Foss
Wallyfoss@btinternet.com
Fold in the Hills 1
foldint1.txt
Group
mf, mmf, ff, novel

The journey over the Pennines, and away from her home, had been miserable, for a
lot of heavy traffic used the M62 before noon and she had found that she had to
concentrate really hard; a blessing in disguise, for she needed some distraction
from what had occurred the evening before.

When she turned off the M56 and saw the large road sign, "NORTH WALES, she
relaxed slightly and felt a little of the tension drain from her shoulders. She
eased her buttocks into a more comfortable sitting position and allowed herself
a grim little smile as she passed the small sign "Croeso y Cymru": Welcome to
Wales.

She pulled in at the Little Chef and after visiting the clean, but characterless
rest room, ordered a black coffee and sat at the corner table where she could
look out over the bird strewn mud flats of the River Dee estuary. Sarah Brooke
caught sight of her reflection in the window and brushed a strand of hair from
her face and stared critically at her pale face and reddened eyes and then
looked away. Stirring her coffee she thought of Tim and his cold reaction to her
accusations, and fought to control her welling tears when she recalled how
calmly he had taken her threats to leave him, and his ready agreement that it
would perhaps be better if they separated for a while.

As the rain stopped and the sun appeared, Sarah rummaged in her bag for a tissue
to wipe her eyes, and blew her nose, before taking a drink of the hot coffee.
Once again she glanced over at the estuary and saw that it was now raining quite
heavily and the muddy flats were empty of gulls and the other wading birds.

"June the first," she thought miserably.

She drove her Golf GL west along the main A5 coast road towards Conway and
Penmawr Cottage and tried to block the Tim of yesterday from her mind and tried
to force herself to remember the happier times she had spent in the family
cottage towards which she was now heading.

Sarah felt lucky to have such a refuge as Penmawr Cottage, for without it she
would have been trapped in their York house which she and Tim had bought over
seven years ago, for now she would have an opportunity to stand outside the
relationship and attempt to rationalize what had gone wrong and whether or not
she wished it to continue.

Sarah's mother, Mrs. Thompson, had died some years before and, when her father
had passed away shortly afterwards she had found that, as their only child, he
had left her the cottage in his will and it had remained in her name even after
she had married.


She was honest enough to realize that, despite his apparent calmness, Tim too
was angry and she remembered his accusations some months before when he had said
that she was cold and unfeeling and, at times, seemed to hate both him and his
friends.

She and Tim Brooke had been married just over seven years, and his parents had
sold both the family home and the small business in Leeds and moved to an
apartment in Tenerife where the dry, hot weather suited Mrs. Brooke severe
rheumatoid arthritis.

As the rain stopped and the sun came out she drove through St. Asaph"s with its
wonderfully high and decorated spire and stopped at the busy town of Colwyn Bay
for basic items of food and drink. She called in the small second hand book
shop, picking up half a dozen novels without paying much attention to her choice
and then purchased candles and batteries.

Twenty minutes later she passed through the five barred gate and took the half
made track by the side of Bryn Aber farm house and cautiously negotiated the
steep hill towards the old cottage.

Suddenly, and with some skill, she braked and pulled the car into the small
passing place on a sharp bend and operated the electric switch which wound down
the window. At that moment a tractor, descending the steep hill track, pulled up
alongside her and she leaned out and looked up into the smiling face of Bob
Roberts, one of the Bryn Aber farm workers.

"On holiday again, Sarah?" he asked. "You English get some holidays, don't you?

"Sort of," she answered with a weak smile. "Let Olwen know I'm here will you
please, Bob.?"

"Sure. Are you staying long?"

"Depends," she answered vaguely.

"On your own then," he stated simply.

"Yes," she said not wanting to explain.

"Anything you want, Sarah, just ask. Remember now," and he looked at her for a
long moment, noting the pale face and reddened eyes before she turned and looked
away.

"No good being up here on your own, my love," he added before revving up his
engine and pulling away. "I'll be around if you need me. Don't forget, Sarah,"
and, when he moved off she watched his descent in her rear view mirror and
remembered how he had danced with her at Olwen's Barn Dance last Autumn, and how
Tim had made teasing comments about her flushed face and shining eyes when Bob
had returned her to him after the music had stopped.

She drove on, winding her way up the steep rise until, she saw the little dirt
track to the left which dropped over the side of the hill like a roller coaster,
and soon she had forded the shallow and narrow water course which drained water
from the meadows above to the stream below, and brought the car to a halt
outside the whitewashed walls of Penmawr Cottage.

Later, having unpacked, changed into jeans and sweat shirt and made up the large
bed, she sat on a low wall outside the kitchen window in the late afternoon
sunshine and, sipping a tall glass of brandy and lemonade, took in the beauty of
her surroundings.

She saw the high field above the cottage where the main track, unseen from her
position, led to a little used road which wound over the hills to the market
town of Llanwrst and her gaze moved beyond the end of her white cottage to where
the long grassed garden led the narrow footpath and the dense conifer wood and
small iron bridge, too narrow to carry a car, over the tumbling, rushing water.

This stream circled the rear of the property and the land fell away in a series
of steep terraces which created a number of small, bolder-strewn falls and
shallow pools as the water rushed downhill towards the sea some two miles away.

