CHAPTER FIVE

Day 60

i went walking again today with Chris. I tried a different tack this time, and didn’t pester her with questions. We walked mostly in silence. I stopped one time to admire the snowdrops and she said “Yes, they’re pretty, but have you ever really looked at them properly?” And we dropped to our knees and she told me their Greek name, Galanthus, and we studied the bell shape of the flower and the gentle corrugations and heart shaped green pattern on the petal, and she told me how they rely on ants to carry the seed from place to place, and countless other things that I’d never have known or even been interested in before, but now made the flowers and the wood that they lived in seem even more alive and vibrant.

When we got back to the house we went upstairs. There was a small door at one end of the main corridor that I’d not noticed before and Chris opened it to reveal a narrow winding stair that led up into a large attic space that ran the full length of the main wing of the house. It must have been fifty or sixty feet long, with low walls on either side no more than six feet high containing small square windows, and a steeply pitched timber boarded roof that sprang from the top of the wall, with huge oak trusses spanning the full width of the space every twelve feet or so. Resting on the bottom ties of the trusses and spanning between them were dozens and dozens of rolls of material of every conceivable colour and pattern. Several rolls were also partially unfurled across a huge table sitting in front of us. And at the far end of the room was an elaborate timber structure the size of a small room containing regularly spaced lengths of bright emerald thread which itself was partially woven into a plane of shimmering green fabric emerging from the structure on one side.
Chris stretched an arm out for me as I stepped inside. “Welcome to my favourite room in the house.” She walked over to the loom. “And this is my most treasured possession.”
“It’s beautiful!”
“I’d like to share it with you.”
“Me? Why?”
“I think you’d like being here. I like weaving. I wondered if you’d like to try dressmaking?”
“Well, I’d never really thought about it, but…” I picked up one of the pieces of fabric on the cutting table and held it to my cheek. “This is gorgeous! Are you sure you want to let me loose on something as wonderful as this?”
She smiled in that enigmatic way of hers “I’ve got a feeling that you might have a gift that you aren’t aware of.”

We spent the rest of the day settling on a design for a simple A line skirt that would be a good starting piece for me, and I chose the stunning emerald green fabric that Chris was currently weaving to make it from. There was an old fashioned pedal operated sewing machine next to Chris’s loom and she showed me how it worked, and let me try it out on a few scraps of cloth.

This evening, when I joined up with Ash and Drew again in the kitchen to help prepare a meal, I’m no wiser in having learnt who Chris is, or how she came about to be here on this island that doesn’t appear on any maps I’ve ever seen, but I feel closer to her in a way I haven’t before, so perhaps I’m making some progress after all.

Day 120? (I think.)

I’ve lost track of time. Well, perhaps not ‘lost’ but instead ‘let go’. Keeping track of the days seems unimportant - I’m not interested in what has gone; and I’ve no idea what is to come, so I’ve no choice but to live wholeheartedly in the present, and maybe that’s a good thing. Days have settled into a pattern - up early to milk the goats, then breakfast with Ash and Drew. Most mornings I’ll walk - sometimes with Chris and sometimes solo. I’m no closer to finding out any hard facts about her. When she’s here she has become something of a surrogate mum for me; a reassuring presence. But she comes and goes, and can sometimes be away for several days at a time. When I’m by myself I’ll walk over to the beach at the far end of the island that I first visited with Pete. I’ve been making a memorial for him there - it’s just a simple cairn, about six feet tall, made up of pebbles I’ve been gathering from the beach. It faces the sea, and the jetty, so it’s kind of appropriate I guess. It gives me a chance to think about him. As he was. In his element, on a boat. I hope he would have forgiven me for what I’ve become.

Afternoons are for dressmaking. Chris was right - maybe not about me having a gift because I’ve still got an awful lot to learn, but it’s become a bit of an obsession these last few weeks. I finished my first skirt and was so happy with it that I must have worn it for about a week solid. Since then I’ve made another skirt and a gorgeous navy blue silk summer dress. In the evenings we’ll eat our main meal and then, depending on how we feel, we’ll stay in the kitchen where it’s warm, sitting around the table playing a board game or cards; or we’ll retire to the music room, light a fire, and Drew will play the piano whilst we listen and sometimes sing along. It’s always just the three of us - I’ve never seen Chris eat anything, or even go into the kitchen.

