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Old 04-02-2016, 04:34 PM   #26
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Lydia jumped at sound of his voice, she had thought he would leave after the way she had been so dismissive. Then she felt his hand on her arm, turning her back around as he spoke to her, while her heart beat wildly at his body being so near to her.

Watching his face as he told her of his plan, she wondered why he would even concern himself with her and the widow. She paled. No one knew of the widow’s demise. She was still laying inside the cabin on the floor.

With George holding her hand, she stammered, “Geo..George…the…there’s no need. The widow. I found her this morning on her floor. That’s what this is for…” she pointed to the dirt behind her. “I was going to bury her quickly, so no one would find her after your sister’s accusations.” She almost said ‘ridiculous’ accusations, but Lydia had just been hiding personal belongings of the widow. The accusations weren’t quite so ridiculous, but George didn’t need to know that. No one did, which was why she was here half-naked in the garden with him holding her hand.

She pulled her hand away, whispering harshly just in case someone was near enough to hear. Voices carry in the quiet woods. “If you really want to help me, George, then help me bury her before others come to arrest her and find her dead. Surely, with such accusations, they will never bury her in the church yard, anyway. My fear is that they will dishonor her body in some way. No one deserves that – witch or not!”

Lydia waited, looking at his face as her words sunk in. What was he thinking? Would he still help her with the widow? Should she go with him to the cabin until things quieted down? It never crossed her mind that is she left with him and spent time alone with him, that the rumors to follow might be just as bad as being called a witch!
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Old 04-06-2016, 09:26 PM   #27
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George swallowed hard, chewed on his lip. “I-I’m sorry,” he studdard. “About … her, I-I mean. I know you were … close.”

She had pulled away from him. Not initially, not like she rejected him, so he took that as solace. Yet he felt bad for sounding so forceful, so demanding.

It was what was needed though, and Lydia was true about something, the widow likely wouldn’t be buried at the church. So there was nothing else to do but to follow her request. But he thought to ask for. “That is why you are … umm … you are dressed like ….” He waved his hand down her lightly clad body. “I mean, I didn’t mean to come across you like this …. But I can see … it would be ...dirty work.”

With a cough, he ran his hand through his hair and thought, action is what is needed. “Here, so you don’t have to worry about your clothes.” He reached for the shovel and took with it right away, digging away in the dirt. On the warm day, it only took a couple of shovel fulls to start to sweat, but no doubt he will make faster work of the grave than she would. Within a minute, it became that her state of dress made more sense to him.

“I hope you don’t mind,” and with quick work, he had his own shirt unbuttoned, tossed to the side, and now barechested got back to the grave.
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Old 04-06-2016, 10:30 PM   #28
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Lydia had blushed a deep red as he pointed out that she wasn’t dressed properly. He didn’t seem to judge her, though, understanding the she was avoiding the dirt that would surely be covering her if she had remained fully dressed. Standing there empty-handed as he took the shovel and started to dig, she tried to think of what she could do to prepare the widow.

Finally, she decided to return to the house to gather some blankets, but before she left, turned back to thank him. Lydia’s mouth opened wide and her hand flew to her mouth as she saw George remove his shirt and toss it aside before he started digging again.

“Of…of…of course. Do as you suits you,” she stammered, “I’m going inside to gather things.” Lydia took a step backward, and another, her eyes still of George’s naked chest. The muscles were rippling with each of his movements. Turning around, she ran around the corner of the cabin and through the doorway. Once she was inside, she leaned against the closed to door still her pounding heart.

Dear me, he is magnificent.

She went to the sink board for a dipper of water and drank it, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as her mind continued to see him with the shovel in his hand.

Shaking her head, she went to the bed to strip it. She would need something to wrap the widow in. It also occurred to her, if they were going to hide, they would need to take blankets and food. In the middle of the bed, she began to fold and place blankets before going to the cupboard to gather things to wrap inside the blankets.

When she was finished, she grabbed the water bucket and dipper, and went back out to where George was digging to see how far along he was, and to offer him refreshment. She tried not to raise her eyes, but she couldn't help herself.
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Old 04-09-2016, 03:37 PM   #29
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Soft ground made digging quick work. Shortly, George had created enough of a hole to be a shallow grave. Shallow, yes, maybe disrespectful, but if one was not to be buried on consecrated ground of the church, doing so in the ground one has tilled with their own hands is the next best.

It was, however, difficult and dirty work. Sweat glistened over his torso, and accent the shape of the muscles straining with each shovel full. The dirt attached itself to the moisture and started to cover him in a thin layer of brown. The work made him thirsty, and just as he was considering stopping to find refreshment, Lydia appeared by his side with a bucket and dipper.

