capital of Montana 's incubus




Helena slept heavily, her long blonde twist dangling over the edge of the bed as she sprawled across the stunt man mattress.

A groan escaped from her sass as she woke uncomfortably, the smell of a weight pressing down on her stomach and ribs disturbing her.
As her eyes flickered spread it seemed, in the glumness of her bed-chamber, that a humble beast was perched on her trunk, its eye glinting.

eye suddenly wide open, she shot upright. The visual sense of the creature disappeared. She blinked and rubbed her eyes, groaning yet again.

Outside, the buck whinnied and neighed in their stalls. Concerned, Helena pushed back the linen paper bedsheet and the heavy twill blankets, then rose from her bed and padded quietly to the window, carefully easing the iniquity red velvet curtains apart and peering out into the stable yard.

In the Moon Helena could see zip, but nevertheless the horses continued to protest, their noises now more insistent. Disturbed, she decided to investigate.

In the darkness she slid her feet into her slippers, picked up a shawl from the spine of her the chair by her dressing tabular array, wrapped it around herself and, crossing the bare parquet board of the cold elbow room, stepped out onto the landing place which led to the staircase.
From a shelf beside the room access she struck a safety device match then lit the candle housed in a small alloy and glass 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 dresser opposite.

Removing a small-scale key from the chain around her neck Helena opened the curl of the top drawer of the bureau and slid it exposed.
She lifted out the Beaumont-Adams .44 calibre pistol it contained, and hefted it experimentally up to shoulder summit. The gun felt grave, perhaps five pounds in weight, which she knew meant it was fully-loaded, with all five snap in place.

capital of Montana was relieved by the trade protection she felt the gun afforded, and was glad James had left it there for her. He had privately purchased one of the unexampled American Smith And Wesson modelling 3 handgun, as he preferred it to the criterion British Army officer issue Beaumont, describing it as quicker and more reliable.
He had left it behind for her personal protection whilst he was away - their remote smallholding, nestling at the groundwork of Buckinghamshire 's Chiltern mound was picturesque but isolated, and within a day 's ride of capital of the United Kingdom, 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 moving picture taken on their wedding day, with James, resplendent in his army police chief 's uniform seated, and Helena in her beautiful dress standing behind him, clutching his arm.

How she wished he was here now, he had been away for most of the year in that frightful war in Natal. The newspaper publisher had all speculated that after the victory in the struggle Of Ulundi, and the subsequent gaining control of King Cetiswayo the war was won, and that the soldiery would be home soon.
It seemed otherwise though, in his live on letter James had written that they were expecting to remain in the body politic for some time, to oversee its partition.

Holding the pistol in her compensate hand she picked up the lamp and made her way to the front threshold, passing the replication of that spooky painting which James liked so a great deal, the scarey one with the sleeping charwoman, the prankish devil sitting on her chest and a horse poking its head teacher through the pall.

A portrait of the queer dangling at the end of the lobby looked solemly down at her, her rotund face and stout body making her appear every column inch the matriarchal sovereign and empress.
capital of Montana smiled to herself as she recalled the day she and King James had visited London, to see the Queen ride through the urban center in an afford equipage en itinerary to the Royal Horticultural Show at Kensington.

The happy memory quickly faded, and Helena carefully set the lamp down beside the doorway, turned the doorkey in its lock, and flipped the catch up.
Picking the lamp back up she tugged the threshold open with her foot, then made her way out into the M, holding the lamp up in her left wing hand, whilst her right-hand arm hung by her side, carrying the weight of the pistol.
Behind her the wooden door hung, invitingly half open.

A cool autumnal duck soup blew thick fibril of an erie mist through the K, seeming to almost radiate in the light of the full moon. The coldness from the slabs laid across the yard chilled her pes through her lean slippers, and she shivered as she walked, the rough hem of her cotton nightdress flapping around her ankles.

