EXTRACT FOR
Everlasting Daylights: The Day the Earth Stood Still
(Patrick Morton)

Drissa Philips rolls over in bed to the chiming alarm on her cell phone; five in the morning on a Wednesday in mid March. She leaves Drew sleeping and will embrace the solitude on this last day of their first real vacation in many years alone. Her designs on a perfect, tropical sunrise calls for only herself, coffee service from the kitchen and no kids or husband. She can still feel the intensity of the rolling thunder found beneath their bed sheets last night.



She slips on a skimpy beach wrap over her pj's from Victoria's Secret just in time for a faint knock on the door to the hotel suite. Answered, an Aussie girl from room service eases the cart just inside the open door.



"Coffee service for your pleasure, miss," the lovely accent about the young lady reminds her of the land down under and how she will be missing it sorely in some hours to come.



"Put it out on the patio?"



"Of course, miss."



A ten spot later and the coming sun will be hers. All hers. She positions the cart perfectly beside her chosen lounge chair, her favorite spot all week, and pours out her first cup while still standing, the front of her robe open to the night air. Parking her cellular phone upon the cart, she clasps the coffee mug with both hands. Bringing the golden elixir underneath her nose, the robust and earthy qualities embrace her soul as her lithe form effortlessly sinks onto the comfy chair, so satiating. Drissa faces eastward, feeling the sensuous ocean breeze waft teasingly about her limbs, her face and hair. The idea of the coming light across the ocean titillates her senses. She sips and revels in everything she feels at the moment, especially the crème brulée flavor accentuating her coffee.



That gentle sea breeze now fingers her hair of a luminous brown, center-parted, shoulder-length, and spread in layers to either side. In the relative darkness, save the wash of light from city fixtures, her tender bare feet find rest on the ottoman. She eases her body back into the soft cushioning and rests the warm coffee cup against her bare stomach contemplating both a refill and the coming bright images of her sunrise.



The pleasant ache in her loin reminds her of the tumble she enjoyed between the sheets with her husband, the School Master.



With their girls firmly anchored in the Disguised Singer show, Drew had assumed the role of Head Master and Drissa was Shelby Jean, the failing student who wanted to get ahead. Her parents were very strict, so hard on her about grades, and so she would do anything to stay in school.



"But, Sir, there must be some arrangement that we can come to," she had pleaded on her knees before him. "There must be something I can do to make you happy."



He cleared his throat, loudly, then spoke, "I'm quite happy in my position of Headmaster at this school and my wife of fifteen years fills in the rest. She loves me."



Shelby drew near and reached out to touch his belt, objecting, "But does she swallow when you cum in her mouth?"



He appeared upset by her touch, offering, "Well, she doesn't..."



She quickly interrupted him, "But I can give you real love and will swallow your cum every... single... time." As she spoke in broken speech, she inched her hands to touch him on the crotch and squeezed the meat inside his trousers.