In The Forest of the Night & Barmaid & The Blacksmith

Chapter One I could feel the passion gnawing at me like some crude obsession. It drove me to that place, my private place. I’d gone there maybe a half dozen times the summer and fall before. It was the first time that spring that the air was just the right mix of warm and cool, and I could sense my body coming alive, wanting to feel the warm sun bathing me with a shower of prickly heat. I followed a path that runs along the stream, hiking back into the forest, coming out into a small open place where there is absolute quiet, except for the sound of the water, and birds, and insects that buzz my ear. I stared up at the trees with their leaves gently swaying against the backdrop of a clear sky. I always assumed that I was the only one who knew about this tranquil spot far from the crowded life. The rock jutting out to the stream is flat, and large enough to act as my beach. I laid out a thick pad, and then a fresh washed towel. Dressed in just a summer shift, I pulled it over my head. This unveiling shed inhibitions from a woman cluttered with them. I removed my white cotton chemise that clung tightly to my breasts, and let them fall free from the encumbrance. Garments can be so binding, I wanted to go without, though I never would in my uncle’s house. I watched my n*****s tighten into hard knots as the breeze made them cool. Goose bumps rose on my shuddering torso, as for that tiny moment of time, I felt free and unfettered. I shed my panties too, and immediately felt the prickly sensations of air across my pubic mound tickling the soft hair. I loved that moment, when at last I was naked to the wide world. The indelible impression was left in my mind from the last time I was there, and I recalled it fondly as I repeated the ritual acts of disrobing. Before, it was the fall of the year, and there had been a musty decadence about my favorite place. Refreshed by spring months later, the glade and the stream and my warm flat rock were going to work their magic on me again. I could already feel it, even before I lay down on the soft cushion I had provided myself. I lay down first on my belly, pressing that gnawing place against the towel and mat which was pressed against the rock. The sun shone down on my bottom as I felt it penetrating me deeper than the skin. There was something crawling in me that started between my legs and spread all over. I lay there against the rock feeling everything that was surrounding me move me deeper into my passion, until finally I turned over so that the sun would hit my breasts and my thighs and belly, and especially that magical spot between my legs. I parted my thighs and felt there with my hand. It was damp. When I looked down at my pubis it was glistening wet. I couldn’t stop myself from moving against the hand that was teasing the tingling folds of flesh. Ever so slightly my fingers probed. Ever so gently my fingers found the hard bud of my c******s. I was pinching my n*****s with my other hand, running it along my warming flesh. I imagined myself with lovers, men of bold passions, and fierce bodies who would do as I was doing to my flesh, and so much more. The day was toying with me like some mischievous imp. A breeze would cool me and bring back the goosebumps. Then the sun would hide behind a cloud, and I’d shiver until it came out again. I shuddered, more alive than ever when the sun came out again and baked me with its heat. Then it became a fire in my stomach, my abdomen and thighs. They quivered the more I rubbed my sensitive c******s. And then, when something burst in me, I clamped my hand against my pubis and rocked in tune with the raw wanton lust that created the conflagration. It was a climax of rude proportions. I had freed myself from conformity, from a world of rules that put these passions in the stuffy bedrooms of closed up old houses. Out in the wilds, I was a passionate women in need, pleasing myself. “Ah such joy!” I didn’t stop touching myself for a long time, as I extended the feelings outward, letting the pleasure drift and float about me and inside me. I felt as one with earth, sky and myself as possible. There was only one thing I could imagine better than this. And that would be the presence of a lover to share my passion with. I was aware. When I began to awaken from my body’s reverie, of noises in the bushes by the stream. I floated peacefully for some minutes not paying attention to the sounds. But when the rustling became too much to ignore, I opened my eyes, and gazed into the face of a man some twenty feet beyond. I sat up, grabbed for my shift and stared at him wide eyed. “My god, what had he seen?” “Please don’t stop, the picture was charming,” he said to me calmly. “What did you see?” I asked anxiously. “I saw a woman pleasing herself,” he informed me without a trace of embarrassment. “What are you doing here?” “Enjoying the spring, just like you,” he replied. “Please,” I was struggling for words, even as I was stunned by the unexpected presence of this man. He was a substantial figure, maybe six feet tall with slightly graying dark brown hair, and clothes that suggested he was some man of the earth, a farmer, gardener or . . . I instantly suspected he was my uncle’s new caretaker. “Please, please