Chapter 1

It was really dark on that first Tuesday morning of November. Anthony, a 51 year old widower, was reflecting once more on his bereavement of just a year ago. During the last year of his wife’s life, he had had to learn to clean his little house, to do all the household chores: cooking, washing, ironing, all that she used to do but could not any longer. In addition he had to care for her, and that was no small task. For four years her sickness had steadily worsened, and her going away had been a deliverance from her pains; Anthony was trying to comfort himself with this thought. But he felt lonely in a silent house. He lived at some 15 miles from the nearest main city of the county. His property was off the road, about a mile out in nature, a log cabin A frame construction, with cathedral ceiling, a large fireplace, and a deck overlooking the region. The dirt road wound uphill, curving here and there until it crossed over a wooden bridge. The house was right after on the left overlooking the entire valley. Deer came often by and other wildlife too.

He was employed by the county as a forest and game warden, which did not help his social life, especially at this time. Used to the outside, he had slept many a summer night under the stars, had faced wild animals more than once. His territory, situated in the Appalachian mountains of north central Pennsylvania comprised deep canyons only known to loggers, hunters and wildlife amateurs, and mountains where man’s presence had been rare.

Aside from driving over rough terrain, walking on trails, and much paperwork too, he happened to be an artist of sorts in wood sculpture and in painting; he was good at it. He even had attempted to build a violin, and was quite successful at it. But he could not play. He even attempted the daunting task of building a cello, feeling that this large instrument might be the right size for his hands and fingers. He always had wanted to play a string instrument other than a guitar, but he could not read notes at all. His friend Jeffrey from the city had taught him some of the basic rules in music scores, and he had tried. But he wanted more help.

While planning to build his instruments he had connected with a craftsman who taught him some of the tricks of the trade, especially the shaping of the wood, the measurements of the various pieces, and the gluing process. He also taught him how to put the varnish, how to let it cure before polishing it and laying the next coat, six coats in all. It was a labour of love and patience that paid off in the end. Over the last three years, he had progressed on these instruments while his wife was sick, because he spent more time at home. Since she would sleep at all hours, he could then go to his little shop next to the kitchen and tinker there.

The bows, some other pieces and the strings he had purchased, for he did not feel he wanted to build these. He had tuned the violin and the cello several times, and now they kept their tone quite well; the wood had settled to the tensions. The next step was finding a cello teacher.

He went back to his friend the craftsman, and asked him if he knew of anyone teaching cello in his region. He was negative. He went to Jeffrey. Same thing! He went to the main music store in town; the clerks even the manager had no idea who could do that. They talked of trying the local high schools. They just had brass bands. Since there was not a university nearby, only a community college that did not offer music, he placed a little ad in the county paper.

A week later, he received a letter in the mail from someone who could play cello. That someone was a lady by the name of Sarah. She had studied eight years in that instrument, and she willing to consider giving a lesson once every two weeks. She gave her email address only.

Understanding her cautiousness, Anthony sent her an answer with his name, and suggested to her that they meet at the main music store in town on the following Saturday at  4 PM. He gave a brief description of himself. She agreed to it.

In the meantime, he gathered the little he had in music scores, and packed his instrument, ready to go. He found himself thinking a lot about that teacher. What did she look like? Was she young, old, middle age, was she pretty, single, divorced, married, a widow? He could not imagine anything. She would know who he would be, but he would not be able to identify her. “So what, why do I work myself up so much for a hobby?” he kept asking himself. But after an hour or two, he was again in the same questioning rut.

He also noticed, and felt guilty about it, that he missed his wife less. It was as if a page was turning in his life; he needed something new, something fresh, something he felt he could give himself to. Was it another woman? He was not sure at all at that moment. He even got a little scared. Much of his grief had not scarred yet.

He had another four days to work before Saturday and already he felt distracted. He forgot a number of things before leaving for his cross county drives or assignments and he had to come back home to get them. His life was becoming more confusing because so much depended on that coming Saturday. So he felt. Time was passing slowly. On Friday evening, his paperwork took him twice as long to complete. Something was definitely wrong; it could not go on that way for very long. All he wanted was a cello lesson. He forced himself to focus on that goal, and forget the teacher. At long last he fell asleep knowing that tomorrow would be Saturday. He had planned all the chores for the morning until lunch. Then he would wash his 4 by 4, dress, pack his instrument and things, and go to his appointment.