He took the dipper with thanks and took a long swig of water. As he did, Lydia unmistakably laid her eyes on him. George didn’t know really how to act as she did. It was, of course, his thought that only girls were attractive, that there would be no reason for a someone like Lydia to seem distracted by his state of dress, not a good girl like she. Subconsciously, however, he took longer to take the drink, reached up with his hand and brushed his skin along his chest, and as he lowered the dipper, allowed his hand to slide down his stomach.

“I-I’ve … grown a little … d-dirty,” he studdard. With a little grin he turned away from the attention. I think I have the grave large enough. I don’t believe I will get it deep enough, but this may do; if you think it is proper.”
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Old 04-14-2016, 12:09 AM   #30
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Lydia tried to divert her eyes, but there was no way that she could turn away. She felt as if under a spell of sorts, watching him drink from the dipper as his hand brushed against his chest…his strong beautiful chest. She shook her head admonishing herself, I must stop thinking these things! Still, there he was in the mid-day sun, half undressed and sweaty and covered in dirt, and she couldn’t help but want to touch him, to brush the dirt from his face.

Her eyes lingering, she started to speak, “Uhh, yes…yes.. I do believe you are right, George.” He handed the dipper back to her and, finally, she was able to move her feet and walk around him so that her back was to him. Looking at the grave, she continued, “Even if it weren’t, it would have to be. We don’t have much time, as you’ve said before, and the sooner we finish this, the sooner we can be on our way. I’ve gotten some provisions from the cupboards for our journey.”

As she finished speaking she turned back around and, without looking, moved past him on her way back to the house. “I will need you to help me move her, George.” By the looks of him, he could probably carry her himself, but both of them would be needed to wrap her in an old quilt before taking her anywhere.

Once she reached the corner of the cabin, she turned her head to see if he was following. Sure enough, he still stood where she had left him, watching her. “George! Are you coming or not?”
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Old 04-20-2016, 09:07 AM   #31
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As Lydia walked away, George kept his eyes on her from. With the exception of his sister, which to George isn’t an acceptable comparison, he had never been offered so much of hint what a female could look like under their garments. Now that he spent a fair amount of time seeing Lydia state of undress, he began to wonder what it would be like to hold her like she is now, to feel her against him, to do what truly is unmentionable. When she turned to see if he was coming, he was caught off guard … caught literally.

He was ashamed. A day when the woman she was closed to passed and now has to be buried. A day when she needs to hide from certain accusations of witchcraft. A day when George convinced her to leave all she knows for her own protection. What must she think of him to so rudely stare at her body.

George grabbed his shirt, slipped it on and quickly buttoned it. At least he will give the widow enough dignity of being clothed. Entering the cabin, he immediately noticed the widow, prepared for burial; but glancing to the side he noticed the gathering of blankets. She had prepared to leave with him, something that made his heart begin to beat so heavy that he was afraid she could hear it. Wordlessly, his head cast downward, he moved to help move the widow. Seeing that it would not easy to move her, George took it on himself, lifting the woman into his arms and carrying her from the cottage. He quietly moved to the grave, placed her into it, and stood back up solemnly.

“Did you need me to give you some time for your farewell?” he asked sheepishly, still trying to avoid looking at her at this sad moment.
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Old 04-24-2016, 09:44 PM   #32
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Lydia pushed aside the thoughts of his naked chest. This was no time to be thinking carnal thoughts. This was a time to reflect on the widow’s life and to bury her. She had already determined to say a protection chant, so that the widow would not be found, and if she was, that the body would not be desecrated in any way. Following George back out to where the grave had been dug in the garden, she prepared her heart to say goodbye.

She watched him placing the body in the freshly dug grave and her tears started to flow. This woman had been her friend for the last three years, and she had come to love her dearly.

“Yes, George, if you don’t mind. I’d like to say my goodbyes. I’ll be as quick as I can, I promise.” Lydia whispered to George before kneeling in the dirt. She didn’t look back to make sure he left, there was no need to. She knew that George would be a man of his word and give her the privacy to say goodbye as he had said.

Leaning forward, she tucked the widow’s hair under her bonnet. Before George had come to the cabin to get her, Lydia had taken the scissors from the widow’s sewing basket and had cut a length of hair from the widow, and tucked it into a piece of cloth to put in the book that she had hid. She would come back for it one day, when the accusations against her had died down, if they were actually made to begin with. Right now, her focus was on saying goodbye.

