Exton

Laila hurries home through the dispersing crowds. She pauses when she reaches the edge of town, a random thought of turning around and going back teases her. She shakes her head and continues. A mile down the road and she takes a path that cuts through the trees. Once or twice she feels like someone is watching, following, but turns to see no one there. Finally breaking through the trees she comes to the old farm.

At first view the place looks dilapidated and abandoned, but on closer inspection there are signs of life. A dimly lit window upstairs in the old house, a car in the driveway, a cat lounging in front of a barn. The barn is the only other building still standing, the smaller sheds collapsed and reduced to piles of lumber. A few pieces of rusty old equipment stand silent, covered with vegetation, their days of usefulness long past.

Laila enters the house quietly, careful not to bother Rath by making any noise. There were few conveniences in the old house and he preferred it that way. No one would look for him here and visitors were few. He brought girls here regularly but when they left, Rath made sure they wouldnt remember where they had been save for his bedroom. They would have no idea how to get back to the farm or how to tell anyone where it was. Laila rarely stayed in the house, except for her chores, and she preferred to be as far away from Rath as possible. While he “slept” during the day or was entertaining “guests” she was outside.

Laila exits the house, carrying a lantern. She moves to the back of the house, to what looks to be an added room or lean-to that was maybe at one time the mud room. An old hand pump is near the door and flowers grow wildly to one side of the small room, a garden long ago, now almost part of the surrounding forest. A cat comes running when he hears Laila open the door and she smiles and lets him in.

The lantern illuminates the small room with a soft light. It is sparsely furnished with a small cot, dresser, table and a couple of old wooden chairs, all salvaged from a previous owners furnishings. Rath had furnished the upstairs of the old farm house to his taste, knowing few would see it, leaving the first floor as it was just in case someone did happen upon the old place.

Laila sets the lantern on the dresser, kicks off her sandals and removes her cloak hanging it on a hook near the door. Grabbing a large sponge and a towel she heads back out and stands in front of the pump. The half moon gives enough light to see by. The night is warm and sticky, typical for the late summer, the air heavy with the scents from the flowers and forest. Laila lifts on the handle until a small stream of water comes from the pump. She grabs the mass of brown curls and twists it, clipping it on top of her head. She pulls the top of her dress down and lets it hang low on her hips. She wets the sponge and squeezes the cold water out onto the back of her neck, letting it trickle down her back, cooling her off. She splashes the cold water on her face and sponges her arms. Filing the sponge again, she tips her head back and dribbles water down the front of her neck and shoulders. Firm nipples tighten as the cold water trails down her breasts and drips off the dusky pink tips. Laila sighs, the cold water feeling good against her hot skin.

She lowers the dress hanging off her hips exposing her belly. As she pushes one side even further down a bare hip is revealed, she hears a faint snapping sound from the trees. Her eyes scan the tree line curiously and even though she sees nothing she quickly holds one foot, then the other, under the water, dries and goes inside.

The cracks between the wood slats show the lantern light plainly. Laila pulls her dress off and takes down her hair, running her fingers through it to remove the tangles. She puts on a white shift. Too short and worn thin, it does nothing to hide the curves of her body. She carries the cat to her cot, puts him down and then douses the lantern, plunging the room in darkness.