The cottage itself was built in a fold of the hills, and on the edge of a flat
terrace and, behind the homestead the grassy bank dropped steeply to the tree
lined stream. The whole area of the cottage was surrounded by woodland and, in
fine weather, it was a real sun trap and even in the frequent westerly storms it
was a sheltered little spot.

The dwelling was a long, low, white washed, stone built structure with a roof of
Welsh slate and, though originally built for two families, it had been
redesigned to have a substantially sized kitchen and large sitting room with an
open, cast iron fireplace which housed a large dog grate.

Upstairs there were two bedrooms, one larger than the other, with a huge, high,
double brass bed in it and, above the kitchen, there was a lovely bathroom with
a cast iron bath and a shower cubicle and toilet.

Sarah and Tim had completely refurbished and decorated the cottage since the
death of her father and, though they both loved the place, they had spent little
time here together as Tim's job seldom left him with holiday opportunities. The
few breaks he had managed to organize had been spent abroad with his parents, in
Los Cristianos on Tenerife, the largest of the Canary Islands.

In the early days of their marriage they had often used it as a weekend cottage,
driving down on Friday evening and returning home on Sunday afternoon but, apart
from Olwen's Autumn Barn Dance last year, they had not visited the place
together for over two years.

On a number of weekends Sarah had motored down alone between supply jobs in the
local schools, and occasionally she had brought along another teacher Ann
Turner, an old school friend who lived quite near her in York, to share this
unique and isolated location.

Sarah loved the area and had found half a dozen contrasting walks which she
followed with Tim, Ann or by herself, loving the tree covered hills, the
tumbling streams and the occasional open views over the distant coast or the
high mountains.

From the cottage and its grounds no other dwelling could be seen, and though it
appeared to be such an isolated place it was, in fact, reasonably near to Bryn
Aber farm house, and Sarah had always felt safe and secure, as though both she
and the cottage were hidden from the outside world with all its problems.

At the far end of the cottage was a small additional room accessible only by an
outside door and where the farm workers stacked a regular supply of fallen
timber. This room was lit by a single, unshaded bulb and had a large, scarred
chopping block, and a sharp, ash-handled axe hanging from a nail on the
white-washed wall. Sarah was used to seeing to her own fuel and, as the sun sank
behind the trees, she finished her drink and worked for some time on the dry
wood, chopping herself a good supply of logs and kindling and then , loading
them into a large woven willow basket which she dragged into the cottage.

Soon there was a bright log fire burning and she disappeared upstairs for a
shower and changed into her night dress and gown.

Later, after a simple meal, she placed more logs on the fire, pulled up the
large settee and curled up with one of her newly purchased novels. The heat and
the passionate theme of the story soon had their effect and she stirred, taking
off her dressing gown and pouring herself a small brandy.

Soon the brandy began to cause her to glow with a sensuous warmth and after a
while she poked the dying fire down, put the guard in place and, after bolting
the door, retreated to her bedroom, kept warm by the hot chimney from the fire
below and climbed up onto the big bed and settled for the night.

The moon was just visible through one of the small windows and she stared out,
listening to the breeze rustling the ivy on the walls. An owl hooted somewhere
near the stream and far away she heard a distant train rumbling along the coast
line.

Once settled in bed for the night her mind returned to breakfast with Tim that
morning. She had watched him, waiting for him to say something, and half hoping
that he would beg her to stay, but he had calmly eaten his breakfast, gulped the
last of his coffee and left. 

He had managed to shout, 
"Keep in touch!" from the hallway and that was it, the door had slammed and she
was alone in an empty kitchen and an equally empty marriage.

She hadn't cried until she entered their shared bedroom and spotted her single
suitcase on the bed. She'd avoided looking at the wedding photograph and, as
she'd locked the door to her home and loaded the last few items into her car,
she'd refused to look back and had driven off as quickly as possible.

Sometime during the night she slept and dreamed of the heroine of the book she'd
been reading; a tale of abduction, cruel pirates and a ruthless captain who had
wanted the heroine for himself.

Sarah became that defenseless girl finding herself trapped in his cabin, wearing
only a thin slip and watching as he locked the heavy door. Soon she was
struggling within his powerful arms as he forced her back onto his bunk. She
tried to cry out as his cruel hands found her breasts but was too weak to stop
him.

Then she gave up her fight for he was a most skillful and experience lover and
she began to respond to his advances. She looked at him and saw that it was Bob
Roberts and he was smiling so lovingly at her, and she felt such an overwhelming
rush of lust that she grasped him and pulled him onto her.

She woke with a gasp and sat up in the darkness of the bedroom panting and
perspiring sat the vividness of the dream. Later she sank back as the moon
reappeared in the far window, lighting up the chimney breast and the framed
needlework tapestry she had bought some time before from a jumble sale at one of
the local schools

She felt her heartbeat slowing and pulled the damp, clinging nightdress away
from her hot body and, as she relaxed and remembered the dream, her hands
caressed her firm breasts and teased the rigid tips, sending tiny shocks of
pleasure through her body.

Soon she was stroking her hot loins and, when she edged her secret place, she
marveled at the slipperiness of the groove and the sensitivity of the very
centre. Parting her slender thighs she began to rub the sensual little button,
and as her eyes closed she was back once more in the gloom of the galleon's hot
cabin, listening to the slap of water against the wooden bulkhead and watching
the pirate captain as he quickly removed his clothing.

