A bit of an historical dalliance -- if you like historical fiction this may be right up your ally. Being old hat at rolling in the hay, I wanted to explore the idea through fresh eyes. This is what I came up with. It deals in subtleties, hope you enjoy the tension.
Wales, 1819
I was in shock. I didn't know what I'd just stumbled upon -- didn't know what to make of it, any of it. Julia and Henry -- it was a starling scene, one that was so jarring and confusing I knew I needed to leave immediately but I couldn't force myself to go. My curiosity anchored me to the stairs, my feet shouted at me to retreat. How could I have no idea at all about what I'd just witnessed, no notion of what it meant outside of the feelings it produced in the pit of my stomach. Her face, the way they were locked together, the fluid motion between them created the most intimate utterances which occasioned the feelings shooting through my core. My hand had instinctively felt for an aching between my legs, it owning more inherent intelligence than I about such things...
Everyone treated me like glass, or some kind of idiot... I felt like an idiot trapped in glass. I was told nothing of consequence and kept out of conversations thought to be 'unfit' for my mind -- such was the lot of young women in my circumstance. Worse for me, as we lived in a remote end of the country, companionship with anyone my age was out of reach. I found myself angry, like a spiteful child who learned that another was given access to some great pleasure and I was withheld from sharing in their rapture. That feeling of unsettled electricity, it lingered inside me long after I forced myself to sneak away. It haunted me all night long as I didn't sleep but instead held my hand atop the throbbing between my thighs, not knowing what to do about it. It must be entirely forbidden, that's why I've not been told of it! And yet, there was not a soul I could approach with my endless questions. All the books I read of two involved hearts didn't hint at even a trace of this. I felt quite abandoned to the confusion and void of understanding this scene provoked in me. The seeds of frustration were firmly planted that afternoon and all I could do about it was daydream and scheme.
...
Arriving on an overcast morning, Owen is greeted by our household with more than a little fuss. Visitors are scarce out this way. I'm informed he's a business connection of my father's, son of an old school mate, visiting for some official purpose I could care less about. Not too much older than my eldest brother, I'd met him briefly when I was young, and forgot that was the case -- a clumsy embarrassment when I re-introduce myself. Recently achieving my 20th year, up until three weeks ago I was feeling mature and worldly. Each day now seems a fresh humiliation, each faux pas, a smarting blow. I thought I knew what life had to offer until I caught sight of Julia and Henry in the cellar. Now little makes any sense and I wonder about all I don't know, which is a swift way to drive yourself to madness.
The journey to us at Briar Hedge being a long one, Owen -- it's decided -- is to stay on nearly a fortnight, and in that time I make a study of him. It takes only a few days for my simple conclusion -- he'll do. Brilliantly, in fact. He's slight but strong and can handle a horse with such deftness of movement I wonder at his other talents and knowledge. Does he know? I'm determined to find out, consequences be damned.
By the end of the first week, a few days after I've made up my mind, I find myself so restless and unsure of my way forward I begin to be cross with everyone and everything. I can shut myself up in my room only for so long before it becomes a noticeable peculiarity, so I opt to go out walking often. Owen is always so affable and light, treating me like everyone else does -- as though I have a pile of feathers in my head -- and with a mild kindness that he extends even to the manner in which he pulls out a chair. He can't know, can he? Those hands of his can't be capable of what I saw Henry's do to Julia, the way he held her by the jaw. By the eighth day my frustration is thrumming so loudly in my ears I beg off breakfast and head straight into the thicket on the back of our land. A far stretch away, and across an abandoned footbridge nature has since compromised safe passage over, there is to be found an area of tall grasses and wild flowers where the trees grow more sparsely. The sun slats in in patches and the scent is that of rich, heady earthiness this time of year. The surrounding perfume presses upon me like a weight, I don't know what to do with myself anymore -- but before my mind winds itself any tighter I hear breaking twigs and hold still. Expecting to see a dear, or some such animal, I turn to see Owen strolling up to me with a wide grin. My body begins to tense and warm -- heat crosses my cheeks in surprise, a hotness fills my chest in agitation, and a warmth spreads between my thighs in yearning.
"A cozy spot you've found here," he breaks in.
"Did you follow me?"
"I had no intention to, but you marched out so deliberately and straight for the trees, I had to know what it was you were seeking... I remember this place."
"How do you mean?"
"You think you're the only one who likes to explore their surroundings? I've traveled these parts for the better half of ten years. I've wandered all about here, many times. There's a brook, just a kilometer off that way," he points. I don't look. My pulse is racing and his voice is a distant humming to my mind.
In my hands are some collected flowers I plucked along my route. Owen bends over to pick one himself and hands it to me. His proximity -- I brood, in my current attitude -- is enraging and intoxicating. I want what's flashing across my mind right now, and I want it with him. That look of intensity across Julia's face, almost pained but certainly not unhappy -- it was a mix of all opposites, but I knew in my depths what she was enjoying was an ecstasy I've yet to savor.
"Pick me some flowers so I may bring them back to my love? I know little of what makes a nice bouquet," he innocently requests.
My arms fall and I drop all the blooms I'm holding. Irrational at best, moody and petulant at worst -- but I find I'm beyond control of my actions. In my agitation I can't stand to be anywhere but entirely alone or be given what I most fervently want. Hot tears begin to run quietly down my face. Owen looks alarmed. I drop to my knees and put my head in my hands. Gingerly stepping towards me he falls upon a knee in front of me and a vice grips my pounding heart.
"Maiden, am I the reason for your upset? Please, whatever it is -- forgive me."
I respond by throwing my arms around his neck, to which he gives a startled laugh, patting my lower back while trying to gain back his balance.
"I'm sorry, for any and all I've done. I've gathered you don't have many guests this far out. I'm not sure it was wise to follow you and try to be sociable. In truth, it seems a lonely place for a young girl to live --" the tone in his voice turns low, "fret not, however, life holds promise of adventure for you yet."