Folding the widow’s hands across her bosom, then, closing her eyes she whispered, “Protect this place from all that is dark. Protect all who dwell here. Protect this place where a body resides. Protect with light that is true.” When she had finished, Lydia took a hand full of dirt and let it fall between her fingers to land on the forehead of the widow. Reaching into her bosom, she took a small packet of rocks that she had been setting aside and placed them beside the body. When she was finished, she covered them with dirt, then stood wiping the dirt from her hands and went to find George so that they could finish the burial and gather the things she had set aside. If Ann truly was making accusations, there was not more time to waste in hiding.
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Old 05-04-2016, 09:23 PM   #33
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George tried to remain busy, something to do inside the house so that he didn’t get distracted. So much to do, so much trouble, and Lydia, sweet innocent Lydia, now to be so close to him and so reliant on him.

Yet there was little for him to do. Lydia had prepared much for their departure, with blankets and things set up and ready for easy carry. The cabin seemed to have extra herbs and plants around the place than he expected, but surely that is not something they would need to take with them. He wandered through the small hovel and looked about at the simple things. As he did, he found himself moving to the doorway, peeking out to Lydia as she sat next to the grave. He noticed she was doing something over the body, like moving some items around. It was odd, strange, like she was covering something up. The actions confused him, unlike the many graveside actions any he had seen.

Yet just as quick, she seemed to be ready to get up from the grave. He slipped back from the door and waited awkwardly. In a short time she arrived at the door again. George quickly said without looking up to her, “I will finish with the grave. It shouldn’t take too long. If there is a sack or cart or something, best you prepare what you have for the hike ahead. It will be an hour’s walk at least to the cabin.”

With those words, he moved back out to the garden, and began to cover the widow for her eternal rest.
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Old 05-09-2016, 11:11 PM   #34
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When they were finished, Lydia went to the well to draw water for both of them to clean themselves. It took three draws, but they finally were well rid of the dirt, and they were both properly dressed once again.

“Thank you for your help, George. I don’t know how I would have been able to do it by myself.” In truth, she didn’t think that she would have been able to do it, and would have been forced to seek her father’s help. She was glad that she didn’t have to do that, father was busy at the homestead and this would have taken him away from his chores for far too long.

“I’ve set aside some things that we can take. I’ve placed them in blankets, one for each of us.” She blushed hoping that she hadn’t presumed too much that he would want to carry anything, or that he was still interested in hiding her. Since he had arrived she had been waiting for others to show up and force her to answer their questions.

Perhaps George was wrong about his sister. Perhaps Ann would simply heal and nothing would ever be said. In truth, Lydia had wished no ill on her and she could simply stand before the town and say so in good conscience. What she couldn’t do was answer any other questions without George finding out the truth about her. If he knew the truth, she was sure he would take her into custody himself instead of trying to help her.

It was better to keep her mouth shut.

“I’m ready whenever you are, George. Do you think we will make it there before nightfall?”
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I will not be another flower, picked for my beauty and left to die.
I will be wild, difficult to find, and impossible to forget


And though she be but little, she is fierce ~ Shakespeare


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Old 05-24-2016, 10:34 PM   #35
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“Surely we can,” he responded with a light smile. “Though the sun may set by then, but it is not so far.” It felt natural to him to focus on the duties of their preparations. In quick order he had the blankets wrapped tight, making quick straps to tie them to his back for easier carrying. One for her, one for him. “Most of it is on the main road to Londonderry, but the last bit will go along some of the lakes we used to hunt deer and turkey.”

When it seems it she was ready as he was to leave he paused slightly and looked at the woman he charged himself to protect. He pursed his lips, as his eyes once more fed off the simple beauty of her flowing hair, her glowing skin, and her enchanting smile. He coughed slightly, turned away embarrassed by how such a pretty girl could have an effect on him and tried to hide the color on his skin.

“It is an easy walk, but we should move quickly.”

They had set off, and it was as he said, an easy walk. In no time, they were down the road a good distance, the town becoming further and further behind them and the woods becoming deeper. The sun was starting sink lower in the sky as evening began to threaten. In an attempt to keep her comfortable, George tried to bring conversation.

“It was good you were able to see Widow Cooke. See to her, I mean. You must have been a good friend to her.”
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Old 05-27-2016, 04:36 PM   #36
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The farther they were from town, the narrower the path had become. No longer wide enough for an ox cart, Lydia had taken to walking behind George and she was certainly glad at this point. His comment had caught her off-guard, causing her to look up, her face fill with fear. What could she tell him? How much should she divulge?

“I have … I knew… sometimes…” she faltered as she tried to think, hoping that he wouldn’t notice. Her pace slowed, increasing the distance between them, as she struggled with what to tell him. Finally, she simply told what was truth, leaving out the details that could cause her trouble.

“We had met a few years ago and she began to teach me about tending to people who had fever, the different teas and tinctures that one could make. Widow Cooke became a dear friend to me and, when she took ill, I tried to return the favor. I’m only sorry that I wasn’t there when she needed me.” Lydia sighed heavily. She was aware that there are just some things you can’t avoid, death being one of them, but perhaps if she had been there, the widow would have remained in bed.