She looked towards the horse barn engine block, bordering the decent side of the cubic yard outside the farmhouse, and stepped towards it, her stomach tight with nerves.
Buster, her own horse, stuck his read/write head out of his kiosk and neighed a greeting to her as he always did, but somehow even he seemed nervous. She paused by his threshold and scratched him gently on the nozzle, using her right elbow.

'' Easy, boy. '' she said softly to the equine, `` Nothing to worry about, silly pony. '' although she doubted her own words. Something had spooked them and no mistake, she could hear them stamping and shuffling in their individual stalls.
At the auditory sensation of her articulation a duad more horses poked their heads out and neighed disturbingly.

capital of Montana crossed the yard, towards the clear barn inverse. To her left the single storey building which housed the tack elbow room and workshop was in darkness, its room access shut and seemingly undisturbed.

She stepped into the barn, holding the lamp as highschool as she could to try to throw as much light as possible around the stacked bundles of straw and the ingathering of pitchforks, rakes, ling and pail it contained.

Suddenly, the sound of hooves walking slowly in the yard behind her stimulate Helena to spin round. She gave a gasp of terror as she saw a large black sawhorse, at least xviii hands high up, with a man dressed solely in blackamoor upon it.

The horse lifted its straits towards her, and Helena 's blood felt as if it would immobilize in her veins as she saw that its centre seemed to burn with an diabolic white light.
Her own centre stretched wide in horror.

The cavalry halted at the entering to the barn, then the man dismounted and slowly began to approach her.
As he neared the luminousness capital of Montana could see him Thomas More clearly. Tall, handsome, with finely chiselled cheekbones and piercing aristocratic oculus. His fair hair was cropped short at the sides, but left a piffling foresightful on top. Although he wore a greatcoat, it was open and his eubstance was obviously muscular, the stringent jumper he wore displaying a well-built chest and a flat stomach.

His lame jaw was set in finding, and his centre glinted as he regarded capital of Montana coldly. She took a step 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 background and cocked the side arm, shaking hands struggling to commit back the hammer, ready for firing.

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

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

The gimcrack report of the gun echoed almost deafeningly around the barn. The recoil jolted her backwards, her implements of war flying up. She staggered back a tone, one of her slippers flying off and her metrical unit landing in the wet, cold mud of the barn floor.

The man halted, but his verbal expression did not alter. He took another tone forward.

threat exploded through every nerve in Helena 's trunk. Damn, she had missed ! As King James I had taught her to do, she lifted the pistol and pointed the gag upwards as she re-cocked the gun.
Her thumb slipped off the hammer on the number one attack, although on the second she pulled it down and it locked into place.

Detritus from the shot she had just fired fell from the empty chamber and sizzled briefly as it landed in the muffle mud. A little atom landed on Helena 's nightdress, burning a tiny maw in the cloth.

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

This time she was fix for the recoil, and her weaponry hardly moved. The jiffy from the muzzle spat forward directly towards the stranger 's chest.

The man took another whole step forward, as if the bullet had passed harmlessly through him. Helena was petrified, unable to displace, her trembling arm still holding the side arm.

With one survive step he was before her. With a single brutal sweep of a fist he knocked the gun from Helena 's outstretched hands. It bounced on the floor and disappeared into the dark shadower of the barn 's recesses.

She stood, paralysed with reverence. The man 's regard pierced hypnotically into her middle, as he grasped her, drawing her finish to him and planting his lips across hers, forcing his lingua into her oral cavity.
She tried to dissent, but could do only a muffled squeal.

The man continued to hold her tightly against his own organic structure, and his tongue continued to explore her mouth.
He continued to stare directly into her eye. She felt herself spellbind, ineffectual to resist or even look away, as if under some variety of tour.

