The following week the phone rang and it was Christine. I was delighted to hear her voice, as I had been thinking about her quite a bit. She asked me about my schedule, and said since Lake Placid is over three hours away I was welcome to stay in their guest cottage while I worked. It sounded like a great set-up to me, as it would definitely save me time and money. We agreed to meet there the following Monday to go over some projects she wanted to have done. She thought it would be best if I could be there for the whole week, so I rearranged some other appointments and cleared my schedule.
I drove up in beautiful sunshine and found the place without too much trouble. To say it was impressive would be an understatement. It was a beautiful old Tudor style lodge, with a huge wrap around porch and spectacular mountain views. Off to the side, almost swallowed up by large hemlock trees, was a carriage house style garage with guest quarters above. There was a silver Mercedes SL convertible in the driveway, and Christine walked down the wide steps off the porch as I got out of my truck.
"Steve," she said, "I'm so glad you found me. Were the directions okay?"
"Perfect," I said. "So this is this place. I love it!"
"Unfortunately we don't use it much," she said with a sad smile. "I absolutely love it here but my husband's just so busy. We get up here to ski a few times in the winter but that's about it. I should just come up on my own more often, but it's a pretty lonely old place when I'm by myself."
"Yeah, I can see why you'd feel that way," I said. "It's pretty secluded here."
"We've got over 900 acres, so there's nobody around for miles. That's what I love about it though. I'm a very private person. You'll see more of it later, maybe we'll go for a hike this evening after dinner."
She smiled, a happier smile this time, and I suddenly realized she was planning on spending the night.
"Grab your things and I'll show you your quarters," she said, and she turned and walked towards the carriage house.
She had a wonderful wiggle in her walk that I had a hard time looking away from, but I forced myself and grabbed my duffel bag. I still didn't know what the arrangement was for the week, so I broached that subject as I entered the guest house.
"Is you husband here with you?" I asked.
"Oh God no," she said. "He'd never tear himself away from his work to come up here during the week. No, I'm afraid it's just going to be you and me, if that's all right with you. I told him I'd be back Friday evening for a cocktail party he wants to drag me to. I swear he just wants to have me around to show off as some kind of trophy wife or something. It's hilarious when you consider my age."
She emphasized the words 'my age,' and looked somewhat deflated.
"Do you know you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen?" I said, looking her square in the eye.
"Oh Steve," she said, her eyes getting misty, "I wish I was younger and had met you under different circumstances. I could fall for you so easily."
She sniffled, wiped away a small tear, and I kissed her on the forehead and held her in my arms. After a few moments she gave me a peck on the cheek and straightened herself up.
"Come on, let me show you the old place," she said.
Christine's mood improved dramatically as she showed me around. The main house was spectacular. It was a real work of art as far as craftsmanship goes, and she was very proud to show it off to me, especially as she knew I could appreciate all the nice woodworking details. As we walked around she showed me a few projects she wanted me to do, but it really didn't amount to much.
"You know," I said, "I'm only seeing about four or five hours of work here. I'll be done with that tomorrow."
"Good," she said, "I was hoping it would work out that way. Then we can enjoy the rest of the week without anything to do." She paused a moment an added, "Is that too presumptuous of me? We can leave when you finish tomorrow if you'd rather."
"Are you kidding? You couldn't drag me away," I said, looking deep into her eyes. Her face was glowing, and her smile lovely. I took her hand and we went out onto a balcony overlooking a vast wild valley, with a range of mountains off in the distance.
We spent the rest of the day setting up outdoor furniture and opening curtains and windows, bringing the old place back to life. Eventually we made our way to the third floor. I thought it was just going to be an attic space, but when Christine started to open up the shutters I realized it was a wonderful sleeping porch, screened-in around almost the entire perimeter, with large roof overhangs to keep it dry in the rain.
"This is my favorite place in the whole world," she said. "My husband hates it, thinks it's too primitive."
"I can see why you love it," I said. "It's fantastic. And look at that view!"
"I was hoping you could help me bring one of the big king sized beds up here," she said, "I've always wanted to sleep up here, but never have. Maybe you could work on it while I make dinner?"
Christine helped me drag up the mattress and box spring, I assembled everything and cleaned up the room while she cooked, and then we had a nice dinner on a patio outside the kitchen. I had gotten pretty sweaty and dirty getting the sleeping porch cleaned and set-up, and Christine suggested I take a shower while she cleaned up the kitchen.
"I'll meet you upstairs in a little while," she said. "Shall we say eight o'clock?"
"Eight o'clock," I said with a hopeful smile, and I walked across the driveway to the guest house, a spring in my step as I anticipated what the night might bring. I put my things away and got organized and cleaned up. I put on a halfway decent looking linen shirt and a clean pair of jeans. At eight o'clock I walked back over to the main house.
Daylight was fading as I ascended the dimly lit staircase. When I reached the third floor the sight that greeted me was better than any dream I'd ever had. The glow of twilight on the mountains outside the big screened windows perfectly balanced the light of about thirty candles scattered around the room, and there, in the center of it all, was Christine. She was lying on her side on the bed, propped up on one elbow, looking absolutely exquisite in a tiny black lace bra, stringy little black lace panties, and a black lace garter belt with dark silk stockings.
"I'm so glad you're here," she said, smiling a sexy smile.
