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The corners of his lips rode high into his cheeks he smiled so hard. “Yer a real trooper, girl,” he complimented, his hand stroking her pigtail and around to the back of her head. He squeezed her in his arms once more, feeling how delicate her slender frame felt in his strong grasp, lifting her off the ground just a little with the act.
“Say,” he began in a secretive whisper, “since I already gots the fishin’ done for you... how’d ya like ta pop into the woods a bit with me? I got a lil’ shelter nearby. An’ then we wouldn’t have ta worry about yer Pa runnin’ inta us,” he offered hopefully.
“Sure. We have a few hours at least before they’d come lookin’,” she exclaimed after glancing back towards the farm. Her feet were clad in the same, simple sandals and they looked strangely easy to walk in.
“I’d like to see, anyways,” she added.
Grinning with excitement he kissed her lips again fast, “Good! Ain’t never showed no one my hideaway before, hun. You’re the very first,” he declared, unwrapping his arms around her and taking her hand. Leading her across an outcropping of rocks over the creek, they came to the trees upon the other bank. It was another sunny day, and it lit the trail beneath the canopy as they made their way towards what had been his form of solitary confinement before now.
“How long have you been ‘round here?” she asked curiously, obviously intrigued by the strange, new man in her life. She found him so handsome and charming. Her knees were already weak from wanting him, but she had no knowledge of how to express it. All she knew was that touch seemed to be the best way.
He kept a firm hold on her petite hand, his calloused thumb rubbing over and feeling each groove of the back of her palm and her digits. “Months,” he answered with a smile for her and her alone. “Came here ta get away from all the fightin’ an’ death. Even loneliness beats that, Miss Amy, I don’t mind admittin’.”
She frowned at him, but she was still inquisitive, “How come I never ran into you before? I’m here fishin’ a lot...” she trailed off. Her life was usually such a rush, it wasn’t often she got any time to herself. Especially not time alone with a male stranger.
With a shrug he replied, “I live a ways away, an’ often times I’d go further up the creek ta fish an’ clean,” he explained. It took a while to reach his hideaway, but eventually it came into sight or, at least, it neared. It was hidden well beneath the boughs of evergreen trees. “Here,” he announced, leading her around to the secretive entrance, pulling it open and revealing his retreat.
On the inside, it had the look of a mineshaft. Stonework lined with wood. It wasn’t extravagant, but for something he had put together by himself with limited tools in the span of a few months, it was cozy, warm and dry. “It ain’t much, Miss Amy, but it’s mine. An’ yer welcome to it,” he reassured her.
She seemed quite taken by the idea of having his own private place, and she smiled up at him gleefully, “Ohh!” She took a step inside and looked around at the walls, the ceiling, “I love it! I used to build forts and things with my brothers ‘fore they died, but this is way nicer!”
She responded to his secret getaway like an excitable child, positively gushing over it.
Grinning at her enthusiasm, he stepped in after her, leaving the door open for a while. Reaching up, he slid a wood panel in the ceiling, letting in some bough-filtered light through a gap in his hideaways roof. “Was plannin’ on makin’ somethin’ bigger with time. Had no idea your folks was so close,” he explained, watching her appraisingly as he took off his heavy overcoat and laid it aside.
“I don’t ‘ave much, I’m afraid. Can’t offer ya a lot, ‘cause I can’t visit the towns,” he gestured past his shelves and sacks towards a nook at the back where he had set up a makeshift bed. Elevated a couple feet off the ground, it was little more than a wood platform with a bed of moss covered in blankets. “After seein’ ya the other day though, I started gettin’ new ideas fer things ta do round the place,” he smiled as he stepped up beside her, placing a hand on her arm again.
“I don’t need for nothin’,” she told him genuinely, not wishing for him to waste anything on her, “We’re doin’ alright. Not great, but better than most people.” She looked over to him for a long while, scrutinizing him in the filtered light. “When’d you run from the war?” she probed, no malice or disappointment hidden in her tone.
Looking down to her with his handsome, middle-aged face, he smiled at her innocent question. “Jes’ before I came here,” he said. “I saw too many a’ my boys die fer no good reason. Saw too many a’ boys die on the other side too. Couldn’t much abide it any longer,” he said with a hint of pain. Looking into her eyes though, it didn’t last.
