It began with a long bus ride from the big city to a small western town in cow country. There was a rodeo that weekend and for me a first job away from home, stepping out into the world, even if it was only working as a gopher for a franchise motel. Like hundreds of others in North America, the Jonesburg Lodge was just off the highway as you enter the main street. I hopped off the Greyhound, suitcase in hand, at dawn. Other than a pair of stumbling drunks, the place was deserted and the motel office sign said no vacancy. There was a note on the front door with detailed instructions for me to find my room. At the assigned door I found another sign, "welcome Chris, first door on the right, we'll see you in the morning." A quick glance told me I was in the owners' suite so, quite as a mouse; I spotted my bedroom and was out like a light.
About three hours later I met the owners, Mr. Ollie Grant and his wife Charlotte. Ollie was a solidly built, retired, naval officer in the latter half of his forties. Charlotte was at least fifteen years younger and in the full bloom of feminine charm. I soon learned that her preference in dress was diaphanous harem pants, and cotton blouses, fashionable attire for the late sixties. She chose not to wear a bra, and my eighteen year old eyes homed in on her prominent perky nipples and ample cleavage. She made no attempts at modesty while I tried my best not to ogle. The job came about as the result of a school English assignment, write a job query letter and resume; he who gets the job gets an A. Well right about then, I was thanking Mr. Cross for initiating the contest.
The first week whisked by as I met other staff and learned everything from front desk reception, to washing dishes in the restaurant. Reception was my favorite as I have a knack for engaging people in conversation and adjusting my demeanor to suit them. In no time, I can get along with just about anyone. The exception back then, was members of the opposite sex, especially good looking ones. I was nervous and self-conscious in their company. Without being vain, I was considered good looking; my mum assured me. With a good physique from rowing and high school sports, I was very wiry and strong for my age. However, my confidence with women was a thin as my 175 pound, 6' 2" frame. Some of the waitresses at the lodge restaurant dropped hints but I was too dense to pick up the thread. The head house keeper, a woman in her mid-forties, made it painfully clear I could drop by and see her any time, but she reminded me of mum. Well you know how that went over. Charlotte was different. She was kind, paying me compliments, but very solicitous and physical with Ollie. I maintained respect for their privacy and never ventured beyond the living room. However she made no attempt to curtail the sounds of sex. I heard some interesting things at night, prompting numerous hard on frustrations. One thing I enjoyed was Ollie's extensive collection of playboy and penthouse magazines stacked in my room. There was more than one date with a magazine girl in my private quarters.
About three weeks in, things changed. Ollie made a trip to Seattle to visit his mother and conduct some franchise business. Charlotte was left in charge and within an hour of his departure the atmosphere at the Lodge changed. The staff became more on edge as Charlotte prowled the complex. Ollie had told me to clean up the front of the compound entrance, which was a weedy mess. I was doing this when Charlotte came by and said, "When you finish there come around a do our garden for us as well."
"Sure just a soon as I get this done."I worked on the weeding and had it all cleaned up, it was lunch time so I went into the restaurant and was at the counter enjoying my BLT when Charlotte stormed in. "Why haven't you got my garden weeded yet? I just looked and it's a god awful mess now finish that up and get off your ass and do it!" Fortunately the café was deserted so only the waitress witnessed the tirade.
"Jesus I'm glad I'm not in her bad books. What did you do, turn her down or something? I figured with you living in, it would take the edge off." I gave the waitress a puzzled look.
"What do you mean?"
"Oh trust me "she snickered "You'll find out...happens every time the boss goes away."
Some might think I would have taken this as a hint, but I was quite naïve and frankly was worried about getting fired as I gulped down the sandwich and headed for the owner's patio. The area was secluded and raised, with an abutment of rock hiding it from street view. I brought my bucket and frantically began pulling weeds, giving some thought to pruning an overly aggressive shrub while I was at it. The sun was direct and hot, at least 85 so I slipped off my shirt and was glistening with sweat. After half an hour I heard the patio door and turned around.
"Look I'm sorry about earlier, you do a good job around here, it's hot as hell, why don't you come in and have a cool drink?" She was dressed in a skimpy green two piece with a transparent shawl arrangement which swirled as she moved, accenting her jiggly charms. I thought for a half second then smiled. "Sure, that would be great." Charlotte went to the fridge, bent over, giving me the start of a hard on, and turned around holding two long necked bottles of beer. Now I was not of drinking age but at the same time, well versed in the sampling of alcohol. She cracked the lids, handed me one, and we knocked bottles. I took a sip, she drained half the bottle.
"So tell me a little about yourself...finished school?"
