Lysette's Gift

This is a fantasy, set in a place and time that looks amazingly like some real places I know, but it's still just a story, and I hope you read it that way. I've updated and edited the story to take on board some comments noted the first time it was posted.

My good friend GrandTeton helped me work out how the story should have been told, and suggested some of the missing detail, so a large part of the credit for this story now ending properly goes to him, with another big chunk of thanks for his sanity-checking and editing.

This story is about love, loss, and rebirth, not about religion; there's no message here, except that perhaps, hopefully, love does endure beyond this world, but I don't know God, nor have I met or spoken with Buddha, Allah, The Great Pumpkin (thanks, Anon), or the Jolly Green Giant; if you want to see their workings here, be my guest; just be aware I didn't when I wrote this fantasy.

Please feel free to comment, I welcome good, bad or indifferent, but if you want to be rude or nasty, save it; I delete those, unless they're funny, in which case I treasure them.

If you liked this story, please vote for it; if you didn't, please tell me why.

Good reading!

BB1958

*****

Michael Sheridan stretched languidly, relishing the warmth of the bed; he'd have to get up soon, and drive all the way to Tidworth, not an appetising prospect right now; winter had closed in early this year, and the early November weather was already damp, frigid, and chill enough to go right through a Barbour jacket and into the bone; he briefly toyed with the idea of calling in sick, but discarded it; too many people were counting on him being in place today for him to play truant, so he regretfully mashed his alarm before it went off, and gently pinched the delectable, snowy-white rump so enticingly near at hand.

"Come on, Lissa, wakey-wakey, Princess, six o'clock and all's well this lovely frosty morning! Come on, Sleeping Beauty, shake a leg!"

The pretty redhead stirred and rolled over to face him, her lips curved in a sleepy smile even as her hands toyed with him under the covers.

"There's no such time as six in the bloody morning, you military-minded oaf; go back to sleep..." she yawned, and huddled closer to him, her stiff nipples against his chest a reminder (as if he needed one!) of just how hot this lovely girl was. His hand slipped down to pinch her bottom again, but lingered instead to cup and squeeze, and slowly massage.

Lissa responded by moaning happily and wriggling against him, her nipples sweeping across his chest as her dampening pussy, innocent of any hair, slipped wetly against him, making his cock rise to the occasion.

"You're a very naughty girl!" he chided, sliding his fingers between her sexy buttocks to rub her tight little rosebud as she giggled throatily and ground against him that much harder. "C'mon, Lissa, I've got a meeting in two hours at Salisbury Plain, and you know what the bloody A4's like in the rush hour!"

"You like me when I'm good, but you adore me when I'm bad, don't you, Mikey-baby?" she baby-talked at him, grinding even harder against him at the same time.

At that point he resigned himself to being late; when Lissa wanted to play, the world could go hang until she'd had her fun, or at least that was what it felt like. Not that he was complaining, of course; Lissa was just about the sexiest, horniest, most uninhibited girl he'd ever had the good fortune to bed, and the fact she'd given herself to him so freely filled him with a mixture of wonder and deep, deep gratitude she'd picked him at all, when she could have had any man she chose.

Lissa kissed him softly, her lips, as always soft and pliant, a wonder against his, and causing him to stiffen even further, a fact she noticed right away. With a sudden heave she rolled him onto his back and slid on top of him, straddling him even as she lay on his chest, her kisses once more doing their work as his need for her surged higher and higher. The fact he had a breakfast meeting suddenly seemed supremely unimportant; fuck 'em; if those doddery old farts at Whitehall had a blistering hot, red-headed sex-bomb in their beds they'd skip a few meetings too!

Mike's hands slid down to cup and squeeze her firm little bottom, moulding and massaging the cheeks, as she kissed him hotly.

"If you're going to wake me in the middle of the bloody night, mister 'oh, so punctual Michael Sheridan', you can bloody well pay for it!" she grinned, her grey eyes dancing as she ground slowly against him, the pressure sweet torture against his already swollen cock.

Mike's self-control gave way, and so he lifted her slightly, freeing his cock from its prison between them; Lissa immediately took hold of him, grinning wickedly as she slowly, slowly rubbed the swollen tip against her hot, wet pussy.

