by Gisa Klönne
He finds her in the sheep barn, mixing feed for the lambs. He takes her in his arms and lifts her onto the shelf where the shearing tools are kept. How soft she is, and yet how firm her body feels. Warm and alive. She flings her arms around him – then her legs. Their bodies rock gently, breathing in sync. How good she smells – slightly of sandalwood, slightly of patchouli and ever so slightly of sweat. He pulls her closer and thrusts his hand under her fleece jacket. She has developed muscles since living at Sun Manor: gentle bulges to the left and right of her spine – that column of life which supports so much and is so fragile. Parvati, he thinks, divine companion. He’d like to take her here and now, to bury himself in her, over and over, again and again.
‘Wait here. Wait a moment.’ He kisses her neck, extricates himself from her embrace and goes to the door. He peers out and, seeing no one, drives the bolt home. He takes a plywood board and props it in the window above the shelf. It fits the opening as if made for it. The smell of hay, the half-light and the knowledge of what they are about to do arouse him. In the barn anteroom is a small electric heater. He tucks it under his arm, pulls a blanket out of the cupboard and returns to the shelf where his goddess is sitting looking at him.
‘I want you.’ He is prowling, waiting to pounce; with every step he takes, the tension mounts until it is almost unbearable.
‘You mean here, this minute? But—’
‘Sssh. Don’t talk.’ He sets the heater down on the floor, finds a plug socket, switches it on. ‘Get undressed.’
‘You mean—?’
He nods. He goes over to her and thrusts his hands under her fleece again, finds her breasts. On her face he can see desire vying with fear of discovery, until the forbidden act becomes an attraction she can no longer resist.
‘You’re impossible!’ It sounds nothing like a rebuke. Resolutely she pulls fleece and T-shirt over her head and flings them on the floor.
Hurry up, he wants to say, but now it’s up to her to set the pace. She takes pleasure in his impatience, jumping onto the floor and turning a couple of playful pirouettes. He is still amazed that this girl who is otherwise so aloof and unapproachable can make love without shame or inhibition of any kind. It’s because this is meant to be, because she’s the one. He tears his clothes off his body, keeping his eyes fixed on her. She laughs when she sees his erection – a happy laugh, not a nasty one.
‘Get undressed,’ he repeats.
Endlessly slowly she undoes the flies of her cords. Endlessly slowly she pulls her trousers over her hips – and her knickers. He spreads the blanket on the dusty wooden surface of the shelf. She turns another pirouette and laughs at him. But now he can’t stand the waiting any longer. He reaches her in three swift steps, grabs her, holds her tight, lifts her onto the blanket.
‘Lie down.’ He is grateful to her for abandoning her games, for understanding his desire, or at least yielding to it – grateful to her for obeying his husky whispers, for lying down and keeping still and moving the way he wants her to – for taking pleasure in what he does to her and for showing her pleasure.
When they have finished he sits beside her, holding her in his arms. They share a cigarette. Then another. That too has become a habit, an addiction – forbidden, like their love.
‘We must get dressed.’ Her fingers gently claw his neck, his throat, his chest. ‘We’re lucky no one came as it is.’
‘I wish we could do it all over again.’
‘That’s it for the moment. I’ve got to see to the sheep.’ She sits up and fixes him with her eyes, eyebrows raised, lips pursed, like a disapproving governess. ‘Tut, tut, tut. You know no shame, my lord. One must learn to control one’s desire.’
She jumps onto the floor and fishes around for her knickers. So unashamedly young and so unashamedly sexy. Learn to control one’s desire, he thinks. You have no idea how hard that is.
To read on, buy your copy of Silent Is The Forest online.
First published in Germany in 2006 by Ullstein Buchverlage GmbH, Berlin
First published in Great Britain in 2017 by Manilla Publishing,
80–81 Wimpole St, London, W1G 9RE
www.manillabooks.com
Copyright © Gisa Klönne, 2006
English translation copyright © Imogen Taylor, 2017
Cover design by Alexandra Allden.
Cover photograph © Arcangel Images / Angie Rea.
Extract from Silent Is The Forest copyright © Gisa Klönne, 2005
English translation copyright © Imogen Taylor, 2016
The moral right of Gisa Klönne to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
E-book ISBN: 978-1-7865-8023-8
This book was produced by IDSUK (Data Connection) Ltd
Manilla Publishing is an imprint of Bonnier Zaffre, a Bonnier Publishing company
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