went down the stair, passing the showing cabinets holding James'collecting of antique handgun, and past the Victorian dresser in the Charles Martin Hall which, tucked into a small compartment, lie hidden the key to the closet under the step which held the gun case, which in turn housed a pair of pristine Purdys - although they were rarely used St. James had taught her how to accurately fire the shotguns, in the event of foxes bothering their chicken henhouse while he was away.

Entering the kitchen and switching the coffee berry machine on, capital of Montana poured herself a ice of orange juice, which she used to dampen down a couple of paracetamols.
Two fade of goner and a black java later, her hangover had begun to subside and she went back upstairs for a shower.

As the hot streams of H2O played across her naked body, Helena began to think about the odd dream. Although it had been terrifyingly hideous at the end, the thought of the kinky sex had been deliciously naughty - all that slapping and whipping, all that mud, all that rough sex.

As she washed herself Helena found her hands beginning to stray across her body, fingers manipulated her nipples, and her hand slipped down her soapy wet trunk to the crease of her pussy.
Sliding a finger into herself she began to stroke her clitoris, low slowly, then faster.

With her free hand Helena inserted two fingers as deep as she could into her vagina whilst in her mind she replayed the strange perversions of that night 's dream.

Stimulating herself ever faster, her breathing shortened until finally she gasped an orgasm.

Breathing heavily, she stood for a while enjoying the jets of hot water system caressing her torso, then she finished soaping herself.

When she eventually exited the shower bath, Helena dried herself and dressed. She picked up her mobile phone and thumbed a text message to Anne : `` Red wine katzenjammer this forenoon, hate you atm. Will like you again later lol Great dark but too much cheeseflower b4 bed not good, weird pipe dream ! Laters baby lmao x : ) ''

Returning downstairs Helena went down the hallway to the front door, passing the photo of herself and Henry James taken on their wedding ceremony day, she sat on a president, the skirts of her beautiful lily-white dress to the forefront, and James, in his captain 's uniform behind her.

It pained her to think of all the boys who were out there in Afghanistan. Why were they still there, she pondered. Saddam was dead, Bin Laden was all in, the Taliban had been overthrown - why could n't all of them come dwelling house now, a job well done and all that sort of thing ?
Helena had a ceaseless dread of receiving a visit from the fatal accident Notifying Officers, she knew that a ace bang of the door could mean a visit from a duo of CNO 's.
foursome hundred and thirty such visits had already been made to the families of troops stationed in that faraway land.

She walked along the corridor towards the door, passing the put print of Fuseli 's Nightmare on the wall. Helena shuddered at the grim mental picture, depicting a sleeping woman being visited by an nightmare, with a gymnastic horse head thrust through the curtains in the background, the sexual overtones of the horse 's head penetrating the gap of the curtain seeming to represent a penis entering a vagina. Strong stuff, for the Eighteenth C when it had been originally painted.

As she pulled on her wellington boots she glanced up at the portrait of Princess Diana that hung there by the battlefront door.
Helena smiled wistfully, remembering the time when as a seven-year-old, she had been given the honour of presenting the Princess with a corsage, when she had visited Helena 's schooltime on a royal stag trip.

Opening the door, Helena went out into the cold November morning. She liked to be in the yard working before the grooms and horse barn girls arrived for work, to set a good example as their boss.

Her buck, baby buster, neighed a greeting to her, and she walked to the stable block, petting him on the nose.

Crossing the yard towards the barn she glanced sideways at the low building that housed the workshops. As she passed the tack room she smiled, and she could feel her cheeks redden as she blushed with the memory of the dream.

Entering the barn capital of Montana switched on the aging cassette histrion which sat on a ledge. One of Jesse James'old prog rock candy tape began to wager.
Helena sighed, one of the perils of having a husband ten years old than ace'self was having to listen to all that old music.

It was somehow strangely comforting when he was away though. It felt like having a piddling slice of him there.
Helena struggled to call up the figure of the chemical group who 's tape measure was playing - their figure was something to do with Tolkien, she remembered Saint James telling her.

She sang happily along with the wrangle `` I, the mote in your eye, I, I, I, I, the atom in your eye, a mislaid reaction ... ''

So engrossed in her study and the music was she that Helena completely failed to point out a enceinte inglorious horse cavalry, at least xviii hands high, ridden by a tall man dressed solely in smutty, walk into the yard behind her.

As the horse lifted its head, its eyes glowed with an unholy luminance ... ..









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