"Look what you've done to me, Mikey!" she grinned. "You made me all gooshy! Just remember, whatever happens next, you brought it on yourself!"

Mike grinned and pulled her down against him even as he thrust upwards with his hips. Lissa groaned as he slid into her depths, once more stretching her with his girth.

"Ohhh, fuck, every time you do that...ohhh God, it feels so good!" she quavered, biting his jaw gently as she began slowly circling her hips, squeezing him as she worked him around inside her. It was Mike's turn to groan softly as she did the one thing guaranteed to drive him completely bananas.

"Don't...don't...Lissa, don't do that, you know..." he protested feebly as she ground herself against him, rhythmically squeezing him as she rubbed against him.

"What, this?" she grinned, one eyebrow raised, squeezing faster, harder, making him groan out loud. He couldn't help but begin to pump in and out of her, keeping time with her, both of them grinding and humping faster and harder against the other as their excitement rose.

Lissa broke first, her pussy squeezing him tight as her orgasm blasted through her. The sudden constriction around him, the rush of warmth against him, that was all Mike needed, and with a hoarse groan he too climaxed, spurting endlessly inside her as orgasm also took hold of him.

Mike slumped back, his bones singing from the sudden onrush of pleasure, feeling Lissa quake and shudder on him as the aftershocks of her orgasm continued to rush through her, until she, too, slumped down, drained and, for the moment at least, sated.

Eventually, Mike stirred, glanced somewhat blearily at his watch, then smacked Lissa lightly on her tight, smackable little bottom.

"Lissa, come on, I really have to go to work; if we shower together we can save half an hour; I think I can still make it in on time! Come on, Princess, let's go, please!"

Lissa groaned softly and raised her head.

"One kiss, stud, pay me with a kiss!"

Mike grinned and kissed her properly, no quick brush of the lips, and rolled onto his side. Lissa kissed him quickly on the tip of his nose in return, and slid out of bed, slipping on his shirt to scoot into the bathroom and turn the shower on, giving it a few seconds to reach a comfortable temperature, then returning to the bedroom and pulling the bedclothes off the still slightly-dazed Mike.

"Come on, Mike, you woke me up, now suffer!" she grinned, herding him into the bathroom and dropping his shirt before stepping into the shower cubicle.

As always, Mike took time to admire her; Lissa was a good seven inches shorter that his own 6"1', but had such good posture, a consequence of her pastime of riding and show-jumping, that people just assumed she was taller. Her Titian-red hair hung almost to her waist, but she normally wore it in a ponytail, or clubbed-up into a thick, intricately braided queue if she was riding in a competition. Her skin was pale, much paler than his, and, unlike so many redheads, she had no more than a light dusting of pale freckles on her cheek bones and the bridge of her nose. Her small, firm, upturned breasts were crowned with delicate, rose-pink nipples that protruded a full half-inch when she was aroused, and her labia were waxed bare. To complete the picture, she had a round, shapely bottom and flared hips, accentuating her slim waist and flat stomach.

"Michael, hello, Earth to Michael, I thought you were in a hurry!" came her voice, snapping him out of his rapt study of her, and, grinning ruefully, he stepped into the small cubicle, made even smaller by the two of them crowding in there, although the up-side was that he got to enjoy himself soaping her back and points south, and Lissa returned the favour, threatening to bring up even more cause for delay.

Mike managed to control his urges, not easy to do with a sexy, naked, slippery girl wriggling and jiggling about next to him, but he somehow managed to rinse them both off, giving Lissa a couple of friendly squeezes while he was about it. All done, they quickly dried-off, Mike helping Lissa to dry her beautiful mane of hair, then they quickly brushed their teeth, dressed and grabbed their warm jackets, and sped for the door. It was still dark; full daylight was a good 45 minutes away at this time of year, and Mike walked her to her car, a blue 2006 Toyota MR-2 that had seen better days.

Lissa opened the door, pulled him close and kissed him one more time.

"Are you coming over this evening, Mikey? Mum and dad would really like it if you did; they haven't seen you in months!"

Mike's face tightened, causing Lissa to purse her lips in exasperation.

"You have to see them sooner or later, Mike; they're your parents too, you know..."

Mike looked at her levelly, and Lissa knew that look; she loved her brother to the ends of the earth and back, but when he got that stubborn look on his face...