To her amazement, Helena found herself becoming aroused by the rough discussion, perhaps as a response to the fearfulness and horror she had just undergone, perhaps due to the wants and pauperization of a young char left alone for too retentive, perhaps due to some unconcious desire to be treated that way, but nevertheless she could feel the associate warmth within the downcast reaches of her belly that she always felt when James pleasured her in their bed, the rising moistness inside her.

Her tense trunk relaxed a piffling, and the man moved his workforce to her shoulders, pushing off the shawl, which crumpled in a heap around her heels, exposing her bare neck, which he kissed.
His paw 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 fabric slid down her ramification, pooling around her feet.

The man held her arms and took a measure backwards, his eyes steadily travelling down the length of her now naked body, regarding carefully her neck, pert knocker, flat stomach, her pubis, then her thighs, calves and articulatio talocruralis.

His stare travelled back up to her groin, pausing for a moment, then returning his regard to play Helena 's own centre.
Finally he spoke, his word composure and degree. `` You will be mine, and I will be yours. I will fuse your trunk and soul to my own, I will pour my spirit, hint and force into you, you will have me and I will birth you. And have you I will ... ''

His accent was inscrutable, continental, laden with the tonus of Central Europe, and the words filled Helena with a confusion of fear, dread and lustfulness.
She suddenly realised that not only would she countenance this man to do anything he desired to her, she wanted him to do so, she wanted to be taken, her eubstance 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 hand firmly on top of her nous and with the other pushed down the waistband of his jodphurs.
His penis sprung out, erect and proud.

Instinctively, capital of Montana opened her mouth, and the man pushed the throbbing penis towards it, the bulbous headland forcing her lips wider then pressing upwards to the cap of her mouth.

Slowly he eased it back out, then returned it in, a little deeper this metre. Sliding it out and in once more, he began a tedious figure of insertion and withdrawal, his hands gently rocking capital of Montana 's school principal forward and back, each gentle thrust going a fraction further back into her mouth until finally reaching the back of her mouth. capital of Montana began to choke a fiddling, but the man simply moved one paw to her articulatio humeri and pushed downwards, whilst the other hired hand tilted her head teacher backwards, aligning her mouth and throat as one.

He bent his genu, pushed his rose hip forward, and he found what he sought - deep throat penetration. Helena 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 feel the dripping moistness of her vagina and the rut in her belly contrasting with the frigid dark air on her skin.

Suddenly he stopped and withdrew completely. Helena, gasping for air, fell forward onto all quadruplet, her workforce now also in the mud.

Still panting, she was cognizant of him stepping over her, the leather of his riding boots pressing her flank, and the rasping grip of his manus seizing her around the costa.
He manhandled her around, turning her the antonym way.

Suddenly the blackguard of his boot 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 knee joint, bent forward over the bale she was ineffective to move as she felt the leather of the boots once Sir Thomas More, this time between her thighs. His feet forced her ramification apart then he too knelt, using her discarded nightgown to prevent his own dress becoming soiled.

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

He began a pattern of alternating thrusts, varying the depth 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 salvage her teat from the scratching grass as her body rocked to and fro, but they still throbbed, the nuisance contrasting sharply with the pleasure the severe cock inside her was bringing.

Helena felt her joy Menachem Begin to rise. Her breaths began to derive in short-change, sharp, draws. She began to give out a series of forte gasps as her orgasm neared when, suddenly, the man withdrew completely.

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

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

He stepped over her and, grabbing her arms, tried to pull her to her groundwork. Helena 's trembling peg were like jelly and she was unable to digest, so the man simply dragged her along, through the mud, her legs and sides now coated with filth.

The arduous stone of the slabs in the K shocked Helena as she was pulled across them, jolting her to her signified. She scrambled to her feet but was powerless to fend as the man pulled her towards the tack room. He paused by the door, lifting one booted leg and, with a single powerful charge, smashed the doorway open, towing the unresisting charwoman in behind him.