Saturday was a retched day. The rain was pouring everywhere; it was cold and windy. Anthony did all the in house work, but gave up on washing the car. He only vacuumed the inside of it and sprayed some deodorant on the seat cushions. By 3:30 PM, he was on his way, making every attempt to drive at speed limit, no more. His vehicle was equipped with radio communications which could reach the emergency office at the precinct a few blocks away from the firehouse. He also had field glasses, a couple of rifles, a shot gun, ammunition, an axe, several saws and other tools a warden could use. Two or three cameras laid on top of a bag of protective clothing he kept in the back. He also carried an emergency kit for summer, and another one for the winter, for he was trained in emergency care. He had just changed it. His truck was equipped with special head lights, a powerful beacon light with an inside handle. To activate all these things, he had had to install some custom modifications: two batteries, an oversized charger, and so on. He also equipped it with a double tank of gas for a range of over nine hundred miles without refuelling. He kept the engine purring like a puppy and could under certain conditions travel the mountains so quietly that he would surprise a flock of moose at less than sixty feet. His next project was to install a camcorder that could record some of the things he saw at the flip of a switch. He was quite proud of his vehicle.

He parked across the music store. He had another five minutes to wait. He knew that a woman is usually late, so he felt it was not important for him to rush in the rain. Aside from his warden hat, he had a baseball cap and an umbrella which he felt would be right to use at this time. As the windshield wipers kept beating even though the engine was off, he noticed somebody about one hundred feet from the store waiting. That person was dressed in a sort of hooded cape going almost to the ground. Well, at 4 PM sharp, he opened the door, snapped open the umbrella, crossed the almost empty street and waited in front of the music store. “The cape” started to move towards him. He could not distinguish the face of the person because the hood happened to be quite deep. In fact he never had noticed such a raingear before, but he gave it very little attention.

“Are you Anthony”? came a singing voice from the cape.

“Yes I am. Good afternoon… Sarah, may I? Would you mind if we could talk in some coffee shop?”

“Not at all! Which one?”

Anthony had already thought of one where he was not too well known, a sort of ladies place he was sure would be empty in a weather such as this.

“We need to drive a quarter of a mile to get there. Would you care come in my vehicle?”

She hesitated. “We might just as well walk there” she suggested.

“Then we go this way.” Anthony answered. His umbrella was large enough for the two, but Sarah did not care that much to be protected. With her booted feet, she would not even care if there were puddles. Anthony was surprised to see her so comfortable in that cold and rainy weather, while most other women were shivering in their heated homes. He tried to think of her age, but the tied hood was not revealing enough of her. For one thing, she was about four inches shorter than he and could walk at a pretty good clip. He could not help notice the wave effects of that long cape, and concluded that it was indeed the most perfect type of garment for such wet weather and mighty attractive, yet he could not figure out why. Within a few minutes they reached their destination.

He walked in first, held the second door open for her. No sooner in she zipped the cape open from the bottom up to her neck, undid a couple of Velcro straps, and carefully lifted it off  her head. She hung it on one of the hangers on the wall. Nobody was in the coffee shop this afternoon; they had the place to themselves. Anthony leaned his umbrella in a corner, hung his cap, unsnapped his jacket and they both walked to a table by the window on the other side. Both were a little nervous; it was a first time.

Sarah looked like 39 years of age, or about. Tall and slender, she was athletic in all her moves. Her auburn hair gave her a glow of intensity, and her intelligence and artistic personality were quite obvious. Her expressive eyes darted all over the place. Immediately Anthony found her attractive in her designer jeans and multi coloured sweater. Her curves were clearly feminine, without fat, and her breasts rounded and firm.

The daughter of the owner came over and plopped two menus on the table. “I’ll be back in a minute for your order” she said in a smile. Anthony couldn’t help but notice how much she had grown up; she filled her uniform tightly to say the least. They both looked at the menu for a few seconds. Neither of them were hungry for a meal. Sarah ordered tea and Anthony coffee with a slice of apple pie à la mode. When served, Sarah excitedly opened the conversation, “So, I understand you are looking for a cello teacher.”