“I put in too many years for that stinkin’ war anyhow,” he explained. “Began ta forget jes’ how good life could be. Then I met you, and learned I never knew in the first place, Miss Amy,” he said softly, brushing the backs of his fingers against her pigtail and cheek.
She was so susceptible to his flattery, and her face flushed with his compliments. Everything about her seemed brighter and more luminous when his kind words caressed her ears, and she leaned up to enwrap him in a hug, “I’m glad you left. I wish everyone could come home, you know? Just so simple as that.”
Holding her, he shut his eyes and enjoyed the feel, savouring her compassion. “I wish that was true too, sweet Amy,” he said with a soft dreamy air to his words. “But, if’n that were true, I would never have fled ta this forest. I woulda gone back east, an’ then I’d never have seen you approach that creek, ready ta steal my heart away fer good.”
“I didn’t steal anything!” she protested, softening slightly once she realized what he had fully said, embarrassed by her outburst. She stroked his cheek, “Still, if the Up Above had a plan for us to meet, the Up Above would see to it one way or another. They know what they’re doin’.” It was an unusual religious iconography, drawing from a sect that was thought to be long ago defunct, but she seemed committed.
He had no religious faith after all his years serving, but hearing her talk like that made him smile. It made him harden. He pressed himself to her firmly, “Ya really believe we were meant ta be, sweet Amy? S’that what yer tellin’ me?” He brought his face down to her level, brushing his nose against hers as he stroked a hand down her spine towards the end of her shirt. “‘Cause I sure hope it is. I wouldn’t like ta think I was meant to end up with any but you.”
“Nothin’ happens without reason. It was my time to become a woman, I’m sure of that now. I was ready an’ I knew what was gonna happen the second I saw you. I just knew you were supposed to be the one. I was so scared, but I couldn’t leave ya. You saw that I couldn’t, even though I tried. There couldn’t be any other reason for that.”
A little bit of her naivety seemed to have vanished and he squeezed her tightly, for it made him quake with desire against her. “I want ya so bad right now, Amy,” he declared in a husky low voice, edging her towards his crude bed. “Hearin’ ya talk like that...” he gave a low rumble, almost a growl, “ya don’t know what it does ta me.” But she could have an idea, the hard swell of his cock pressing against her stomach.
She still didn’t have a full understanding of the mature language he was using, but still it excited her in a way that nothing else had. She felt the flutter in her stomach of pure knowing, awareness of what was going to happen, and enthusiasm for the act itself. She wasn’t as shy as the day before, but she was still passive, letting him do most of the work. It was in her religion that the elder teach the youth, and she fully expected him to be quite on the same line of thinking as she.
After all, as secluded as she was, she had never known someone that didn’t share her beliefs.
Nudging her back, bit by bit, towards his bed, he kissed along her cheek and down to her neck, feeling her pigtail rub against his nose as he did. His strong hands felt out her slender form, pushed up her shirt and nudged down her ski
rt at the same time, the materials rubbing at the pert swell of her rear, the side of a breast. “I brought ya inta womanhood,” he reiterated her earlier declaration, the very notion of it exciting him, “an’ we should be together from now on ‘cause of it, Amy.” He clamped his mouth over hers, kissing her long and hard, blocking off any answer for a while before he relaxed.
She agreed, even if he did silence her from answering. She let him guide her, so pliable and easy to move. She was so light and thin that it took barely any strength for him to manipulate her body. There was an excited tremor that kept running through her, and she could hardly wait to feel her second time. First time pain, second time pleasure, she reminded herself excitedly. She knew little of the workings between a man and a woman but the sacred texts did outline certain realities.
Stopping at his bed, he took a step back from her, looking over her slender frame with smouldering desire. He brought his hands up and began to undo his cotton shirt, going down the row of buttons revealing his broad, hard chest and the light coloured hairs that peppered down across his firm abs. With a shrug, he let his shirt fall back, “I barely slept a wink last night thinkin’ on you. Us. Meetin’ again,” he confessed, undoing his pants.
“Me neither,” she admitted in turn, her hands still uncomfortably at her sides, unsure of what to do with them. She still needed guidance, and was too prudish or uneasy to try to touch herself without explicit direction. Still, she didn’t seem to notice her awkward posture as she was so fixated on him. Watching his process of undress was something so different and strangely erotic, she couldn’t turn away.
