Author's note: This is my submission for the
Summer Lovin' Story Contest 2022
- a story inspired by the fantasies of some good friends.
I hope you enjoy the story. If you do, then please consider voting for it. Comments always welcomed.
***
A perfect day. One of those days when any doubts I had had about giving up on city life and moving out to the countryside evaporated with the first rays of the morning sun creeping round the curtains in the window of the cottage.
A slow morning drifted by in that special summer way. Coffee and toast taken out into the garden for a long breakfast soaking up the sun, a few household chores, answering a few emails, checking on the hot tub for later and a chat with a fellow collector about a problem on the 1951 XK120. As the sun reached its peak it found me walking across the hot dry fields and through the village to the Plough, intent on a beer and one of the excellent sandwiches for which Pam the landlady was famous.
The pub garden was quiet, even for a weekday lunchtime, and I took my pint to the cool back corner, one of the few places out of the glare of the sun, and settled myself at one of the tables under the dappled shade of an old apple tree. Just as Pam placed the daily menu on the table (I was sure leaning forward more than she needed to and giving me a glimpse of her curvy cleavage) I saw them come through the gate from the car park.
A good looking young couple, in their thirties I guessed, smiling, talking and holding hands. Their affection for each other was radiant and infectious, and immediately made me smile. I watched as Pam welcomed them and, though I couldn't hear their conversation, I figured out that they were asking about somewhere to sit out of the sun because Pam turned to one side and pointed to the table next to mine, then asked them what they wanted to drink and returned into the dark cool of the old inn. As they walked across the garden towards me I was captivated by the woman, and her short cotton sundress which flowed across her toned thighs and curved around her slightly swaying breasts. I suppose you could say I was being a typical dirty old man, ogling this young woman, but hoped my sunglasses had obscured my attention sufficiently to avoid offence.
"Do you mind if we join you?" she said, as they came closer, indicating the table next to mine with a wave of her hand.
"Of course not. We all need some shade today and it's lovely to have company. Your first time at the Plough?"
"Yes. We've been meaning to come for ages, and have driven past many times, but this morning we decided that today was the day." I watched her as she settled into her seat, her skirt swinging up and briefly exposing more skin before she quickly smoothed it down.
"Well I hope you enjoy it. Pam's food is famous around here. I'm Kris. Welcome to the village."
The man leaned over and extended a hand. "James", he smiled.
The young woman waved a friendly wave. "Hi! Caroline. Lovely to meet you"
Pam emerged from the pub with a tray of drinks, and menus tucked under her arm, ascended the couple of steps onto the lawn and came across the grass looking every inch the country pub landlady that she was. Sunlight glinted off the glasses as she placed them in front of my new companions, and threw coloured shards of light on the table as it refracted through Caroline's Pimm's.
She handed over the menus, and described the specials that were available that day, explaining that Steve, the chef, used quiet weekdays to try out some new, always delicious ideas on customers.
"What an amazing menu!" Caroline exclaimed.
"It's a pretty amazing place overall!", I agreed. "Pam took it over a few years ago when it was a bit run down but she has breathed new life into it. Steve was a great find - he's proved to be a hit with locals and visitors alike. I can recommend whatever he is trying out today - I have never had a bad meal here."
"Have you been here long?"
"I moved to the village about three years ago. Escaping the rat race of the city. I live just over that way, across the fields, just me, a peaceful cottage and a barn full of old cars."
As I mentioned the cars I sensed James's eyes light up, and saw a smile of familiar resigned acceptance creep onto Caroline's lips.
"Old cars?" James asked. "What do you have?"
"A fellow lover of expensive rust held together with shiny paint?" I laughed.
"Oh, don't get him started!" Caroline giggled, but I gave in to James's enthusiasm.
"Well hardly a vast collection, but I have an old XK120, a '57 Mk1 Sprite and my favourite, a 1958 Messerschmitt Bubble Car."
"Wow! How old is the Jaguar?"
"1951. Sadly, the engine is well past its prime, so I never push it these days, but it still sounds great."
"Roadworthy then?"
"Just about! I get all of them out for a spin when I can, especially in this weather - they are all soft tops."
As we chatted about engines and paintwork and spare parts I could see Caroline leaning back in her seat, her thin sundress stretched across her chest, and I almost lost the thread of our conversation as I idly wondered what she was wearing underneath on a hot summer's day like this.
My reverie was broken by Sally, Pam's pretty young waitress, coming across the lawn to take the young couple's food orders. They ordered two of Steve's specials, and I asked Sally for a sandwich and a bottle of dry white wine and some glasses. It was just the day for relaxing in the shade, with some good wine and the lucky company of this good-looking couple.
Lunch arrived and conversation flowed freely. We talked about village life and the countryside and walking in the hills and mountains. We discovered a common love of the Highlands and Islands and shared stories about abandoned glens and herds of red deer and fearsome midgies. The first bottle of wine slipped down easily and was followed by another. I was glancing over at Caroline as often as I thought I could get away with it, especially as she let the hem of her dress ride up above her knees revealing alluring skin and setting my imagination into overdrive.
As I poured the last drops of wine into our glasses James said, "I would love to see your cars some day!"
"Well why not today? It's not far, just a short walk across the fields and the river, and you would be very welcome."
I nipped into the pub to settle up with Pam and check that James and Caroline could leave their car in the car park. As I came back across the lawn I was intrigued to see a conspiratorial look on James and Caroline's faces, as if they had taken the opportunity of my absence to discuss something private and naughty.
We left the pub and walked along the pretty village street, before turning into a small country lane that ran down to the old ford by an ancient footbridge with the clear chalkstream water flowing underneath. We paused to watch the trout idly undulating in the shadows, and glimpsed the blue flash of a kingfisher flying away from us up the river.
From there the track went through the cool shade of a small birdsong filled beechwood and so to a path across the fields and up the hill to my cottage. We chatted as we walked, all of us relaxed and slightly tipsy with the wine, James and Caroline holding hands, and everything suffused with that perfect summer afternoon feeling of calm tranquillity.
As we reached the top of the field I saw James's hand slip from hers and gently caress the curve of her bum through the material of her dress. My hopes rose for an already pleasant afternoon getting even more interesting!
We turned the corner of the road and there was the house, looking its best, framed by trees in the hot afternoon sun. A quintessentially English thatched cottage - small windows, white walls, dark timber beams.
"Wow! That's gorgeous!" Caroline stopped in the road and took in the view.
"Thank you. I must admit I was incredibly lucky that it came on the market just when I was looking. I can't take any credit - that should go to some unknown builder 350 years ago who found the site and put up the original cottage. And the owners before me that landscaped the gardens and selected the plants. All I have to do these days is cut the grass and keep the weeds down. Let me show you around!"
I was actually immensely proud of the house that luck had placed in my path, and loved showing visitors all its old features and nooks and crannies.
We strolled up the narrow drive and I pointed out where the house had been extended in the 18th and 19th centuries. The drive led up to the old barn, where the open doors revealed the long racing green bonnet of the Jaguar and the quirky bug eyes of the Sprite. I could sense that James was instantly drawn to the old cars, and we wandered over that way. James ran his fingers over the glossy paintwork.
"May I?" he asked, pointing at the door handle of the Jaguar.