By the time she was finished, she had caught up to George. Thankfully, he hadn’t noticed her falling back and pondering before she answered a simple question. “George, does your father never come here anymore? Do you think that they will start to look for us here?”
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I will not be another flower, picked for my beauty and left to die.
I will be wild, difficult to find, and impossible to forget


And though she be but little, she is fierce ~ Shakespeare


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BFG's Hideout * Daddy's Little Girl * Men in Kilts * I Love a Hairy Chest
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Old 05-30-2016, 06:12 PM   #37
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There was something in Lydia’s response that George found confusing. He expected some connection like one would hear of a grandparent or another loving family member. She mentioned, however, the way the widow took on the role of a teacher. The rumors of Widow Cooke were far from those of others accused of witchcraft, but … well … one does not tend to talk about tending people and teas without an eyebrow raised.

Before George really had a chance to consider another question, she had questions of her own. At first he tried to consider a response but then decided now was the time for honesty.

“I guess, I haven’t thought about what my father would do, or if someone would look for us. All I could really think of is to get you away from there, and the cabin seemed as logical as any. That is, we go there when the deer and moose are in rut; which isn’t for months.”

They reached the turnoff, a small trail that worked itself shortly to the edge of a long lake.

“If they set-out to search for you, it may be time before they realize that I am helping you. Then there are many options they could think of before they send out a party this way. At that point, who knows, maybe my sister’s rash will …” He stopped for a moment, smiling a moment and looked over his shoulder at Lydia. “Did I tell you? How I knew it was foolishness from my sister? She showed me a rash last night across her back. It was from poison ivy, I am sure of it; and last week I knew she took a walk with William Baker and was gone the whole of the afternoon. Where she had her rash one can only get if they rolled in the grasses.” Blushing slightly, he tramped on through grasses assuring him they are the only to have walked this path in weeks. “I shouldn’t spread such awful rumors about my own sister, but seeing that she spreads more dangerous and less truthful ones, I thought I could speak it to you at least.”
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Old 05-31-2016, 10:34 PM   #38
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Lydia listened carefully as she followed behind George through the grass, she needed to know how soon others would come looking, how safe they were. She wasn’t prepared for the sudden turn he took in the conversation as he told her about Ann and her rash, and she blushed at his insinuation that she had lain with William Baker.

“Surely you aren’t saying that she…that they…her clothing…” she stammered as she tried to think of a way to say things without coming out directly with it. She would be embarrassed if her brother were to say something like this about her; more so if it were true.

“Are you saying that she has poison ivy from being indiscreet with him, but that she will use that to prove that I’ve done something to harm her?” she asked incredulously. She shook her head, still disbelieving her old friend would do such a thing. “If she had a rash such as that, she could have come to me and I would have helped her with it.”

Too late she remembered to hush and not speak of the things she had learned. It was better for now to forget those things and wait until time had passed before taking up healing again.

Darkness was falling and she walked faster to keep the gap between them small. One never knew what animals were in the woods after dark. He had said that it would be too far, and she was hoping that they would soon arrive. Her belly was rumbling already.

“George…do you think you mother might actually be fooled by poison ivy?”
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I will not be another flower, picked for my beauty and left to die.
I will be wild, difficult to find, and impossible to forget


And though she be but little, she is fierce ~ Shakespeare


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Old 06-01-2016, 08:27 AM   #39
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“Sometimes we see only what we want to see,” George replied. “Ann knows it’s true, she says it all the time to me.” George had to bite his tongue at that point. He knew Ann’s intent, to suggest that George can be blinded by what he wants from a girl to not see the trouble that lies with her. In that thought, he dared not to turn back to Lydia and let the blush on his cheeks show. After a breath he continued, “if my mother wants to see proof of witchcraft, that is what she will see.”

They emerged into a small clearing, made from the logs cut down to build the small shed that sat in the middle on the highest ground. It was brown, moss covered, held only a couple of small paned windows, and showed a single chimney where a small hearth could keep a warm fire in the cold hunting season.

“Well,” he started, “this is it.”

He lay down his gear near the front door, and pushed to open it. Immediately, there was a smell of mildew from the months of it lying empty. The floor was wood planks and needed to be swept, but nothing seemed to have dirtied it any worse. Along one wall was a makeshift table and a few tall candles surrounded by the wax of many other melted ones. On the opposite wall was the chimney. Splitting the single room other wise were two beds comfortably sized each to sleep one. Except George noticed a problem right away.

