Linda had never wanted to allow strangers into her house. It was a necessity.
Living in the Welsh countryside, many miles from any decent sized town made it difficult to make a decent living. And, with the big old house her rat of a husband had left her (after running off with the art student from Manchester); the obvious thing to do was to let out the rooms.
There were no shortage of takers. Her home was in the middle of the Snowdonia national park and so attracted hikers, climbers and general outdoorsy types. She preferred it when the guests were young and female. They kept amongst themselves and generally weren't there to get plastered. Normally they were nice sweet girls who, when they weren't out hiking, were reading quietly in the garden.
She disliked older guests, normally they wanted to talk mundane nonsense, often they would be full of real ale at 10 at night and would try it on with her.
55 and men still desired her. Even if they were bearded and over 40 it was still good to know. She looked in the mirror and still saw a woman of 35. She was as trim as ever, not much grey had fastened itself onto her hair - just a few silvery streaks. Her skin was still good, her breasts sagged a little but yoga and being lucky enough to've not had to work for a living had kept her body youthful.
The guests Linda really dreaded were the young men. The climbers and Para gliders. The groups of young men from universities. Being alone in the house with 4-5 of them for a whole weekend miles from anyone else was an awful thing.
Firstly, it was scary what the wrong group of men could do to her. Rob? Assault? Murder? She couldn't stop those ideas flooding through her mind, what could she do to stop them?
Secondly, she adored young men. The look of them, the smell of them, the tight ripples of their stomachs, the light tan of ther smooth skin, their easy smiles and the light hair that lead from their navels down towards their groins like an arrow pointing the path to pleasure. She adored them, but only the ones that lived in her head, in her erotic novels and on her computer screen. She couldn't bear thinking about real young men. Why would they want her? It would be improper.
Nevertheless, as her only male contact in two years had been a couple of tedious dates and mediocre sex with a local forest ranger two years her senior, she couldn't help feeling the twinge of desire when she saw the young men at her dining table. Nor could she help feeling breathless when she accidentally saw one bare chested.
Nor could she help lying in bed dreaming of the boys sleeping a few doors away.
That was what frightened her about them coming to stay.
Which was why Linda was not looking forward to her son's friend Steve Kaplan coming to stay with three of his climbing friends. They were preparing for an expedition to Nepal and her son had kindly recommended her place as the ideal base camp for training.
She'd met Steve once before. Then he'd been a 17 year old who, when she'd been bringing her son up in Cardiff, had often come around to do his homework. She'd known then that he'd had a little passion for her, and he was even then a very good looking boy. She wanted very much to see him again, and that frightened her even more.
Now 29, Steve was an even handsomer figure than she'd dreaded. he'd filled out a little and had the rugged, unshaven look that made her giddy, as well as the blue eyes and boyish brown hair she remembered fondly.
His companions were no less impressive. Declan a dark Irishman with a roguish grin. Irwin, a 6'6 black Londoner and Sandy a stocky, muscled blue eyed boy. All were aged between 27 and 30. It was awful.
The Friday they arrived passed well enough. She made the usual pleasantries and turned in early, listening to their voices down the stairs. Steve's deep whisper, Irwin's West Indian lilt, Deccan's Irish bark and Sandy's boyish giggle.
She was very wet.
