The Garden Recondite

Part 1 - the girls are mown

The sun had been sweltering all day and even as the shadows lengthened there seemed no let up in the heat. Danielle had been waiting for what seemed hours for her friend. The sweat dripped down her, running from her neck into her dress and seemingly out again from below the hem. It was not really the same trickle, after all there were her knickers to catch any rivulet not caught in the cotton of her red polka dot dress, so it was a quite different rivulet starting on her thigh. But both dress and knickers seemed already soaked. It was lucky she had the foresight to carry a large bottle of water. Nonetheless that was now empty and dropped in the litter bin.

Danielle squinted out against the sun. Where was Siobhan? It was not as if the rendezvous was new or difficult to find. It was where they had met up on the way to and from school and in the holidays back when they were schoolgirls. It was a place alive with memories and laughter. A place they had waited for each other, a place Siobhan knew like the back of her hand. She knew the old green bench she was sitting upon, she knew the tree that gave some shade, she knew the old woman who lived behind the imposing door to the right, she knew the grumpy old man who lived in the less imposing house to the left, she knew the grating in the road which clanked when a passing lorry went over it, she knew... she knew everything except what was behind the old green door.

Across from where she was sitting a really old, or at least she thought it must be very old, brick wall meandered up the dusty street. To say it was featureless would be to miss the texture of the brickwork and the variations in the brick as if it had been built in stages. Perhaps it had been heightened and lengthened at some point and perhaps part of it came from some former building that had stood there. It also had a particular feature relieving the length of orange bricks for, set into it some little way along, was a piercing containing door frame and door. The doorway arched and the green painted wooden door arched with it. To Danielle the door seemed old, leastways the paint was peeling rather badly and always had been since she first noticed it. She had never seen it open and her curiosity about what lay beyond it had grown as she had grown. A curiosity more than shared by her friend Siobhan. A wall with a door in it is perhaps something which intrigues most people. People have a tendency to be nosey and so wish to know what lies beyond. Danielle was interested: Siobhan was perhaps more curious than most.

The orange and red brick wall looked really warm, perhaps hot, in the sunshine. Unlike Danielle it was standing out in the heat of the afternoon without any shade. She could imagine if water was poured it would sputter and disappear in a cloud of steam. Water - yes water - she could do with more. Dare she leave her post and run the risk of missing Danielle and go in search of a shop with bottles of water for sale and perhaps an ice cream?

"Sorry, Danielle."

Danielle had been looking quite the wrong way for her friend. It had been the wall and the green door she had been looking at. It was hardly likely the door was going to have opened and Siobhan walk out through it but, as always, it was that door which drew her eyes.

"You're late."

"Not by much."

"An hour and twelve minutes. I've been waiting longer. I was early."

"No, I said four o'clock."

"You didn't, you said three."

Even if Siobhan had said four, she would still have been late.

It was a fruitless and irresolvable argument. Neither had a transcript of the conversation, still less a contemporaneous note. Neither bothered with a diary and both would have said there was 'no need' not realising that hypothesis had just been disproved.

"What shall we do then? Too hot to do much, Danielle. I need a drink."

"It is hot."

"How about..." But what Siobhan's suggestion was going to be was not imparted to her friend, her eye had caught something unexpected. The door, the green door, which had seemed as firmly shut as usual, perhaps even indicating it had seized up from disuse, was ajar.

"When is a door not a door?" whispered Siobhan

"Sorry?"

"The door, it's open."

Over the years Danielle had got used to Siobhan talking about 'that door.' If she thought back she would have remembered Siobhan's improbable story about the magical kingdom beyond the door where little silver fairies lived; more recently her speculation about a recluse hiding himself from the world and only peeping out at it from the keyhole of the green door had been a favourite idea. The old recluse's dark and hopelessly old fashioned house lying behind the door, dusty, cobwebby, spooky and absolutely captivating. Siobhan had also built up quite another story of a secret garden beyond the wall. A perfect place of flowers, lily ponds and green, green grass.

The reality of a vacant piece of land overgrown with brambles or even some old, unsafe industrial site had seemed the more likely to Danielle. Of course it might just be an ordinary town garden. There were, after all, houses either end of the wall.