"We'll see; I'll call ahead if I can make it. I love you, Lissa."

Lysette Sheridan pulled her younger brother closer and cupped his face in both hands as she kissed him deeply.

"And I love you too, my darling pig-headed brother, although sometimes I really, really wonder why!"

Mike watched her reverse out of her space, waved as she flicked the lights at him, then ran over to his Pajero, already mentally laying-out his route to Tidworth, and computing how long it would take him to get there from his house in Newbury, in the county of Berkshire.

*

Lissa set the table for dinner, and was just wondering whether to set a place for Mike when the doorbell rang. She rushed to the door and opened it, to see him standing there, grinning slightly sheepishly.

"I was in the area...!" he began, but was smothered by her hug. Lissa looked around, and, seeing no sign of their parents, planted her lips on his in a deep, wet kiss, her tongue rubbing along his. Mike responded just as hotly, his hands slipping down to circle her waist, then quickly squeezing her bottom, making Lissa grind against him, almost forgetting where they were.

"I thought you were going to call! I'm so glad you came, Mikey!" she whispered, then backed away slightly as her mother poked her head out of the kitchen.

"Who is it Lissa...Oh, Michael, you came, thank you darling! Lissa said you were up at Salisbury Plain today. I did wonder if you'd come over!"

Mike slipped in and shut the door behind him, tugging off his waxed jacket and hanging it on a coat-hook before hugging his mother. At nearly 50, Brigitte Sheridan was a tall, elegant woman, an older, taller version of her daughter, her rich, bright copper hair only now beginning to be threaded with grey, with the same sparkling grey eyes, and the same bright smile.

"You don't come by nearly often enough, sweetheart..." she began, stopping as she felt him tense.

"Yes, I know, I'm sorry, Michael, I won't bring it up again! Go on through, sweetheart; make yourself comfortable. Your father's upstairs, but he'll be down in a minute."

Mike relaxed, but the hard part was yet to come; somewhere close at hand was his father, John, and Mike knew that his father, after cursory table-talk, would inevitably swing the conversation back to the one bone of contention that lay between them; he always did it; somehow, he managed to turn the conversation around and bring it up yet again, and then the argument would start, until finally Mike flared up and stormed out, usually absenting himself from his parents' home for months afterwards.

Lissa tugged him into the lounge, closing the door and backing him into it so she could kiss him properly.

"God, I missed you!" she breathed, when she finally broke their kiss, grinning at his slightly glazed expression.

"Mikey, please, when he starts, please, please, just ignore it; just give him 'yes, sir, no sir, three bags full, sir', or he'll move onto Reason 687 for why you made a wrong choice at university! Just do it for me, please, Mikey? Don't take the bait, baby; he always pushes your buttons; don't let him do it this time!"

Mike grinned, nodded, and pulled her close for a quick, heartfelt kiss, and a last squeeze of her deliciously firm bottom, before the sound of their father's tread on the stairs told them it was time to act normally.

John Sheridan shook hands genially with his son, asking deliberately non-controversial questions about his job, his house, the Civil Service in general, and Mike started to uncoil inside; perhaps his father had finally tired of the same old argument and had given up baiting him.

When they went in to dinner, the atmosphere had warmed, and both his mother and Lysette were relaxed, smiling and bantering; all was going well, no sharp comments or caustic little jibes, until they were eating dessert, a plum roll Brigitte was an expert at making, and Mike's favourite dessert for as long as he could remember.

Then it happened. John paused, looked at Mike, and smiled across the table at him.

"You know Mike, we still have an associate place at the practice; I've been hoping you'd consider taking it up. After all, footling around on military sites may be alright for some, but you...well, you could be doing so much better for yourself..."

Dead silence reigned, broken only as Mike dropped his spoon and pushed himself away from the table. He cocked an eyebrow at John, a gesture he knew his father particularly disliked, and smiled sardonically as he wiped his mouth and dropped the napkin onto his plate.

"Well done, dad; I was hoping to get through this evening without coming back to that, but all the time I was wondering how long it would take you to go there. How many times do I have to tell you? I don't want to be an architect, I'm not interested in being an architect, I don't like the thought of working with a bunch of architects, and I particularly don't want to work for you!"

John's face hardened, while Lissa and her mother exchanged apprehensive glances, both of them wondering how it would end this time.

