Most of the walk should have been on country paths, but because of the rain, I played safe and took a short cut through a small village. I say a small village, but in reality, there were just three houses, stretched along the road. As I passed the last one, I was hailed by a voice from the front door.
“You look utterly miserable,” a female voice said, “would you like to come in and dry off for a while?”
“Oh, that would be very welcome,” I replied, and walked up to the door. She opened it wider and led me through to the back kitchen. There I took stock of my saviour. She was middle aged, like me, and attractive, as far as I could tell. She wore a pair of jeans and a large bulky sweater and her feet were bare.
“I’m Amy,” she said as I introduced myself in return.
“I hope you don’t think me forward, but you really did look so wet, I couldn’t just let you walk by. You would have caught your death in this downpour.”
“I’m glad you did,” I replied, “it is really terrible out there.”
She found me some dry clothes, her husband’s I assumed, and a towel. She left me to dry and change in the kitchen while she went to light a fire in the living room. I went to the door and told her I had a pile of wet clothes, and she came and put them in her drier, while I made myself comfortable on the sofa.
We talked, at first just small stuff, but eventually I drew out her story. She was a widow, with two boys who had grown up and left home to start families of their own. She had come to this village to live a few years earlier, realizing capital from her family home, so she could live comfortably with no need to work.
“Don’t you get bored?” I asked, “There’s not a lot to this village is there?”
“That’s fine by me,” she said, “I do some volunteer work, so I get to meet people, and I tend my garden.”
The fire had caught by now and was burning brightly, casting its glow on us. I looked across at her, perched on the arm of an armchair. I realized just how attractive she was, not in any conventional way, but there was a vivacity about her that made me feel very comfortable. Physically, she was tall, but as I am well over six feet, that wasn’t any sort of problem. Her jeans fitted her well, so I knew that she had a nice ass, but the sweater masked the rest of her. I guessed her age to be around mid forties.
The room was now nice and warm and I had thawed out from my drenching. I slipped off the jacket she had found for me and told her that her kindness had made my day.
We talked more and after a while she offered me coffee. While she was away making the coffee, I looked around the room. There was an absence of the usual run of family photos that I would have expected to see, and her bookshelves contained a range of subjects, from gardening to comparative religion. When she came back I asked her about these and told her that that had been an interest of mine at one stage.
“What made you lose interest?” she enquired.
“Oh, I just realized that since all religions were just an attempt by man to explain his existence and that it had been such a cause of so much death and misery, I just felt I should follow my own creed. A humanitarian creed, that let people do whatever they wanted, so long as it didn’t cause pain and misery.”
“Sorry to get a bit heavy, but I have been a lot happier since I made that decision,” I continued.
“Does that carry on into your personal relationships?“ she asked adding, “If that isn’t too personal of a question.”
“No, that’s okay, I just have a simple code of behaviour; anything is possible between two, or more, people, so long as there is complete openness about what they want to get out of the relationship.”
“So, if I told you that I really asked you in because I wanted a good fuck, what would you say?” she asked me, with a slightly embarrassed smile.
“I would say that your needs are important and you shouldn’t ignore them, and that I find you attractive.