Charlotte Boyett-Compo- WIND VERSE- Pleasure's Foehn

PLEASURE’S FOEHN

An Ellora’s Cave Publication, August 2005

Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.

1056 Home Ave.

Akron, OH 44310

ISBN MS Reader (LIT) ISBN # 1-4199-0179-6

Other available formats (no ISBNs are assigned):

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

PLEASURE’S FOEHN Copyright © 2005 CHARLOTTE BOYETT-COMPO

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without permission.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. They are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

Edited by
Mary Moran.

Cover art by
Syneca.

Warning:

The following material contains graphic sexual content meant for mature readers.
Pleasure’s Foehn
has been rated E–rotic by a minimum of three independent reviewers.

Ellora’s Cave Publishing offers three levels of Romantica™ reading entertainment: S (S-ensuous), E (Erotic), and X (X-treme).

S-
ensuous
love scenes are explicit and leave nothing to the imagination.

E-
rotic
love scenes are explicit, leave nothing to the imagination, and are high in volume per the overall word count. In addition, some E-rated titles might contain fantasy material that some readers find objectionable, such as bondage, submission, same sex encounters, forced seductions, and so forth. E-rated titles are the most graphic titles we carry; it is common, for instance, for an author to use words such as

“fucking”, “cock”, “pussy”, and such within their work of literature.

X-
treme
titles differ from E-rated titles only in plot premise and storyline execution. Unlike E-rated titles, stories designated with the letter X tend to contain controversial subject matter not for the faint of heart.

PLEASURE’S FOEHN

Charlotte Boyett-Compo

Charlotte Boyett-Compo

Chapter One

Davan Shanahan was having a bad day. To say she was having a bad hair day would have been an understatement. She was having a horror hair day for her hair looked as though she’d placed her hand on the antique Van de Graaff generator at the Space Museum. Every dark auburn hair on her head seemed to be repelling each other and was standing on end. Staring at herself in the highly polished stainless steel doors of the elevator, she tried to smooth down the flyaway hairs escaping the tight bun she’d tortured her waist-length hair into that morning. Despite spritzing her thick curls with water, plastering it down with an old-fashioned hair lacquer, the shorter strands insisted on reaching skyward.

“I look like a walking dust bunny!” Davan complained as she allowed her shoulders to sag in defeat.

It hadn’t help that she’d bumped into Lieutenant Ja’Klyn as they both hurried to the elevator earlier. Ja’Klyn’s cup of hot chocolate had splashed onto the front of Davan’s freshly pressed white uniform shirt and left a dark stain just over the right breast.

“What’s with your hair today, Davie?” Ja’Klyn inquired. He also was staring at Davan’s reflection in the mirror-like doors.

“I don’t know,” Davan complained with a whine. “When I got up, it was sticking up like this. Nothing seems to help!”

“Don’t tell me all that tumbling around in the sack last night did that to your hair,”

he said. “I’m good but I ain’t that good.”

“Get over yourself, Veesi,” she insulted him. “You’re adequate at best.”

Ja’Klyn pressed against her. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t you sigh something like, ‘Oh, Ja’Klyn, you really know how to trip my trigger and flip my switch’?”

“I did not!” Davan replied with a snort. “As I recall you were playing with your own trigger.”

“Did I leave your switches un-flicked, Shanahan?” he inquired, one dark eyebrow lifted in challenge.

“No,” she said, “but you certainly didn’t curl my hair, either.”

Ja’Klyn turned to look at his companion’s mussed hair. “Well, I might not have curled it, baby, but it sure looks like I made it stand up to attention.”

“I look like a hairball,” she lamented.

The young officer’s lips twitched. “You could always do a Khadeeja,” he quipped. 4

Pleasure’s Foehn

Davan threw her elevator companion a squint-eyed look. “And you could always do a Majib,” she responded.

Ja’Klyn winced. “Ouch,” he said, flexing his shoulders. “That was cutting pretty low, Davie.”

Both burst out laughing and as the elevator door swooshed open on the main deck, they were still chuckling. Bidding one another a good day, they went their separate ways—Ja’Klyn to the bridge and Davan treading reluctantly to the captain’s office. Yeoman Orion glanced up from her computer screen as Davan entered and did a double take. “What happened to your hair?”

Davan sighed heavily. “I wish I knew.” She nudged her chin toward the door to the captain’s inner sanctum. “Is he ready for me?”

“He’s on a conference unit with Fleet Command. It’ll be awhile, ma’am.”

“Should I come back?”

“It won’t be long. I suggest you wait,” Orion said and was unable to take her eyes from Davan’s frizzy hair.

Feeling the weight of the yeoman’s stare like a heavy stone on her shoulder, Davan hung her head and walked over to a chair, taking a seat.

“Do you know how long Lt. Chid is going to be in the brig, Doc?” Orion asked.

“No, I don’t. Why?”

Orion shrugged. “Lt. Kenna is a good friend of mine. I told her to leave Lt. Veesi alone but you’re a friend of his. You know how he is.”

Davan blinked. “I don’t understand. What about her and Lt. Veesi?”

The yeoman lowered her voice. “He’s been
seeing
both of them, Doc. Chid found out about Kenna and then all hell broke lose.”

