She was calling the goddess to her. It never worked for those circles of women, but I thought it just might work for her. She ran her hands over my ch...st while she sang. She kept her eyes on mine as her hands explored my skin. Slowly they moved down past my waist. Slowly, she started stroking me. Her eyes left mine then, and she watched her hand sliding up and down on me. She looked around the clearing, into the trees. Was she making sure no-one was around, or making sure someone was? Whatever. It was a cool spring morning, the sun was shining and a warm breeze blew lightly out of the east as it always had. The sweet sent of the wildflowers from on the hill and just beyond is something I will always remember. The tall grass and grain blowing to and fro on the wind was a peaceful thing to see. I paused for a moment at Mr. Osterant’s door looking at the view afforded by the hilltop house. Mr. Osterant was the local Merchant of many things, and the most successful man in our little. More

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