“The roof leaked.” He pulled at the burlap covering over the straw mattress and it immediately started to disintegrate. “Last fall this was fine, but looks like the rain got in. Now it’s just a rotting mess.” He heaved a heavy sigh. “I was sure this would be a good place for us, but … I thought there would be the two beds at least.”
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Old 06-03-2016, 08:29 PM   #40
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Lydia knew exactly what things his mother was capable to seeing in any situation. She hadn’t noticed as a child, visiting Ann regularly and playing outside when the weather had been pleasant. But, as she became older, she had seen a remarkable change in her. The whispers of witchcraft within the colonies had changed many people and, where once there was friendship, there was now suspicion.

The shed was much smaller than she had expected, but it would do for the few nights that they would be here. As she entered behind George, she looked around and saw that it had indeed been emptied for many months, but that it wouldn’t take long to set everything to rights, if only because of the size. It could hardly fit the two bed and the hearth, but it didn’t need to. It was a simply hunting cabin and nothing more.

George pointed out where the roof had leaked, and the damage it had done to the bed beneath it. It almost disheartened her and she opened her mouth to say that they should return to the widow’s cabin, but he had done this for her, come so far out of his way to help her. There was no way she could do that without hurting him, and that she would never do. Not intentionally.

“There’s nothing to be done about it now, George; it’s too late. We’ve had a long day and come so far, I simply want to tidy things a bit and rest. Besides, we will only be here for short while.” She moved further into the shed, her skirt rustling against her ankles. Taking the blanket from her back, she put it onto the table with a soft thud.

Turning around and pushing her hair from her amber eyes, Lydia blushed and continued, “We both have blankets that we’ve carried. It would not be unseemly to wrap in them and bundle together in the one bed. I mean…we should each wrap in our own blanket, not…” Her face flamed brightly.

Why was she forever saying things that he could misconstrue? Thankfully, George was a tender and gentle man, as well as a gentleman…she needn’t fear for her innocence where he was concerned.
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I will not be another flower, picked for my beauty and left to die.
I will be wild, difficult to find, and impossible to forget


And though she be but little, she is fierce ~ Shakespeare


Some of My Favorite Threads:
BFG's Hideout * Daddy's Little Girl * Men in Kilts * I Love a Hairy Chest

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Old 06-11-2016, 11:44 AM   #41
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George was all but resigned to the floor, a fitting place for him so she could rest comfortably. In fact with the coming night, he could almost be sure that he could lay down at the instant after the long difficult day and fade off to sleep in moments. As with Lydia, he began unpacking the blanket and started to prepare it. Then she stated an alternative.

Maybe it was that she spoke directly to him, those soft amber eyes locked onto his own blue pools; they way her hair seemed to spring lightly off of her face, her gentle beauty. Maybe it was the way her cheeks flushed the moment she felt intent on mentioning separate blankets. Maybe it was the natural instincts of his own manhood. Yet no other option could stay with him.

“It would make sense, that we wrap ourselves in our own blankets,” he agreed. His voice was soft, direct, and seemingly gone of concern. “We shall share the bed.”

Keeping his eyes locked on her he began to give her a reassuring smile. “It may not be too late, but I am tired from the day. Unless you wish otherwise, it will just a moment, and I will be ready to rest. I can lay down, turn away, if you wish to … ready yourself.”

He bent, reached for his boots, and began to remove them. His intent to leave his shirt on, sleep in his britches, maybe more than he wished to wear for bed, but the closest to comfort without offense. With his boots off he moved to the end of the bed blanket in hand, turned away from her, and began to remove his pants.
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Old 06-11-2016, 09:03 PM   #42
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“That will suit just fine, George. It has been a hard day and long day, and we are both tired.”

Lydia blushed even though he had simply agreed with her offer to bundle. It was a practice that was mostly used in the winter, under the supervision of a young lady’s parents, of course, but they really had no other choice. He would not rest well upon the hard floor, and there was no need for him to do so.

As George moved to the end of the bed, she turned around without pause. She really had no idea of his intentions, but until he stated otherwise, she would assume that he was making himself comfortable for bed.

Taking that moment to removed her own boots, Lydia tried to determine how much clothing she could remove to be comfortable. It was not as if he hadn’t seen her disrobed for most of the afternoon, so she would sleep in her shift, wrapped tightly in the blanket. Then, her mind began to wander to that place that had memorized the contour of his strong, bare shoulders as he dug the grave for her friend. How his muscles had rippled with every shovelful of dirt. And how he had looked when he had turned to face her.

Her breathing changed as she allowed these thoughts to have their way. Then, she held her breath as she wondered what he would be wearing lying next to her.
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Old 06-12-2016, 07:40 AM   #43
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With his pants removed, he stood back up where just his drawers and shirt. The underthings were white cotton shorts that were cut at the top of his thighs and hung loose tied with just a simple string. He considered removing his shirt, already feeling the warmth of being the potential of sharing a bed with Lydia, At the moment, he dared not look back at Lydia, thinking by facing away from her in such dress is the least he could do to not suggest ill intent. It will be strange enough to lie so close to a girl, unsettling enough to suggest she share the bed with him, to stand in front of her with only a single piece of clothing hiding his manhood would be almost to suggest something far more carnal.