Anthony explained a bit of his life, and told her that he built the cello that was in his truck.

“You are kidding me!” she replied. “You built it yourself?”

“Yes! It took me a couple of years; I finished it last month.”

“I have to see that,” she exclaimed in wonderment.

Her eyes had a glow of admiration. They drank and ate what was served.

“What do you do in life?” he asked her.

“I am a registered physiotherapist. I work with impaired people in their home, and   Thursdays at the county hospital. I also have a small office for outside patients which I open four evenings a week, from 4 to 7 PM, and on Saturday from 9 till noon.”

“You are a busy lady, I see.”

“Well, that can be stressful at times, but I enjoy people and it is rewarding.”

“When did you start in music?”

“As a child, I played piano for four years, then cello for eight. Now I am the organist at the church just off Franklin Avenue once a month also. When the opportunity comes, I accompany performing choirs who visit in the area should they need me.”

“Well, I am an artist of my own. Until now I have done sculptures, paintings and now string instruments…”

“What else besides the cello?”

“A violin.”

“I play that too.”

“So, where would you give me a lesson?”

“At my office at 2 PM every other Saturday. How is that?”

“Well, let us begin there, and we shall see how it will work out.”

“Today, I shall give you your first lesson. If you go and bring your truck here, we shall drive over.”

“That’s a deal! One more thing, if you see that I am unable to learn, please, let me know.”

“Oh, nonsense!” she replied with a smile.

Anthony stopped his truck by the coffee shop ten minutes later. She was outside waiting for him, dressed in that cape, of course. He rushed out to open the passenger door. She climbed in and made herself comfortable on the deep bucket seat. Anthony had heated the cabin well. It took no time for him to notice the sweet smell of warm rubber. “That’s what it’s made of,” he thought by himself.

As if reading his thoughts, Sarah told him, “I was raised on capes. My mother who came from England, insisted on such coats and capes in almost all weather. In my teen years my friends made a laugh at that, but I soon found out the wisdom of my mother, and just kept the tradition, you see,” she explained and laughed.

Anthony had noticed a twinge of accent from the old country in her manner of speaking, and he liked that. Soon they were at the office. He opened the car door to her, and she walked over to unlock the entrance door and her office located on the ground floor way to the left in the back. They were alone in the building. Anthony brought his cello in the small entrance that served also as waiting room.

Sarah set two chairs and asked if she could unwrap the cello and look at it. Anthony was proud of his work, and he wondered if she would like the sound of the instrument. She took her time and looked at the cello with respect and admiration; she asked many questions as she prepared the bow and rubbed on the resin. She adjusted the cello until it stood between her knees. She fine tuned it while listening to its sound. She played the lower notes first, then the middle ones, and the high ones. Anthony could not believe the sound she could draw from it. All of a sudden she went into a Suite of Bach, and followed with a Sonata of Schumann. Anthony was awed by her talent and the virtuosity of her motions.

“Congratulations! You have built quite an instrument, you know? Do you enjoy hearing your cello?” she asked with a smile.

“I am sitting in a concert.” He smiled.

“Now it is your turn”. She placed the cello against him, showed him how to adjust to his size, the right position, and how to hold the bow.

“Today we are only going to practice the right hand. I have here some simple pieces to play on basic strings. She explained the fundamentals of music in the F cleft. “You will practice the first six pieces. Let me play them for you, and then you play them too.”

When they were finished, he packed the cello and the sheet music. “I should like to take you out for dinner tonight.”

“No, it’s not necessary.”

“I know, but I also have some good steaks at home, and fresh vegetables, and I’ll drive you back to your home or your vehicle after dinner. No late evening.”

She thought about it, probably wondering if he could be trusted. Finally she agreed.

As they walked out, the weather had cooled considerably and the sky had already cleared. There was much more light than before. Anthony felt that they might arrive in time to view the sunset from his house. He did not waste time and pressed on. It happened just as they pulled the truck into the driveway. The remaining clouds and the sky were aglow in all tints from red to pink to mauve, to violet and darker. Sarah jumped out all excited and stood on the front deck speechless. When it was over, she took a look at his house, at everything. Her fears had melted; she was another person.

