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The storm clouds were clearing rapidly now;the sun slanting across the valley, a low sharp diagonal of golden light. Steam rose from the tops of the trees, small wraiths of vapour twisting and evaporating as he watched, fascinated. The thunder had died away long since; at least so far as the weather was concerned. The thunder of his heart and head was slowing too, becoming manageable again. He sat on a low stone wall, his back to the gable end of the farmhouse. Solid, reassuring. It had been there for more than 100 years and would remain there for another century at least. Not like him, “ a mortal creature doomed to die” as the phrase went. He started; why the melancholy now ? For him it might be a personal autumn, but it was going to be as prolonged, colourful and enjoyable as he could make it. It wasn’t the first time it had happened; a drop from a truly extreme high leading to a brooding introspection, guilt almost. He grimaced, old habits die hard in extremis it would seem. Best not to let on, deal with it and break it now. He had come a long way but not so far as she wouldn’t take great delight in verbally booting his backside at backsliding. Another grimace, but this time whether or not at the thought of what she would do or at the murdered metaphor he wasn’t certain….. That was better; humour and a rueful internal admission of mentally slacking off a bit, Şişli escort bayan acceptable in the circumstances but not to be wallowed in. Actually he’d had a damn good time today, he always did with her, but today had been more than “damn good”; it had been – different. Verbal play and banter, as always, deep pleasure in each other’s company, certainly. A mutual joy of being and in watching the world were the stuff of their meetings. but today had been – different; Gaargh ! that was such a weak word, but other phrases like “crossing a line” or “Breaking a barrier” were also so wrong…….. His mind wrestled with its failure to produce a summary adjective. Indignant almost he drove it whimpering back into engagement with the problem. Intensity, yes, yes, that was a good word; depth, another….. PASSION ! yes, yes, yes, that was it, passion and sharing were the true descriptors here. They were close; had been supportive of each other when the black, depressive waves rolled in. They had looked out for each other for a long time, been comfortable as well but today had seen play deepen and evolve into something else, a newborn child of an emotion perhaps, but a demanding , lusty, loud and primal infant. He had to chuckle at that last word, he could see a faintly smug look on her face in his mind’s eye. Contented he paused and Escort Sultangazi looked out over the valley again, still several hours of daylight left now the storm had passed, the stone was warm against his back and very, very tempting. his senses seemed preternaturally sharp; the detail in the trees on the bottom of the dale and the field walls climbing away to the hills was so clear and distinct. The sheep, so often indeterminate off-white splodges in the distance now resolved into moving, living creatures. Talking of sheep, He was woolgathering plain and simple; it was time to head back to the stone barn and take stock of the day. Yes, it had been magnificent; it was complete but not completed and he had things to do to make it so. He pushed himself off the wall, wincing slightly as his knees and ankles reminded him of their comparative tenderness and his age. Given the events of the day, it was a good thing that the tendonitis in his right arm and elbow was controlled. It would have been difficult to achieve what they sought if he had still suffered the same level of discomfort. Let’s face it, he was crap as a left hander. He walked the few steps to the door of the stone barn and, pushing it open, walked into the open space. The sunlight from behind him threw his shadow across the flagged floor like a pointed finger, Taksim escort illuminating her form in sculpted honey amber, a chiaroscuro study against the darker recesses of the barn. A wave of pleasure passed through him at the sight, his only regret that he had not thought to bring a camera to capture the vision. Tall she was, and elegant, a magnificent conformation. Similes of horses came to mind so easily and fittingly. The long magnificence of leg and tone of muscle, neatness of joint and carriage and above all the mettlesome pride of her head and gait. For long moments he simply gazed, feeling his pleasure mount relentlessly. He considered her now, stretched upwards before him, restrained and yet so free. From a beam above her hung a pulley with a slender soft rope threaded through it. At one end this was tied off to a ringbolt set in the wall and to the other…. ? To the other it lead to her wrists, wrapping round them close together in firm coils that held her arms together above her head at full stretch . His gaze traveled the length of her body to her feet, the toes barely touching the floor, at full extension. He wondered how a body could look so relaxed at such a level of strain yet it did. No, not relaxed, that was not the right term…. Composed, that was a better word, conserving itself and yet seeming to draw on the restriction for an inward peace. She never lost the capacity to astonish him even though he “knew” beforehand. “knowing” is completely different from being “part of” though. He slowly paced to the side bringing the sweep of her shoulders and the length of her body into view . He knew what he would see there, of course he knew……