"Can we look?"

It had all the hallmarks of a question, the interrogatory 'Can we' as well as the verb and the question mark. It had all the hallmarks but was actually an imperative. They were going across the road to take a look. There was no question about it. Siobhan was already moving.

With her hand Siobhan pulled Danielle across the street. It was very like old times. Old times when Siobhan had lead Danielle into all sorts of scrapes. Some men are born leaders, some are born followers. Siobhan and Danielle were women or girls but the same aphorism equally applied. Danielle was not a leader.

The old green door was indeed ajar. Whether it had been unlocked or perhaps never locked was not clear but it was certainly a little open allowing a glimpse beyond, a glimpse about seven feet tall and an inch wide but enough to see through.

"It's a garden," whispered Siobhan.

It was not exactly as if Danielle totally felt she could have been knocked over with a feather at the surprise of the imparted news. It was not exactly unexpected. "Really?" She said lengthening the word and trying to sound surprised.

"It's lovely, Danielle. really lovely."

And before Danielle could stop her, Siobhan was pushing at the door. It creaked on its hinges and opened enough for her to slip through. It was not in Siobhan's nature to wonder why the door just happened to be a little open for the first time ever in her memory or who might have watched her friend sitting on the bench opposite the wall and why he or she might have opened the door.

"Siobhan, no!"

It had all the hallmarks of a command, only it was ignored. Siobhan was no longer outside the door: Danielle was there alone. As so often she sighed and followed her friend.

Across the road the 'grumpy old man' smiled as he watched the green door gently swing shut behind them. He doubted the girls would have noticed that little detail. Perhaps it would open and let them out again: perhaps it would not.

Siobhan's mouth was open and Danielle could quite understand why. Beyond the green door the sight that greeted her was anything but a wasteland and to call it just a garden would be very unfair. It was absolutely charming. Perfection indeed. A hidden walled garden in the midst of the town.

All Danielle's senses were engaged. It was not simply the delight of the colours and freshness of the garden but the scents bathing her nostrils - cut grass, thyme, lavender - was that rose? She could almost taste the scents. Not just sight, taste and smell but her ears were delighted by the tinkling sound of a little fountain. She moved forward from the doorway and the cascading leaves and stems of a multitude of passion flowers brushed against the skin of her arms.

"Siobhan, I..." but Siobhan was already walking further into the garden almost as if entranced, as if under a spell.

Under her feet a brick path leading around the garden parallel to the wall but on the inside. Between it and the wall a flower bed with a profusion of growth and colour. Bees, butterflies and insects hummed and flew around clearly seeking nectar and finding it. Within the bounds of the path and its fellow on the other side a stretch of lawn, Danielle had never seen grass so green. Upon it stood an old petrol lawn mower, perhaps already used, perhaps waiting to cut the grass.

"Siobhan, don't you think..." but ,as Danielle turned back from the mower, her friend seemed to have disappeared. She was momentarily startled but then, after a few steps, found her friend sitting in a little bower formed of overhanging willow. She was seated rather as Danielle had been only on a much prettier rustic wooden seat. Her cheeks were flushed and somehow a flower had already found its way into her hair.

"Oh Danielle, isn't this so lovely. A secret garden just like I had always imagined."

That was not strictly true. Her imagination had conjured a whole range of idea for what lay beyond the wall. Danielle plopped herself down next to her friend, their bare knees just touching.

"Lovely Siobhan, I couldn't agree more, but we shouldn't be here."

"The door was open. We haven't seen anyone, can't we have just a little more look and then go. Who would mind us looking?"

"The owner perhaps?"

But there was no sign of anyone. Outside the bower the bees buzzed and the sun beat down. Across from them the little fountain tinkled into a stone pool in the middle of the lawn, the sound somehow refreshing. Danielle got up and walked across to it, standing on the grass looking down into the pool. Its waters a little dark, but here and there goldfish moved, the heat and sunshine did not seem to have caused them to hide. The water looked cool and pleasant. It would be nice to just slip into the water and bathe amongst the fishes. Now trespassing was one thing but getting into somebody's ornamental pool and bathing quite another!

Danielle looked around a little guiltily expecting someone to come and chastise her for her thoughts.

