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Review This Story || Author: Abe

It

Part 1

It


by Libertine




"Why would you agree to live on an island for a


year?  You won't find a suitable young man there,


and you can't wait a lot longer to give me


grandchildren"




"Mom, I haven't met any suitable  man, young or


old,  where I am.  The guys I meet are all married,


gay, or pedophiles, sometimes all three.  Aunt


Martha has given me a way to start a new life."  In


college, she had had a brief friendship with a


graduate teaching assistant, but for years she hadn't


had a date.   She'd been propositioned, by truck


drivers and such, but she had never said yes.




Maud huddled in her bed, her breasts tingling and


her vagina wet, wondering why she had ever agreed


to the terms of Aunt Martha's  will.  The  will was


strange but explicit.  Maud could have  an annuity


for life and clear title to the lighthouse  if she would


live in it for 365 consecutive nights.  Otherwise, it


and the money would go to the Seashore


Preservation Trust.  The monthly payments would


be enough to live on, with no rent to pay, so in June


Maud quit her job at Jefferson Elementary School


and she moved to the lighthouse.  It was only about


three  miles off shore, an easy run in the little


outboard runabout, as long as the weather was


good.  Maud used her savings to stock up on food


and books and CDs and paints and canvasses and a


whole list of things Aunt Martha had


recommended, kerosene, lamp wicks, matches,


plastic garbage bags, a spare can opener, a good


first aid kit and medicines, the things one might


need if isolated for months at a time. 




There was no electrical service to the island, but


Aunt Martha had put in solar panels and batteries.


It wasn't much, but the batteries could power the


radio/CD player or a weather radio or a tiny TV,


though reception was very poor.  Otherwise, living


was very rustic, with oil lamps for light  and a scrub


board instead of a washing machine.  There was no


proper running water, but there was a cistern to


collect rain water and a solar collector to warm it


for bathing.  Drinking water came from the


mainland in plastic jugs.  The light, and the huge


Fresnel lenses and the  clockwork to turn them had


all been removed to a museum, so the actual light


room was empty and was a perfect place for Maud


to paint, with plenty of sunlight and an all around


view.




The summer months were fun and carefree, and


Maud had even found a gift shop down the coast


that took some of her paintings on consignment.


She was free to travel, as long as she returned to the


lighthouse by dusk, according to the provisions of


the will.  All that changed with the first storm in


September.  In the morning, she found her boat had


disappeared, though she had moored it very


carefully, and she realized that it was, perhaps, a


false economy to forego a satellite phone as too


expensive.  She did not even have a CB radio!  She


was trapped, imprisoned, on the island.  First thing,


she painted herself a sign: HELP.  Then she


resigned herself to life as a recluse.




That night was her first encounter with It.  She was


sitting in the light room, at the top of the tower,


staring at the blackness of the night, no stars or


moon, just flickers of distant lightning.   There,


beyond the glass, she saw an ephemeral light, a


kind of shimmering something, luminescent with a


bluish glow, quite faint and formless.   Ball


lightning?  No.  Some light reflected off spray or


mist?  No.  She could think of no explanation.  The


thing, It, circled around the tower, came closer and


retreated, disappeared from time to time, and


finally, as Maud stared in confusion, it seemed to


pass right through the glass and out the other side of


the chamber.




Maud went down the confined spiral stairs to the


room below, once housing the clockwork, now her


bedroom.  She grabbed a battery flashlight and went


down another level to the kitchen, where,


uncharacteristically, she poured herself a water


glass of wine and drank half of it in one draft.  She


lighted an oil lamp, topped off the wine glass, and


went back to her bedroom.  She lay there, propped


on pillows, and sipped her wine and thought about


what she had seen.  Why was she frightened?  On


the other hand, who wouldn't be?  She checked the


weather radio   more of the same, winds from the


northeast at 20 to 30 knots.  The regular broadcast


band was mostly static and inane commercials.  She


turned off the radio and began to undress, sitting on


her bed and taking off her boots and socks.  Then


she unbuttoned and removed her flannel shirt and


peeled off her t-shirt, feeling the cool, damp ocean


air on her skin.   She put the big flannel shirt she


slept in beside her and removed her bra.   She felt a


sudden moment of embarrassment, as if she had


exposed her breasts to a stranger, but, of course,


there wasn't another human being for at least three


miles.  She put on the night shirt and then reached


under it to remove her jeans and panties.  Again,


she felt strangely embarrassed, for no reason at all.