He lit up the logs in the fire place and went to the kitchen to fix dinner. “You enjoy yourself. Give me twenty minutes or so, and we can pass on to the table”.

“No rush!”

She felt very much at home; at least there was privacy. Sarah’s rented house belonged to old Mrs. Rose who was on every committee in town, two bridge clubs, the Daughters of the American Revolution. Every move of Sarah, every item of her life she could observe was the talk of these well bred ladies and at the dinner table also. Sarah was just about through with Mrs. Rose indiscretions. Just two more months and her lease was up. She already was looking for new places. She thought that when Anthony would drive her back, she would stop him two hundred yards before the entrance way, otherwise she would be on the front page of the newspaper the next morning.

But his house… she was drooling over it; it was a never to happen dream. The fire place gave a cozy feeling, the low lighting allowed her to see the lit up valley, like a Christmas tree on its side. The lit up paintings, the shadowy sculptures of animals in various poses exuded a spirit of health and peace. She felt so well.

“Dinner is served!”

The two candle lights, the red runner table cloth over a polished round table, a slice from a gigantic old oak, all these countryside little items glowing in the low light of the candles gave the entire space an atmosphere of history, of mystery. A bottle of California wine sat in the middle of three steaming vegetable dishes, and a platter of steaks, some of which were venison. This was heaven.

On the way back home she could not help suggesting if one out every three lessons could happen at Anthony’s marvellous place.

“All of them, if you wish.”

As planned, she had him stop at a distance from Mrs. Rose, and she walked the rest of the way with a tiny flash light. Anthony stopped the engine of his truck, shut the lights off, and aimed his beacon light for a couple of seconds to see where she lived, and better understand the indiscrete comments of Mrs. Rose who, fortunately, did not have a dog. When he saw the lights in Sarah’s house, he turned around and went home.

For most of the night, Anthony had dreams of a swishing cape of rubber; sometimes he could see Sarah in the rain, at others she was in his truck, and the fragrance of rubber would generate in him feelings of a different nature; he could see her playing cello all dressed in that cape; finally he dreamt that they both were wrapped in that cape, with not much else on. By early morning he woke up; his hand was seeking a presence on the other side of the bed. But there was no one. He thought it would depress him, but it did not this time. In his heart he knew now that something new was on its way.

Sarah quickly hung her cape and proceeded to prepare for the next day. Yet, she could not concentrate. Her heart was on the mountain, listening to the wind and watching the sunset; then it was the atmosphere of Anthony’s home, all his things, the painting, and the cello, of course. She caught herself missing his deep voice, the attention he gave her. It had been years since a man had shown some chivalry to her. She knew that she was a little wild, that she never wanted to depend on anyone, but prove herself. All of a sudden she began to feel that this exchange between two persons had very nice sides to it.

After a brief shower, she covered her body with talcum powder, slipped on her transparent latex nightgown. That gave her shivers of pleasure. Then she pulled up a pair of frilly bloomers made of the same material, and loosely tied a large latex night bonnet that tied under her chin. Her bedding was entirely made of latex as well, and she could warm it up through an electric mattress pad, so that it would feel cozy from the moment she slipped in there. That night she had dreams of Anthony, of his masculinity. 

By the early AM she could feel some mild contractions and she knew that her bloomers were wet with her intimate secretions. She even could smell the fragrance of it mixed to the latex’. She reached out to her dildo, lifted the front of the nightgown, and worked it into her love tunnel. It was flexible, covered with hundreds of knobs. She liked that one most. She felt filled and secure. She rearranged her night gown and tried to go back to sleep. But her body wanted more. She knew it, but she tried otherwise; it was the same rodeo every single time. In the end she reached out for her clitoris vibrator. She did not want it directly on, but working through the latex. It would take longer but then she would enjoy the rise of desire and vainly try to repress her slowly mounting urges. Her breasts were swollen and sensitive. “May be I should start with my nipples” she thought, to delay the outcome some more. After a deep and very long orgasm, Sarah felt relieved, exhausted, yes, but at peace, and she slept blissfully till the alarm clock went off.

