I am working on a mystery story whose central character, Isobel, has no memory beyond the morning she awoke in the cottage where she is now living but has a formidable knowledge of many things and a range of skills that that seem to come quite naturally. This scene involves her learning that one of those skills is sexual and seemed like a good fit with this weeks prompt.
In the six weeks since her awakening Isobel had spent every evening alone in the cottage except for Dog but tonight was to be different. A few days ago she had seen a poster for a fundraising concert to be given by the church choir supported by some musicians from a school in the Town. This struck her as a virtually risk free first outing.
The sun was already low and shone through the trees with unpredictable beauty as she walked through the wood. When she reached the church it was quite full but she spotted an empty space near the back and squeezed in. Most of the music seemed familiar and with one or two exceptions she knew who wrote it and even had some knowledge of their lives but it triggered no memories.
During the interval she was reaching for a glass of white wine when a grey haired man who she took to be in his fifties spoke to her.
"I wouldn't drink too much of that - it can strip the enamel off your teeth!
She tried it then pulled a face and nodded. He seemed to be on his own and had a warm, rather engaging smile and the wrinkles round his eyes were really quite attractive. They chatted about the first half remarking on how well Victoria's Ave Maria had been played and sung but soon enough they were urged back to their seats. Her body had not reacted in any way to the man unlike her response on the day after her awakening when Dog's "owner" had knocked at her door.
Her mind then had been clear she did not recognise him but her body told her she had been fucked by him and more than once. With hindsight his story about Dog being injured and his intention to return with the car to pick him up was always less than convincing. Dog had shown no sign of injury but greeted her like a long-lost friend. At the time she just put it down to the natural friendliness of Labradors. What was harder to explain was that the well-stocked pantry she had found at the cottage include both dry and wet food for larger dogs!
The concert finished and the audience began to shuffle towards the way out. She instinctively looked around the church and spotted the man at the door. A few moments later as she headed for the path through the woods she realised he was walking slowly in front of her and it seemed impolite not to fall in with him.
"I'm looking forward to a glass of the Pomerol I left to breathe earlier" he said.
"Not a 2009?" she asked puzzled as ever where such knowledge came from.
"Afraid not - it’s a 2010 but still rather delightful!"
Afterwards she couldn't recall any preceding thought process but the next words out of her mouth were "I don't suppose you could spare a glass for a weary traveller with miles to go before I sleep?" He laughed gently and said "For a girl who quotes my favourite poet how can I say no."
His cottage was close to where the path through the woods started and it was immediately clear that he lived there alone - it was a mans home, not macho but clearly male with the odd piece sporting memorabilia and well stocked shelves of books and vinyl albums.. After pouring the wine he switched on an old-fashioned record player and flipped a disc on to it. She was intrigued but feared a heavy choral work then relaxed as she recognised the opening bars of Sketches of Spain. Whatever else she might learn about this man his good taste was not going to be in question.
By the time he needed to refill their glasses her body was in total charge and it ached so hard for the touch of warm flesh on flesh. They were chatting like old friends but he gave no indication of expecting anything more than conversation. Suddenly she stood and walked across the room to stand in front of him.
"You have 10 seconds to make a choice - either we go upstairs and fuck right now or I go back and feed Dog who has been home alone tonight?"
He seemed to be rendered speechless by this but he wasn't saying no so she pulled him out of the chair and directed him to the stairs. A few minutes later she was helping him out of his trousers and trying to ignore the underpants that had seen better days. It was absolutely clear that having sex tonight had not crossed his mind. He was clean but in need to some serious attention to his pubic hair. She stopped for a moment and thought for the first time about her own absence of pubic hair - after six weeks on there was no sign of it growing back so it must have been lasered away.
"I don't have any condoms" he mumbled apologetically.
"We're not going to let that stop us are we?" she replied kneeling down and taking his now erect penis into her mouth. It was clean and well looked after she realised with an inward sigh of relief. Having made clear what was in store for him she quickly removed her own remaining clothes and in doing so realised just how wet her cunt had become. She paused for a moment and inserted two fingers then withdrew them and placed them in his mouth – he hesitated then hungrily licked them and as she removed then whispered what sounded like "more please".
Her conscious mind was now a mere observer while her body was on auto pilot. The man was so entranced by what she was doing to him that he failed to even register the scarring on her back and arse which, though healed, was still the same angry red she had observed on that "awakening day". She directed him to put his face between her legs and gave him clear instructions about licking but not sucking her clitoris and exactly how much pressure to apply. Ten minutes later she reached orgasm, her first since awakening and it felt wonderful as it spread through her body and continued to make her spasm for minutes after.
