Page 7 of Damnation
The disrespect he showed her had my fists clenching, readying themselves to cease his actions and words. As Sarah does, she remained silent and steadfast, no matter the whispers or glares she receives. She remained unmoving and still. No matter how deeply I yearn to gather her into my arms and shield her from any ill notions or words, she did not need me. Perhaps that is why I desire her so.
As my feet carry me to the creek, I hesitate when I see a figure on the other side. My hand moves to the pistol on my hip, first thoughts conjuring a bear or wild cat. They have been known to wander this area, especially before winter’s arrival.
Upon a closer look, my hand moves away from the pistol. Not a wild cat or bear, but human.
A soft sound echoes through the creekside, drawing me nearer. I cannot understand the words, or maybe it’s because there aren’t any. All I hear is a woman’s voice humming a tune as she bathes in the creek beneath the moonlight.
The sound is mesmerizing as I take step after step towards the carrier of such melody. My feet only cease once I have reached the creek bed, and the woman before me becomes clear.
Sarah.
She is dressed in only her undergarments, the white slip dress clinging to her skin as she pours a bucket upon herself. The water soaks her clothing, forcing it to become more transparent. I feel myself hardening at the sight of her, and though I know how wrong it is just to be looking upon her, God himself would have to pluck my eyesight to force me to do so.
Sarah continues humming that familiar tune, swaying beneath the moonlight as she turns and faces me. Her nipples are hard, poking through the thin material as it clings to every curve of hers. My eyes roam up and down over her before her eyes meet my own.
Horror flashes in them as she lets out a screech. She begins to run through the creek for the grass, and before I can resist my urges, I’m chasing her like a hunter to his prey.
My feet pound against the rocky bed of the creek as water reaches my knees. That does nothing to deter my hunt. Sarah’s dress offers her great resistance in her escape, and I thank God for it because I catch her all that easier.
When my hand goes to her mouth to cease her screams, we tumble to the ground, her back landing against the grass while our feet are still in the water.
“Hush, hush, ‘tis me. It’s Thomas,” I assure her.
Sarah’s eyes are wide with fear, but upon hearing my name, her screaming ceases, and her fear vanishes. Something inside of me enjoys the peace my presence seems to bring her. I enjoy that far too much, actually.
Slowly, I remove my hand from her mouth, resting it on the other side of her head in the grass, suspending the upper half ofmy body above hers while our legs are still tangled together in the river.
“T-thomas?” she questions breathily. “What are you doing here?”
I tilt my head to the side curiously, my tone attempting to sound chastising, though the smile that spreads across my face betrays me.
“What am I doing nearmycreek? What are you doing, Mrs. Good, bathing in the moonlight on my property?”
“I was not,” she rushes on to say, shaking her head quickly. “I stayed on this side. I made sure of it. I…I always bathe here at night.”
That captures my attention. The common creek is far closer to her home. To get here is a great walk, especially wet after bathing.
“Why?” I question.
Her full lips part, but they don’t say a word. I feel my heart beating in my chest so loudly, I wonder if she too can feel it, or at the very least, hear it. I’m unsure if it is the silence the night brings, the privacy, or the fact of being in this woman’s presence turns me into a man I do not recognize, but the words spill from my lips despite better judgment.
“I rather enjoy the idea of you bathing in my creek.”
Sarah’s eyebrows come together curiously.
“Y-you do?”
My head moves up and down, my eyes never leaving hers.
“Very much.”
A choppy exhale escapes her as her own eyes roam my face, so many thoughts running through her mind, I’d give anything just to pluck one and hear it for myself.
“I have to go, Mr. Putnam. If someone were to see us in this way?—”
“Thomas,” I insist.
A soft look passes upon her face as she nods.