“It’s Sunday!” she exclaimed, “why did I set my alarm?” She noticed that her concentration had become more difficult, already while preparing for bed, it had taken her much longer. She mentally reviewed her schedule that morning. She did not feel like going to church at all. Mrs. Rose would be at her door by noon to find out why. Whatever the reason, she always had her own version of things anyway. So, it gave her another four hours of pleasure and Sarah did make the most of it smothered in latex, and then slowly got up, showered, cleaned up her night clothes. She prepared some English muffins with special jams, and especially a hot cup of coffee. She decided to offer Mrs. Rose a cup of it too when she would come to the door to find out.

In the afternoon, she decided to drive her little Japanese all terrain car to the area where Anthony lived to see that region by day. She took along her camera, a blanket, a small radio. Above her warm clothes, she put on a brown coat in soft vinyl that tied with a wide belt, and knee high boots for wet weather. She also took a soo-wester to cover her head in case of rain. The pleats of that rain coat undulated with every one of her moves, and created an even more powerful effect than the cape. She hoped she would see him, but she knew that her chances were very slim.

As she drove by, she noticed in the distance the blue smoke from the chimney. So he was home! She stopped on the side of the road and found a place where her car could sit without being a danger. Immediately, she decided to pass the fence on her left and walk into the forest. That was no easy task to avoid all the dry branches from the fir trees, and the thistles. She decided that she was not dressed correctly for such an idea. But she noticed a small river where there was quite a flow of water due to the previous rainy days. She attempted going up stream walking along the edge of it. That was better, for she was protected from water, not from sharp branches. Within a half-hour she found the wooden bridge a hundred yards away from Anthony’s home. She got all nervous this time. What if he would find me? She sat there on a stone under the bridge watching the waters splashing down from stone to stone. That filled her heart with dreams. All of a sudden, she almost screamed, the thunder of a vehicle on the bridge brought her to reality. He had left his house. But for how long?

She peaked above the edge of the river bed and watched his truck almost at the mail box by the main road. As he noticed her car, she saw him slowing down almost to a stop.

“Heavens! I bet he has a way to find out that I am the owner through the precinct!.” Sarah’s cheeks turned fiery red. She could not pretend innocence any longer. Her heart was thumping away. Anthony’s truck picked up speed as he pursued the reason for his leaving the house.

She thought of leaving a bunch of wild flowers on his door step with a THANK YOU made of grass blades. But flowers in November? That was too high school stuff. What if some other person would be with him and see this? Sarah was wondering how to justify her coming up there. That’s when she thought of leaving a note that would say: “Anthony, I came up here to find out if you needed help with your cello practice.” She found that tacky also. It was too obvious, because it was not even 24 hours since she had left him. So she decided to walk down to her car and drive off whatever happened. May be he had not cross checked her license plate after all.

She drove a few miles in the direction Anthony had gone, and she took on a dirt road on the left. There was no mailbox, hence it would most likely end up to be a logger’s trail. As she was climbing up, she noticed a pasture with a shed. Four horses were grazing there; she could see the steam of their breathing. Someone was busy with undoing a bale of hay. Too late she noticed Anthony’s black truck in the shade of a couple of trees. The noise of her car had drawn his attention, and he recognized it instantly. She could not play a game any longer. She pulled up to his vehicle, and got out. She had completely forgotten she was wearing that vinyl raincoat so embarrassed and awkward she felt.

Anthony’s mind was to his horses and the task at hand, and like for most men, being surprised when sweaty and dirty is not exactly the most positive stimulus towards kind feelings. It is true that he had cross checked the license plate with the precinct, but the Sunday crew was out for donuts and coffee, and the cop at the desk had his hands full for a change.

When he saw her alighting, he wondered if she had put on his vehicle a homing device. How in the world did she know where he was.

“Hey, what a surprise !” he said, tipping his cowboy’s hat. Dressed in jeans and jean jacket, he was covered with hay and looked very dusty. “Are you checking on me if I practice cello?”

