The Para-Portage of Emily by @SexyMuffyWilson ~ A Paranormal Erotic Romance Spanning a Century

 She looked closely at the painting and in faint letters it

read, “Amalya” at the bottom. She wondered if that was the beautiful woman or
the artist. Although quite taken with the portrait, she had satisfied some
measure of her curiosity for the day and, thinking of her father, snapped
around, squared her shoulders and settled into her uncle’s desk to begin work.
Opening her uncle’s file drawer in his desk, Emily felt intrusive. However, it
had to be done. The first file which caught her eye was one on Marnier’s
Maiden. She pulled it out, opened the cover and began to read. There were plat
maps, surveys, contracts of sale and purchase, title documents, recordings and
the usual. There was the technical history, but nothing of the emotional
history, which interested her most. Emily read on, as the file was very thick,
and perhaps there was more to come. She moved to the leather sofa in the
library in between the bookcases and across from the stone fireplace.

The original owner had built the house on five hundred acres
of land in the early 1800’s. The technical file was so thick because over the
years, as he aged and his family moved away, he had donated much of the land to
the town. The hours passed. She read until she fell asleep to the melodious
crackling sounds of the fire. Emily was nestled under the throw quite warm and
secure. And then, she dreamed”¦she was floating, soaring, drifting on silken
currents and airfoils of magic.

She felt as though she was flying, so light and airy, wispy,
so delicate. She could see the land from on high. She could see a young woman
with very long auburn hair being chased towards the house by a large male. He
was dressed in odd attire, with his pant legs tucked inside his high-topped
black polished boots. He was tall, but with his back to her, Emily could not
make out his face. His shoulders were broad and his waist narrowed, but flared
to thick muscular thighs that moved deliberately under tight leggings. He wore
a white billowy shirt, so very bright white, Emily had to squint to block the
glare and the scene was out of focus at all the edges. The woman was dressed in
a long blue skirt, to the ankles. A wide belt cinched her tiny waist, holding
her full white blouse tucked neatly in the band. Off both of her shoulders was
the top of the blouse and the sleeves were nipped tight at the wrist. She ran
quickly to the front door of the house, looking over her shoulder frequently.
The man, who had long masterful strides, easily caught her at the front
entrance to the house. Even though it was a dream, Emily felt her heart
pounding for the young girl in fear for her safety.

When the stranger grabbed her from behind at the grand oak
door, Emily held an involuntary breath anticipating the worst as the man
whipped the young woman around to face him. She laughed, loud and hearty, and
threw her arms around the laughing, breathless man. They faced one another, and
Emily could not make out their features, the glare from the white shirts was
still so blinding. The man ran his hand through her hair from her neck up to
the back of her head, grabbed a fistful of tousled auburn locks and pulled her
face gently towards his. He kissed her with such deep, passionate abandon,
Emily gasped. She awoke, abruptly but briefly, to realize she had been holding
her breath with a racing heart. Calming herself, breathing evenly, she closed
her eyes to return to the dream.

Emily slept again almost immediately.

The couple was inside the house. The man collected the young
woman in his arms in the foyer and carried her to the library. In one another’s
embrace, he took her to the couch, exactly where Emily now slept, and gently
placed her down onto the sofa. He lowered the top of her blouse further down
her bodice, exposing her breasts from an uplifting corset which barely covered
her nipples. As he bent to draw her breasts out of the confines and kiss each
one, Emily saw the young woman had put her arm over her eyes, so Emily still
could not see the fullness of her face. The man lovingly took each nipple, one
at a time, into his mouth while he twisted and pinched the other. Her areolas
responded by swelling and darkening around the hardened nipples. She moaned and
moved suggestively, openly welcoming further indulgences. He reveled in her
breasts, burying his face between them and licking the private spot of cleavage
reserved just for his attentions. The room smelled of lavender, Emily noted in
her dream. The young woman surely fancied the lavender fragrance in her evening
bathwater.
It was very stimulating and seemed so real to Emily.