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| Blogs > wickedeasy > wicked and that ain't so easy |
and the hunter home from the hill.
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and the hunter home from the hill. It has a rhythm that soothes her, the endless splitting of wood. Her do it, she does, her Man does it mostly. The pile is high and wide, yet she continues to add to it for once the snow hits, a run to the pile is all she will manage, her belly grows bigger with each moon. A to welcome a new year, the added room finished, supplies in, canning done. Now it is just weeks away and the sweet return of her Man with the last of the trapping. She moves with fullness, wiping her hands on her skirt, ridding them of the sawdust. She sits with her legs wide, belly resting on the sun warmed planks of the porch. Her hair is honeyed from the light through the trees, falling over scarlet, yellow leaves. A gift to see it. Her babies all played with it like it was alive, which made it so. She lifts it off her neck, pulls it over her swollen breast. Way off, she hears the dogs. She should get up to make supper but there’s something in her that wants to be the first sight He sees when he comes to the tall ridge. Her, splayed open and waiting. Lord she is a terrible woman, shameless. The way she craves this man. And her, a mama with sleeping in the house. She slips the skirt up. opens the neck of her blouse, letting it slip off one shoulder. What’s that word? Slatternly….a smile slips across her face, her lids get heavy. The dogs are closer, her breath comes faster. The sled is there. He’s stopped as He always does to survey his kingdom. She feels herself let down, her tongue slides across her lips. What does he see of her from there she wonders. He’s not moving at all. A flash of light, he’s using his telescope. She lifts her hips, moans, tosses her head back, the dogs bark furiously heading down the slope towards home. Her eyes meet His. He smells of wood smoke, sweat. His fingers pop the buttons of her blouse. He tosses her on the sled as the dogs pull it into the barn, his hands never leaving her body. When the wake up Papa is there, tells them go feed the dogs. Mama is wearing her nightie cuz it’s comfy Pa says, so they scoot fast because they smell supper’s near ready. You cannot conceive the many without the one. |
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I read every word you write but I still don't get it! I'm frustrtated from England! Is this a cultural thing?!  
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obligatory comment You cannot conceive the many without the one.
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I read every word you write but I still don't get it! I'm frustrtated from England! Is this a cultural thing?! But your blog is the best. I love being challenged!
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Hello WE   Great Post Visit my Blog Older but no Wiser and find out more
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I really enjoyed this story, every woman should be waiting for her man to return like this..thank you Happy Hump Day.. Seduce the mind and see what a wonderful adventure the body will take you on.. 
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9/27/2017 2:47 pm |
Very nicely written. Thanks. QuietMan
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Just a beautiful fall day for lovin'!!!! (Virtual Symposium Group) use Virtual Symposium Group
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Awesome story here wicked loved it. It is the reading between the lines that gets me thinking always hugs V Become a blog watcher sweet_vm
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Spectacular my friend. I have read it numerous times & get something different from it again and again… 💗 Rachel Mae
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I haven't heard that word, slatternly, in many years. I had a great Aunt when I was a little girl,who was born right at the end of the Civil War. She used to call women of 'questionable morals' slatterns. As always, wonderful tale. "Shall I tell you the secret of the true scholar? It is this: every man I meet is my master in some point, and in that I learn of him." ~Ralph Waldo Emerson  
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I always love your writing! 
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