Now she turned him on to his back and again took his penis into her mouth. Pausing only to plunge her other hand into her cunt to gain some lubrication she slipped it between his legs and sought out the entrance to his anus. Her mind interrupted her body momentarily with the thought that there had better be a nailbrush in his bathroom but she dismissed it and sought out his prostate and began to massage it while continuing to explore his cock, balls and urethral opening with her tongue.
His breathing became shorter and he began to make the strange noises that men make during sex. She was never sure whether they were involuntary or had been learned by watching porn? Either way he was heading for ejaculation and she could already taste the pre-cum oozing from his cock. She pulled away and began to masturbate him - he tried to speak but she silenced him with a long, deep and lingering kiss while slipping a second finger into his anus. Seconds later spunk shot from his cock and landed in her hair. She laughed uproariously while he panted and tried to process what had just happened. Inevitably he drifted off to sleep soon after and she lightly gathered her clothes and headed for the bathroom. Pausing only to clean her nails she dressed and went downstairs.
By now her conscious mind had reasserted control and she found a note pad and pen and sat down to write the following: -
"Thank you for tonight - I hope you enjoyed it too but I really do have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep. I hope you won't be too disappointed that I am not looking for a lover but along the way I will need a friend I’m sure. Isobel, xo"
When she reached the cottage Dog bounded to the door to meet her but quickly sniffed at her legs and clothing before turning his back on her. It was several days before he deigned to spend the night on her bed again.
Part 4 of Isobel's Story is here
My pillow won’t tell me
Where he has gone,
The soft-footed one
Who passed by, alone.
THEODORE ROETHKE The Apparition
Isobel dressed in the clothes she found in the wardrobe - all brand new and the right size. The labels were High street but the quality end. Without giving it much thought she had naturally dressed as if getting ready for some exercise - tight pants, a Lycra tee over a sports bra and running top for warmth.
She had heard nothing inside the cottage so was reasonably sure she was alone but nonetheless carefully explored what proved to be a two bedroom cottage furnished tastefully but with nothing that would give any clue about its occupant.
The real surprise came when she opened the front door. 50 yards away was a shore and water for some distance beyond which rose wooded hills. Behind the cottage was a wood with the start of a path leading into it. She could see no other building or sign of human impact on the landscape. It was breathtaking and she felt an extraordinary surge of happiness at being alone amidst such natural beauty.
She had no idea how long she lingered by the shore drinking in the beauty and feeling her fears becoming smaller until she was able to place it on one side - she was Isobel and this felt like home.
Eventually hunger led her back to the cottage where she quickly found the file promised in her "Welcome" letter. Annotated in the same hand she found the deeds to the cottage and some of the land around it. These told her that she was in the northern part of England, in or close to the Lake District she guessed. There were details of a bank account with a note explaining that her "pension" would be paid into this account on the first of the month, a private health plan and some cash.
The kitchen had a well-stocked fridge and an equally well stocked larder. What she also discovered was that there was no internet connection, TV or phone only a small radio. After a plain breakfast of muesli and yogurt followed by coffee, she again found herself drawn to the full-length mirror in her bedroom. She saw a healthy, fit young woman and were it not for the now hidden scars she would have also said "normal". She felt her body urging her to exercise and instinctively decided to take a run.
Within seconds she knew this was something her body had done thousands of times before. It felt natural and she quickly found a comfortable rhythm. She ran for several miles along the shore line without seeing a living soul before turning back. Her stride was long and while her breathing was faster, she didn't feel as though she was anywhere near her limits.
As she neared the cottage she saw what looked like a hiker and a dog sitting outside. The man came to his feet as she approached. As soon as she saw his face something stirred, deep in her stomach and a sense of warmth spread through her body and seemed to settle in her vagina. She knew that she didn't recognise his face yet her body was screaming "He fucked you - and more than once - and you enjoyed it".
“I am so sorry to disturb you but my dog seems to have hurt his paw. I was trying to ring for a friend to pick us up but there’s no signal here of course. Could I possibly leave him with you for a couple of hours while I go and get the car?”
The dog seemed happy enough and was positively enthusiastic about meeting Isobel. She recognised it as a Yellow Labrador and something in the recesses of her mind said “And that’s a proper dog too”. She told the man she would happily look after the dog and asked if he needed refreshments himself. He declined and left promising to be back within a couple of hours. It was only after he had disappeared from sight that it occurred to her that there was no vehicle access to the cottage yet he had specifically talked about his car rather than a boat?
By the time it started to grow dark she knew the hiker wasn’t coming back not that Dog, now upper case, was bothered in the least. He and Isobel seemed to have developed an instant rapport and being honest with herself having a companion albeit a canine one had made this day that began with near terror into one where she could contemplate going to bed with a book and looking forward to finding out more about who she was in the morning.
