“He wasn’t a good lover?”
“That’s the thing. I don’t even know. I don’t have anything to compare it to, but I can tell you that it was never something that I was terribly enthusiastic about.”
“If you don’t know if he was a good lover or not, I can tell you that he wasn’t. That makes your experience even more important. You deserve to know what it’s like to completely lose yourself in sex. To enjoy it with every bit of your mind and your body. The men I find for you can help you with that, but first, you have some discovering to do.”
“What do you mean?”
“Beyond the vegetable garden behind the cottage is another path. Follow it. We’ll have dinner together tonight. We’ll talk then.”
“What’s at the end of the path?” I asked.
Fawn stood and gestured to the door to the parlor. I could only assume she was indicating that it was time for me to go to the path.
“You’ll find out,” she said. “Enjoy.”
I got the distinct impression that the conversation was over and that she wasn’t going to give me any more insight into what was awaiting me down the path. I stepped out of the cottage and followed the path to the back, then found the second path that led away from the vegetable garden. This path was smaller and not as well maintained as the first. Not that it looked abandoned or neglected. It simply looked like it was not used anywhere near as often as the path that led to the back of the cottage. I felt strangely special as soon as I stepped onto the path, as though I was getting a privilege that few others were given. That feeling fueled me on and I followed the path curiously. It wove through the small lush yard and into the thick woods just beyond. All of the wonderful fall smells were intensified here and I filled my lungs with them, getting the same intoxicating feeling as I had before, somehow nostalgic for something that I hadn’t even really experienced before.
The path led further and deeper into the woods than I would have anticipated that it would and I was starting to get nervous when I finally saw another small cottage appear several yards ahead of me. I climbed the few steps that led to the front door and hesitated. I didn’t know if I should knock or just enter. Finally, I decided to just go in and pressed the ornate metal handle, pushing the door into the building. I had expected this cottage to be much the same as the first, but what greeted me was completely different.
I stepped immediately into a large room that appeared to take up the majority of the building. There was a single door to either side of the room, nearly hidden against the rich purple brocade wall covering. The wall in front of me, however, was completely mirrored. A few pieces of furniture were scattered through the room, with a single large chair the same shade as the walls, positioned so that it faced the mirrored wall. I looked around, unsure of why I was there or what I was supposed to be doing. I noticed a table a few steps away and saw that there was a piece of paper on it. Walking toward it, I realized that it had writing on it.
I picked up the paper, surprised to see that it was addressed to me. I didn’t know if that meant that it had been waiting for me all along, or if Fawn had somehow arranged for it to be put into place while I was still on my way down the path.
“Snow,” I read, “on your journey to find yourself you must start by discovering yourself. Be open. Be unafraid. Allow yourself to explore and remember, this is about you.”
Feeling even more confused than before I had started reading, I put the paper back down and turned to leave, intending to go back to Fawn and tell her that I wasn’t sure that this was right for me. Before I could get to the door, however, one of the doors to the side of the room opened and a figure stepped into the room with me. He was shirtless, low-slung black pants revealing his chiseled body. I was so focused on his muscles that it took me a few moments to register his face. It was the same beautiful man that had brought me my dinner the night before and, I assumed, my breakfast that morning. His eyes locked on me as he stepped up closer.
“Should I help you undress?” he asked, his voice as rich and creamy as his eyes.
My mouth fell open slightly in shocked response to the question.
“What?” I asked.
“Should I help you undress or would you prefer to do it yourself?”
I felt a shiver ripple through me and a spark of desire in the back of my mind that I hadn’t felt in as long as I could remember. I thought of the words in the letter and what Fawn had said to me. I had been so unsure of what was happening and the purpose of this retreat, but instead of explaining it to me, she had sent me here and told me to be open. I was still unsure, still nervous. I didn’t know what to do. Part of me wanted to run out of the cottage and go back to my house so that I could pretend like none of this had happened. Another part of me, though, was curious in a way that I could never remember myself being. Not wanting to speak for fear of what I would say, I nodded.
The man stepped closer to me and brought his hands to the hem of my sweater. I lifted my arms to allow him to lift the sweater up and off of me. He folded it carefully and rested it on a nearby couch, then returned to remove my camisole. Once I was in my bra, he opened the button on the front of my pants and began to ease the zipper down. I stepped out of my shoes and socks as he opened my pants the rest of the way and brought them down my hips. He lowered himself to his knees in front of me so that he could bring my pants to my ankles and helped me step out of them. When they were on the couch with my shirts, the man came back to my side and took my wrist, he guided me across the room, stopping when I stood beside the chair facing the mirror, then turned me so that I faced the same way.
“Go ahead,” he said.
Knowing what he meant, I released the hooks on the back of my bra and let it slide down my arms, then removed my matching panties. It was an incredibly strange sensation standing in the room completely naked in front of a stranger, but at the same time it felt liberating.
“Look at yourself,” he said. “Really look at yourself.”
At first it was an odd instruction. I looked at myself every day. When I turned my attention fully to the mirror, however, I realized that this was different. Looking at myself each day was usually about doing my makeup, styling my hair, or making sure that my outfit looked right. I couldn’t remember the last time that I had taken the time to just look at myself, especially naked, if I ever had.