It’s Spring now. The woods are magical - carpeted with a thick layer of bluebells. This morning I went for a walk by myself and ended up sitting leaning against my favourite old oak tree, nestled between her roots. The squirrel that I’d seen back in autumn, the one with the kinked tail, must have emerged from hibernation and stopped no more than a few feet away to stare at me. I had a piece of flapjack that Drew had made in my bag so I broke off a corner and held it out. I’d expected that he’d have been too shy to take an interest but not only did he take the crumbs, he stood happily on my outstretched palm for several seconds whilst he ate them. Chris has been telling me the names of all the plants and animals that we see on our island walks, and how everything is connected. Like the snowdrops and the ants, my squirrel will take an acorn to store for hibernation and forget where he’s left it, and it will root and grow in a new part of the wood. Almost all of the oaks here are relatives of my oak - she’s the grandmother tree, Chris says, and she looks out for all the others, communicating with them through tiny threads of fungus that run right through the wood. If I sit really still with my shoes off and wriggle my feet through the mulch on the forest floor I swear I can feel a tingle in my toes like the whisper of a soft breeze across bare skin on a summer day.

Day 148? - 4 weeks since my last entry

Ash burst into the kitchen today whilst Drew and I were eating lunch waving a bottle of red triumphantly in each hand. For several weeks now she’s suspected the presence of a wine cellar through a door in the oak panelling beneath the main stair, and today she’d found the key. We hadn’t had any alcohol since we’d arrived on Aeaea, and she was about to grab a corkscrew when I stopped her.
“Wait!”
“What?”
“I mean, rather than just glug it, and fall down drunk, why don’t we make a special night of it?”
Ash didn’t look convinced, so I tried enrolling her companion.
“Drew, you were saying only a few days ago that we should have a Girls’ Night In - a chance to dress up; have some fun. What do you say?”
“OK. Sounds good. But let’s open one of the bottles now, and drink it whilst we get ready.”
I turned to Ash and she acquiesced. “All right then. But here’s the rules.” She turned to Drew and grinned. “We get to decide what you wear. And dress you.”

By the time I was stood in my room, waiting for Ash and Drew to choose something for me to wear from my wardrobe, I was already slightly tipsy. We’d had a glass of wine in the kitchen before coming upstairs, and then another glass whilst the girls had sat me at my dresser and done my hair and make up. I wasn’t used to drinking, and whilst a couple of glasses of red would barely have touched the sides a few months ago, my new body clearly didn’t have the same capacity. The sensations of having someone else do my make up had been new and enjoyable, and along with the feelings of having my hair gently styled the warm alcoholic glow was starting to make me feel horny. Giggling, Ash had tied a long chiffon scarf over my eyes - so I didn’t get to see what they chose until I was fully dressed, she explained - and I stood there, otherwise naked, each slight twist of my head teasing the loose ends of the material softly over my breasts, my nipples engorged by the attention.

I felt hands clip a suspender belt around my waist and then each foot was lifted in turn and stockings eased softly up each leg. I suspected the girls knew exactly how I was feeling and made the most of teasing me, their fingers brushing the soft skin on my backside, giggling as they caused me to gasp when, clipping the stockings into place, a hand ran across the hair at my groin. I stepped forward and felt a cool fabric lifted up my legs to my waist and then over my breasts. Laces at the back pulled the bodice in tightly until I could barely breathe. My feet were lifted again and slipped into tall heels. The chiffon scarf was untied and I blinked in the daylight. Ash and Drew beamed in front of me and, taking a hand each, led me to the tall mirror. The dress was jet black in colour; a thick silk taffeta. The bodice was unadorned, but with a ‘v’ shaped décolletage framed by triangular geometric shapes either side that peaked at the shoulder blade. The skirt was a full floor length A-line, the hem rippling in and out in a series of eight or nine large loops around the circumference. When Ash had pulled the scarf away my initial feeling had been one of disappointment that my pampering had ended, but now it was replaced with excitement at what I was wearing. They had changed too - like me, they had full length gowns with corseted bodices, in their case both skirts were tulle. Drew was in pink and Ash in pale blue.
“You look gorgeous!” I gave Drew a big squeeze. “And you!” I added, pulling Ash in as well. They squeezed me back. “So do you! Did you enjoy your pampering?”
“I did! But you forgot something.” I leaned in slightly tipsily towards them and, with a stage whisper, added “I’ve got no panties on!”
Ash grinned back at me. “Oh no, we didn’t forget anything.”