Sarah allowed her long fingers to pick up the excitingly erotic rhythm of the
waves and, as her lover bent and closed in on her she squeezed her thighs,
trapping her hand and arched her back. She moaned aloud to the moon as her
partner rode the cresting seas of her feverish desire and then gave a sharp,
passionate cry as she found release.

When her passions had diminished she opened her eyes and saw that the light had
faded and the moon had left the far window, and in the sudden darkness she felt
lonely, vulnerable and wasted.

"Tim's so wrong," she thought, "I'm not cold and frigid, damn him! He's making
excuses for himself and that woman. He's the one to blame, not me. I'll show
him. I'll prove that I can live without him."

She suddenly felt very tired and was soon in such a deep sleep that even the
terrible screech of the hunting owl and the dying screams of a terrified vole
failed to stir her.

As she was finishing the last of her breakfast the next morning there was a
knock at the door and a cry of,

"Anybody home?"

"Come in Olwen. It's not locked."

The door opened and an attractive, smiling face appeared.

"Any coffee to spare? I'm knackered after walking up that hill."

"Sit down," said Sarah, "and I'll make a fresh pot. What you doing up here so
early, Olwen?"

"Bob called to say he'd seen you, and thought you looked a bit sad, to use his
words. Men, honestly. They're useless. Mind you Carriad, you don't look your
usual. Been ill or something, love".

"Just a bit tired, that's all. You know how it is, Olwen."

"God, yes. Bloody life tires you out, let alone work. Bloody Ministry of Ag,'
moaning husband and idle workers. Honestly, apart from Bob on the farm and Dylis
Mason in the kitchen, the rest are all suffering from a severe case of galloping
inertia!"

Sarah began to laugh at Olwen's indignant expression and, when Olwen stopped to
take a breath she too realized the stupidity of her tirade and began to scream
with laughter.

Later she watched as Sarah's face changed and she too saw the hurt in her eyes
and leaned forward across the table and held her hand.

"Want to tell Aunty Olwen about it?"

"There's not much to tell, is there? I'm here and Tim's in York. End of story."

"Men are such bastards," said Olwen quietly. "Someone else?"

"Yes," she whispered, "but that's not the real reason."

"A woman from work?" asked Olwen.

"How did you know?"

"It usually is."

Sarah stood and began to make a fresh coffee. She filled the kettle and stared
out of the window. The clouds were thickening and she knew that they were in for
a shower before long.

Olwen remained seated and silent, watching Sarah as she switched the kettle off,
filled the small cafetiere with coffee and reach into the top cupboard for two
mugs.

Returning to the table Sarah poured out the coffee and sat down.

"Have you left him, Sarah?"

"Sort of. We've agreed to have some time apart. Thank God for Penmawr Cottage! I
don't know how I'd have coped being in the same house as him for much longer."

"How long are you planning to stay?"

"I've no idea. I just need time to think about things. Why, is there a problem,
Olwen?"

"Yes there is if you think you're going to stay up here on your own, moping
about and feeling miserable all the time. The only way to come to a decision is
to live a little, and see if what you're giving up is such a big deal. What will
Tim be doing while he"s on his own? See the woman from his office I suppose."

"No, I don't think so. He said that when I found out about her it was already
over anyway, and that it had all been a big mistake. But I've a feeling he might
be seeing someone else."

"Well, why did he get involved in the first place?"

"Oh, I don't know. He said it was all to do with a row we'd had some time
before. We ended up shouting and saying things - you know how it is. You always
end up saying things you don't really mean."

"What sort of things?"

"He said I was cold and frigid and I said perhaps he was the reason for how I
was, and so on and so on. Anyway he got involved with some girl from one of the
other departments and they had a thing going on for a while. I don't honestly
remember what he said about her as I was so angry at him saying it was my fault
he'd taken up with her in the first place. My bloody fault! What nerve. I told
him that he hadn't touched me for ages while he was sleeping with her, and that
it would serve him right if I had an affair with another bloke," and Sarah
paused, remembering the hurt and her wild feelings. "And do you know what the
bastard said to me? Can you believe what he said? He said that the chances of me
having an affair were about as likely as him becoming a monk. He said that I was
too scared to even look at some other man, and that if anyone ever offered to
touch me he'd probably end up with bloody frost bitten cock and have to have it
amputated."

Olwen didn't comment, but held Sarah's hand a squeezed it encouragingly.

"The trouble is, Olwen, I think he might me right. I am scared and I don't like
to lose control. Ever since we were married he's always made the running, but I
thought we were alright. I thought he loved the way I was, but I was obviously
wrong. In the end he had to find someone else to satisfy him, because I
couldn't.....," and she began to sob and gulp great lumps of air as the tears
she had held back for so long ran down her pale cheeks.

Olwen got up and came to her and put her arms around her. She squeezed her
gently while all the pain flowed from her friend and, after a long time the
crying stopped and Olwen felt the after shudders as they sent tremors through
her body.

Later Sarah dried her eyes and smiled tearfully at her friend. She had known
Olwen for a long time, and even as children they had enjoyed each other's
company during all the school holidays when she had come to Penmawr Cottage with
her parents.

