Annie Windsor - Arda 01 - The Sailmaster's Woman.pdf - ELLORA'S CAVE (Maykelll) - bugnme5

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ARDA: THE SAILMASTER’S WOMAN

An Ellora’s Cave publication written by

ANNIE WINDSOR

MS Reader (LIT) ISBN # 1-84360-385-3

Mobipocket (PRC) ISBN # 1-84360-386-1

Other available formats (no ISBNs are assigned):

Adobe (PDF), Rocketbook (RB), & HTML

Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc. USA

Ellora's Cave Ltd, UK

This e-book may not be reproduced in whole or in part by email forwarding, copying, fax, or any other

mode of communication without author permission.

Edited by Ann Richardson

Cover Art by Christine Clavel

Warning:

The following material contains strong sexual content meant for mature readers. ARDA: THE

SAILMASTER’S WOMAN has been rated NC17, erotic, by three individual reviewers. We strongly

suggest storing this electronic file in a place where young readers not meant to view this ebook are

unlikely to happen upon it. That said, enjoy…

Chapter 1

Elise Ashton rubbed her blue eyes and yawned as her cousin Georgia Steel sat down across from her.

The sidewalk café was packed. A dozen yellow plastic tables, two dozen yellow chairs, a brick patio,

and a hundred coffee-seeking zombies—it was almost too much for Elise’s senses after a sleepless

weekend.

She gazed first at Georgia’s tired face and then at the sky, wishing she could soar into the low-hanging

clouds and escape to Polaris, or maybe Cassiopeia. If only space travel were possible. Surely those star

systems had life-sustaining planets, and surely their inhabitants were more interesting than Nashville’s

natural species: Genus Redneckius.

Then again, if Elise’s First Rule held true, the Milky Way wouldn’t offer her much better fare than Middle

Tennessee.

Elise’s First Rule: In the end, all men are boring.

In front of her, gray city streets bustled with typical Monday traffic. Morning heat rose from the

pavement in shimmering waves, punctuated by car exhaust and hurrying pedestrians.

“This place looks more like New York every day,” Elise muttered. Her long blond hair already lay limp

against her shoulders, a testament to July’s blistering temperatures.

“Amen.” Georgia brushed red bangs behind her ears. The heat didn’t seem to be affecting her, but it

never did. Georgia was one of those perfect women with a tiny waist, sparkling green eyes, and slender

hips. One of those women who worried over losing half a pound, and how many calories were in a carrot

stick. If Elise hadn’t loved her distant cousin like a sister, she probably would have spiked Georgia’s

coffee with the highest calorie chocolate syrup Coffee Stand had to offer.

A waitress in a white t-shirt with “Latté” scrawled across her plastic-enhanced chest minced over,

flashed a phony smile, plopped two cups on their table, and left without so much as a boo or

how-do-you-do.

Elise glared after Latté-tits and sighed. “This freaky-dream thing is out of hand. If I don’t get some sleep,

I’m likely to pour espresso on that woman’s head. Perky and rude should be an illegal combination.”

“Mm. Well, I think your sexual repression is getting to you.” Georgia downed a swig of her morning

rations.

“I’m not repressed.” Elise shifted in her plastic chair, bringing her knees together and smoothing her

black business skirt. It was an unconscious gesture, and Georgia caught it before Elise did.

“Scared something’s gonna crawl up in there, girl?”

“No!” Elise let her legs fall open for three seconds, then snapped them back together again. “I mean, not

anything I don’t want.”

Georgia leaned forward, exposing shameless cleavage. “And what does Elise Ashton really, really,

gotta-have-it-’til-her-clit-aches want?”

For a few seconds, Elise couldn’t speak. Her neck felt warm enough to combust, and she squeezed her

coffee mug until her fingers burned. “Oh, please. Let’s not start this so early. I’m too sleepy to defend

myself.”

“You’re such a wimp.”

“Am not.”

“When was the last time you did something wild?”

“I—you—oh, fuck you. Drink your coffee.”

Georgia settled back in her seat, bouncing her foot like she usually did after whipping Elise in an

argument.

If she hadn’t been so sluggish, Elise would have given that bouncing foot a good flick, or at least kicked

at one of Georgia’s plastic chair legs. Her recent Tai Kwon Do lessons might have made that interesting.

As it was, she just smiled at her cousin, filed the exchange for later revenge, and went back to yawning.

“I think it’s a trust thing.” Georgia grinned. Her foot was still bouncing. “You’ve been screwed over so

many times, you figure why bother, right?”

“Elise’s Second Rule: Trust no one but Georgia.” Elise sipped at her mocha-almond express, wishing it

were magical elixir. “Besides, you’ve had your own share of screw-overs, m’dear. Face it. Good men,

the kind of men who can handle a strong-minded woman—don’t exist.”

Georgia sighed. “Pessimist. You’re probably right, but I’m not willing to give up yet.”

Elise took another slug of her espresso, hoping it would keep her eyes open. The State of Tennessee

would be grateful if she stayed awake to log in the endless complaints received by the Attorney General’s

office. No doubt Georgia would be grateful, too, as Elise would be quicker to grab one of the ringing

phones. Bossing high-level politicians and lawyers all day kept Elise’s mental and emotional claws

sharpened, and she could use the workout today.

Georgia and Elise had manned the AG’s secretarial staff for almost ten years, since they both finished

high school and opted out of college. Georgia didn’t go on to higher education because she hated school.

Elise didn’t go because she couldn’t afford it. She meant to try again once she got older, to study her true

passion of astronomy, but there was work. And bills. And Georgia’s endless tales of woe from failed

relationships. Georgia needed Elise, and Elise needed to be there for her cousin.

Elise’s Third Rule: Always take care of Georgia, because she’s all you’ve got.

The two women had grown up together with their only surviving aunt, with little knowledge of their family.

As far as Elise was concerned, they hadn’t done badly for themselves, either.

At twenty-eight, Elise didn’t know if she could even handle the studying involved with going back to

school—the grading, the long hours, or even the change from her comfortable, quiet life. She still had her

constellation charts and the telescope she bought when she was only twelve. She didn’t use it much any

more, but every now and then, in the tiny hours of night, when she was almost sure no one could see her,

she’d steal a glance at a comet, or watch a meteor shower.

And as the magnificent events unfolded, she would give in to her natural excitement, using her vibrator to

bring herself to quick, sharp orgasms as the heavens sparkled.

Annie Windsor - Arda 01 - The Sailmaster's Woman.pdf

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