What also kept his back turned to her is the recent turn of events had began to impact those carnal thoughts. The effect being that what normal lay flaccid now grew. It hadn’t reached full mast, but in his state of dress any wrong move would surely make his condition noticeable. Stepping carefully, he moved towards the bed. Yet no matter what he could do, he still had turn here or shift there. He kept his eyes shut hoping that even if he did turn in a way she could see his inappropriateness, he wouldn’t notice her eyes on them and wouldn’t have to face the embarrassment of such poor manners.

The bed was pressed against one wall, and thinking it was at least the proper thing to do, George lay himself on the wall side of the bed. In fact he readied himself with his back against the wall, giving better clearance on the bed for Lydia to take more of the room. It would mean he would face her, but it is better than any alternative.

He did this all wordlessly, quietly. Now that he lay in the bed, he felt too awkward to say anything, that coming and going of confidence escaping at the moment. Instead he looked to her, his dry mouth becoming dryer.
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Old 06-16-2016, 12:22 AM   #44
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She heard George moving about toward the bed and then silence. Closing her eyes she swallowed hard around the lump in her throat and, hoping that he was not looking in her direction, she took her gown off for the second time this day. Draping it neatly over a stool, she picked up the blanket that way laying at her feet and draped it around her shoulders.

Moving backward toward the bed until it hit the back of her knee, Lydia sat on the edge of the bed. This would be the first time that she had ever bundled in a bed with a man and her heart was beating so hard she could feel the blood pounding in her ears.

Tis only George. He is a gentleman. What will people say if they are found this was. Not just an accusation of witchcraft, but an accusation of fornication if they are found. But we won’t be found. She kept telling herself as she lay on the bed next to him and pulled the blanket around her. She could feel the presence of his body behind her.

As she lay trying to quiet her heart and her thoughts, she began to drift off into sleep. After the events of the day, first finding her friend and having to bury her, then the walk to the hunting cabin, there was no way she could remain awake to ensure nothing happened between them.

Her eyes closing, she fell into a restless sleep where her dreams were filled with flowers and songs and the sound of shovels in the dirt. Without knowing it, her blanket fell away from her as she cried out in her sleep.
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Old 06-17-2016, 05:39 PM   #45
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He tried to sleep, but it was hard.

In part because, he hadn’t shared a bed since his sister was a wee one.

In part because, it was hard.

He tried not to watch her disrobe, but he couldn’t help himself. Knowing once more that she was dressed in her undergarments and little more, his youthful member reacted to the vision of her. What made it worse is that when she joined him in the bed, her smell was everywhere. She melt lightly of the flowers she picked and the herbs she tended. Maybe not the most floral of things, but it was clearly Lydia, more than anything else. That alone made him nearly mad with the scent of her.

George remained a stone as he lay next to the girl. There was space between them, but only enough to ensure they didn’t touch. The bed was small. His manhood large. He was sure that any movement would allow the sensitive head to touch against her, even if still confined in his undergarments, behind the blanket, behind her blanket, and through her garments. The heat of the situation made his whole body swet relentlessly, and further began to make him question the whole reasoning to be here.

Did he really believe Anne had cause such trouble that Lydia was in danger?

Did he really believe Lydia was to be hanged?

Did he really think he could be the way that a good girl like her could be saved?

Did he think he would be able to protect her?

Was he sure he could not be the one that is so godly that she needs?

Or worse, would he in some over exuberant stuper could be the one that ruins her?

Somewhere in all these questions and challenges, sleep found him. Somewhere in his sleep, his blanket left his body as well. A darkness surrounded his consciousness until it was gone, forgotten, and left to nothing.

Instead there was a dreamworld, mixed with the dances of white things and flowing sheets of wind. There was the music he could find in the tavern. There were the ribbons that danced through a girl's hair. Somewhere between his dreams and happiness, one could feel the flowing softness of the earth and of the bed. He dreamed of Lydia, smiling at him across a great lawn, dancing on the breeze, her hair full of flowers, her body draped in grasses and leaves. Her smile undeniable. Her happiness intoxicating. He ran across the great lawn, reaching for her needfully. Every bit of what makes her infectious came through in her smile, an unbelieveable smile, and she gave him a wink. Before he reached her, she spun away playfully. His arms swung wide, grasp at her body and pulled her to the ground.

