This series is a companion to my story Truth & Admiration.
I'd like to thank everyone who reached out to me when this chapter of Leethie's story stalled, but especially ButteredCrumpet. Her comments and our dialog were just the encouragement I needed.
My intent is not to offend, but this is a d/s lesbian romance with strong themes of nonconsent and reluctance. If that's not your cup of tea, I understand and hope you will find another story to enjoy.
As always I hope you will enjoy the story, and that if you do you will leave a comment. XOSNS
Uncle Bitch
Leethie had slept late her first day in the farmhouse. She'd woken up in the little sewing room to find the sun high in a blue sky dotted by little fluffy clouds, the cottage silent and still, Miranda and Thom gone. She lay there for a long time, enjoying the quiet, looking at the stacks of quilts, the happy rows of bright colorful bobbins, the baskets stacked full of cloth scrap squares.
When she got up, it was only because she had to pee. Right outside her door, she found a note on the kitchen counter waiting for her. It was leaned up against a clean mug; a stabby little heart and Miranda's curling script exclaiming "Good Morning!" and explaining that the coffee machine was ready to go. She turned it on and stretched. It was a quarter past one.
Leethie realized she had slept better than she had in weeks. Even at Donald and Bobbie's, she had had trouble getting and staying asleep. She had been plagued by dreams of her father, of harsh thoughts about Linda, even small noises waking her. But here, in the silence and cool of this place she had burrowed in and gone to a deep, dreamless, and uninterrupted sleep. If it hadn't been for the pressure on her bladder she would have slept longer.
While the coffee brewed Leethie made the trip to the outhouse. There were a pair of yellow wellies in the foyer that fit her nicely. She felt silly, wrapped in one of Thom's coats, in her underpants and boots; the rough wool of the work coat scraped her bare nipples. But she wrapped it around her, and looking around to make sure she was as alone, she set out.
The trip was beautiful in the daylight, not spooky at all. The lawn was lush and wet. There were flower beds and bushes planted around the house and an enormous fenced-in garden with raised beds. The ancient-looking apple trees didn't scare her at all in the light of day, she thought with a self-deprecating smile.
"You don't get scared?" she'd ask Miranda the night before, looking out at the dark, the black branches curling at her like claws.
"There's nothing here that wants to hurt you Leethie."
But even remembering Miranda's assurances from the night before, she still felt some trepidation sitting down in the outhouse. She left the door open while she peed, looking across the lawn at the funny little cottage. It was a little crooked, and had once been barn-red, but was faded to a chalky red; almost a pink. The shiplap boards were stained dark and mossy near the ground where rain splashed them. She wondered how old it was.
'Could be fifty years, could be a hundred and fifty," she thought.
Sipping her coffee, still half-naked in just her underpants, Leethie decided to explore the little house. There wasn't really much new to see, but she had been tired and a little drunk and distracted when Miranda had given her "The Tour" the night before. The downstairs was divided into three rooms. The sewing room where she'd slept and an equally small office took up one-half of the house. Both these little workspaces were crowded with wonderful things, but well organized and neat. The other half of the house was a single room that contained the kitchen and living room. This space was relatively spare. All the things looked old and love-worn but carefully chosen. It was a wonderful and well-considered space.
In the outside corner of the living room, opposite the kitchen and wedged between two windows, sat a small cast iron wood stove; newer and less dangerous looking than the one in the sauna. The fire in it had burned down to a bed of glowing coals, but there was a pile of firewood on top of a square of dirty canvas with leather handles, that appeared to be some sort of carrier. Leethie had watched Thom loading the stove with wood the night before, and after a few tentative touches to the stove's handle, making sure it wasn't hot, she opened it and tossed in a couple of logs, flinching back from the sparks as she did.
Facing the little kitchen table, but backed directly against the sofa was a teak credenza that held an expensive-looking vintage Hi-Fi. There were stacks of records next to it Leethie knew were Miranda's. The owners of the cottage - Jean, and Marcus - had a larger collection that lived in the small office. The record on the turntable was called "Death Vessel", which sounded awful, but Leethie remembered Miranda playing something beautiful as she cleaned the night before, so she turned it on.
'Because you never fucking know with Da,' Leethie thought.
The singer's voice was high and girlish, the music lilting and fun. She sang about water and bouncy castles and daring-do; perfect for waking up
The old black oak door they had come in through last night, and that Leethie had used to reach the outhouse, was between the kitchen and the sewing room. Opposite it, between the office and the living room, was a door with a window that looked out over pasture and forest. There were curtains on the windows, but none of them were closed, and while Leethie had felt comfortable walking around the house topless, she again looked around before stepping outside, making sure there was no one to see her.
The black "front" door, at the kitchen, led to a cluttered foyer that opened unceremoniously onto a mud path to the farmyard, garden, outhouse, and the drive. The "back" door opened onto a covered porch that was as wide as the house and about eight or ten feet deep. It had no rails, just four posts holding up its roof. Leethie thought it was a lot more like a front porch, but it didn't face the road or the yard. Instead, it faced a small slope of lawn, a dense bramble, and an ancient-looking barbed wire fence - beyond the fence was pasture.
In the midday sun, the porch was almost as warm as the house, but there was a light breeze that made Leethie shiver. Her nipples were hard and her bare skin goosefleshed. She leaned against a post and squeezed her arms against herself tight, rubbing her bare legs together, taking what little warmth she could by inhaling the steam off her coffee. Looking out, the view was dotted by huge lichen-covered stones that looked like something out of a fairy tale. A lone Holstein stood near the fence line staring mindlessly at Leethie.
"Stupid cow," she said over her coffee, retreating into the warmth of the house.
Leethie guessed the footprint of the house was just under thirty feet square. There were no hallways or closets, but between the two small workrooms was a narrow stairwell, so steep it was almost a ladder.
She had peeked upstairs the night before but climbed up again. The little attic space was nicer in the daylight. It had seemed cramped in the dark, but the four dormers made it feel almost large - like a loft. It looked to Leethie like a cheery space to wake up in. A small library of tattered paperbacks and a rough lumber railing lined the area around the stairwell. There was a queen-sized mattress - unmade - on the floor. Leethie wondered how it had been fit up the tiny stairwell.
There were baskets and hanging rods in the eves for clothes, most of which she assumed were Jean's and Marcus' but on one rod and a low shelf, she recognized some of Miranda's and Thom's things. She stepped over to look at them. There were a pair of black panties on the floor. She picked them up, fingering the silky things, studying the little stained gusset. Pressing them against her lips Leethie drew in the familiar musky scent.
She leaped straight in the air when the phone rang. She almost slid down the stairs in her race to answer it. Realizing at the bottom of the steps she didn't know where the phone was, she froze. But it rang again - from the kitchen wall. A black rotary phone mounted next to the black oak door. She darted towards it and grabbed at the receiver.
"Hello!"
"Heeeeyyyy-Yaaa..." Miranda said wryly. "Run much?"