She wasn't possessed of undue modesty.  Just to


prove to herself, she took off the night shirt and


stood, stark bark, in front of the full length mirror.


"Maud," she said out loud, "you are not a bad


looking woman for a 28-year old spinster."  Her


breasts, B-cups, did not sag excessively, and her


tummy, while slightly convex, was nothing to be


ashamed of.  Her legs, as a result of hiking and stair


climbing, were shapely and muscular, with no


cellulite, yet.  Her face was undistinguished, but not


ugly, and her hair, now that she wasn't teaching,


might be improved with a bit of color.  Blonde or


red head?  She should let it grow out some, also.


More than once, she thought, people seeing her in


shirt and jeans and short hair had supposed she was


a lesbian.  Well, she'd have a year to work on her


hair.  She raised her arms, watching how her breasts


lifted in her reflected image, and that strange


feeling of being watched returned.  Quickly, she put


on the night shirt again and got into bed.




She was reaching for the oil lamp, a bit out of


reach, when, unbelievably, it went out on its own,


leaving her in total darkness.  She crawled under


the covers and closed her eyes, but she couldn't


seem to sleep.  She opened her eyes, now dark


adapted, and saw, to her amazement, a glow in the


room, It.  It seemed about the size of a door, that is,


bigger than herself but not monstrous, and its shape


was indefinite, shifting, like smoke.  It seemed to


move along the curving wall of the tower room,


until it arrived next to her bed.  She reached out a


hand and tried to touch it, but it was like reaching


for smoke.  She felt nothing.  It settled on the quilt


which covered her legs as she sat up and stared.




Maud felt a subtle sort of touching of her breast,


almost tickling.  Her hand went to the heavy flannel


over her breast, but the sensation continued.  She


grasped her breast in her fingers, as one might


squeeze a dinner roll, but the sensation simply


increased, and now the other breast felt it too.  She


sat bolt upright, holding each breast, but the strange


sensations continued, tingling, not unpleasant, and,


she could tell her nipples were erect.  She stared at


the ephemeral glow, down by her knees, and it


seemed to shimmer and shift.  Suddenly, she felt


something between her legs, something disturbing


her pubic hair.  She slipped one hand under the


covers and felt for whatever it was, some animal


perhaps?  She found nothing.  She began to be


really fearful.  Intellectually, she knew she could


not afford to be afraid, and there was nothing,


really, to be afraid of.  She closed her eyes, rolled


over onto her front, and pulled the covers up over


her head.  There, breathing her own exhaled air, in


total blackness, she tried to relax, but the strange


sensations continued.  It felt like insects crawling


over her skin, over her buttocks, between her


thighs, over and between her labia, and,


simultaneously, over her breasts, which were


pressed hard against the sheet.  She tried rubbing


them away with her hands, though she knew there


were no insects.   The sensations grew stronger, and


whatever it was seemed to intrude deeper, touching


her pink membranes, even though she crossed her


legs and squeezed her thighs together, which would


have squashed even ants.  She threw off the covers


and desperately groped for whatever was invading


her private places.  Her heart pounded.  She gasped


for air.  And then, for the first time in her life, she


felt the fluttering, shuddering, insanely intense gut-


shaking waves of orgasmic release.




Maud huddled in her bed, her breasts tingling and


her vagina wet, wondering why she had ever agreed


to the terms of Aunt Martha's will.  It, the glow,


now hovered at the other side of the bedroom, as if


watching and waiting.  "Go away!" she yelled.  "Let


me sleep."  The glow disappeared, as if through the


solid masonry of  the tower, and, almost instantly,


Maud fell asleep.