"Look, fish! How cool it looks." Siobhan had come up behind her.

It was perhaps particularly the lawn mower that first struck Danielle as odd. It had two handles - of course it had two handles - but it was the shape of the handles that seemed sort of peculiar. She could not think it was deliberate but they did look kind of phallic. It was a word she knew. Not simply by being rounded at the end and round in cross section but there was something more than that - their very shape suggested the male organ. It was also the way her friend's hand had found its way to one of them and was fondling it in a way thath was really more than just suggestive. Danielle looked at her quizzically but she seemed quite unaware of what her hand was doing.

"This seems a really old machine but well built. I bet he cuts the grass really well."

"He?" Danielle frowned. Increasingly she had the feeling it was time to leave.

"This garden makes me feel really good. It's so lovely, so warm, it makes me tingle all over. I really like it. Don't you?"

And Danielle had to admit she did. She did really like the garden. She had never seen any place quite like it or so beautiful. She knew what Siobhan meant by the tingling feeling but that worried her. They should not be in this garden.

Danielle walked over and looked at the flowers on the other side but when she turned her friend seemed reluctant to join her and leave the lawn mower. Her hand was still on one of the handles. The way it was moving on the polished wood still more than suggestive.

"Siobhan, come here." It was not like her to issue commands. It was like Siobhan not to obey.

Danielle took a step or two back towards her and reached with her hand for Siobhan's free hand.

"No!" It was rather sharp for Siobhan.

Instead of taking Siobhan's hand she found her own grabbed and brought to touch the other wooden handle. Its rounded, rather bulbous at the end, shape felt comfortable in her hand. To her surprise she found herself stroking it. Her fingers moving easily up and down. She knew what she was doing, or rather what she was pretending to do - not that she had done such a thing for real, but she knew. It made her tingle in her damp panties,

"I could, I really could!"

Danielle also knew exactly what Siobhan meant because the idea had come to her as well.

"No. Whether you could or could not you shouldn't, you mustn't."

But Siobhan was already slipping her panties down her legs.

"Don't be silly, Siobhan, what if someone should come. You don't know where the handle's been. It's... it's not a normal thing to do."

Not normal, not normal at all but Danielle could not help wondering what it would be like. Surely it would not hurt just to try, just try a little poke - there. The feeling, a real itch had been growing and it was not just perspiration that had recently been forming between her thighs.

"Go on Danielle. We could do it together. One handle for each, one..."

"Quite! It's not, Siobhan, as if I don't want to but we shouldn't. I mean, what if someone should come."

"Nobody's appeared so far."

Siobhan's panties were in her hand. Siobhan had kicked off her sandals and the thin damp cotton had easily slipped over her bare feet. She had reached and picked them up from the grass. "Go on, give them to me. It does not commit us. It's cooler without."

It was cooler without. Danielle knew that to be true as soon as slipped her panties down and handed them to Siobhan.

"Which one would you like?"

"I can't, not with you. I mean we've never... never done anything like this together."

"I'm going to, Danielle, I really feel I must."

The girl lifted the back of her dress and reversed towards the mowing machine handle. Danielle could see nothing but it was so obvious both by Siobhan's wriggling and facial expressions that the smooth wooden object had both made contact with and was being pushed into her body - inserted sexually. The expression on her friend's face became one almost of relief.

Danielle swallowed. Was the wood warm like... like the real thing? Had the bright sun heated it? Her hand touched the green painted metal of the machine. That was almost too hot to touch. Was its heat transmitted into the wooden handles as well? Metal being such a better recipient and conductor of the sun's rays. Danielle looked at the free handle, the shape unnerved her a little.

The truth was that, unlike her friend, she was not very familiar with the male organ. Indeed, unlike her friend, had no actual experience, though she suspected her friend's talk was often mere fantasy. Like her talk of what lay beyond the green door. Her own reaction was always one of blushing and nervousness. Unnecessary of course and not really the attitude to be expected of the modern young woman but that was her. Had Siobhan thrust a package into her hand one day suggesting she borrow and try 'it' and it had proved to be a dildo she would have been shocked by it and quite taken aback, even in the privacy of her own bedroom. The more so had it been realistically shaped, the more so perhaps the bigger it was. She might well not even have tried it and risked the scorn of her friend. That was not to say her thoughts did not lead in the direction of men, especially alone in her bed, nor that she had not discovered the pleasurable things her fingers could do with her body. She was not asexual.

