It was a bright, sunny day in a Summer that had not had many so far. It felt a good opportunity to stretch my legs and get some fresh air and so I gathered a few bits together including a bottle of water and used some left over chicken in the fridge to make some sandwiches for later. I also thought it wise to grab a lightweight anorak knowing how quickly the weather could change lately. In any case it would give me something to sit on if I felt the need to rest at any time. I was not as young as the man who still lived in my head and realised I had to behave accordingly. Not that I was past it in any way and the sight of an attractive lady still had the ability to stir my loins and get me hard in just the right spot.
I jumped on the bus that ran regularly past the back of my house, changed buses in my local town and soon found myself in the countryside. Remarkable to think that I was less than 15 miles from the throbbing metropolis of Manchester and it's links to the Industrial Revolution and the invention of the first real computer.
Out here it was a different world and once I took the footpath from the main road and headed towards Winter Hill and Rivington Pike I was surrounded by nothing but open grasslands and the occasional tree. Soon the sounds from the road had vanished and all I could hear was the faint call of a curlew in the distance ahead of me.
There was not a soul in sight as the path wound through a small wood and started to climb gently towards the hamlet that was Rivington itself. Just a small number of cottages dotted around the landscape. Close by were the remains of a small cotton mill but that had long since fallen into disuse. The mill had been on a very small scale and once the power of Cottonopolis got into full swing there was no way it could compete.
The few cottages that remained were a mix of older residents and a few holiday lets to walkers and the like.
There was little sign of life as I went to pass them before taking the path that ascended Winter Hill ending at the large structure erected to beam television pictures across the North West. Just as I came to the very last house I caught sight of someone sitting in a chair in the garden adjoining the cottage. She was reading a book and wearing sunglasses as she enjoyed the mid day sun.
Her blonde hair in a pony tail caught the rays as they danced around her. I stood captivated for a moment. She was the first person I had set eyes on since I left the bus but there was something about her that was well worth the wait. I have never been very good with ages but it was clear this lady was younger than me but still strikingly attractive. It was hard to take my eyes off her.
Suddenly she looked up towards me and smiled. A warm embracing smile that added even more to her attractiveness. She stood up and walked towards the fence removing her sunglasses as she did so. There was something very familiar about her as she walked towards me but I could not place where I had seen her before.
"You look in need of a drink," the stranger said with a smile. " I have some elderflower presse if you would like to join me."
I wasn't particularly thirsty but the opportunity to spend some time with this alluring lady was not one to be missed. I walked through the gate and into the garden and introduced myself and offered my hand.
"I'm Mica. I am here for a few days to get away from it all."
We shook hands and I was amazed at the softness of her hand. Like a velvet glove. I complimented her on how pretty her name was and how I did not recall ever having met anyone of that name before. I sat and she poured me a drink and we talked about our different circumstances including our backgrounds which made me think even more that I had seen her somewhere. It would come to me eventually.
Mica told me there were one or two family issues in her life at that time but she didn't want to go into them especially with someone she barely knew. She had decided to take a few nights away to sort things out in her head and get down to her passion of writing erotic stories about her past life and other stories that were semi auto- biographical. I ventured that I was happy to feature in one of her stories if she was desperate for an older man. We both laughed.
Mica was wearing a stylish red dress which was about knee length but as she sat facing me it had ridden up a little to a few inches above her knees. Her legs were toned and she clearly looked after herself with visits to the gym etc. I have to admit I was getting aroused just talking to her and my mind was getting her out of the red dress and wondering what I might find.