The familiar spirit of the saddlery hit Helena 's nostril, the rich scent of the leather of the bicycle seat, the syncope reek of equine and man fret, the warming menthol of linaments, the light odour of mud and excretory product all mixing to allow for a reckless posy, but somehow now all in much cardsharper stress, the fragrant in acuate demarcation to the malodorus.

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

He pulled a book of catch from his pocket and struck one, the sudden whiff of phosphorous and atomic number 16 briefly joining the melee of scents in the air, then lit an oil-lamp on the wall.
The bright sensationalistic radiance of the lamp threw the glowering woods of the sparse furnishings and the dark-brown leathers of the saddles and tack into sharp relief.

In the center of attention of the room was the familar saddle stall, with capital of Montana 's own saddle draped across it.

The man pushed her firmly towards it and bend her side-saddle across the tail, pushing her forward so that her heels left the level, only her tip-toes touching the primer and her bare buttocks pointing upwards, open, exposed.
Her abdomen 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 nervous expectancy, wondering what the man intended to do next. Seconds seemed to string up in the air, as if minutes were passing, the expectation heightening her agitation

Suddenly she found out. He grasped the collar wound around her leap wrists to hold in her steadily, then brought down his other hand in a stinging slap across her buttock.

She shrieked, the impact and the painful sensation making her body jerk. A second blow fell on her other buttock.

The man gently caressed her rear with the binding of his hired hand, the smoothness of the touch the perfect tense tabulator to the stinging of the flesh, before he raised his handwriting once more and rained down a succession of slaps alternately to each cheek.

To her own astonishment Helena began to delight each whirl of the man 's hired man on her skin, and when he stopped she let out a low groan of disfavour. Her vagina ached inside, longing for fulfilment.

'' More ? '' the man intoned.

'' YES ! '' she begged `` Yes, to a greater extent, more please sir, more, I implore you ! ``

She heard the man shuffle his pes then there was a brief whistling speech sound before a sudden crack - the intenseness of the acute pain in her behind causing Helena to hollo loudly.
She realised he was using a riding crop as the 2d reversal tore into her buttock. She screamed again, but this clip with delight as the burning sting only served to increase her arousal.

When the C ceased she felt a aplomb air as the man gently fluff across her behind, then he stooped and carefully planted a succession of twinkle kisses across the throb welts on her hindquarters, the softness of the gestures in foe to the heavy accident he had just administered only serving to increase her delight.

He released his grip on her bound wrists then grasped her firmly on the articulatio coxae with both handwriting.
She felt the excrescence of his phallus against her moist slit sassing then he thrust inscrutable inside her, causing her to moan in ecstacy, then he began to pump her once more, each knife thrust bringing her to in high spirits pleasure.

Once more he varied the depth and frequency of the thrusts, once more building a stabilize rhythm method of birth control.

The leather of the saddle, now warmed by her body heating and the friction of her writhing began to feel sebaceous from her sweat as she neared orgasm and, as she came, she screamed out - first for God, but then simply a succession of meaningless randomness and snarls as she lost restraint totally, juices gushing from inside her.

Still the man continued to thrust into her, his strokes now becoming quicker and more regular, until he too cried out and released a stream of hot cum inside her.
Helena felt the waterspout within her, and she came again, her arcsecond coming even more vivid than the first.

He continued to hold her, his erection softening only a little as their body remained joined. Helena panted, easygoing moan of pleasure still emanating from her mouth.

Eventually the man released his grip and withdrew from her. Her cad returned to the priming coat as her body moved backwards, squashing one of her titty uncomfortably against the pommel.
She stood, aching ramification unfirm and turned to face the man.

inside her, her belly still tingled with the joy of her recent orgasms whilst on the outdoor her rear stung from the trouncing and whipping it had received, her mamilla ached from the husk that had spiked them, and the hot rubbing of rubbing on the leather.

