The Smallholder - Cover

The Smallholder

Copyright© 2016 by Always Raining

Chapter 5

Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 5 - Joseph Ramsden, a smallholder, had come to terms with tragedy in his life and had settled to a calm existence, until Angela Furness arrived and brought a whole lot of trouble. This tale is set in the hills of the Peak District of Northern England. All characters are fictional and are not based on any real (or unreal) living or dead people! Warning as far as sex content is concerned it is VERY slow!

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Fiction   Slow  

They returned to the cottage at five in the evening, and Joseph immediately began preparing supper of sliced boiled eggs, cheese, home made bread and a selection of his own home-made jams. Angela begged to help and was set to slice the bread when it came out of the microwave. They ate at the kitchen table, washing the meal down with mugs of tea.

After the meal Joseph made the rounds of the animals and while he was out, Angela loaded the dishwasher and washed up. He smiled when he returned to find the kitchen spotless. He thanked her.

"I meditate for about an hour morning and evening. You are welcome to sit by the stove or use the study. There are books as you know. Afterwards I take Bob down to the pub and have a couple of drinks. Would you like to come? It's the best part of two miles."

"I'd love to," she answered. "D'you think I can manage the walk?"

"If you can't we'll turn round and come back."

She watched from the door to the living room as he lit the candle, made a deep bow and then sat down cross-legged in the lotus position. Bob came out of the room and looked at her. She turned and went into the study, and found a novel she'd always wanted to read. She sat in the recliner and Bob went to the radiator, lay down and seemed to fall fast asleep.

She was so immersed in the book that she did not notice Bob leave the room after an hour, and was surprised when Joseph came into the room.

"Time to go," he said. "Bring your book, if you want."

"No fear, books in pubs are for people on their own. I'll be with you."

"Wrap up warm, it's a cold clear night."

The walk took the best part of an hour, Joseph being careful to match his pace to hers. The moon was full and bathed everywhere in a pale light. Angela was enthralled by the moonlight and how easy it was to see their way by its light. They did not speak during the walk, seemingly preoccupied with their own thoughts.

The heat of the pub hit them as they entered.

"What's this Joe?" said the Sam, the landlord. "Didn't know you had a lady friend."

"There must be quite a lot you don't know, Sam," said Joseph, laughing. "This is Angela. She's visiting for the weekend."

"You're very welcome me-love," said Sam to Angela, "What you having?"

"Half of bitter please," she said.

"Oh, a woman with taste," said Sam. "You want to hold onto this one, Joe. Good looks and good taste in beer. What more could you want?"

Joseph merely smiled and they took their glasses to a table and sat down facing into the room. Sam brought over a bowl of water for Bob, who lapped it up thankfully. There were other older men and a few couples, and they all knew one another and the conversation flowed.

Angela noticed that Joseph made his quiet contributions. He seemed totally self-possessed. No one made any further comments about Angela or spoke to her, though plenty smiled at her, and she was happy to sit and listen and watch. She was warm and happy simply to be with him.

Joseph had two pints and Angela her two halves, and after an hour, he asked her if she was ready for the walk back. They took their leave, with Sam and Violet saying she was welcome any time.

It was quite late when they returned to the cottage and Joseph noticed Angela was exhausted. He regretted their outing then, remembering that she was not as fit as he was. Once again he insisted on her taking the bedroom while he had the recliner. She asked if there were not another bedroom upstairs, and he replied that no one ever came to stay the night, so the upper bedroom was never used. He used the other upstairs rooms for storing the crops.

"I feel guilty at taking your bed again," she said, almost asking him to share his bed with her, but biting her tongue.

"Don't worry, I often sleep in the chair. It is very comfortable, believe me." It was true, Joseph found it as easy to sleep in as the bed. He remembered the residual perfume on the pillow after she left the first time and looked forward to it again.

On Sunday morning she again slept in until ten. She emerged from the bedroom and wandered through the empty house. She smelled the candle and knew he had been meditating that morning. Perhaps he was out tending to the livestock. Then she heard the sound of a Range Rover arriving, and saw it was he. The man was full of surprises; she did not know he had transport, but on reflection she knew it was essential.

She put the kettle to boil and was making some tea when he came in through the kitchen door, stamping his feet from the cold, frosty morning.

"Problem?" she asked.

"Church."

Of course, she thought, it was Sunday.

"You're religious?" she asked, though she immediately knew the question was superfluous. The answer surprised her.

"Everyone is to some extent."

"I don't follow?"