After we’d finished eating it was Ash that had asked the question.
“Do you ever think what it would be like to have a boyfriend?”
She’d caught me by surprise and I was flustered, looking across at Drew for support, but she said nothing.
“I, err…I mean…” I went quiet and stared into my wineglass, then looked back up at Ash again, and nodded.
She grinned. “Go on then. Carry on! We’re not letting you off that easily! What’s he like?”
I couldn’t help smiling back. “Ooh, I don’t know. Tall, I guess. And strong…” I tried to turn the tables. “What about you?’
Ash looked across to Drew. “Should we tell her?’
Drew looked mystified. “What?’
“About Phil?”
Drew coughed, and nearly sent a mouthful of wine across the table.
I was intrigued now. “Who’s Phil? You haven’t got a man hidden up in your room have you?”
“Erm, well, not exactly. Shall we show her?”
Drew shrugged, and Ash disappeared and came back with her hands held behind her back. “Hold your hands out and close your eyes.”
I did as instructed. When I opened them again I was holding a large, realistic looking dildo which looked like it had been carved from a wax candle. I shrieked, and nearly dropped it. Ash and Drew were both in fits.
‘Phil, meet Sue. Sue, this is Phil.” Ash could barely get the words out for laughing. “Well at least give him a kiss to say hello!”
I was laughing now as well. I raised ‘Phil’ to my lips and gave him a gentle peck on the end.
“Aww, that’s not a kiss. This is a kiss” Ash took the dildo from my hands and raised it to her mouth. Looking me directly in the eye, she ran her tongue around the perimeter of the glans for a few seconds and then took it into her mouth.
I felt a tingling in my groin and my breathing quickened.
“Have you ever thought about giving your tall, strong, boyfriend a blowjob?”
I nodded.
“Have you thought about having him thick and hard inside you?”
I nodded again, my breathing even quicker now.
“Would you like to try with Phil?”
I nodded a third time.

Ash slid slowly down her chair and disappeared under the table. A second later I felt the hem of my skirt lift and fingers trace up the length of each of my legs, stopping where the tops of my stockings met bare flesh. I was so wet now, and panting. I felt Ash’s hair slide along the inside of each thigh as her hands gently pushed my knees apart and her tongue made a first exploratory touch of my labia. I gasped and squirmed in my seat, but her hands held me firmly. Her tongue came back now, parting my lips; inside me. I gasped again, my hands gripping the sides of my chair for support. She licked up and down the length of my vagina several times and then, finding my clitoris, licked around it, and over it, up and down, taking it inside her mouth, gently sucking on it, then licking it again and again as I almost screamed with the surges of pleasure coursing through me. At length I felt Ash’s mouth withdraw and something colder and firmer take it’s place between my thighs. Phil slid inside me and I gripped him tight as he moved in and out, his angle changing so that with each outward stroke he rubbed against my clitoris. It only took a few seconds before I was spasming, almost squeezing the life breath out of Ash as she knelt between my legs.

This morning I woke up with the absolute mother of all hangovers. I lay in bed recollecting the events of last night. I shouldn’t have allowed myself to get carried away like that with Ash and Drew; I felt a responsibility towards them; they’d been my crew. But so much had happened since then; our world had been turned inside out. I didn’t like admitting it, but I’d enjoyed it, even if I felt slightly guilty now. Ash and Drew would be fine, and so would I. We could talk about it when I got up.

I lay in bed for a while longer and fell asleep again. When I awoke I wasn’t sure if I was dreaming or not. There was something not right, out of place; I couldn’t put my finger on it. And then I realised what it was. Through my window I could hear Ash and Drew talking in the garden below. And a male voice talking back.