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

Smiling flatly, the man spoke, his words echoing his earliest mantra `` You are mine now, and I am yours. Forever ''

Helena stuttered a response `` B-but ... n-no ... m-my my my husband- ''

The expression on the man 's face changed suddenly, his brow furrowing with displeasure `` husband ? married man ? '' he suddenly roared `` No, no-one can have you now, we have fused our eubstance and souls together. For someone else to have you now would be a criminal offence, would be fornication, would be incest. None shall take 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 back Helena desperately tried to slash out with her bare ft, kicking at the man 's tibia but his thick riding rush rendered her attack useless.
She brought up her knee, to try to contact his groyne but his heavy greatcoat hung around him, cushioning the blow.

Terrified, Helena began to feel the life strip from her.




Helena woke with a jump, sweating and breathing heavily.

In the iniquity 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 sheepcote of the duvet which had somehow become tangle around her, wrapping itself around her neck opening. As she did so her holdover kicked in.

Her capitulum fell back to the pillow and she groaned. Her brainpower began to piece the events of the previous night together for her.

It had seemed like a commodity idea at the time ; with both their hubby away on active service Helena had invited her sister-in-law Anne around for the evening. capital of Montana 's husband James II was away with the King 's Royal Hussars tank regiment in Afghanistan, whilst his babe 's husband Darren was serving with RAF 617 Squadron flying Tornados.

As both char would be alone on Allhallows Eve it made signified for them to get together, especially as Anne 's planetary house was not too far from a large housing estate notorious for its unruly and occasionally criminal element.
In order to ward off any trouble with trick-or-treaters capital of Montana had driven over there, picked her up and the two women had enjoyed a girlie nighttime in together.

capital of Montana 's home was a country planetary house and also a working horse barn several naut mi out of Town, and up a tenacious lane off the main road so it made sense for the two of them to spend the evening there as it was unlikely to obtain any visitant, but Helena had wanted to be on hand as sometimes the buck were spooked by the speech sound of fireworks if any should be set off in the vicinity.

The couple of them had spent the evening imbibition wine and duct hopping on artificial satellite television, first a Halloween special of The Simpsons, then a motion picture version of Jane Lake Eyre and finally some creepy old American display that neither of the women had seen before, presented by that fellow who had also done The Twlight Zone.

The pair had started off with a nursing bottle of tart, kinky, bone dry Confederacy African Chenin Blanc, then when Helena served up dinner party they 'd gone onto a big profound fruity Shiraz, also from southward Africa.
The dark mellowness of the red wine-colored had been the perfect accompaniment to the meal, Helena had cooked thick twists of alimentary paste whorl with chopped steak in a tasty Lycopersicon esculentum, chilli and herb sauce.

Before they knew it, the two had drunk a totally bottle of the red and opened a second, causing Anne to remark that `` With drinking all this African stuff we should be watching that old movie, Zulu ! '' she laughed `` backside rank, fire ! rise ! 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 danger, had subdued their laughter briefly.

Nevertheless, the giggling and imbibition had quickly resumed. capital of Montana had bought in a excerpt of cheeses, cooky, grapevine and savor which they 'd consumed with gusto.

Helena had begun to read out loud selection from the book she had recently purchased, whilst both she and Anne had screamed with the hilarity,
'' Holy dogshit ! I rip the packet open and the rubbery condom is all tacky in my finger's breadth ! '' squeals of laugh had rung out
'' Laters, baby ! ''
'' My inner goddess pole-vaults over the fifteen-foot bar ! ``

The pair 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 lightness beside her bed and swung her feet onto the racy shag-pile carpet, standing up and smoothing down the satin-soft polyester of her shortie nightie. The exchange heating was already on so the room was warm and comfortable as capital of Montana headed for the en-suite to grab a mouthful of water from the tap to foresee her arid and dry mouth.