They had shared the secrets of their first love and attended each other's
wedding celebrations and they had forged a trust between that had run through
their lives and, no matter how long the interval between meetings, their
relationship immediately revived as soon as they met.

Olwen knew that this was not the time to discuss Sarah's problems in detail, and
knew that now she had really cried she would begin to think about Tim, her
marriage and the future. She moved the coffee cups from the table and began to
clear the sink top.

"Leave those," said Sarah.

"No, let's do them and go for a walk," said Olwen brightly.

Later, dressed in Wellingtons and anoraks they braved the steady drizzle and
followed the track beyond the cottage and crossed the iron girder bridge over
the fast flowing stream and, minutes later they walked up the half made
footpath, passing a half derelict cottage, built just below the brow of the
hill. As they crested the long slope they saw, spread below them a distant coast
line, a grey sea and a lifting sky.

The rain stopped as suddenly as it had started and they began their descent
towards Olwen's farm house, Bryn Aber, far below and a rabbit scuttled away down
the steep slope while sheep grazed peacefully on the short wet grass.

The two said little, but the freshness of the late morning and the stiff breeze
seemed to lift Sarah's spirits and soon the track they were on forked and they
took a left turn which led to the farm.

By the fold yard they spotted Bob Roberts and another worker, Ewan Powis,
swilling down the concrete area with hose pipe and brush and, as they passed
Sarah smiled at the pair and followed Olwen to the main house.

"Now that's a warming sight, Boyo, on such a cold morning."

Sarah turned and blushed at the look on Bob Robert's face, for it was a look of
frank admiration and she quickly looked away.

Olwen glanced back, observing Bob's look and Sarah's response and shouted,

"You won't forget to pick up the fence wire from the station will you Bob?"

"Going when we've finished here, Mrs. Jones, don't you worry."

"Oh, I don't worry about anything Bobby boy. I just pay the wages and hire and
fire staff!"

As they entered the porch and removed their Wellingtons Sarah asked,

"What was all that about, Olwen?"

"Nothing for you to worry about, my love. I'm just showing them who's the boss.
It pays to do it once in a while. You know how men like to know where they
stand. They're a bit like sheep in a way and, once they understand what the
shepherdess wants from them, they're very easy to control, don't you find?"

"Not the ram I've been living with," said Sarah bitterly. "I haven't had too
much success with his training so far."

"Ah," said Olwen, quietly, "but you haven't really been taught how to be a good
shepherdess, have you now?"

They entered the large kitchen laughing together and Sarah suddenly felt better
than she'd felt for some time.

"Time for a bite to eat I think," said Olwen, "you'll stay for lunch of course."

Later the pair chatted about their childhood and the times they'd had together
during their holidays in the area and, as Olwen went on about their escapades,
Sarah suddenly remembered someone she'd not thought of for some time.

"Whatever happened to Johnny Applepear?"

"Goodness," exclaimed Olwen, "fancy you remembering him of all people."

"Surely that wasn't his real name."

"No, of course not, but everyone called him that."

"I suppose he's all grown up, and respectable now," said Sarah.

"What on earth made you think of him?"

"I suppose it's because I can see the old barn from where I'm sitting," she
replied.

"Weren't we wicked in those days? Dad would have had a pink fit if he'd known
all the things the three of us got up to in that old barn."

"It wasn't Johnny's fault though," said Olwen seriously."

"Of course not," said Sarah, "we were the bad ones weren't we? God how we used
to tease him in those days. When I remember that afternoon when your Mam nearly
came up the loft ladders, looking to se what we were up to....," and Sarah
laughed a the memory and held herself as she shivered with pleasure.

"That was some afternoon wasn't it, Olwen?"

Olwen stood quickly and looked out of the window and seemed ill at ease for a
moment and Sarah, feeling that she'd overstepped the bounds, stood and said
brightly,

"Well, must be off. Can't stop here all day keeping you from your work, can I?
I've still some unpacking to sort out and...."

"Don't rush off yet, Sarah, you're not in the way you know and I can catch up
with things later, honestly."

"Does William help with the paper work much?"

"Not really, but then he's busy with his own work, and doesn't really understand
how much time and effort this place takes to organise. He'll be back from France
at the weekend, some sort of trip to see a French refinery in operation. Still,
his salary helps to pay the farm bills and keeps the place ticking over during
the hard times."

Sarah listened without comment, sensing that there was more in Olwen's reply
than she was saying.

"I don't think he realizes how much time everything takes to run a mixed farm;
working the land, seeing to the workers, caring for the stock, filling in forms,
organizing supplies and marketing and so on. But it's my choice and I suppose if
I didn't like it I wouldn't do it."

"Can I help, Olwen? I don't know how long I'll be down here, but I can work a
computer, write letter, fill in forms, use a telephone, file things neatly, and
I've some time on my hands whilst I look round for some way of earning a bit of
money."

"Are you without money then?" asked Olwen.

"Not desperately so, but I'm not going to be begging from Tim every time I need
something and that's for sure. I expect there'll be a bit of supply work in one
of the local schools as they usually need qualified part timers to cover
courses, sickness or maternity leave. That's how I've paid my way now for the
past few years."

Olwen thought for a while before answering.

"This might be the answer, Sarah, as I could really do with some help - on a
part time basis of course, and you could either work down here in the office or
take it up to the cottage and do it in your own time. There's a spare PC of
William's somewhere about which I could fit in the cottage, and I'd pay you of
course."

