Adam is looking for lodging in Cambridge, England. He meets Bryony Baxter, a lady in her 50s who's offering room and board and a lot more.
This is the first instalment featuring Adam's initiation into carnality, his landlady introducing him to sex before she moves on to round off his education in sordid affairs.
I apologise in advance for any errors remaining in the text.
I hope you enjoy the following.
Thank you for reading.
GA – Da Nang, Vietnam – 6th of May 2016.
*
It's 1974, his fresher's year. Adam is living in halls but is desperate to move. He's been given a telephone number to ring, which he used and spoke to a woman. Mrs Baxter passed on her address, telling the boy a suitable time he should make a personal appearance.
Adam finds the address, his search taking him to a terraced townhouse with a narrow yet impressive façade, steep steps leading up from the street to a blue door.
He pushes the button and hears the clangour within, then waits for a long minute before she responds to the summons.
The first thing he notices is the deep crease of her cleavage. Adam thinks it's tremendous, the inner flanks of her breasts squeezed together as they are. As he gapes in surprise at the bounty before him, Adam is reminded of a comment he's recently heard, one suited to the university city of Cambridge. Inside his head a voice says,
Somewhere you could park your bike
, his eyes still fixed to her chest.
"Mister Gantry?" he hears, her voice dragging his focus up to her face.
Adam's face warms when he sees the amused glint in her eyes, the twist to her lips as she smirks at him suggesting she knows he's been looking.
He's flustered as he runs his tongue over dry lips, blinking while stammering, "Uh, yuh-yes ... I have an interview with Mrs Buh-baxter."
"Yes, that's me." The woman nods, honey-blonde hair moving in soft waves around her face. "You're punctual," she says in a tone of approval. She takes a step back and opens the door fully, giving Adam the benefit of shapely calves, her feet in precipitous heels. "Won't you come in?"
Despite his being a little rattled at being caught eyeing her décolletage, and regardless of his agitation at being new to the city, his university education in its infancy, Adam is still able to harness the impression of a genteel lady with elegant tastes, her precise diction reminding Adam of BBC radio presenters from a previous decade.
He has a moment to register she's very well presented, especially for a mid-afternoon interview with a first-year student. Her dress is a black A-line creation with a halter-neck, the swooping neckline showing off a generous amount of skin, those large breasts tugging at the boy on a visceral level he's reluctant to acknowledge, their size and shape a magnet for his eyes. Her hair is immaculate, make-up subtle and not overdone. She gives the impression of not being afraid of her age, which Adam dimly estimates at getting up for late-forties – an erroneous assumption. As it will turn out, he's short by at least five years. Mrs Baxter may not be in the first bloom of youth, but she makes the most of what she has, with Adam finding himself drawn to her on a carnal level, dark urges stirring within.
"I won't bite," adds the woman when Adam lingers on the top step. She cants her head to one side and beams a smile at Adam. "Nervous?" she asks.
He gulps and nods and says, "A little bit, yes."
"Don't be," she says, pausing to survey the boy from toe to crown. "First impressions are you'll fit right in here. Just relax, Mister Gantry. We'll go inside and have a lovely chat. I have a few questions, of course, and we have a few rules – but nothing too awful...
"We'll have a talk and see if we're compatible." She rolls her eyes and chuckles, then adds, "You might find I'm not to your taste. You might decide my house isn't for you."
She looks at Adam in such a way his cock thickens and grows, desire a sudden hot coal in the pit of his stomach.
He's appalled at his body's response.
She's an old bird
, he thinks to himself, perplexed by what's going on inside his suit trousers.
Adam struggles to focus on what's being said when the woman repeats her invitation for him to enter the house.
"Come in, Mister Gantry," she's saying, still smiling at him. "Let's get this started."
*
Adam steps across the threshold, catching a waft of her scent as he moves past her. He lingers in the long, narrow hallway, waiting until she closes the front door.
"This way, sweetie," she says, sliding a red-painted talon along the underside of his chin.
It's an odd gesture, somewhat intimate and provocative, the tone of her voice doing nothing to ease Adam's raging erection.
When Mrs Baxter eases past him, Adam throws an anxious glance down at the front of his trousers. He sees the ridge of his hard-on is obvious, his cock caught as it tries to find a position within the confines of the boy's clothing.