Outside of sleep, George’s arm draped over Lydia’s body, and found her breast. It’s fingers wrapped around it, cupped it, and slid over it’s firm curves. He was far from awaking, but his hand was alive and more than satisfied to feel.
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Old 06-26-2016, 04:30 PM   #46
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Lydia stirred but didn’t wake as his hand moved over her. She was still in the midst of a deep but restless sleep and might have been tossing in the bed if she wasn’t aware on some level that she wasn’t alone. As it was, one foot moved back to lay against his leg and she half turned, her body moving closer to his warmth as the blanket fell further away.

Even in her sleep, she felt the pleasure of his hand on her breast, the gentle squeezing and slow caress of his fingers. She moaned quietly in the dark silence of the night, her eyes flying open at the sound.

It took a moment to become aware of her surroundings. She was so used to sleeping in a room full of others, their noises in the night something she had grown used to, a body next to her in sleep, sometimes on either side if someone had a bad dream. But, the only sound she heard now was silence, the moan that had drawn her from her sleep had dissipated and she was left staring into the darkness.

It was then that she realized that he was touching her. Not just next to her, their bodies side by side, but his hand was touching her, squeezing her breast as she would do sometimes when all were asleep. She enjoyed his touch as much, if not more, though she knew it was wrong. Still, she didn’t move away. Lydia closed her eyes again, but not to sleep. She wanted to experience just the feel of his hand on her breast, to relish it before she moved away. Just a few more moments, then she would do the right thing and turn away. Just a few…but, she fell asleep.
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Old 06-28-2016, 11:31 AM   #47
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The light of morning came in through the broken window, but the cool air of the night still made the room cold. As George started becoming aware of the sunlight, he shifted towards the warmth that lay close to him. It seemed near natural to him the way the warm body curved to allow him to form against it, like a second spoon in a pair. His arm draped around the figure, his hand still comfortable clasped to the presences there, and the wafting smell of flowers lighted to stale cabin. His head shifted against the soft hair of the head next to his until he could nuzzle into it.

It was instinct that moved him to the warm body there. It was instinct to embrace it. It was instinct that felt the need to hold it close.

Slowly, as the haze of the morning passed through his head he started to realize the situation. He was lying next to someone.

To Lydia.

It was not just that he was lying next to her, but laid close. His legs were bent so the front of his thighs touched the back of her thighs. Her back rested against his chest. Her neck was so closed that the hairs on it danced at each of his warm breaths. The way her buttocks curved, they created pressure against his hips. A situation that as he became more aware of their closeness meant that soon enough he could be pressing something else up against those smooth curves. Yet most scandalous of all, his hand cupped her breast. It was not like an accidental drop of a hand over her body, there was no mistaking where it was, no mistaking what it was up against. Since he arose he noticed the nearly subconscious movement of his hand against the firm flesh and through the cloth of her garments he could feel the aroused flesh. And now the fear he had of something arising against those smooth curves was becoming very truthful and insistant.

This was horrid of him, dangerous, shameful.

Yet he could not make himself pull away.

She felt so warm, so supple, so nice to the touch. It was like those too often times he would imagine what it would feel like to be so close against someone like Lydia, if not Lydia herself; and here it was. As much as his mind screamed to stop this and run away in shame, that same instinct told him to continue where he was … even to tell him to push further, to stop at nothing … and every carnal thought that came with it.

The she shifted against him. It was subtle, maybe not even meaningful, but it was not something he could consider the act of a sleeper.

Afraid of whatever answer could come, he whispered, “Lydia? Are you awake?”
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Old 07-08-2016, 04:34 PM   #48
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With the sun peeking through the windows, Lydia slowly woke once again wishing she could stretch as a cat waking from a nap, but she knew she wasn’t alone in the bed. Once she pushed off the foggy tendrils of sleep, she realized that George had snuggled close to her for warmth sometime during the night, molding his body to hers. Worse, she realized the tantalizing dream she had of his hand squeezing her barely covered breast was a reality.

She tried to lie still as she wondered what she should do. So many times in the past few years she had imagined the touch of a man on her bosom, of lying close and sharing a bed with a husband. Never had she imagined that she would be clad in a simple shift and a blanket, unmarried and alone in a cabin with George! The mere thought made her flinch, her bare foot moving beneath the blanket, and she knew that she couldn’t feign sleep any longer.

Lydia heard George speak softly, “Lydia? Are you awake?”

Should she continue to lie as still as possible? Would he think that she was still sleeping if she did so? What would happen if she admitted that she was awake, and that she hadn’t stopped him from groping her breasts as a proper, decent young lady ought. She thought about sitting up directly and moving to the other side of the cabin, but she wasn’t decently clothed.

Well, you weren’t decently clothed yesterday when you were digging in dirt, either!

She slowly took a deep breath, releasing it before she spoke into the early morning silence of the cabin.