"No. No!" protested Sarah. "I didn't mean that. I'll help you catch up and then
move on. I don't want you thinking I've come here looking for a hand out."

"No let's be serious Sarah, this could be the answer to a lot of my problems. I
really could use some help and have done for some time, but I need someone I can
trust and who's intelligent enough to get on without having to be supervised.
You know the sort of things I mean; answer the phone, cover for me while I'm out
help with the countless Ministry returns and so on and you're just the person
Sarah. Now I won't take no for an answer, so please," she begged, "I really do
need you!"

Sarah thought about it, doubtful that she would be as useful as Olwen thought
after all, what did she know about running a farm? Still it might be possible
and, after all she did need to do something positive to do with her time and
something to take her thoughts of her personal problems.

"I'll tell you what, Olwen. I'll help out for a couple of weeks and, if at the
end of that period I feel I've had enough or you feel that I'm not exactly what
you want, then we'll both promise to be honest with the other and call it a day,
but still remain friends. How's that?"

Wonderful," said Olwen, smiling happily, and she pulled Sarah to her and they
embraced.

"Let's toast our new relationship," said Olwen reaching into a cabinet for a
bottle of wine and two glasses.

Sarah smiled thinking that at least here, in a place she knew and loved, there
might be at least a chance that she would be able to look back over the past few
years, assess all that had occurred and come to some conclusion about her
future.

Towards the end of June Sarah felt that not only was she useful, but she was
becoming almost indispensable. She agreed to spend at least two or three
mornings a week in the farm office and any other unfinished work or any
emergency that arose she would deal with it back at Penmawr Cottage but, hardly
a day passed when she didn't visit or telephone the farm on some matter or other
and she was becoming really excited by her new responsibilities.

Life was so busy at times that Sarah began to feel comfortable in her new
surroundings and, though she and Tim rang each other occasionally when there was
some matter they needed to come to a joint decision about, she felt that her
home in York was part of another life and she threw herself whole heartedly into
the problems of Bryn Aber Farm.

One warm afternoon she had completed a form for the Milk Marketing Board and saw
that it needed to be posted the next morning. She knew that Olwen was going to
Denbigh Market in the morning, so she typed an envelope, put the form inside
with a covering letter and left it unsealed ready for Olwen's signature. As
there was nothing more to do that day she decided to stretch her legs, enjoy the
afternoon sunshine and walk down to track to Bryn Aber farm.

The farm yard was quiet in the afternoon heat and she pushed open the side door
and made her way to the office. She found a stamp and walked through to the
kitchen to find Olwen. The ground floor areas were empty and, glancing out of
the windows on all sides of the house she failed to see any signs of life.

She stood at the bottom of the stairs and was about to call up when she heard a
strange noise from above.

"Olwen?" she called softly.

There was no answer and, as she turned away a small cry sounded out. It was a
strange cry and Sarah was puzzled. Climbing the stairs she hurried, fearing that
her friend might be in pain and, as she reached the landing she saw through the
open door that the bathroom was empty so she hurried along towards Olwen's
bedroom.

She had been up here many times before for the single room at the opposite end
of the corridor had once been Olwen's room and here they had played together
when the weather was too wet to be outdoors, and even slept together on many a
night when it was easier for her parents to leave her rather than face the steep
trek or bumpy ride up to Penmawr Cottage.

Now Olwen occupied the main bedroom which had once been her parents and, when
Sarah reach it she listened for sounds that Olwen was there. She was about to
turn and go back down when a long low moan sounded from within.

Sarah pushed at the door and it opened a little and found herself staring into a
large oval dressing table mirror. Her hand shot to her mouth and she coloured
hotly when she saw, reflected quite clearly, the half naked body of her friend
Olwen, on top of the soft duvet, with her naked legs spread wide apart and her
right hand thrusting a fat, black dildo in and out of her pink cunney lips.

As Olwen pumped the phallic tool in and out, her hips rose from the bed and she
squirmed at the sensations it was causing. Her other hand was pushing and
grabbing at her plump breasts with their proudly jutting nipples and dark
areola, which spilled from her lowered slip.

The sight was so unexpected and so erotic that Sarah stood, rooted to the spot,
and as her friend's hips reared from the bed in an almighty spasm of passion,
Sarah held her breath and listened spellbound as Olwen uttered a long shuddering
cry of release before sinking back into the deep duvet.

Sarah turned to retreat and, as she did so she caught the edge of a small
twist-leg table. She dived to save the ceramic vase of dried flowers and, having
caught it safely, stood it back on the table, and stooped to pick up some of the
dried stems and stalks that had spilled onto the floor.

"Who's there?"

Without stopping she fled down the stairs, out of the kitchen and crept across
the empty farmyard towards the track which would take her home. Her mind was a
turmoil of emotions. Why was she so embarrassed? It wasn't as if she had never
done such a thing herself, after all this was how she had found her own release
when Tim had lost interest in her and certainly she'd satisfied herself in
Penmawr Cottage on a number of occasions.

She supposed it was the sight of someone else doing it, and with the dildo, and
the expression of naked passion on Olwen's face that had caused her to flee.

Half way back to the cottage she remembered the letter and the fact that she
still needed a signature from Olwen so she calmed herself and decided to take
the car down early tomorrow and catch her before she left for market.