"I'll show you the house," the woman is saying, calling back over one shoulder. "First are the lounge and the kitchen..."
Adam looks down the corridor to see she's waiting at the far end.
"The lounge is on your right," she tells him as he walks past an open doorway. "This is the kitchen behind me."
Mrs Baxter turns and moves through another door that's facing Adam as he approaches. He follows her through and finds himself in a surprisingly large space, a wooden table in the centre of the room, half a dozen chairs set around its rectangular periphery.
The woman leans her rump against the edge of an earthenware sink, a window behind her overlooking a long, narrow garden.
"I cook an evening meal. Breakfast is up to you." Mrs Baxter chuckles and goes on with, "You students can't get up in the mornings. It would be an absolute chore doing breakfasts for you."
She points to a white fridge. "There's a shelf in there for you to use. And this cupboard is all yours as well," Mrs Baxter continues while gesturing at an overhead unit. "I have five rooms in total. Boys, all boys. There are absolutely no unannounced guests – and that's a very strict rule, Mister Gantry..."
The woman pauses at that, giving Adam a look while asking, "Do you have a first name, darling?"
Adam blinks, caught by the sudden shift in her monologue.
"I'm Bryony," she says after Adam tells her his name. "I prefer to use first names," she tells him. "It always seems so stuffy calling each other Mrs and Mister.
"Anyway," Bryony continues, moving past Adam again. "Any questions so far?"
He's wondering about the strict rule concerning no unannounced guests, but gets dragged along in Bryony's wake as she goes out into the hallway.
"We're on four floors," she says, already climbing the stairs. "My bedroom is down below the ground floor. There are three rooms on this landing..."
They halt so Adam can survey the corridor and doors leading off it.
"...With a shared bathroom," Bryony adds. "There's two rooms at the top of the house, plus another bathroom. Those are considered the best of the lot. They're taken on account of seniority. You'll start on this level," she goes on to tell Adam before moving off the landing towards a door at the far end.
"And this will be your room – if you decide I'm what you want."
Adam frowns at what he thinks is a strange turn of phrase. Surely she means if it's the room he wants? He ponders the point for a second, but holds his silence because he's too embarrassed to make any comment.
"Now," says Bryony as she leads the boy into the room. "Let's sit on the bed and have a little chat. There must be things you want to know, and I have a few questions for you."
Adam is pleasantly surprised to see it's quite a large space, bright with the daylight coming in through a sash widow. The double bed is another attractive aspect, and Adam decides the room is infinitely preferable to the halls he's in now.
"I like it," he says following a quick appraisal.
Adam is then nonplussed to see Bryony perched on the bed. "That's good," she coos, expression decidedly feline as she eyes the boy and pats the bed with the palm of one hand. "Now, come here, sit down, sweetheart."
It's the look in her eyes that makes the Adam. There's something predatory about the way she's looking at him. He experiences a ripple of uncertainty shivering through his body, anxiety and a strange frisson of anticipation clutching his gonads, his cock pulsing with clandestine desires. In a fleeting moment of madness, Adam pictures himself launching himself at the woman, his hands going to her breasts while he forces his tongue into her mouth.
"Pardon?" says Adam when he registers she's said something to him.
"I asked if you're a smoker," she says.
"Oh. No," Adam replies with a shake of his head.
Bryony pouts and says, "That's all to the good. And what about girlfriends?"
Adam's cheeks flare as he looks down at his shoes. "Uh, no," he says with a mumble.
Her eyes are round when she asks, "Have you ever had a girlfriend, Adam? I don't mean to pry, sweetie, but you seem ... well, a little on the shy side."
"I've had girlfriends," the boy mutters in response.
Her tone is low and narcotic when Bryony asks, "But not a special one, eh?"
Adam divines her meaning, his face burning as he shakes his head and croaks, "No."
He hears her murmur, "A virgin..." the tone bringing his eyes to her face.
The woman catches his gaze, holding the boy's stare while she pats the bed once again.
"Darling," she purrs, "do come and sit down."
His eyes go from her face to the dizzying depths of Bryony's cleavage. He gulps, swallowing down on the upwelling of lascivious desires.
Adam feels himself drawn to the woman perched on the bed, her words coming in from some distant place.
He takes the steps to bring him closer to her, the bed dipping as he sits down.
