Chapter 1

She was dressed in jeans and a baggy blue sweatshirt, all too big for her. But she was cute in a way, still in her twenties, a freckled girl with big eyes on the train down to the coast. She told him she was married to a German. "How is that?" the man asked, just to be polite.

"Oh, we married when I was 17", she said with a smile. "You know, I was young and he was so considerate."

The man thought about it. "Too considerate?" She quickly looked away.

An hour later the train pulled at the station and they parted. He picked up his suitcase and bid a conventional farewell. She had been nice company. And she said it usually was a boring trip. She picked up a notebook from her purse and her hands were not steady.

"Yes?" He frowned, not quite sure what was happening.

"I will stay in a cottage down by the coast", she said quickly, "if you're around, of course".

"Oh, I have a hell of a lot of work to do", he said. "I'm not sure..."

She folded the note. "My number", she said in a small voice. "In case..." Then she bit her lip. He just nodded, being late already.

The chestnut tree was visible from the road. You could hear the sea nearby but the cottage lay embedded in lilacs and old apple trees. She opened the door and seemed embarrassed. "It's not much of a house, she said, but it's fine with me."

She was simply dressed, just a striped white blouse, a mauve corduroy skirt and sandals, her hair in a tail. Newly shined riding boots were standing in the hallway. "Where's the horse?" he said. "You just drove by the stable", she said. "The farm is up the road."

The riding crop was on the kitchen table, out of place.

She prepared some sandwiches, roast with horseradish cream, Stilton. He stood behind her watching. "So you're on vacation?" he asked.

"Not really. I'm supposed to prepare for my exam."

"And you are not?"

She didn't want to talk about it. "I brought my books. You take the teapot."

She was pale and the freckles stood out like pebbles on a beach. He put a hand on her shoulder and wiped some cream off her lips with his thumb. She didn't move. He put the thumb in her mouth and she seemed paralyzed for a moment, then with a quick, nervous laugh she sucked the cream off.

They were talking family history in the livingroom, he in a worn leather armchair and she in the sofa, when he suddenly asked: "You love your husband?"

"I do", she answered. "But... it's complicated." She seemed uneasy.

"Sorry, it was rude of me to bring it up. Now, what about that horse?" he asked.

Night was falling. She had lit a candle and her eyes shone from the sofa. He knew a little more about horses and she knew a little more about mountaineering. She had her feet pulled up under her, shoes off, and sipped carefully from the cup, as if the tea was still hot. Her hands were not trembling anymore.

She wore no make up. No bra either, at least he didn't notice any straps when he touched her in the kitchen. He looked at her knees and she pulled at the rim of the skirt.

"More tea?" she asked. It was fine. "Are you leaving?"

"No", he said with a smile. She might have blushed, it was hard to see, but she bit her lip again and then smiled back and stretched out, looking at her toes. The nails were painted red. "Not yet".

He went over to the sofa and took her hand. "Stand up." The eyes wondered why but she was not scared anymore, she was curious. "I want to see what you look like."

"I'm not special in any way", she mumbled coyly.

"Oh you are", he said.

She thought about it for a while, then with a quick smile she rose and posed for him like a little girl. "Shall I turn around?"

He sat on the edge of the sofa. "Please do.". She was beautiful, but not conscious of it. "Hands over your head".

"You can't order me around like a puppet", she protested.

"I just did." She put her hands behind her neck and turned. She didn't shave her legs, as far as he could see.

"Walk to the door and back again", he said. She walked like Chaplin, elbows at the side. She came up close, he sensed the warmth of her body. "Turn around." She turned. He put his hand on the inside of her knee and felt her slowly up the thigh. She gasped and stiffened. She didn't shave her legs. And she had the softest down.

He wasn't in a hurry, he caressed her from the knee up, front side, back side, he took care not to touch her panties. Her breathing became heavier. He let go of her and she turned to face him, not a little girl anymore. "Raise your skirt", he said.

"No", she said heatedly. "You are using me... like a toy".

He looked her straight in the eyes. "Yes I am." He was all matter of fact now.

"Don't be such a prude", he said. "You want to. If not, you can just tell me to leave." She felt his hand on the inside of her thigh. "You are beautiful, and I just want you to raise your skirt for me. Please." Her shiny eyes fixed his while she weighed the pro and cons.

"Okay", he said and moved as to rise. "I am sorry if I offended you..."

"No", she whispered, "wait."

She took a deep breath and composed herself, then lifted her skirt, an inch at a time. She kept her thighs together. Small white panties she wore, sheer and latticed. Then she let it down again. Now she was really blushing.