leave me, this is private.” I was shivering scared. I didn’t know whether to be angry or concerned for my welfare. But I was genuinely embarrassed. I hoped he hadn’t seen my entire performance. “I was just admiring you.” “Please leave me, you have no right to intrude on my solitude. No gentleman would take such advantage of a woman.” I was blurting out words right and left, not knowing if I made any sense. Certainly, in my flustered embarrassment I must have sounded horribly priggish and whining. “I am no gentleman, miss,” he said with just the smallest smile on his face. “But I have no desire to upset you.” Without another word, he turned and disappeared into the woods. I didn’t trust him not to return, so my day was ruined; and I fled quickly from my once private world back into the austere harshness of my uncle’s. I have dreams, but I can never figure them out exactly. My uncle talks of my getting married, but that sounds so deadly dull, wasting away in some cold mansion, or dreary flat in town. The world around me is filled with starched, stilted men in formal coats and impeccable ties, women in garments that begin at their necks and descend nearly to their ankles. It might be the twentieth century everywhere else, but in my corner of England it would always be the dark ages, or so I believe. Flashy motor cars, great steam ships, and the wild theater of London remain constantly in my dreams, but they have very little impact on my daily life when I live in this grim edifice of decorum. There are lush things in me I’d like to live out, but I don’t know how they will ever be created in my real life. “Where were you, Isabella?” my uncle stopped me in the hallway, just as I entered the house from my fateful excursion. “Out,” I gave him my briefest reply. “You’re not busy now, are you?” “No.” There was rarely anything to be busy about, and particularly this day. I expected weeks of emptiness ahead, until summer, when the estate would be livelier with guests. “Take this down to the cottage at the end of the back road. You know, the one just inside the forest. My caretaker, Mr. Sage, is waiting for it.” He pushed the parcel into my hands; and preoccupied with something else, he strode quickly away. My word! How could I do this? I didn’t want to see that man again. Good god, he’d seen me naked, bringing myself to an orgasm. How was I to face him just an hour later? Yet, I couldn’t explain my concerns to my uncle, so I dashed up to my room to change my clothes. The summer shift was too reminiscent of the confrontation I’d had with the unexpected voyeur. For this occasion, he’d see me in a plain blue sweater and long skirt. At this point, I was so different from the woman at the stream, that I hardly knew she still existed inside me. I suppose I always have been a chameleon of sorts. Finished dressing, I grabbed my uncle’s satchel, and made my way to a stone path that led to the forest’s edge. It should have been a pleasant day, as pleasant as it had been earlier in the woods; but I couldn’t wait to have this deed over with. I was determined to do it with a healthy degree of grace and all due speed. Reaching the clearly demarcated line where the estate lawn ended and the towering pines began, I walked more slowly into the forest, as if there was something sinister about it, as if something might reach out and grab me away. Unlike the pleasant woods by my sunning spot, this was a much darker and foreboding place. I thought it appropriate considering my task. Though I also thought I was being a little silly for having this weird rash of thoughts. Reaching the small cabin, I was disappointed to find that Mr. William Sage was not outside. I knocked on his door, and heard his shuffling on the other side. I’d hoped I could just leave the satchel at his door and tear off back to the house, without having to face him again. But as luck would have it, he opened the door and looked at me as if he expected that I’d be there. “Again we meet,” he said. A matter-of-fact cool accompanied his statement. “Come in.” “No,” I said, much too abruptly, though I really didn’t care. “Oh?” “I mean, I brought this for you. From my uncle.” My tongue wasn’t working right, every word I spoke sounded wrong, at least the intonation sounded anxious and shrill. “You really shouldn’t be embarrassed about this morning,” he said. “I found your physical reverie a beautiful thing to watch.” “You did?” I was quickly blushing, but I didn’t want to appear too flustered. I should be able to accept this compliment and then forget the whole matter. Then again, any proper lady would be shocked to hear a man talking this way under the circumstances. And then again, any proper lady would not have put herself in the position I’d been in earlier. “I really think you should forget about what you saw, Mr. Sage, isn’t it?” “William, or Will if you like,” he corrected me. “I assure you I won’t forget, and I’ll wager neither will you.” “But we shouldn’t speak of it again,” I insisted. “As you wish.” “I’ll be going now,” I told him, and I turned around to retreat back toward the main house. “Isabella,” he called to me, caressing my name with the full tenor in his voice. I turned back. “Come again.” I gave him a half smile. He was charming me, when I didn’t want to be charmed.