"The word comes from the latin 'religare' meaning 'to bind fast'. Most people have some thing or cause they bind themselves to – God, a church or faith, an all-consuming hobby, football club, family, a good cause, third world poverty, you name it."

"Oh, and which is it for you? I'm sorry, is that too personal a question?"

"No. A simple life, thankfulness for everything, compassion for others, forgiveness, letting go, discipline of meditation to control desires."

"You haven't mentioned God," she said. "What about that?"

"I don't know. I don't think it's necessary to believe in my head; it's necessary to live as fully a human life as I can in gratitude for the gift of my life. If there is a God, that's what matters, how I live, not what I say. St James in one of his letters in the Bible says 'True religion is coming to the aid of widows and orphans when they need it, and keeping oneself uncontaminated by the world'. He says nothing about worship or prayer or high sounding words, just help those in need and don't get taken in by false values."

He stopped and smiled

She thought for a while. Then, "But you went to the service at the church?"

"Yes."

Another pause.

"But why?"

"It's where Christians gather. There is always something to be learned when Christians gather, often in the most unlikely situations and the strangest ways. They support me and I support them. It keeps my feet on the ground."

She poured the tea while he set about cooking some bacon, tomatoes and eggs for breakfast. He fried some left over bread as well.

Once again she assessed the man. He seemed to have everything clear; he had principles and put them into practice. More than that he had a unified perspective – everything about him hung together and he was so thoughtful for her. She realised that she was far from able to say the same.

They worked together in that silence she had come to love, and they ate the meal and drank the tea in that same silence, but with smiles and looks at each other.

She felt increasing attraction to and warmth for the man; she wanted to stay with him for longer.

By the same token, Joseph found himself feeling great affection for the woman who had come into his life. She was very attractive and had an open and loving character. She had begun to do little things for him, like making the tea when she knew he was coming home. He believed that the small actions done in love, bind and make a relationship solid.

He knew he liked her very much, and enjoyed her presence in his life. He felt the first gentle tendrils of desire for her and enjoyed that as well, though he knew she would go from him as she had before. Did that make him sad? He had to admit it did.

Desire leads to suffering, he thought, The Buddha's teaching is true.

He did not mind. The Buddha never said one should not desire, only that it would lead to suffering. Jesus on the other hand seemed to find suffering in some sense redemptive – almost purifying. Joseph could live with that as well. Buddha said 'compassion' and Jesus said 'love', so on that they agreed. He would allow Angela to decide what she wanted.

"Are we still going walking?" Her question broke his reflections and he nodded.

"It's a beautiful clear day, but cold," he said. "Wrap up warm. You have the kit now."

They agreed they did not need lunch, since they had only just finished breakfast, but Joseph made coffee and filled a flask, adding some chocolate and Kendal Mint Cake to his rucksack.

They did six miles in all, there and back, which as it happened, was twice the distance there and back to the pub! He was careful to keep to her pace. Bob ran ahead and then back to them and had a whale of a time, sniffing out smells beyond the range of human noses.

Walking up the valley, following the course of the stream, they needed to cross it twice using stepping stones, and each time he held out his hand to help her across. Her initial reaction was annoyance – she could manage – but then realised she could hold his hand!

They reached the head of the pass, and looked down on the valley on the other side. It was wide and bowl-shaped, scraped out millions of years ago by glaciers, she thought. They could see for miles to a town in the far distance.

The low winter sun cast a rosy light over the hillside, casting their long shadows over the grass and dead bracken. The sky was a deep blue and the cold breeze assailed their faces.

"It's beautiful!" she said, her eyes shining.

"Yes, it is," said Joseph, smiling at her comment. "It will be very cold tonight."

"Try your phone," he suggested.

She did and got a strong signal, so she phoned her boss and asked for time off. He suggested she take the week, since she had to use up her holiday entitlement; the company ran its holidays from March to February.

As she glanced at Joseph, who took her look as a request to stay even longer. He nodded with a smile.

Then they retraced their steps. Again he held out his hand, and she took it, but after she crossed the second set of stones she did not let go. The path was wide enough for two to walk abreast. He shot a glance at her and she smiled back. He smiled in his turn and made no attempt to let go of her hand either. So they arrived at the cottage hand in hand.

"Thank you Joseph," she said as they shed their outdoor clothing, "that was lovely."

Her smile made him wonder if it was the walk to which she referred, or the holding hands. He didn't mind, walking with her had brought him a feeling he had forgotten – warm and affectionate. He was glad she was staying longer.

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