The Completeness of Celia Flynn

Chapter One Ballykillmarrick, Ireland, 1913 As she’d done a thousand times in the past seven years, Celia lay back on the straw, enjoying the feel of Robert’s dark head resting on her stomach. She watched him leisurely twiddling a piece of straw between his teeth. Freddie and Patrick were on either side of her, their heads close to hers. Yet somehow, this time, something was ... different. Her heart pumped harder than usual and her blood ran like liquid fire through her veins. There seemed no better way to spend her nineteenth birthday than here in the abandoned barn of Robert’s family’s farm, staring up at the rafters, surrounded by her three best childhood friends. Except that something was happening to her. The sensation of it was like falling. Only she was lying on her back. She reached out and touched Robert’s dark hair. It was so soft under her fingertips. “Mmm, Ceil, ye’ve an angel’s touch,” Robert murmured. Celia’s breath caught softly. The feel of his hair under her fingertips resonated deep inside her, stirring deep vibrations between her thighs. She lifted her hand from Robert’s head as if he were on fire. He seemed not to notice. She glanced to either side of her. Patrick held his notebook, deep in the act of composing a new poem. All his poems were about her, she realized with a blinding flash. So blind she’d been all this time. His sandy brown hair invited her touch as well. She resisted. And Freddie, to her other side, had just a few days ago described to her his ideal woman. She hadn’t registered what he was saying then, but the description of a slim willowy girl with pale freckled skin and waves of dark long hair had fit her to perfection. None of the three lads, now in their twentieth years, seemed to be on the search for girlfriends, always content to be with her. Nor was she looking, either. She was never happier than she was with her three friends. Friends! What were they then that they caused her to feel this way? These sensations ripped through her body, making her want each one of them in her arms, inside her, their lips against hers? She felt suddenly surrounded, not by her playmates, but by grown men. The pulsing between her legs rose to a pitch and her breasts tingled, her n*****s tightening. She suddenly wanted Robert to hold her and kiss her, to explore her with his hands and mouth. In fact, she wanted the same from Patrick and Freddie. Fear gripped her in that moment. Her skin prickled with its icy touch and her heart set to rioting in her chest as she realized the truth. She loved all three men. They were her life. Terrified, Celia wondered if Freddie or Patrick or Robert had noticed her crash into womanhood. Her breasts rose and fell heavily with her ragged breathing, and she sought desperately to recapture childhood. Suddenly, the fact that she’d been waiting for them to wish her happy birthday went from being an annoyance to a lifesaving topic of conversation. “All three of you forgot my birthday, it seems,” she said in a tight voice. Robert sat up, looking at her sheepishly. “Oh, Celia. I’m so sorry! Was it today? I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” Freddie sat up now also. “I’m sorry, too, Ceil.” He was equally as sheepish. Celia sat up and looked at Patrick, who had now risen up on his elbows. He regarded her shamefacedly. “You should have given us warning. We would have been prepared.” Celia swatted his arm. “I can’t believe you!” Her cheeks burned with her indignation. “I’ve never forgotten any of your birthdays! In ten years of friendship, not once. And this is what it comes to, then, eh?” She looked again at Robert, whose sheepish smile had turned to mischief. A funny tickly feeling fluttered in her stomach. She looked from one man to the next, seeing they all wore the same mischievous look now. A tiny smile teased the corners of her lips. “What’s going on, then?” Robert’s dark eyes flickered in the others’ directions just before the three of them burst into raucous laughter. They jostled Celia gently around, tickling and tumbling her until her hair was mussed and her face flushed bright pink. Finally, when she was nearly breathless, they stopped and let her up. “We had you going there for a bit, didn’t we?” Patrick said, laughing. “Come now, Ceil,” Freddie said. “You really think we’d forget?” Celia, feeling sheepish herself, smiled as she picked bits of straw out of her messy hair. “I’m sorry. I should have had more faith. But we’d been here forever, and no one said a word!” Robert grinned and poked at her ribs. “It wouldn’a worked so well, now, would it, if we had?” Celia crossed her arms protectively over her ribs as she laughed. “No, I suppose not.” Robert reached into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a small box, which he handed to her. “The three of us chipped in for this. Freddie got it in Dublin.” Celia fingered the small red velvet box, the kind that came from a jeweler. “What’s this?” she asked in a whisper as her heart began to jump. “Go on, Ceil,” Freddie urged. “Open it.” Gingerly, Celia lifted the lid, catching her breath when she saw what was inside. A delicate gold chain with a heart pendant nestled in the satiny folds of the box. “I can’t believe it!” She stared at the lovely charm, her heart feeling fuzzy and sweet in her chest. “It’s so beautiful!” She looked up, her gaze passing to each man’s face. They were watching her expectantly. “Do you really like it?” Robert asked. “I love it! Thank you!” “Put it on, then,” Patrick said. Celia smiled. “All right.” Delicately she lifted the necklace from the box. Robert reached out and offered to help her. She lifted her hair up while he fastened it at the nape of her neck, his fingertips brushing her skin as he did so. Celia shivered lightly at his touch. She let her hair down and touched her fingertips to the gold heart now resting against her dress, just under the hollow of her throat. She smiled at them. “Thank you all so much,” she said. “This is the most beautiful present I’ve ever gotten.” “I’m glad, Ceil.” Freddie leaned over and embraced her. In Freddie’s arms, Celia felt the change again, that acute awareness of her three masculine companions. Freddie felt warm and strong in her arms and a strange, languid weakness came over her. Gently, she pulled away and embraced Patrick. Patrick was an athlete as well as a poet and she could feel the sinew of his back muscles under her hands. The heat from his body came through his shirt and before they parted, she caught a whiff of his earthy scent. Robert was the strongest. His father was a farmer and Robert had grown