Shocked by the revelation, Davan’s day just got even worse. She slumped down in the chair and buried her eyes behind her hand.

What should have been only a few minutes turned into an hour and Davan felt herself dozing off. As she drifted on a languid cloud of relaxation, her mind wandered back to the night before when she had discovered a remarkable bliss in the arms of Ja’Klyn Veesi…

It had started with a stroll along the promenade in the Regent Room on the holograph deck
under a misty moon woven with strands of fog. Waves gently lapped the creaking wood as they
passed over the arched bridge and the smell of night jasmine filled the air.
Her hand was tucked possessively in the crook of Ja’Klyn’s arm, her fingers resting on the
soft brocade of his coat. The clank of his sword as he walked made her feel safe as they strolled the
midnight air of Olde Towne.

“There is a sweet softness to the night that rivals the silk of your skin, milady,” Ja’Klyn
complimented her.

5

Charlotte Boyett-Compo

“Go on with you, sir,” Davan responded. She could feel the heat of her blush as it crept
across the low décolleté of her fashionably cut ball gown and lifted her free hand to whisk the air
surrounding her face with a delicate ivory lace fan.

“Shall we sit awhile?” he asked, arching his hand toward an ornate wrought iron bench.
They had this particular suite of the holograph deck to themselves, having booked it well in
advance of that evening. The door was securely locked and no prying eye was there to see what
went on in the privacy of the program Ja’Klyn had written for them.
Davan gracefully swept the skirt of her satin gown aside and sat down, sighing as Ja’Klyn’s
arm went behind her back to pull her gently to him. She laid her head upon his broad shoulder.

“I fear I drank far too much champagne at the ball, Lord Veesi,” Davan said, fanning the air
more briskly. “I am surely overheated.”

“Not as overheated as I hope to make you, my love,” her companion responded and crooked
his finger under her chin to tilt her face up to his. With sweet perfection, he claimed her lips with
his and drew upon their honey.

Davan’s pulse quickened as she felt his hand move to her breast and mold around the
softness.

“Milord Veesi!” she whispered and sucked in a quick breath as his thumb hooked downward
past the pale blue satin to pluck a turgid nipple from its precarious covering.
She dropped the fan and threaded her fingers through his thick brown hair as he trailed light
kisses down her chin and throat and onto the shivering expanse of her chest. When his mouth
closed over the exposed nipple, she let her head fall back, giving herself up to the delicious plying
of his practiced lips.

Somewhere in the distance a loon called to its mate and was answered in a mournful echo.
The water lapped against the shore behind the bench and lent a rhythm to the night, which
seemed to imitate his actions—swelling and retreating, washing over and laving.

“Sweet,” Ja’Klyn said as he dragged his tongue over her sensitive peak then nipped the
swollen bud with his teeth.

“Ahhhhh,” Davan moaned.

His firm hand was on the skirt of her gown, pulling upward with gentle and smooth little
tugs. As the fabric retreated from her stocking-less legs, she felt the chill of the night air and the
damp of the mist pebbling her flesh.

“You are the most beautiful woman in the entire kingdom,” Ja’Klyn told her. “Surely, I
believe, the most beautiful in the entire world.”

“No,” she protested as his fingers slid along the curve at the underside of her knee.

“Aye, but you are.”

He took her hand and pressed it to the front of his britches. “He thinks as I do,” he whispered
in her ear. “Do you not feel his great approval?”

Beneath her hand, Ja’Klyn’s cock was as hard as iron. It leapt at her touch and seemed to
grow even larger beneath her palm. She withdrew her hand from his grip and placed it at her
throat.

“You go too far, milord,” she protested.

6

Pleasure’s Foehn

“Not nearly far enough, milady,” he disagreed and slipped to his knees before her, gently
shoving her skirts up around her hips and pushing her legs apart so he could position himself in
front of her.

“Sir!” she gasped. “What are you about?”

“Nine inches, give or take a few,” Ja’Klyn mumbled and dipped his head between her legs.
Shocking sensation spread over Davan like a warm blanket on a cold night. Shivers of
excitement rippled through her lower body and she buried her fingers in Ja’Klyn’s sable curls
and held on as though he was her only anchor in a passion-swept sea. As his tongue slithered
along her thighs and briefly touched the swollen bud of her passion, she let out a yelp that
brought a chuckle from deep in his chest.

Before she could stop him, his mouth had latched onto that pearly button of pleasure, and his
wicked tongue was making quick little stabs along the sensitive nub.
Warmth moved through the lower part of her belly and she began to pant as sensation after
sensation built within her. The heat of his tongue, the smoothness of it dragging along the folds
of her vagina was exquisite and when he flicked that devilish muscle into the core of her—

stabbing deep—she let out a shriek of pleasure that brought her back to wakefulness.

“Ma’am? Doctor Shanahan?”

Davan’s pale green eyes snapped open and she jumped as Yeoman Orion’s face swam into view over the lusty smile of Ja’Klyn.

“What?” Davan queried, shaking off the last remnants of her bawdy dream.

“I asked if you were aware you have a blotch on your shirt?” Orion inquired. Davan looked down at the offending stain. “Aye, and I should have changed. If I’d known I was going to have to wait this long—”

A chime sounded on Orion’s Vid-Com and the yeoman informed Davan the captain was ready to see her.