That night, as she lay naked between the duvet, her mind went back to Olwen"s
bedroom and she couldn't shake from her thoughts the image of her friend as she
pushed the fat instrument in and out of her and the exciting sounds she emitted
as she reach her climax.

Before long her own fingers were busy rubbing gently in her own pubic hair and
soon she felt a moistness from between the swollen lips. She pictured Olwen's
face, open mouthed and eyes screwed tightly as she concentrated on the
sensations she was experiencing, and soon her own long fingers were rubbing a
tiny circle; a vortex of passion which went on and on until the very peak caused
her to utter a sharp cry which raced into every corner of her lonely cottage.

She clamed gradually and began to weep quietly in the darkness of her room and
then she turned on her side and lifted her knees as her salty tears wet both her
face and the pillow and much later she slept as the moon rose and cast a soft
beam across the room.

Early the next morning she drove to meet Olwen and found her in the yard
overseeing Bob Roberts as he loaded a dozen sheep into the back of a trailer.

"Morning Sarah. What brings you down at this time?"

"A form that's to go off today. It needs your signature Olwen."

She felt herself go red as Olwen first signed the document and then looked her
straight in the eye so that Sarah glanced away allowing her eyes to follow the
progress of the sheep up the loading ramp. Olwen touched her shoulder and Sarah
once more turned to face her.

"Is this what you called to see me about yesterday, Sarah?"

Sarah nodded and covered her embarrassment by licking the envelope and sealing
the letter.

"Well why on earth didn't you stay long enough to see me?"

Sarah opened and closed her mouth like a fish, but no sound came out.

"Don't deny it. I saw you racing away up the track from my bedroom window."

Sarah didn't know how to respond and glance down at her feet.

"I'm sorry," she said at last. "I didn't mean...I thought you were ill....I
thought you'd be...."

"I'm not angry. I'm just surprised that you ran off like that. Why didn't you
wait downstairs?"

There was a pause, for Sarah didn't know what to say next and was amazed that
Olwen didn't seem in any way embarrassed by the episode or felt the slightest
bit uncomfortable..

"Were you shocked?" asked Olwen gently. "You don't disapprove do you?"

"No...no!" she assured her. "I felt as if it were an intrusion. I didn't want to
stop you... you know."

"That's all right then. It was only a whim, Sarah. What with William being away
again and you know what I'm like - it just seemed a good idea at the time."

"Yes, of course."

"Don't you do the same now you're on your own?" asked Olwen bluntly.

"No...I don't... well, sometimes I suppose. But I don't....." her voice trailed
off.

Bother! She felt like a school girl being questioned by the headmistress for
some terrible misdemeanor.

Have you got a little friend like mine up in that cottage of yours?" asked
Olwen, giggling quietly.

"No, of course I haven't!" replied Sarah with a shocked voice.

"God. You don't know what you're missing!" said Olwen fervently and, before
Sarah could reply Olwen shouted to Bob and leapt into the cab.

Bob secured the tailgate, winked at Sarah and climbed up and then he settled
himself behind the wheel and shouted from the open window,

"Can I get you anything from market, Sarah?"

21 across Bob and shouted,

"I know just the thing she needs, Bob!"

"Oh yes, and what's that then?"

"Ah, but that would be telling."

Olwen laughed raucously and dodged back while Sarah, her face a bright scarlet,
stood there as the Land Rover moved off and watched as it turned down the track
leading to the road before moving back to the farmhouse and entering the office.

She worked for most of the morning and, once Olwen returned from the market the
two enjoyed a late lunch and then sat together to work through the accounts.

Olwen decided they'd done enough by 5.00pm and suggested that should have an
evening meal together at the cottage so she had a chat to Dylis, the
housekeeper, and then followed Sarah in her own car up to Penmawr Cottage and
later the two had a salad sitting outside in the warm evening sunshine.

When the sun disappeared and it became too dark to see anything they retreated
indoors, lit the fire in the grate and chatted and laughed above the voices
coming from the television and together finished more than half a box of French
red wine.

By ten thirty Olwen declared very seriously,

"Look Sarah, I'm in no fit state to drive down that track tonight, love, can I
sleep over until I sober up?"

"What about the farm. Who'll lock up?"

"Oh, don't let that worry you, I'll give Dylis a ring."

"I'll need to put some sheets on the spare bed," said Sarah standing.

"Don't be daft. I don't want you fussing for me. I'll jump in with you. It's
only for one night. No sense on making work, is there?"

Olwen picked up the phone and yelled her instructions at Dylis while Sarah stood
there feeling as if she were being taken over. She too had drunk several glasses
of wine and felt pleasantly heady and began to giggle at the slurred
instructions being shouted down the phone and put her hand to her mouth.

Olwen saw her laughing and asked,

"What's so funny?"

"You are. The way you're shouting," laughed Sarah. "You don't need the phone,
just open the window and all Wales will hear you!"

Olwen screamed with laughter and soon the two collapsed onto the settee, unable
to control their merriment. When the fire dropped, softly showering ashes into
the pan, the two climbed the narrow stairs and Olwen followed her friend into
the large bedroom.

"Remember when we used to sleep together all those years ago?" asked Sarah. "It
seems almost a lifetime has passed since those days."