up helping him plow the fields of potatoes they grew. Robert’s chest and back were broad and strong from heavy work. Celia felt the stirring between her legs again as she had when she was caressing his hair earlier. “Happy birthday, Celia,” Robert said close to her ear. Robert’s breath was warm on her skin, and when Celia slowly pulled away, she was breathing more heavily. She could feel Freddie and Patrick’s eyes on her and she felt surrounded by their masculine strength and heat. She began to tremble. “What’s the matter, Ceil?” Robert said. “Are you cold?” Celia shook her head as she stared at him, captured by the dusky velvet of his dark eyes. “No,” she whispered. Robert reached up and touched her cheek. “Your skin is so soft.” “Th-thank you,” Celia stammered. Her stomach lurched wildly and the palms of her hands began to feel moist. How was it that her childhood friends whom she had known her whole life suddenly seemed complete strangers? She felt a hand on her hair, stroking it gently. Glancing ‘round, she saw it was Patrick. He moved closer to her and lifted the fall of her hair to his face, breathing in the scent of her dark waves. Then her hand was in Freddie’s and he was tracing the skin on her knuckles with his fingertips. Her breathing grew heavier and her eyes fluttered closed. Instinctively, she tilted her head back just before she felt Robert’s lips on hers. He pressed down gently at first, then harder, bidding her lips to part with his tongue. No one had ever kissed her before, and she felt a jolt of heat when Robert’s tongue touched hers, tentatively at first, then languorously tasting the inside of her lips. Patrick was still stroking her hair and pressing it to his face, and Freddie, who still held her hand, had put his other hand on her thigh, stroking it down to her knee and back up again, reaching a little farther up her skirt with each stroke. Celia moaned, overwhelmed with the pleasure of being kissed and touched. Robert’s hand had been on Celia’s cheek, his thumb brushing the soft, lightly freckled skin, but as his kisses deepened, he trailed his fingers downward from her cheek to her throat and chest to close softly around her right breast. Tenderly, he squeezed it, lightly rubbing her n****e through her blouse. Celia moaned softly. She felt herself falling backward, not knowing whether it was purely from her surrender or the pressure of their hands on various parts of her body bidding her to lie back. Freddie’s hands were roaming over both her thighs, over her stockings and upward, his fingers brushing the bare skin underneath her garters. The supple skin of her inner thighs tingled under his touch, sending jolts of heat between her legs, causing her woman’s musk to gather and seep out. Celia’s skirt had ridden up, gathering around her waist, and Freddie’s fingers were venturing closer and closer to the moist heat of her s*x. Tentatively, with sweet gentleness, he brushed his fingertips over her underpants where the thin material covered her slit and her moisture had begun to saturate the cloth. Celia moaned with the utter intensity of the pleasure they gave her. Robert and Patrick were taking turns kissing her, each with a hand on one of her breasts, while Freddie continued to run his fingertips lightly along her slit. Perhaps it was then that the fight began inside of her, stirred by the fear she had felt earlier when she knew she loved all three of them. Her mother had never approved of her friendship with the three lads, always telling her they would lead her into sin. Celia loved her mother and wanted to honor her, but she could never bear the thought of staying away from her friends. She craved their company and the light they brought into her life, especially after she lost her father. Then her older brothers began courting girls, leaving them with little time for their baby sister. Over the years, Robert, Freddie, and Patrick had seen her through great suffering, and she loved them. And as long as they had been only like brothers, Celia had been able to ignore her mother’s warnings about sin. But in that moment, with her body’s surrender to untold erotic pleasure, Celia heard her mother’s voice of warning come crashing in, not realizing how strong Margaret Flynn’s influence had become. Celia felt suddenly evil and dirty. Giving her body to one man outside of marriage was sinful enough. But to three? And all at once? Celia’s eyes flew open and she had cried out for them to stop, sitting up in the straw, pushing her skirt down. She covered her face with her hands, crying, surrounded by her three bewildered, would-be lovers. “What is it, Celia?” Robert asked. “Were we hurting you?” Celia shook her head, refusing to look at them. “Then what?” She heard Patrick ask. Glancing up, she saw him look at Freddie and Robert questioningly, but they could only look back at him, their facial expressions equally as confused. She put her face in her hands again. “It’s wrong!” Celia cried. “We were friends!” She continued sobbing. Robert reached out and touched Celia’s arm. “It’s all right, Celia. We love you.” “Please look at us, Celia,” Freddie pleaded. But Celia felt hysteria sweep over her. “I can’t!” she cried. Then, propelled by her guilt and self-loathing, she jumped up and ran out, not stopping until she was back in the village, in her house, locked in her room. She remained there, curled in the fetal position on her bed as the room darkened. Her mum knocked on the door to ask her help preparing supper, but Celia begged off, claiming a horrible headache. A little bit after that, her brother Liam knocked on the door and poked his head in. “Your lads are here to see ye, Ceil.” Icy fear ripped through her body, prickling down her arms and legs. She sat up. “Tell them I’m ill. I can’t come down.” Liam’s dark eyebrows drew together. “Did they do something to hurt ye?” “Of course not. You’re so suspicious. Da wouldn’a asked such a question.” She was clear they’d done nothing wrong. She was the sinner here. “Our da was a dreamer.” Liam sighed. “God rest his soul. You want me to tell them you’re sick?” She nodded. “Aye. I can’t come down.” “All right.” Celia lay back on the bed, fresh tears streaming from eyes she’d thought had gone dry in the last few hours. Oh, God, but she loved those lads! How could this have happened? It was unnatural. Her mum always told her that about her friendship with Robert, Patrick and Freddie. Margaret Flynn was right. Celia sighed heavily and turned onto her side, wishing she could go to sleep and never wake up, especially since now she knew she could never see those three young men again.