"Siobhan, you mustn't. Come on let's go."

"Not yet, Danielle, this is just too nice. So warm inside me."

The girl was moving back and forth. So obvious what she was doing: what was happening under her cotton dress.

Danielle stared around the garden. No movement apart from the dancing bees and the moving fish. All was still. Danielle, though, sensed what seemed to be an air of expectancy about the garden. It was the stillness, as if the stillness was waiting to be broken like the still waters of a forest pool, waiting for a twig to drop or fish to break surface - anything to disturb and change the nature of its placid surface.

Nothing else moved. Danielle turned back to the lawn mower, her eyes falling on the vacant handle. It really did have just the right shape, a comfortable shape that would fit so snugly inside her. She shook her head, the tingling seemed to have turned to a real itch, an itch which not so much needed to be scratched as rubbed. Danielle felt a trickle of moisture down her left thigh. She very much knew where that came from and why. It would make the wooden handle slip so easily into...

"Let's go Siobhan, before..."

"Come on Danielle mount too. Let's do it together, let's come together, come let me put my arm around your shoulder and we can move together to and fro. It'll be so nice. It is so nice. Mmmm."

Danielle felt her resistance crumbling, Siobhan's words almost seductive. It would be so easy to raise her dress a little, bend, reverse and push. It was not as if anything would be visible.

Surprisingly perhaps, Danielle had never pushed any object into herself other than her fingers and, well, 'monthly' things. It happened almost without her being conscious she was following her friend's example. The wooden handle had slipped easily into her. Almost unexpectedly easily and filling. It was a new experience.

And there were the two friends, leaning forward, dresses draped over the old mowing machine's arms and with their arms around each other's shoulders. Danielle found herself moving in unison with her friend on the handles - to and fro, back and forth. It was lovely.

So nice in the summer sun to feel the firmness between her thighs, to feel it hard inside her, to feel the stroking. It was certainly easing the itch, though building her towards a climax. Such a thing to be doing with her friend. But what if someone came?

"Let's stop Siobhan. We really should go." Danielle pulled herself forward, intending to pull both herself and Siobhan off the handles, her arm and hand around her friend's shoulders. Her face turned from smiling pleasure to worry. She pulled again. She could not pull herself off the handle - it would move within her but not come out!

"Siobhan! I can't get off the handle." She was frantic. Tugging at the handle, really pushing away from it with her legs but she seemed stuck fast - stuck fast on the machine's wooden handle. Once inserted it would not seem to come out. What had happened, had she in some way clamped down on it, gripping it with her perineal muscles?

"I can't either, Danielle, I can't get it out!" The twin panties slipped from her hand to flutter down to the grass.

"Ar'noon, young ladies."

Danielle had not seen him approaching, had not seen the two girls were no longer alone.

The man, for it had to be a man, was old or at least his bushy grey beard gave that immediate impression. A tall man with grey curly hair and long beard. Nut brown skin with wrinkles all around his eyes and along his forehead, rather full lips and white teeth. He was dressed in old grey, rather baggy, trousers held up by twin braces over his white long sleeved shirt. The red braces were rather hidden by a waistcoat, an unnecessary and rather hot item of clothing for a summer's day though his white sleeves were rolled up well above his elbows showing his nut brown, hairy arms. The waistcoat was a striking Royal Blue complete with brass buttons though, unsurprisingly, they were mostly unbuttoned. Upon his feet brown boots suggesting a man engaged in gardening. Was he the gardener?

"Just need t' start mower."

A pull on the starter cable, a pull on the cord, a cough, a cloud of acrid smoke and the machine burst into life. The steady throb of the engine settled into a regular vibration immediately felt so keenly by the young girls via the inserted handles. Throb, throb, throb right inside them. The polished wooden handles vibrating in time with the motor. A quite remarkable and extremely sexual feeling. Danielle felt herself literally dripping but despite that she still could not pull herself away. It was not that she could not move a bit on the handle: it just would not come out of her vagina.