Post by dianahawthorne on Feb 7, 2009 23:26:16 GMT -5
Apple Trees
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This story borrows ideas from Henrik Ibsen’s play “Hedda Gabler”.
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They consummated their relationship in his orchard, beneath the apple trees, one weekend when she and her husband were staying with him and his wife. Her husband, David, was an archivist and his wife, Jane, was his assistant.
Richard had offered to take Helen on a walk while their spouses were working on their latest project – a book dealing with the domestic industries of Brabant during the Middle Ages.
They walked through the rose garden on the way to the orchard. Helen paused for a moment to pick several roses. She wove them into a crown, setting them onto her long, shining auburn hair.
They continued on to the orchard. Once they reached their destination, he turned to her, cupping her face in his hands. She felt her breathing grow faster as he looked into her eyes.
They didn’t talk – they didn’t need to talk – as he bent down to capture her lips with his. Helen wrapped her arms around his neck, allowing him to pull her down to the ground. He was on top of her, his weight pressing her down against the soft grass of the orchard.
He carefully unfastened her dress while she unbuttoned his shirt, then his trousers. They discarded their clothes and he took her in his arms once more, continuing to kiss her. She responded, moaning as he deepened the kiss.
Afterwards, she lay in his arms, staring up at the sky, as he nuzzled her neck. Eventually he released her from his embrace and they got dressed again, walking back to his house.
(She left the roses on the ground beneath the apple trees.)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This story borrows ideas from Henrik Ibsen’s play “Hedda Gabler”.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
They consummated their relationship in his orchard, beneath the apple trees, one weekend when she and her husband were staying with him and his wife. Her husband, David, was an archivist and his wife, Jane, was his assistant.
Richard had offered to take Helen on a walk while their spouses were working on their latest project – a book dealing with the domestic industries of Brabant during the Middle Ages.
They walked through the rose garden on the way to the orchard. Helen paused for a moment to pick several roses. She wove them into a crown, setting them onto her long, shining auburn hair.
They continued on to the orchard. Once they reached their destination, he turned to her, cupping her face in his hands. She felt her breathing grow faster as he looked into her eyes.
They didn’t talk – they didn’t need to talk – as he bent down to capture her lips with his. Helen wrapped her arms around his neck, allowing him to pull her down to the ground. He was on top of her, his weight pressing her down against the soft grass of the orchard.
He carefully unfastened her dress while she unbuttoned his shirt, then his trousers. They discarded their clothes and he took her in his arms once more, continuing to kiss her. She responded, moaning as he deepened the kiss.
Afterwards, she lay in his arms, staring up at the sky, as he nuzzled her neck. Eventually he released her from his embrace and they got dressed again, walking back to his house.
(She left the roses on the ground beneath the apple trees.)
