In the Forest of the Night & The Barmaid and the Blacksmith

by Lizbeth Dusseau

  In The Forest Of The Night

  &

  The Barmaid & The Blacksmith

  by Lizbeth Dusseau

  ISBN: 978-1-938897-58-0

  A Pink Flamingo Ebook Publication

  Copyright © 2014, All rights reserved

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, by any means, including mechanical, electronic, photocopying recording or otherwise without prior written permission of the publishers.

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  Pink Flamingo Publications

  www.pinkflamingo.com

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  In The Forest Of The Night

  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 nipples 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 clitoris. I was pinching my nipples 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 clitoris. 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 brief
est 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.

  Chapter Two

  Something kept drawing me to Mr. William Sage. From that day, my mind would regularly drift into thoughts of him as I recalled his face, the rough lines and square strong jaw, the deep-set brown eyes, and the gentle expression of amusement that seemed to accompany both my times with him. His eyes looked as if they held some other worldly light that instantly calmed me, when I should have been completely beside myself with humiliation.

  In the quiet times I had with myself and my body in bed, I would think of him in the rudest sort of way. I had often imagined lovers, but never had any taken real form or shape in my head. Now my lover had a name and face and body.

  Several days later, on a day much like the day we met, I set off for my private place hoping Mr. Sage would not unexpectedly appear again. Before I was fully aware of what I was doing, I was surprised to find myself taking the path toward the woods, instead of the more direct route to the wooded glade, and the stream.

  I approached the cabin to see Mr. Sage hauling water for his house.

  “My uncle doesn’t provide you with a better source of water?” I asked.

  “I don’t need one,” he replied.

  I nodded, as I watched his trim naked torso twist and move. I was mesmerized by the manliness of his sweating muscles, wet, raw and dangerous looking, if I were to describe them. I was afraid of the feelings that were coming to mind. I should consider changing my daydreams, I instantly thought.

  “So, to what do I owe this pleasant visit?” he asked me.

  I was shocked out of my fascination with his body, and looked directly into his fierce but kind expression. “I was on my way back to the stream, and stopped by, hoping to implore you to stay away from my private spot.”

  He chuckled. “You must be appealing to my gentlemanly sensibilities, otherwise your announcement would be a tempting invitation.”

  “That is NOT what I meant!”

  “Isn’t it?” He looked totally serious. The man walked toward me so his body loomed over mine. I almost swayed back at his approach, as if he was bowling me down. I would have liked to have clutched my crotch for protection, but I clung to the my bag in my hands instead.

  “Do you fear my touch as much as you do my eyes?” he asked.

  He was standing very close, so close that I felt the heat from his body, and could see the bulging in his pants where his cock was. I think if I’d stayed much longer, he would have leaned down and kissed me.

  To my surprise, William reached out and took the bag from my hands and dropped it to the ground. He breached the space between us, and put his hand at my waist, then moved it lower so it rested on my bottom. I was practically in his arms. It was inappropriately forward of him, but I didn’t balk. Something I was unaccustomed to was taking over my will. It began between my legs, familiar to me as the sensations that accompanied my sex play on the rocks, and in my bed.

  “Do you want me to show you, Isabella, what your body craves?” he asked.

  A simple question, so it seemed. Like his asking me the time of day.

  I pulled away from him, and ran back to my uncle’s house forgetting the reason for my trip. I’m sure he was laughing at me the whole time.

  From the attic, I could stare down at William’s cabin. I could see him come and go on his motorbike. I could watch him mount the heavy metal cycle, make the engine roar, and then appear to fly off down the path toward the road. Strangely, even that act inspired my lust.

  Will’s sure and certain manner intrigued me. I’m sure he knew that too. I sometimes think he had my seduction all planned; but he did almost nothing. I was doing all the work, all the spying, all the coy looks, and all the running after him.

  I thought for a while, with all this sexual preoccupation, that perhaps I was just bored with my life, my studies, my hostess duties for my uncle, and the occasional company of other women my age. I breezed through them all easily, and there was little else to challenge me. But it was clear, even as I was attending to those things, that my mind and heart and especially my body were fixed on the sensuous possibilities of a liaison with Mr. Sage. I wanted a lover, and I wanted him.

  ***

  “Isabella,” I heard my uncle speak as I was sitting at breakfast one morning.

  “Sir?” I was shaken from my private thoughts, and stared up at Uncle Andrew’s concerned face.

>   “You’ve been distracted lately, perhaps you don’t have enough to keep you busy?”

  “Oh no, sir, I have plenty to do,” I was hasty to reply. “In fact, I’m working with the cook on preparations for your gathering on Saturday.”

  Any suggestion that I was educating myself on running a household like this was always encouraged by my uncle, since in the back of his mind, my marriage was an expectation. I know he thought it was his duty to marry me off, though I had thwarted any attempts to arrange things with any young men my age. So far, I’d not found any man who met my qualifications. The haughty youths all seemed much too silly, tied to the strings of autocratic fathers, and swooning overzealous mothers. I searched for a man of independence, of wit and zeal all his own. But so far, I’d been left disappointed.

  “I’m glad to hear that,” my uncle told me. “And that brings to mind another matter.” He took off his glasses, a sure sign that this was a serious talk. “I think you should be looking for a serious arrangement, your best years will be going by and you’ll not find one you like. Then you’ll be desperate.”

  I immediately recoiled at this talk, as I always did. “I will not be desperate! I don’t care to marry young, Uncle Andrew,” I said adamantly.

  “You are a headstrong girl,” he told me.

  “I suppose I am,” I readily agreed.

  “Nonetheless, my dear, there will one very charming lad at the dinner party Saturday. It has been suggested to me that he would take a deep interest in a young woman of your caliber and looks. I would consider him carefully.” My uncle cleared his throat. “For your part,” he had that horrid look of deep concern on his face, “I want you to take this task seriously. You make a big mistake pretending it doesn’t matter.”

  I felt myself first grow cold, then instantly hot. I took a deep breath and squelched a host of things I might have said to him. I didn’t want my uncle to think I was ungrateful, but I didn’t want his help with my social life, let alone trying to arrange a marriage for me. He had to stop this.

  “Uncle Andrew, I’ll help make sure Saturday is a successful event, but now I must really go.” I was breathing too fast, this repeated conversation having become so painful to me. I had to get a breath of fresh air to clear my lungs and my head.