"We're a lot wiser now my love," said Olwen, slipping her skirt down and
struggling to undo the blouse buttons.

Olwen visited the bathroom and Sarah heard the shower running so she too made a
visit and turned off the landing light as she returned and, entering her bedroom
she saw that Olwen was in bed and a single bedside light made the room pink and
inviting. She smiled as Olwen watched her and hung her dressing gown on the back
of the door.

She paused at the window and opened the small top opening allowing the sound of
the splashing water from the series of small falls in the stream below to enter
the cosy room.

"What are you watching?" asked Olwen.

"Nothing really. It's too dark to see anything and the moon hasn't come round to
this side of the cottage yet. I love the sound of the stream at night. When I
was so unhappy in York I used to imagine that I was here in Penmawr and I could
imagine this room and the cottage, but could never bring to mind the sound of
the water running over the rocks for all I could hear was the traffic and
voices, and somehow it increased my sense of isolation."

She turned to face her friend.

"Sorry to go rambling on, Olwen. It doesn't make sense, does it?"

"Yes it does, love. I think that the sounds of a happy place are most important,
especially when you're down. I have sounds that I can recall. Most of them seem
to be connected with childhood. I suppose life was safe and uncluttered in those
days with no responsibilities, no financial worries and no decisions to make
which can alter lives, and no men to mess us up."

"Only Johnny Applepear," sighed Sarah.

She tucked her pyjama tops into the waistband, lifted the duvet and climbed up
into the big bed.

"Sorry Olwen," she exclaimed as she saw that her companion was wearing only a
pair of the briefest panties. "I'll find you a nightie. I didn't think....."

Olwen stopped her leaving the bed.

"Don't be silly. I always sleep like this. Does it bother you?"

"No of course not," said Sarah pulling the duvet about her and settling down.

"Ready?" asked Olwen, and turned out the light.

The two lay quite still for a while and after a long pause Olwen asked softly,

"Why did you bring Johnny Applepear's name up again?"

"I don't really know," said Sarah sleepily. "it's just remembering those days
when we shared a room and Johnny was part of our lives."

There was a silence, and Olwen turned to face her

"He was good fun wasn't he?"

"I'll say, but our parents wouldn't have thought so would they?"

"God, no! Still he was attending to our education, wasn't he? He was so eager to
show us things and give us hands on experience as one of today's buzz words go."

Sarah giggled.

"Oh Lord, he was such a good teacher, and looking back, you know, we were never
really in danger from him, were we?"

"I can't believe how innocent we were, Sarah. I suppose that was the fault of
our single sex education, or as we used to call it, our "no sex" education.
Still we were very good pupils and always keen to do our homework!" laughed
Olwen.

This set them both off again before they once more lapsed into a deep silence.

"I'm amazed really that I was still a virgin when I married Tim," said Sarah.

`"Poor you," said Olwen." I certainly wasn't."

"You and Johnny?"

"No, not Johnny. Nearly though, but not quite."

"I don't understand."

"It's a long story Sarah, and best forgotten."

"If he didn't," asked Sara, "who then?"

"It was my 18th birthday present, bless him," said Olwen, softly. "It was
a lad from Conway I'd got to know at one of the local dances."

"I always thought it would be Johnny Applepear, somehow. I wish it had been for
me. He was so gentle and loving. Don't you remember, Olwen?"

"Yes, I remember. But he left the area."

"Why did he leave? He always said he'd take over his Dad's farm when he was
older. That and you and me was all he ever wanted."

"Well, people change. You should know that," said Olwen sharply.

"What's the matter, Olwen?" asked Sarah sensing a change of mood.

"Nothing," she replied, but Sarah knew there was and stayed silent for some
time.

Later Sarah's thoughts of the three of them together drifted back into her mind.

"I was just thinking how close we came to doing the real thing. Fancy, what an
innocent I was.....still am, I suppose. Tim's right about me being a bit of an
ice maiden. Perhaps I am scared to let go and give myself completely."

"No you're not. Don't think like that, Sarah. I recall you were very keen to try
things when Johnny met us both in the barn or beneath that bridge at the back of
the cottage. Have you forgotten all that?" and Sarah giggled as the memories
came flooding back.

"We were a terrible trio in those days, weren't we? Still, all three of us were
fairly naïve compared to what the kids get up to now I suppose."

"Naïve? I'll say. We were all nearly 19. I reckon we'd been very good
until then. When I think of how keen you were to meet Johnny that summer before
my nineteenth birthday. Any excuse you could think up just to be with the two
of us."

Sarah closed her eyes, remembering him; his dark hair and looks, his half closed
eyes and strong frame. She went hot as she remembered his hands and those hot
kisses.

"What are you thinking of now, Sarah?"

"That summer was a wonderful time for the three of us, wasn't it? I wish I was
still that age and you and Johnny Applepear. I honestly think that was the
happiest time of my life. Isn't that a sad thing to admit to anyone?"

"Do you still remember the things we used to do?" asked Olwen, turning over to
Sarah so that a plump and naked breast pushed against her arm.

Sarah giggled.

"I always picture that time near the end of the holiday, when we all three took
off all our clothes for the first time and sat in the lovely soft hay staring
wide eyed at each other. Then you started laughing and we rolled over and over
shrieking with laughter until we heard your Dad shouting at us for making such a
noise. It was a miracle we weren't discovered, Olwen."

