The Lighthouse

An erotic romance adventure: It hit at midnight, just as the calendar switched from 1899 to 1900. Waves hitting the rocks sent sea spray twenty feet into the air. The winds raced at near hurricane speeds in what people would later call the New Year’s Day Storm.

Kate stayed up through the night keeping the kerosene lamp burning. It's huge, rotating fresnel lens cast a pulsing light over the sea. Her lighthouse was the only hope passing ships had to make it home safe.

From the moment she’d buried her father two years ago, Kate took over duties full-time at the Deception Island lighthouse. As a young girl she’d help him. Now she did the work alone carrying heavy equipment up and down the hundred-foot tower’s winding stairway, feeding the livestock, hauling logs from the beach, chopping firewood, and all the other tasks that living on an island required.

Lean muscle, earned from hard work, skin tanned by the sun, black shoulder-length hair inherited from her mother, and dark sea-green eyes from her father, Kate would have stopped any man, and possibly some women, in their tracks. She would have, that is, if anyone else lived on the island. She was alone and liked it that way.

By sunrise, the storm blew itself out. Waves that only hours ago threatened seaman’s lives, now looked only two feet high, rolling gently to the shoreline.

Finally, Kate could climb down the stairs and make her way up the hill to her house. But first, she took one last look from the top, scanning the horizon, then turned and looked down the beach. Something had washed ashore. She grabbed the binoculars. It was a body still halfway in the water.

“Oh, my god”

Her flight down the stairs seemed to take forever, as if the 100-foot tower had suddenly become a mile high. She ran along the beach, heart pounding, muscular legs pushing against wet sand.

It was a man lying on his back, face pale, lips blue. She kneeled, putting her ear close to his mouth. He was still breathing but in short shallow breaths. Kate knew she had to act fast or he’d be dead in minutes. Running to the barn she hitched up the horse to the wooden sled.

The sled was meant for hauling logs, but that day it would carry a more precious cargo.

He was heavy, but Kate’s strong arms managed to pull him onto the sled. She urged the horse onto the house. Then dragged the man inside and laid him on the floor in front of the fireplace. She quickly built a fire, ran to the kitchen, fired up the stove, and tossed a blanket into the oven.

As the fireplace warmed the room she started to put another blanket over him but realized his wet clothes would keep him cold. She had to take them off.

Not wanting to waste time unbuttoning it, she tore open his shirt, lifted his back, and pulled the sleeves off his arms. Laying him back down, she rubbed his chest in an attempt to warm him. Then pulled off his boots and socks. She stopped and stood up. She’d been so focused on saving his life that she hadn’t thought about what she was doing. Still, it had to be done. Those cold, wet pants had to come off.

Untying a rope belt, then unbuttoning his pants, she tugged at them. The wet cotton pants were heavy making it difficult to remove. She finally got them down to his ankles and pulled them over his feet.

Only his underpants remained. Soaked through, the cotton cloth clung to him perfectly revealing the shape of his manhood.

Kate decided to leave the underwear on. Somehow it seemed too invasive to strip this unconscientious man completely.

Running to the kitchen, she grabbed the heated blanket from the oven and laid it over him. Then put another one on top of that. His lips were getting some color back, but his breathing was still coming in shallow, shaking breaths.

Kate reached under the blankets, rubbing his chest hard, but he was still dangerously cold. She knew she had to warm him fast or she would lose her battle, and the sea would lay claim to his life.

Desperate, she looked around the room. She’d done all she could, there was nothing else to warm him. There wasn’t any time left, she had to do something. Only one way remained. Kate stripped off her clothes, then crawled under the blankets, wrapping herself around him, hoping to warm his body with hers.

With one leg crossed over him and an arm on his chest, she closed her eyes and gave in to her exhaustion.

Sunlight fell through the West window. It was late afternoon. She’d slept on him for nearly five hours. But it wasn’t just the sunlight that awakened her.

He was stirring.

Suddenly realizing her nakedness, Kate leapt off, covered him back up, and quickly dressed. His eyes opened just as she closed the last button on her pants.

Moaning, the man tried to sit up.

“No, no,” said Kate. “You’re too weak.”

He tried to speak.

“Shhh, quiet now. I’ll get you some hot tea.”

Kate checked the ...