She awoke refreshed, feeling great, and, first thing,


she climbed the stairs to the light room, barefoot


and in her night shirt.  The sky had cleared


overnight, and the sun warmed the glass-enclosed


space.  No boats were in sight, just wisps of cloud,


whitecaps, and gulls.  Impulsively, Maud pulled off


her nightshirt and stood, gloriously naked,


absorbing the sun.  Then she opened the little glass


door and stepped out onto the narrow walk which


encircled the light room, to enable the keeper to


clean the glass.  The fresh winds frisked across her


untanned skin, and she shivered in delight at the


unfamiliar but exciting feelings.  Down the stairs


she went, humming a few bars from Beethoven's


9th, and, still naked, she cooked up some bacon and


eggs.  Eggs, she had discovered, will stay fresh a


long time without refrigeration, if you scald the


shells and paint them with an airtight covering.  She


had used her artists colors, and the eggs, before she


broke them, looked like Easter eggs.  God!  Life


was good on the island.  She read, listened to music,


and, when the sun had warmed the water, she


bathed, a delicious bath.  Taking advantage of the


opportunity, she shaved her legs, though no one


would ever see them, and then, impulsively, she


shaved her pubic hair for the first time in her life.


She couldn't think why she did that.  It was, she


mused, as if a new personality was invading her


body.  Still naked, but for shoes, she explored her


little island, hardly bigger than a football field.  She


lay on the rocks and watched the waves breaking in


the tide pools.  She only went inside when she


realized she was getting too much sun.  Her breasts


and bottom, which had never been exposed to the


sun, were turning pink and tender.  Her dinner, out


of cans, tasted especially good and, after watching


the sunset from the light room, she went, still naked


to her bed.




Perhaps it was the mild sunburn, but, as she lay


there, she was intensely aware of  her sexuality, of


her newly exposed labia and her pinkened breasts.


She touched her upstanding nipples and, when she


ran a finger over her sensitized, hairless outer lips


she discovered, for the first time, a swelling,


pushing out between her labia, her clitoris.  In the


darkness, It appeared, ever so faintly glowing, and it


came to her and ravished her.  She writhed and


moaned and called out, "Don't stop!  Oh, please,


more!  Yes, yes," until the juddering jack-hammer-


like shaking in her pelvis drove her into a dreamlike


post-orgasmic trance, followed by delicious sleep.


The weather stayed warm and sunny for two weeks,


and Maud enjoyed her solitude, talking to the gulls


and the crabs and the creatures of the tide pools


and, at night, to It.  Each night he came to her, and


each night she reached levels of ecstacy she could


not have dreamed of when she lived among


humankind.




Then, one afternoon, she saw a lobster boat


approaching.  She ran down to the dock, totally


nude but for her shoes and an all-over tan.  She had


forgotten about normal people.  "Maud," screamed


her mother, "you put some clothes on this instant!"


Maud ignored that and reached to catch a mooring


line thrown by the captain of the boat.  As she wove


the line over the cleat on the dock, her mother


swept up to her and threw her coat over her


daughter.  "What has got into you, behaving like


that?"




Maud just smiled.  It had got into her.  Back in the


lighthouse, properly covered with a robe, Maud was


introduced to the owner of the boat, Harold


Carlson.  Her mother explained that she hadn't


heard from Maud for weeks, and she had finally


hired   Captain Carlson to bring her out to check up


on Maud.  "Good thing I did.  You've lost your


mind, girl!"




"No, Mother, I've found the real me.   I've never


been more sane."




"Rubbish, you come with me back to the mainland,


back to civilization.  You need a medical


evaluation."




Maud just smiled and said, "No, Mother, I'm going


to stay here until this place is mine."  She smiled


again at her mother and then, unmistakably, at


Harry Carlson.  "Are you married, Mr. Carlson?"




"Not yet."




"Maud," said her mother, oblivious to the


electricity between the sailor and her daughter,


"you can't stay here all alone, without a boat or  a


phone or any way of getting help."




"Perhaps, Ma'am, I could help by stopping by from


time to time, to check on her, and I can give her a


spare radio, so she can call for help, or just to pass


the time."




"I'd like that, Mr. Carlson," said Maud, letting her


robe loosen and display a bit of bosom.




"I could bring you fresh lobsters," he said with a


foolish grin




"Oh, yes, please.  I'll be happy to cook them, for the


two of us."




Captain Carlson spent a lot of nights at the


lighthouse, to protect Maud from It, though he


never saw It.  The following summer he and Maud


were married, and Mother got her grandchild not


long after.




          [End]   


       


Review This Story || Author: Abe
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