There were several bookcases around the cottage with a wide range of books on their shelves. All but a few were brand new but it was one of the second hand volumes she took down. She hesitated before opening it wondering, hoping perhaps, that there would be some clue here to her identity. The book was a slim volume of poetry by Theodore Roethke and when she did open it was surprised to see that it was a library book though closer examination revealed it had been withdrawn from a university library decades earlier. Her disappointment was considerable – this was something bought from a second hand dealer not some relic of her past. And yet he was a poet she knew of and was familiar with some of his poetry how was it that this obscure work was left here for her to find?
She made her way upstairs and hadn’t been in bed more than few moments when she heard a commotion on the stairs. Her heart raced but before anxiety could set in Dog burst through the door and leapt on to the bed. She decided to let him stay though his arrival led her thoughts back to his missing owner and she quickly realised that she would happily welcome the owner into her bed were he to finally arrive. She put the book aside and turned off the light and her right hand made its way down to her stomach and between her legs where she was a little surprised to find she was already wet. She could almost feel the shape of the man’s cock in her cunt, she knew how he would slowly part her labia with it before thrusting deep inside her. And while she knew that he would fuck her hard she was sure he would also take care to help her to orgasm too. How could she know that much about a complete stranger?
A few minutes later she felt her orgasm rise and then fall and turned on her side. Within moments she was asleep and soon both her and Dog began to dream of how their lives might stay properly entwined this time.
Read the third part of Isobel's Story here
This week's Wicked Wednesday prompt was "Elaborate" and as several of you had been kind enough to ask to learn more about Isobel's predicament I felt that "elaborating" on her back story was too good an opportunity to pass up. There isn't a lot of sex in this or the second half to which there is a link at the end but I am working on parts of the story that begin to explain her memory loss and there will be rather a lot in those I suspect!
Even so my sun one early morn did shine
With all-triumphant splendour on my brow;
But out, alack! he was but one hour mine;
The region cloud hath mask'd him from me now.
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, Sonnet 33
Part 1 - Isobel's story began one morning as the sun shone.
There was a gap between the curtains and through it the morning sun sent a bright beam that crossed the white bed linen and touched the sleeping woman's face. The warmth woke her and as she opened her eyes and took in the room she thought it was a delightful way to start that or any other day.
Realising that the room was unfamiliar she tried to recall where she was - the room didn't have the anonymous decor of a hotel so perhaps a guest house? Hoping to prompt herself she thought about her plans were for the day but could bring nothing to mind.
It was only then that it occurred to her that not only did she not know where she was but neither did she know who she was. She dismissed the thought as absurd and tried to relax. While she did so her legs moved involuntarily around the bed as if expecting to find someone or something on it but found nothing.
As the beam of sunshine slowly moved away she knew with growing certainty that she had no memory of who she was or of anything she had ever done before waking up a few minutes ago. She felt cold and more than a little frightened but forced herself to move the duvet and swing her legs over the side of the bed. Despite her fear she nevertheless felt certain that she was a strong and resourceful person but could not, of course, offer herself any evidence of this.
She now noticed that on the dressing table by the window there was a cream envelope of the sort used for personal correspondence before email became ubiquitous. She reached for the envelope and saw it had a name written by hand in a flowing script, by a fountain pen too she noted approvingly. The name was Isobel J......
We have endeavoured to fulfil your wishes and you will find a file downstairs containing the necessary documents. We wish you well in your new life.
So she had a name. A name she tried saying out loud which was when she realised, she had the sort of accent that suggested origins in the counties surrounding London. It was pleasant if unremarkable. Having a name didn't take the fear away completely but she was surprised how much better it made her feel.
She was naked and she stood and looked at herself in the full length mirror. Close cropped blonde hair, a round face with blue eyes and full lips. Breasts that would require a good sports bra when running - where did that thought come from, she wondered even as her body started doing stretches in anticipation of exercise.
She ran her hands around her body and it felt quite natural to pause and slowly probe between the lips of her vagina. For a moment she considered returning to the bed and continuing the exploration but as she looked in the mirror, she noticed what seemed to be scar tissue just above her right hip.
A few moments later she had to force herself to breath slowly as she fought the bile rising in her throat. Her back was a network of scars that suggested the flesh had been broken and left to heal by itself. They did not cause pain but she could feel the tightness of them when she moved in certain ways. They would fade in colour given time but the raised welts would be permanent. She tried and failed to think of a way that the wounds could have been self inflicted - this was something that another human being had done to her.
Find the second part of the start of Isobel's story here