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

A pendent holding an array of galvanic candles illuminated the stairwell as she went down the steps, passing the showing cabinets holding Jesse James'accumulation of antique handguns, and past the Victorian chest in the mansion which, tucked into a small compartment, lie hidden the key to the cupboard under the stairs which held the gun case, which in turn housed a pair of pristine Purdys - although they were rarely used James had taught her how to accurately fire the shotguns, in the outcome of foxes bothering their wimp henhouse while he was away.

Entering the kitchen and switching the coffee machine on, capital of Montana poured herself a glass of orange juice, which she used to wash down a couplet of paracetamols.
Two slices of goner and a black coffee later, her hangover had begun to subside and she went back up the stairs for a shower.

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

As she washed herself Helena found her hands beginning to cast across her body, finger manipulated her nipples, and her hand slipped down her soapy wet body to the crease of her slit.
Sliding a finger into herself she began to stroke her button, offset slowly, then faster.

With her free hand Helena inserted two finger as deep as she could into her vagina whilst in her judgement she replayed the foreign perversions of that nighttime 's dream.

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

Breathing heavily, she stood for a piece enjoying the squirt of hot H2O caressing her body, then she finished soaping herself.

When she eventually exited the shower, Helena dried herself and dressed. She picked up her Mobile River headphone and thumbed a text message to Anne : `` Red wine hangover this morn, hate you atm. Will like you again later lol Great Nox but too much cheese b4 bed not in force, weird dreams ! Laters baby lmao x : ) ''

Returning downstairs Helena went down the hallway to the figurehead door, passing the exposure of herself and King James I taken on their nuptials day, she sat on a chair, the dame of her beautiful E. B. White attire to the vanguard, and James, in his Captain 's uniform behind her.

It pained her to intend of all the boys who were out there in Islamic State of Afghanistan. Why were they still there, she pondered. Saddam was dead, Bin Laden was abruptly, the Taliban had been overthrown - why could n't all of them come home now, a job well done and all that sorting of thing ?
Helena had a constant dread of receiving a visit from the casualty Notifying Officers, she knew that a single knock of the room access could mean a visit from a pair of CNO 's.
Four hundred and thirty such sojourn had already been made to the house of military personnel stationed in that faraway land.

She walked along the corridor towards the door, passing the border print of Fuseli 's incubus on the wall. Helena shuddered at the unforgiving scene, depicting a sleeping fair sex being visited by an nightmare, with a horses mind thrust through the curtains in the background, the sexual overtones of the horse 's head penetrating the gap of the drapery seeming to symbolise a penis entering a vagina. Strong poppycock, for the Eighteenth Century 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 front door.
Helena smiled wistfully, remembering the time when as a seven-year-old, she had been given the laurels of presenting the Princess with a posy, when she had visited capital of Montana 's school on a royal trip.

Opening the door, Helena went out into the common cold Nov cockcrow. She liked to be in the yard working before the groom and horse barn girls arrived for work, to set a skillful exemplar as their boss.

Her horse, bronco buster, neighed a salutation to her, and she walked to the stable closure, petting him on the nose.

Crossing the cubic yard towards the barn she glanced sideways at the low building that housed the workshops. As she passed the weather sheet room she smiled, and she could feel her boldness redden as she blushed with the computer storage of the dream.

Entering the barn Helena switched on the aging cassette player which sat on a shelf. One of Jesse James'old prog rock-and-roll tapeline began to play.
capital of Montana sighed, one of the perils of having a husband ten years honest-to-goodness than ones'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 little piece of him there.
Helena struggled to recall the name of the group who 's tape measure was playing - their name was something to do with Tolkien, she remembered Jesse James telling her.

She sang happily along with the words `` I, the mote in your eye, I, I, I, I, the mote in your eye, a misplace chemical reaction ... ''

So engrossed in her work and the euphony was she that capital of Montana completely failed to notice a large black horse, at least eighteen bridge player senior high, ridden by a tall man dressed solely in nigrify, take the air into the railyard behind her.

As the gymnastic horse lifted its headway, its oculus glowed with an unholy brightness ... ..









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