"He'd a lovely body hadn't he? He was so tall and handsome and...and..."

"I think big's the word you're looking for!" cried Sarah and they clung
together, laughing with the wine and the memories.

"God, he was magnificent!" breathed Olwen fervently.

They both remembered the incident in their own way and then Sarah asked,

"Did he hurt you?"

"Who?"

"The boy from the dance on your birthday."

"Oh, that time. A little I suppose, but it was a lovely hurt and though he was
so clumsy he tried to be gentle. He was just as scared as me, poor lamb. He told
me it was his first time too."

Sarah was so engrossed in Olwen's words and her own thoughts that it was some
time before she realized that her partner was caressing her breasts ever so
gently and that her nipples were rigid with pleasure.

She lay back and closed her eyes as the expert hands slipped inside her top and
moved lovingly over her naked bosom. She sighed softly, feeling a vague unease,
but wanting the sensations she was experiencing to continue.

The hand stopped and began to unbutton the jacket she was wearing and she moved
to Olwen as the top was removed. She moaned moments later as the insistent hand
tugged at the waistband of her bottoms and again she helped by raising her hips
as the garment was lowered and pulled away from her.

She was now hot and apprehensive, but soon the hand was causing delicious
tingles of pleasure as it circled her soft belly and skirted the edge of her
pubic region. She parted her thighs as the fingers became more intimate and they
were at the very gateway of her being and with great expertise they quickly
located the silky groove and the hardening pleasure button.

Sarah moaned aloud as the electric feeling spread outwards from the point of
contact and soon she was gliding on a cloud of pleasure and spiraling ever
higher and then the hand was withdrawn and she gasped with disappointment, but
it soon returned and she felt a curious thickness at her opening.

She raised her knees for the butting intruder and then gasped as it entered her
slippery cunney slowly and gently. It withdrew once and then filled her very
being as it travelled inwards and, though she tried to speak, words failed her,
and soon a steady thrusting rhythm was set and she knew she was powerless to say
or do anything except meet each lunge and accept the mounting loops of passion.

The controlling hand speeded the climb and Sarah moaned as she felt that she
could no longer hold on. She cried out at the very top edge of emotion and
launched herself outwards from the high peak and then it was a long, slow and
delirious descent that went on and on for ever. At last she landed gently and
her mind reeled with the passion of it all.

When she managed to refocus her thoughts she felt a sense of loss as the lovely
intruder withdrew and she turned to Olwen, grasped her to her body and as their
breasts melded she embraced her with passionate gratitude and Olwen kissed her
softly on the forehead.

"Better now?"

"That was wonderful. You'll never know how much I needed that," she breathed.
"What on earth have you got?"

"A little present for you. I told you that you needed a friend, didn't I?"

"You planned all this today?" she asked.

"I decided after you caught me yesterday that I'd do you a favour, after all,
why should I have all the pleasures when, at the moment, your need is greater
than mine. Are you angry with me?"

"After all that? How could I be? It was perfect. Let me see it," demanded Sarah.

She took the intruder from between her soaking thighs and Olwen reached to
switch on the bedside light.

She was amazed when she saw the flesh coloured dildo for it felt soft on the
outside, but when she squeezed it she marveled at the sturdy rigidity beneath.
It was carved like a real penis with a veined shaft and a large smooth and
bulbous head and she laughed with delight as she turned it over and over in her
hand, assessing both its size and its weight.

"I'd no idea how wonderful they were. I've read about them, and even heard
others admit to having one, but honestly, I'd no idea."

"I take it you're pleased with my present?" said Olwen, smiling at her friend's
delight.

"I'll say I am!" and Sarah continued to squeeze and examine dildo and then
looked at Olwen and asked shyly.

"What about me doing the same to you?"

"Thought you'd never ask," said Olwen. "To be honest I'm rather hot and bothered
from seeing you have such a good time of it."

Olwen turned off the light once more, relaxed and lay back into the soft
mattress. She closed her eyes as she felt Sarah's tongue circling her nipples
and the soft fingers as they began to tease the hair at her cunney.

Soon the flimsy panties were thrown aside and she settle back, naked and
expectant. She thought again of the three of them in the hot barn, vividly
recalling the sensual scent of the hay and the hot excitement of that long
summer afternoon.

As her passion mounted, she imagined Johnny above her and parted her legs to
allow the thick shaft into her wet centre. She arched her back at the slow
intrusion and soon picked up the steady rhythm which seemed to stir some deep
response from within.

Olwen cried for more and Sarah quickened the thrusting phallus so that, as the
thing dredged her very depths, Olwen's breasts hardened and her stomach muscles
ridges as the sensations gathered at one ecstatic point.

The sensuality of the experience created such an overwhelming gush of emotion
that it caused her head to rock from side to side and continued almost beyond
the point of endurance.

Sarah, who had been kneeling between Olwen's legs, left the dildo lodged in
place and lay on top of her friend, holding her tightly until she calmed and a
long time later she kissed her softly and rolled away.

She straightened the duvet and soon both were breathing deeply in an exhausted
sleep and, when the morning sun flooded the bedroom, neither stirred, and even
the chattering and scratching of the busy sparrows in the roof gutter failed to
waken them.