warning: CNC
Yesterday, an old friend got in touch with me, which was a lovely surprise. When she heard I was now an erotic writer, she reminded me of her favourite fantasy; the thing that always gets her off whenever she needed a wank.
And I promised to write it for her.
The woods she had walked all her life, since she was a girl, fifty years now, felt different today.
They were darker, stranger, with the classic foreboding of a horror movie. They did not feel safe.
They were not safe. She knew that now, for certain. The man’s footsteps behind her never closed but kept up, no matter what route she took. She knew they were a man’s. She had not looked round, but she knew what they were. They were the footsteps of a predator, and she was the prey.
There was no one around. The last dog walker had chirpily said hello twenty minutes ago, but now there was nothing. Even the birds were the sharper kind, the crows squawked, no pretty twitterings. This, she knew, was not a pretty sounds day. It wasn’t going to end like that.
The shoes behind her tramped more heavily now, quicker, eager to catch her up. And she knew why. She had entered a dark pine area that was always most likely to give you the chills, but normally, she only liked to scare others with it. She was used to its floraless floor and shadows. But today she imagined meeting her end below the crisscross branches. If she had been someone else, someone a little creeped out, someone she had brought here to tell ghost stories to, she’d have laughed. There was no room for laughter now, though; she would be lucky if she could scream.
She began to move faster. Speed was her last resort. The man she was sure would be younger and fitter, stronger and maybe even more determined to get what he wanted than she was to get away. A thought like that was strange in her head, but did she really have the energy to resist a violent lust if it fell upon her?
He fell upon her now. Her extra speed had been hopeless. He didn’t say a word as he grabbed at her arm and she didn’t shout no, or scream. But they both made the muffled noises of secret fight, like neither of them wanted to disturb the wildlife, distant walkers, people who might help her. She should have screamed but her heart was nearly stopped with fear and a silent wrestle and a few kicks was all she could manage.
She connected with a shin and he made a yelp. She got away!
She ran in a zigzag down a slope. She knew exactly where to hide. A little hidden cavity within a larger cavity of an old open quarry, long since absorbed into the undulation of this hilly wood. In there, she might be safe.
He somehow got left behind, and she didn’t trip down the deep furrow leading to the quarry floor. Ahead of her was the hidden spot, the place she had squeezed into as a child for hide and seek. Taken lovers to and now showed other people when they failed to find it. She was nearly safe.
His arm came around her like a mechanical clamp in a sci-fi movie. Out of nowhere, he was there. She hadn’t heard him in her hurry, and now she was trapped. He gripped her large breasts harshly. Her light sweater over her summer dress was not enough to stop fingernails driving into her flesh.
