Ian had been fun at first, if somewhat insensitive and immature. Sometimes he'd paw and grope Becky 'for a laugh', always apologising afterwards like a guilty teenager despite being twenty-two. His lack of experience further revealed itself when they eventually fucked for what turned out to be their one and only time. Ian was clumsy and rough, appearing only to be concerned with his own pleasure which, mercifully for Becky, took very little time to peak.
"That's it!" thought Becky as he rolled-off her seemingly pleased with his performance. She listened to the start-stop splashes of him pissing and hoped that it was all ending up in her toilet pan.
"Ian. It's not working is it?"
"Wh ... what do you mean?" he stammered.
"Please don't make me spell it out Ian. Let's just call it quits, huh?"
Ian left Becky's flat and that was that. No drama. Somewhat easier than Becky had expected. It hurt a bit; splitting up always does, but Becky knew that the relationship wasn't heading anywhere positive and the lousy sex was just the final straw.
~~~ / ~~~
Becky needed some time to herself, to take stock, re-energise ... move on. Having only recently joined the environmental consultancy as a junior ecologist, Becky was at the back of the queue in terms of booking the favoured holiday slots. In any case, as with most places, those with young kids tended to get first dibs; something she had no issue with. As such, and as late winter became early spring she still had a few days of her allocation to take before the end of March cut-off.
And so it was that on a crisp late February morning, Becky found herself walking a trail of green lanes and ancient woodland combining her love of nature with her passion for walking. With a distance of twelve miles to cover and, knowing her tendency to stop to examine or photograph all manner of living things, she started early. The overnight frost was still evident, causing the fallen leaves and vegetation to crunch beneath her boots. As she covered the miles, her face glowed from the cold air but her body was warm from the multiple layers enclosing it.
From the map on her phone, she could see that the route would soon emerge from the woodland and take her through what looked to be a small village.
"Mmm ... chocolate," thought Becky, knowing that her backpack contained only energy bars and fruit. As soon as she entered the village, it became clear that her chocolate fix would have to wait. The 'village' was no more than a hamlet of a dozen or so pretty cottages with no other facilities. At the small village green with its tiny duck pond, Becky took a few pictures including one of the resident Mallards who seemed both very tame and well fed.
Turning left, according to the route, the metalled road surface soon ended, continuing as a green lane. She stopped at an old wooden bench opposite a cottage located some way beyond the rest of the village. Reaching into her bag but unable to locate her small flask, Becky cursed aloud. "No chocolate and now no coffee," she sighed, resorting to her water bottle and taking a few sips. The B&B owner had kindly filled her flask that morning after breakfast and Becky knew exactly where in her car she'd left it.
"Is everything alright my dear? Have you lost something?" a woman's voice asked though, at first, Becky couldn't see who it belonged to.
"Oh ... hello," replied Becky as the woman appeared from behind the rose arch spanning the entrance gate to the cottage.
"Sorry if I alarmed you my dear," said the woman, "You seemed miles away."
"Oh, I'm fine, thank you. I was just looking for my flask but seem to have left it behind. I've the water anyway so all's well."
"Poor dear," the woman said somewhat maternally. "You'll need a hot drink inside you on such a chilly morning. Come in, come in ... I was just about to make one for myself."
"That's so kind of you but I wouldn't want to put you to any trouble," replied Becky, though the woman's offer was certainly tempting.
"Not at all. It's absolutely no trouble. Please ...." she opened the gate and gestured to welcome Becky through.
Becky, observant as ever, admired the traditional front garden layout and despite the late winter drabness she imagined how it would look in the summer. Closer to the house were various wooden creatures all beautifully sculptured from burr hardwoods. As Becky paused to look closer at an improbably sized snail and a more realistically proportioned Hare, the woman smiled somewhat wistfully, "All my husband's own work, God bless him. Come on in dear."
Becky estimated the woman to be in her mid to late sixties. She was fairly short and though not obese, had a well rounded figure with ample bosom and rear. She was dressed in a heavy tweed skirt of rather unfashionable length and a chunky, probably home knitted, cardigan which was buttoned to the neck obscuring any other upper garments. Only the lower parts of stockinged legs were visible below the skirt hem as were the tops of her thick socks where they emerged from her stout boots.
As they entered the cottage, Becky reached down to unlace her own boots. "Oh, don't mind that dear; It's all flagstones downstairs. Come through." Becky followed the woman into the small kitchen which was cosy if a little dark. It smelt of baking and spices and everywhere there were more examples of her late husband's handywork. The fruit bowl on the kitchen table, other bowls dotted around and smaller, more delicate creatures all superbly detailed and with a beautiful shiny patina.
On a hook next to the hearth was a somewhat dangerous looking cudgel in polished burr oak. It was a thing of beauty, thought Becky though she cringed slightly at the thought of its intended purpose.
"Pest control, mainly rats, originally my dear though, in truth, it's just an ornament these days," the woman declared, reading Becky's thoughts.
Reassured, Becky thought that such an object might also provide some security given the rather isolated location.
"Now then my dear. Let me get those drinks. You sit down and rest your legs."
It was obvious which of the chairs was the woman's preference so Becky sat down on the other side of the kitchen table while the woman busied herself.
"I'm afraid I've no tea or coffee my dear. I prefer to make my own infusions according to the season. I do hope you'll like my spiced winter warmer. It's been a good year for the ingredients but I'll soon be switching to my spring tonic."
"That sounds lovely, thank you," replied Becky, familiar as she was with such drinks as her mother drank fruit and herbal teas all the time.
Although, some distance from the open fire, Becky could feel its heat so unzipped her jacket to avoid overheating. The cottage was obviously old and the windows single-glazed, but that small wood burning fire was keeping the kitchen, at least, incredibly warm.
"There you go my dear," said the woman setting the earthenware mug down in front of Becky. "You might prefer a little honey if it's too sharp for you," she added, pointing to the covered wooden pot.
The drink smelled delicious thought Becky. There were any number of different scents but she could certainly detect cinnamon, mace and citrus. Her first sip revealed it to be slightly too tart for her taste so she added a teaspoon of the honey to tone it down a little.
"Perfect!" said Becky and the woman smiled, sipping her own drink.
After a while, Becky asked "Have you lived here long?" though the lack of small-talk up to that point hadn't felt in any way awkward.
"Oh yes. Many years," the woman replied. "It's so peaceful here. Such a hard thing to find these days". Though the pair were so very different, Becky knew what the woman meant.
They sat for a while, the only sounds being from the fire and the ticking of the kitchen clock.
Suddenly, the woman exhaled somewhat forcefully to indicate that she was getting hot. She unbuttoned and removed her cardigan under which she had on a long sleeved, buttoned top which was well fitted if slightly tight around her chest. Becky could make out the contours of a sturdy bra beneath which was just about supporting her substantial breasts.
"It is warm, isn't it?" said Becky, removing her walking jacket which she hung on the back of the chair next to hers.
"It's not called winter warmer for nothing," said the woman before taking another long sip. Becky did likewise savouring the warming tingle in her throat as she swallowed the drink. Observing Becky's enjoyment, the woman added, "All these new-fangled things in the shops but I stick with the tried and trusted country recipes, thank you very much."
