After I cleaned up from the fall I walked back to the farmhouse to throw my muddy clothes into the washing machine before checking the chores list in the main room. I had only been assigned light chores today, like cleaning and trimming the dried garlic. Should have been easy until I realized that while my hands mindlessly did their route tasks my brain obsessed over Angela.
I thought about her high pony tail imagining how it would feel to watch her smile and let me loosen her hair clip to let her dark locks flow over her shoulders and tickle my chest. My lips lusted over the thought of sucking on those sharp nipples I had spied after her fall into the plunge pool and feeling her squirm in delight with my tongue. My fingertips quivered at the opportunity to hold her ass while we might make out on the living room couch that night. Every part of my body craved this married woman who was all alone with me on this little Wisconsin farm and who had yet to speak highly of her hometown husband. I literally could not get soft again for the rest of the day.
I figured, if she was going to make a move and give me the sign to pursue, it would probably be like last night, after I cooked her a delicious dinner. So I started about the garden and picked vegetables to prepare a big pot of chili for when she returned from her hike. The weather started to turn grey and the pot was simmering and ready when she returned through the back door.
I was beaming but the energy was somehow off when she walked into the kitchen. Something had changed. She looked bad, like she had lost all joy. Her brown eyes had turned dull and she didn't even say hi when I popped around the corner to meet her as she took off her shoes in the alcove. Under one arm, she brought some fresh clothes from her Air BnB lodge in order to disappear into the bathroom after downing a glass of ice water I offered her. While waiting, I set the table but knew with all this change I shouldn't get my hopes up. In the alcove I noticed that she also dropped off the binoculars she had borrowed from Gerianne, the farmer, who owned this land.
What had happened, I wondered, as I puttered in the kitchen before deciding on a jar of salsa and a bag of chips as an appetizer. The mood seemed dead already but I felt obligated to feed a weary traveler no matter what. After a long time in the shower, then a longer time after that all while I scrolled on my phone in silence at the table, she stepped out.
Angela's eyes looked puffy and red. She was sniffling. Her hair was in wet strands that clung near her neck before flowing onto a baggy Abercrombie and Fitch t-shirt embroidered with an edgy joke from the 2000s. Below that she wore even baggier flannel pajamas and was barefoot with a few droplets of water still clinging to her toes. She had no polish, just trimmed, natural colored toe-nails
I let her speak first, and eventually she did, "Look, I know you made me a beautiful dinner and you just want to hang out but, like, I just had the worst hike of my life," before I could respond, "I'm okay, I didn't get hurt. Not physically, but I need some time alone," then she gave a long sigh, before saying the rest, "I went by my own property to stop by and visit my husband, I don't even remember why," a tear formed near her right eye, "you see we had a rough month so far and I told him I wanted some time alone, that's why I came here to stay with Gerianne, and..." more tears started to form. "And, saw his new tractor out in the back field, just stalling, which didn't make any sense. So when I looked with the binoculars from the tree line I saw him. I saw hime with his jeans at his ankles, fucking some woman from behind, in the glass tractor cab--" the tears started to fall.
I got up to give her a tissue and she just grabbed my whole torso for a hug. A long one. I could feel the wet spots on my shirt grow from her damp hair. I felt the warm tears on my skin, right under my collar bone where she put her head. Her breasts heaved against me as her hips pressed onto mine; it wasn't anything sexual, but it also wasn't not sexual, just some unspoken part of her dying expectations once promised a partner forever now craving intimacy. The soft smell of subtle herbs and shampoo filled my slow breaths as I tried to help slow down her racing heart pumping through the thin cotton t-shirt. I had nothing to say and neither did she while she held me and occasionally rubbed up or down my back. We stood there until she pulled away and took one of the bowls filled with chili, cilantro, and a dollop of sour cream off the table. "I just need to be alone. I hope you don't mind." The she started for the back door "Thank you, for dinner. It looks great."
Well, that was the end of that. My semi-soft erection was finally gone and it was pretty clear I was not getting laid tonight. At least I had my answer and I didn't have to tiptoe around my own goddam horniness looking for something that wasn't going to happen. Life isn't like a fucking Literotica story, I told myself, as I plopped back down at the table and grabbed my spoon.
I took out my phone and and was about to start scrolling when I realized I had a notification from Tinder. Now I had set up my bio when I first arrived but didn't get any matches after swiping right on a rune of cute farm girls and single bartending moms. I specifically mentioned in my profile that I was here for vacation and just assumed these women were looking for someone less transient. No offense taken. Then at 3:04 pm yesterday afternoon, which I must not have noticed on account of all those little escapades starting, I matched with Shandra, a 48 year-old from Denver. That last part didn't quite make sense. I had set my radius pretty small, didn't even make it to the suburbs of St. Paul, since I was expecting some local action. But she was indisputably a match that I must have swiped on during the initial spree.
-Hey, what are you doing in St. Croix- was the message.
I responded: -Farming vacation, pretty chill so far- then I started to look at her photos.
She was short, skinny, and kinda trashy-looking with a few streaks of grey that gave her a hot granola mom look. No obvious botox or plastic surgery, plenty of wrinkles and freckles from winter sports, but still a gorgeous smile plus a very attractive nose ring. She gave a lot of chill vibes, probably a ski bum who refused to grow up judging by her photos; also she seemed to be a yoga trainer or something, judging by the last shot that displayed a significantly more revealing black training outfit in some sort of Buddhist-themed storefront.
-finally u respond [smiley face] working you harrd out there?- asked the little notification
-yeah I was picking plums and I didn't even see the match-
-well i have ur attention now-
-you do- I responded. Then I felt extra flirty and followed it up with -and i like what i see-
-good im excited for someone new and fun-
I had to ask: -why does it say you are from Denver??-
-cause i am. i visit my sister and her husband once a year and i get horny when im there-