erotica and other forms of romance

A continuation of a story

Brief summing up. Amanda was entertaining and being entertained by some acquaintances. She invited Cher to take a bath with her and while in the huge tub, she was zapped into another dimension. Nude and confused, she was rescued from a strange forest by a man who saw fit to carry her to a cabin he owned. It was also used by a friend of his, Benjamin Franklin, by name.
And now the excerpt continues…

“Let me help ye into the cabin then, lass. We wouldn’t want you to hurt those wee feet now, would we.” He cradled Amanda, transforming her into a featherlight child in the massive strength of his arms.

She shyly looked up at him. He met her eyes and for the briefest second, they allowed themselves to look into each others’ souls. “Are ye alright there lass? You’ve got a few stories to tell, I’m sure of it.”

His voice was rough, like the wool of his garment. His brown/green eyes were watching her curiously. She saw no sign that he would dream of taking advantage of her, in this most unusual situation. But, she could definitely not say the same for herself.

She studied his face…the ruddy skin …could use a shave, and a bath. But there was something about him… He smelled of pine wood fires. His eyes had seen adventure. Why he had hardly blinked when he’d discovered her naked in the woods. How many women before her had been held in these arms.
She was strangely entranced as she moved with him towards the door.

He reached out to open the cabin door and swung it wide to allow them inside.
“There ye be now, lass. Set yourself down here by me while I git a wee fire going and soon you’ll be feeling as right as rain.”

Amanda detached herself from her reverie. “Tell me sir, where are we?”

“Why, lass this happens to be my home, when I’m lucky. I let Ben use it when he needs time for his inventions. But then, you don’t seem to know Ben, now, do ye?”

“I’m afraid I don’t… What do you mean ‘lucky’”?
Amanda looked around the room. It was a simple place, a sturdy table, two chairs, the rocker that she now sat in. In one corner was a large bed with a quilt. She wondered what it would be like…untying those breeches…pulling off that shirt. Caressing those muscles…

“I tend to travel much of the year”, he said. “I come back after the summer to collect my thoughts, write up my reports before I set sail again for southern waters. I expect to be off again shortly.”

She looked round the walls. Woven hangings. An indian tribal garment. An old clock ticked from the mantle over the fire. A large sword, intricately carved, was leaning in one corner. Had he used that sword. The swashbuckler in his boots, swinging such a weapon, defending her, Amanda, from an Indian raid or worse. Her breathing became shallow. Her ultimate fantasy. Being ravished by a pirate. Who was this man?

“There, then. That should hold us for a while.” He had set up the fire and was just setting up the grate. He rubbed his hands on his pants just above the knee high leather boots. He picked up a large knife he’d been using to arrange the logs and slipped it into the boot.

“Now, let’s take a look at ye. Ye can’t be very comfortable in that old cloak of mine. Why, that cloak's seen more lightning and thunder than the light of day. Not fitting for a lady like yourself. I’ll see what I’ve got for ye.”

Amanda was dying for a bath. Then, like a sting of electricity, it came back to her. She’d been in her bath with Cher when she’d felt something charge her. Not Cher. Something strong enough to catch her by the flesh and send her here. ..here? where? and what year was it?

She looked around the room for signs of a calendar, or a hint of where she was. The place was warmer now. The cloak was becoming heavy and stifling.

The stranger returned and with a kind of awkward elegance, offered her a white shirt. She took it. “Thank you. This looks…” she held it out, huge white ruffles decorating the front…long sleeves with rolled up cuffs “…uh lovely.”

He laughed for the first time. A wee bit big, then. But a mite more modest than what you first saw fit to wear.”
“Do you mind turning your back? While I put it on?”

The stranger obliged her and Amanda watched his back as she tore off the tent of a coat. She stretched out free at last in front of the fire and then picked up the shirt. Slipping one arm inside the starched white and then the other, she did up the buttons, announcing she was ready.

“Uh, what’s your name?” she asked him, as he appraised her from head to toe. The shirt ended at mid-thigh. He answered the pale skin of her leg with one word: “Jherard.”

Her heart absorbed the sound with a sudden intake of air. His eye travelled upward and showed concern. “You’re probably cold. Let me git ye a blanket and while you sit in front of the fire, I’ll see about making us something warm to drink.”

So again, Amanda was pampered by the large gentleman with the French name. She sat curled up in the rocker, her legs to one side. “Tell me about you” she said. “Where did you find all these things? The sword? That Indian dress?”

“Well...