“Yes, George. I’m awake. It would be best if you removed your hand. I .. I.. I hope that you don’t think that I would allow such forwardness.”

Her hand slipped down to reach for the blanket that had slipped to her waist during the night, and, as she did, it brushed against George’s thigh causing her to gasp at the feel of his warm body lying so close to her.
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Old 07-10-2016, 02:00 PM   #49
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George felt like his gullet tore in half. So sudden, so deep was his humiliation that he had felt terrorized by it. Her words had little time to sink in before her hand found his thigh, so close to the other problem that came up. The way she spoke wasn’t utterly convincing and not at all meant to harm, but ripped into him like a dagger and shook him to his core.

His hand pulled from her breast, lifted from her body, and he quickly pulled away from her. The heat of being so close replaced with the coldness of the room. If only for the blood of embarrassment across his face left to keep him warm in such dress.

“I don’t think …” he fumbled. “I would never think that about you.”

He didn’t even look at her as he quickly stepped off the bed. Now was he not only trying to hide the persistent stiffness pushing out his thin cotton shorts, but now he fought off an onslaught of tears welling up at his eyes.

On the floor were the pants and shirt he wore yesterday. He grabbed them, and pushed them in a ball towards his crotch to hide at least that.

Not sure what to do, not sure what to say, he blurted, “I am going to … bathe.” George couldn’t look her in the eye, not after that, not after all of that. He moved quickly for the door in his barefeet and stopped as he grabbed for it. “I only wanted to protect you. Please believe that.”

George knew the lake would be cool, but he would bathe in it during the autumn hunting season so it was surely warmer than it was then. He also knew he needed to cool himself off. A cold swim was what they say can take the devil's thoughts from a young boy’s mind. That is what he needed. Something to remove the feel of Lydia’s breasts under his hand, the curve of her bottom against his hips, the smell of her hair from his nose. He needed something to break that from his memories so that he could find the courage to speak to her again, or to look her in the eye anymore.

The water was warmer than he expected, but no less welcoming. With his shorts left at the bank, he swam out some distance until he could feel the water surrounding him. In short order the water calmed him, soothed his mind, soothed his body. He kept swimming, letting the energy needed to push himself through the water burn off that which was in his blood and release the heat of his needs. He swam as if escaping Lydia, escaping his own humiliation. Soon enough, his thoughts slowed, his terror diminished, and he could feel some kind of relaxation. He nearly swam a full circle around the small lake, it’s crystal clear waters now rippled by his own exertions, and slowed to a gentle stroke close to the beach where he entered. He lay back in the water, the morning sun warming him as it crested the trees. Once more he thought about how good it felt to be close to her. How much he enjoyed the feel of her body next to him. It was scandalous, but in a manner it was also what felt right. God had meant a man to lie with a woman, while they were not married, he could see now why God had meant it to be so once they were. The humiliation of being so forward with her still tickled the back of his head, but the lake, the forest air, and the calming of the sun seemed to only remind him of what was good about that night. As if he was meant to just remember that for now.
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Old 08-06-2016, 08:52 PM   #50
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She felt for than saw George get up from the bed. Then sun light wasn’t bright in the room, and she could only make out his figure, otherwise the look on his face would have shamed her. Lydia closed her eyes as he turned and spoke to her, it was then that she heard the pain in his voice which was surely caused by her reaction and her comment.

Of course he wasn’t trying to seduce me she thought as he closed the door behind him on his way out of the small hunting cabin. She had known him since they were little one’s at their mother’s knees, and he simply wasn’t that kind of man.
Still…his hand had been on her breast – she could still feel the heat of it.

Without thinking, she had hurt him. Somehow the words or the tone had caused him discomfort and that was surely was not her intention. Lydia tried to think of why she had said those words, why she had used that tone with him, her mind a jumble of words and phrases until she could finally admit the truth to herself.
She had enjoyed the feel of it there.

Pushing the blanket aside, Lydia rose from the bed and dressed hurriedly, she didn’t want to be caught half-dressed when he returned. Quickly straightening the bed and smoothing the blankets, her mind drifted toward home and she thought of her family and what they were probably doing at that moment. It would be hard for them without her help, but it would be worse for them if something terrible happened to her based on Ann’s deceit.

She looked around the cabin and saw that there was a bucket on a shelf in the corner. Fetching it down, she looked inside first, then put her nose to the edge and sniffed gently, then a little more forcefully. Surely this was a water bucket, but where was the well? Easing the door open she stepped outside and smelled the fresh morning air, breathing deeply she let it fill her lungs.

With a smile on her face, she went around the hunting cabin in search of a well. Surely there was water here someplace… then, she remembered George had said he was going to wash. Where did he go? Where was he now? Looking around, she saw a small path leading into the woods, and set off down the trail.
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