(My second story, continuing from the last on the theme of the cabin. This time we have a young Jane Seymour. I write my stories with inspiration of a celebrity I find attractive, but try to write in a way that it could just as easily not be about them if you were none-the-wiser. I'm a fan of long hair, passionate encounters, and just generally people being nice to each other. Please let me know what you think in the comments, and if you're interested, the first story in this series is Ariana and the Cabin. I may do another some time with Jane older. Girl's still got it!)
Jane and the Cabin - '79
The warmth of the log fire hit her immediately as the door closed behind her, soothing though causing the slightest itch to her neck as her body adjusted.
"here, let me".
The mystery man relieved the nape of her neck with a light scratch, without her having to open her mouth.
"thank you".
He slipped her coat from her as she walked further into the cabin, absorbing her surroundings.
She wore a thick, cream-coloured, oversized sweater, matching the rug beside the fireplace over to her left. Her trousers were a crisp white, hugging her slim frame though not allowing for much movement. The walls of the cabin were wooden, as were the floors, save for the tile behind the stove in the kitchen area on the right. Her white trousers matched the counter tops, and though the area was poorly lit, they appeared to glisten. The main source of light in the room came from the fireplace. It was late, dark out, and this is where she'd found herself.
Jane was in her late-20s, and a beautiful woman. The burden of such beauty meant she rarely spent much time single. Having already married twice she found herself wary of getting involved with men so soon after a breakup, but a woman has needs.
Her hair was in a large bun, though looser at the front which provided great height to her hair. The fringe curled up and over like a thick brown half-moon, fastened neatly by the bun at the back. The bun comprised of two thick rings, circlets, each formed by what must have been tunnels of hair a few inches in girth. They were held together somehow by a pin...Bobby never quite understood how that worked.
She pointed at the treadmill in the corner of the living area. A little out of place.
"A Christmas present." Bobby said. "I haven't given it a go yet".
Jane sauntered over to the machine inquisitively.
"Now this will sound like a strange request. But do you mind if I have a quick go? I've always wondered what the fuss was about".
She had a British accent. Formal. The sort of well-spoken British Bobby imagined was more of a rarity over those parts and reserved for those a little more... proper, innit.
"By all means" Bobby responded, curious.
Her bun wobbled a little as she emerged out of her thick sweater, laying it on top of the box of fairy lights beside the sofa. Bobby's attention was caught immediately. He watched it as the bun moved and stilled, a conglomeration of hair packed neatly into a sultry mound on her head. Glorious.
Beneath she wore a tight vest, turquoise and-too hugging her skin. Right now he could only see her from the back, but she had a lovely figure. Not especially voluptuous or unique, but slim, maintained, it was very pleasant in the outfit she wore. She switched on the treadmill and turned to smile long enough for him to catch a brief glimpse of her front, where her nipples protruded beneath her vest. Her breasts were modest, which fit her figure well, and so she didn't feel the need to wear a bra often which, to be honest, suited her well as she preferred feeling more free. Living like this however meant she had become so accustomed, it no longer occurred to her that if she were ever cold or excited while wearing a tight-fitted top, her nipples would be a dead giveaway. It certainly wasn't cold in this cabin, she just hadn't planned for the latter.
She started with a walk, testing for a few paces before increasing the speed to a light jog. With each step her bun bounced behind her, up and down, increasing in ferocity it went faster. With each bounce Bobby shuddered, his breath becoming shakier.
Fuck.
"Can you help me stop it, I can't work out how?" Jane shouted back, not yet breaking a sweat.
Bobby darted over beside her and climbed up a little to reach the controls. He was close enough to smell her perfume, subtle and floral, and took the opportunity to look up at her face and hair again. Mistaking himself as a man who could multitask, he missed the buttons entirely, and had to turn back sharply to slow the machine to a stop. Jane really was breathtaking, he thought.
"Sorry, I-"
As he turned back to her he saw her eyes were wide, eyebrows raised and she was smiling with her lips closed tightly. She wasn't returning his gaze, no, she was looking down. He traced her trajectory and saw the unmistakable outline of an erection pinned to his leg by his sweatpants. He yelped and fell back from the machine to the floor in a crash. Jane chuckled.
"My, Bobby. Who'd have thought a little work on the treadmill could be so exciting."
She smiled cheekily, eyes flitting from his crotch to his face and back again. She turned back towards the kitchen, walking confidently now to fetch a glass from one of the cupboards above the units. Bobby hadn't moved, his cheeks scarlet red, he lay propped up by his hands. His triceps quivered as he sturdied himself through the embarrassment. Jane ran the tap and poured herself a glass of water. Had he been mistaken? Had she not spotted his erection at all? She took a sip and looked back over at him before laughing a little again herself.
