The warm northern light spilled onto the cool, dark timber of the cabin's enormous kitchen bench. Outside the room the afternoon was all gentle breezes and autumn calm. Inside there was stillness but it was electric with tension and the only conscious movement I could attend was the pounding in my chest.
We had booked the cabin months earlier on a whim, and at the time it never seemed quite real enough since there was little likelihood we would ever get the chance to follow through.
Though unspoken, we took this step together in truth because of our of shared desire to escape from the sensibilities our of daily conventions, our restraints, and our shared morality.
Her skin echoed the rich brown flesh of the timber. She lay there upon the bench, as though embraced by the loving touch of the wood.
And always she kept her eyes hidden from me. If I would walk to one side of the table to catch her gaze she would turn her head away, although once I was certain I caught the hint of an impish smile.
Her body was relaxed and languid, and when she moved, she did so only to the gentlest extent, and usually in a way that deliberately revealed a little more of her nakedness.
The effect was powerful and provocative. I had never possessed her and barely touched her at all but for some casual affections marking my irregular arrival and departure in her life.
Our time together was rare and precious, and mostly spent deep in conversation about literature and poetry, love and gods, art and song. And she was all these desires for me and while I knew it from the start, I barely dared to hope that I was all this for her also.
She gave me no warning that afternoon. Or perhaps all our time together had all been colored by caution but I was too in love to read the danger of our temptation. The smiles, the flirting, the laughter. Or the times when she would speak in barely a whisper so that I would have to lean in close to hear her words.
Months... years of preparation delivered us to this moment.