"All I want is for you to make something of yourself...!" his father began, only for Mike to cut him short.

"I am something! I have a great job, a good and clear career path, and I like what I do! If you don't like it, dad, that's really not my problem. Nothing you can say or do is going to change how I feel; after the hundreds of times I've told you, I would have thought you'd have listened at least once; apparently not. I promised Lissa I wouldn't get into this with you, so it stops here, because I'm leaving, now, before one of us says something they'll regret! Mum, if you'll excuse me, I'm sorry, I have to go now. Lissa, can I speak with you in private, please?"

John bridled.

"Michael Sheridan, just where the hell do you think you're going? Sit down this instant. This is my house, and I will have my say, and you're going to shut up and listen for once!"

Mike cocked that eyebrow at him again, infuriating him even more.

"No, dad, I've heard it all before. I wasn't interested then, I'm not interested now. You coming, Lissa?"

Mike stood up and pushed his chair back, bent over to kiss his stunned mother, and flicked his gaze over his father, who refused to look at him as he left, patting Lissa on the shoulder as he left the room. Once he was outside in the hall, Lissa rounded on her father.

"Why do you always do that? You always belittle him, why? He did so well at university; he landed a plum job with the civil service; he never took a penny from you all through uni; he worked three jobs, he did everything for himself, and yet you take snide little digs at him every chance you get! What's the matter with you, dad? You bitch and moan about how he never comes home, and when he does, he's not here for an hour before you drive him out the door again! Why is it always me who has to go and apologise to him for you? Why are you so bloody stiff-necked when it comes to him? No wonder he never comes here anymore!"

Her eyes were glittering as she spoke, and an angry tear ran down her cheek.

"Mike made himself; he's not you, so it's about bloody time you acknowledged that fact, dad! Once day soon, you're going to regret it; he'll never come back, because you keep driving him away; why can't you just give it a bloody rest?"

She walked out of the dining room, not quite slamming the door after her. Brigitte looked sadly at her plate, unwilling to look up at her husband. When she spoke, it was softly, her tone sad.

"She's right, John; why do you always do that? I had such high hopes for tonight; poor Michael hasn't been here since last Christmas, and you drove him out then, too. All I wanted was a nice family dinner, all of us around the table, just once, but you had to go and start on him again, just like you always do, and you drove him away, just like you always do."

She paused to deliberately push her plate away and stand up.

"Is that what you want, John, for your son to hate you? Because you're going the right way about it; I never see my son. He graduated three years ago, and he's been here only three times, each time for less than an hour; my son lives ten miles away and I've only seen him for three hours in those three years, and it's your fault! Lissa's right, you never leave him alone, you always know better than him."

She sighed and dropped her napkin om her plate.

"You can clear up here, I'm going to bed. I'll stay in the guest bedroom tonight; I want to be alone."

In the hallway, Lissa hugged her brother as he slipped his jacket back on.

"Mikey, I'm sorry, I really thought he'd leave it be, just once..."

Mike hugged her back, burying his face in her hair and inhaling her floral shampoo.

"You don't need to apologise for him, Lissa, it wasn't your fault; I should have known better than to come here..."

He turned to leave, but Lissa pulled him around once more and kissed him, hard, her tongue brushing against his as she held him close. She broke away and grinned at him.

"You go now, Mike, I'll see you back at the house; I have something to say to dad first!"

Mike grinned and smacked her playfully on her bottom, making her wriggle and pout sexily at him.

"Get the KY ready, baby, maybe you'll get your birthday present tonight!" she murmured coyly, before winking and ushering him out the door with a last quick peck on the cheek.

"I'll be right behind you, sweetheart!" she whispered, smiling as he waved and crunched along the gravel drive to his 4X4. Lissa sighed and closed the door, then squared her shoulders, readying herself to once again confront her father about his behaviour.

As she turned to go back to the dining room, her mother stepped out.

"Has he...?" she asked, her face falling when Lissa nodded.

"Once again, mum; he did it again. What the hell's wrong with him? Why doesn't he just disown him? Mikey would welcome it. He's had enough!"

"Lissa..." remonstrated her mother, shocked dismay at the thought of never seeing her son again flashing in her eyes. Lissa hugged her mother tightly, anger at her father overriding everything else.