Over recent weeks I had seen a Redwing flitting about the garden. I am a keen birdwatcher, so one evening I set out with my binoculars to see if I could get a closer view. I live in the countryside and have a large garden with a couple of fields, and as I strode out through the tall grass in the golden late afternoon light, my thoughts turned to happier days when my family was young and whole.
Some years ago my wife and I had divorced. If I am honest, we had not been happy for some time. I commuted to London, and was consequently away from home until late. Our lives became increasingly distant as I struggled to get home before nightfall, and Helen got lonelier and lonelier. We had met at university, and she had left all her family and old friends in her native Scotland to be with me. Living in the country away from any big towns did not help, and save for our only child, Emma, she had precious little enjoyment in life. So one day, after one missed dinner too many, she and Emma, who was 16 at the time, left.
Emma came to stay with me during school holidays, but whilst she was at university she also worked a part time job. As a result, she didn't come home during holidays except for a few days visit here and there; I missed her terribly. Then one year ago, the summer Emma graduated, Helen was tragically killed in a hit and run accident. We were both devastated. Emma moved back in with me, her plans for finding a job placed on hold whilst she grieved.
The hazy blue of the sky and the warm breath of the sun as I walked through the orchard reminded me of a day, years ago, when the three of us were out, larking around in the back garden, when Emma's friend Ashley arrived. They had met a month previous, on their first day of secondary school, and had become fast friends. Through the years the two of them grew up to be the best of friends, with Ashley sleeping over most weekends.
After Helen and Emma left, I didn't see Ashley much, except here and there around the village. That all changed after Helen died. When Emma moved back in, the two girls - who had always stayed in touch - soon became inseparable again, and I credit Ashley with carrying Emma through the worst of her grief. It has been a saving grace to me too, to hear her happy laughter around a house that has been quiet for so long. It has got to the point where Ashley will pop over unannounced, and even if Emma is not in, she will stay a while. She is rapidly becoming a permanent fixture.
I will admit however, it was quite a shock seeing Ashley properly again after all those years. The last time I knew her well, she was a tomboy of 16. Now in her early 20's, she has blossomed into a graceful and curvaceous young woman with a slightly raw, earthy charm I find quite unnerving at times. I often have to stop myself glancing too long at the way her breasts push against her top, or the way she has poured herself into her form-fitting jeans. It is quite a distraction. She, of course, is completely unaware of my lustful imaginings - thoughts I only indulge in at night.
Suddenly, movement above jolted me from my reverie. I knelt down in the meadow flowers, focusing my binoculars on the small brown bird now perched atop the fence post. I followed it as it flew from post to post and into the bushes on the far side of the field. I got up silently and crept cautiously over to the wooded patch of ground in the corner of the meadow adjoining my house, hoping to see more. What I did see, was not at all what I expected.
As a trained my binoculars through a gap in the hedge, all thoughts of the Redwing vanished. There before me, in the small pond in the middle of the trees, was Ashley. Her thick wavy hair was tied up haphazardly, revealing her elegant neck and bare shoulders. I couldn't see the rest of her, but I could tell she was naked beneath the water. My breath caught in my throat. "Look away you old fool," I thought, "do the decent thing". But I was entranced, and she was lovely. She giggled as she splashed about, unaware of me. After about two minutes of agonizing over whether to leave, she stood up and I groaned, rooted to the spot.
With the poise of a heron she stepped out of the pool, glistening like gold in the shafts of woodland light. Her body was fit and toned, but womanly. Her slender arms reached up and undid her mane of deep brown hair, which then fell about her face and shoulders. She reached among her things and began to dry herself off, with what I assume was her cardigan. The material draped along each limb while she soaked up the water as it dripped from her body. I followed its progress from each leg, up to her smooth, round buttocks. It continued up past her tiny waist to the swell of her breasts, which were large and perky, mopping up the rivulets streaming down her collar bone.
By this point I was inwardly cursing myself, but nothing could have moved me. I was transfixed by her; a woodland nymph. I could feel the heat in my groin and the pressure against my trousers as I adjusted myself - I was at a loss for what to do. Ashley had pulled on a pair of pale blue lace knickers and a short flared skirt and was trying, rather unsuccessfully to do up her bra. "Damn!" I heard her mutter, along with the twang of broken elastic. She shrugged and pulled her white cotton camisole over her naked breasts, shoving her broken bra and wet cardigan into her bag, and set off away from me, toward the house. When she reached the edge of the trees I stood up, willing my hard-on to subside but desperate to catch up with her.
"Ashley!" I called, and bounded enthusiastically up the path. She spun round, the hint of suspicion on her face broke into a wide grin once she saw who it was.