“Well.” she said with a smile, “I never expected you here; it is a sheer coincidence. I took a walk before to see the countryside where you live by daylight, but I would never have expected this. Are these your horses?”

“Yup! I have to care for them today, for with that rain, I have not been able to do anything for a week. They need brushing and cleaning. It will take me the rest of the afternoon.”

“Can I be of help?” she asked.

“If you care, in a few minutes! Let me finish that job.”

He took his pitch fork and continued spreading the hay in the feeder. Anthony had noticed her coat. That sight went straight to his parts. He had trouble thinking, to concentrate so much he loved watching her dressed as she was. That shiny stuff on her was erotic indeed. How come he had never noticed her before? How many guys had she not drawn into her... – he could not put a word to this – before? Some alarms went off in his mind, but the surprise was just great. It had never happened to him before. If she had been with guys before, he sure would have heard it at the precinct, because everything was known there. May be she dressed like that just for him. If it were so, then she had intents, right? If so, what was wrong? But, he realized that he did not know her outside of her job. There was little he know of her person, of her past.

As Anthony was just about to finish, he wondered what would be the job he could give her to do. She could brush the horses. He would show her. In the meantime he would fix the stable, the roof in particular that need some new tiles in some leaky places. He leaned his pitch fork when he had completed the hay work. He found her in the pasture rubbing the nose of one of the horses. Two others were after her attention as well; that touched him. But that shiny coat of hers touched something else of his. He almost was embarrassed to have his gaze locked on it. It was not the coat only, but what he could imagine inside of it.

He called one of the horses who slowly came to the sound of his name. The animal knew that it was time to be cared for, and that filly liked it a lot. She was the most gentle of the four of them and always in first place. Without waiting, Anthony put a head harness on her and tied her to the horizontal pole. With the hose, he sprayed her legs to take off the mud; he cleaned under her hoofs to make sure that they were sound and healthy, and she had no wounds of any kind. He sprayed her hind-quarters as well, the tail in particular where flies still were annoying her. He sprayed her under belly, for she had laid in the mud. When this was done, he looked around for Sarah. She had been watching him all along.

“Would you care brushing Cornelia?” He asked her. “I’ll show you how.”

“I’ll do anything!” She answered looking at his wet jeans. “I am better protected against water than you are.” She teased.

Well, it was true. He decided to let her clean the next horse. Then they could both brush them together and do the same to the other two after.
“Get Along!” he called. The next filly came to the pole. Anthony handed to Sarah the head harness. He would help her for the first time. She first patted her head until the animal was acquainted with her fragrance and reassured. She took the harness, and the horse lowered her head, as if she knew that Sarah was not as tall.

Tied to the pole, Sarah took the hose and did to her what she had seen Anthony do. It looked like she had done that all of her life. Anthony showed her what to look for under the hoofs. He stood by her shoulder to shoulder, next that glistening coat of hers, now pearly with spray. What a sight!

He showed her how to work the first brush and the lustre one. He took the other pair of brushes he had and worked on Cornelia. It represents a few square yards of fur. In some areas Sarah needed him to show her how. After an hour or so, she was through with “Get Along”. The filly looked beautiful, like new. Cornelia was done too, and Anthony tied them inside by the fresh hay. He called for the next one which when tied was hosed by Sarah, and the last one, the male. He took care of him, for he was less predictable. It was getting dark when they were finished.

“Thanks a lot for your help; I would have stayed here until well into the night. Next time if you care for a ride, they need some exercise.” He proposed.

Sarah had been hoping he would ask. “Call me when you clean them next; I’ll be there, and we can ride them.” She answered with enthusiasm.

Anthony put things back in order. “I still have a few tiles to nail down. It will take me a couple of minutes. Then, let’s go and we’ll have dinner tonight.” Sarah did not refuse.  She took the hose and sprayed her coat and boots clean.

“Would you mind spraying the back of me?” she asked him with a smile. She now was game for anything, almost, of course. They knew each other for twenty-four hours, and she realized that her heart was a hundred miles ahead. She wondered what would happen next. So did Anthony who hose in hand could not help looking at that auburn mermaid in that shiny coat and boots.

29.01.08