Luxury Accommodation

It was a large detached house as were all of the others on the estate and she was an attractive lady this side of forty. She had blue eyes and her shining blonde hair curved neatly to frame her face. She was wearing a bright orange summer dress and her varnished nails matched it perfectly. She looked as if she took good care of herself and I was impressed.

It was the first time that I met my landlady and she gazed at me disapprovingly. I was at the local university and had been looking for new accommodation. Nothing close was available but I had a bicycle so a few miles out of town was no problem.

I said I'd come about the lodgings she was advertising and her curt response was, "Do you smoke?"

"No."

"Do you drink?"

"I might have a pint with my pals on a Friday if I can afford it."

She looked searchingly at me and asked, "Can you afford the rent?"

"No."

"What do you mean no?"

"It's more than I've been paying so I might have to get a part-time job; shelf stacking or something. If you want any jobs done I'm handy with gardening, decorating, electrical stuff and that sort of thing."

She sniffed and responded haughtily, "I have a gardener and if I want any jobs done I employ professionals."

She looked down at my small case and enquired, "Is that all the luggage you have?"

"My entire worldly possessions. Would you like to know my name?"

"I'll tell you when I want to know your name, that's if I want to know it. You're very big."

"I think that's got something to do with my genes."

She snapped, "Are you trying to be funny?"

Enough was enough. I picked up my case and said politely, "I'm sorry to have wasted your time Madam, I'll try somewhere else."

I turned to leave but she called out sharply, "Come back here I haven't decided yet."

I'd taken a few paces and turned. I said calmly, "I don't think we will ever be compatible so I'll just trot along."

"Don't be in such a hurry, I'll decide if we are going to be compatible. All right then what's your name?"

"Chris."

"All right Chris you can come in."

I stood my ground.

She looked surprised. "What are you waiting for?"

"I haven't decided yet."

"Decided what?"

"Whether I want to live with you. You see you're not being very friendly and I just want somewhere to live where I will feel comfortable. I want to stay in a nice environment and feel welcome but so far you haven't been very welcoming."

She stared at me blankly and then her expression softened and she said quietly, "I'm sorry but I live alone and I've never had a lodger before so I'm a bit wary. May we start again?"

So her aggressive attitude was really hiding her vulnerability. I decided to give it another go.

I returned to the door and said, "Good afternoon Madam. My name is Christopher Atkins and I'm applying in response to your advertisement offering accommodation. I'm studying Mechanical Engineering at the local university and I'm six feet one inch and weigh one hundred and eighty-nine pounds. I don't smoke, I don't do drugs but I drink beer when I can afford it but right now I'm stony broke. I'm tidy, I don't have any bad habits but I sleep in the nude."

She pursed her lips but her eyes were laughing when she said, "I don't think that last bit was really necessary. My name is Emma Stevenson and I'm a widow. I'm five feet five and my weight is my business as are my sleeping habits. Would you like to come in and view what's on offer?"

I replied, "I would like that Mrs Stevenson but may I bring my bike into your driveway please? Just in case."

"Of course, but things don't get stolen around here. Burglaries yes but petty theft no."

I wheeled it in and propped it against her closed garage door. I followed her into the house and she led me straight up the stairs. I kept a little way behind and observed that she had shapely legs and slim ankles, but she knew that because her dress was short enough to display them without being mini. She moved gracefully with each step placed exactly in line as if on a catwalk.

Upstairs a corridor spanned the full width of the house with several doors on both sides. She took me to the last door and opened it to reveal a small bedroom that contained a double bed. She looked at me and then at the bed and asked doubtfully, "Will you fit into that? There are bigger beds in some of the other bedrooms so I could have it replaced."

I assured her that it would be okay and she apologised that it did not have a bathroom en suite but there was one directly opposite.

She enquired, "Well what do you think?"

I answered, "Mrs Stevenson this is five-star luxury."

She smiled and said, "The cleaner will give the room a going over once a week and replace the bed clothes. You may have to make your own breakfast if you get up too early.

"I get breakfast? I was expecting to eat cold pizza."

"And dinner is usually at seven."

"Dinner as well? The pizza would have been warm."

She laughed and said, "I'm an enthusiastic cook but somewhat adventurous so you can be my guinea pig. If you're happy then dump your bag and we'll go downstairs. Do you fancy a cup of tea?" It was a question that I came to hear often and as I mostly said yes we drank a lot of it.

She led me downstairs and into a spacious lounge but kept going so that we finished in a conservatory area overlooking the garden. She said it was the breakfast room and I could see that the attached kitchen was twice the size of the one back home. Throughout the journey I observed that everywhere was tastefully furnished.

She pointed to a cushioned wicker chair and I settled into it while she went to the kitchen to make the tea.

She called out, "Tell me about yourself Chris."

"My father's a local GP, my mother does charity work and an older sister is studying law; all very respectable."

"What about sports because you look exceedingly fit?"

"Rugby, done a bit of boxing and some very erratic golf."

A young black and white cat wandered in and headed for me. I scratched its head and it tried to jump on my lap but I pushed it off.

She returned with a tray bearing a teapot and some fragile cups and saucers. She used a strainer to pour so it was real tea. The sugar bowl contained lumps and tongs. She enquired, "How do you like it?"

"A dash of milk and three, no make it four lumps please." She tutted disapprovingly when she handed me the cup and saucer.

I said, "I'm not used to drinking out of receptacles that have handles."

The cat made another attempt for my lap and she said, "I don't believe it. That's Banjo and he's normally very aloof. You must smell of mouse."

I replied, "No, it's always the same. Kids and cats, they never leave me alone."

She smiled and settled into a chair opposite with the low table between us and crossed her shapely legs. She dangled a moccasin from her bare toes as she sipped her tea and announced, "Okay now it's your turn. You seem to be a polite young man so I know you won't ask inappropriate questions."

I replied, "I didn't think it would be my place to ask any questions at all but here goes. I'm sorry that you're a widow, what happened?"

"My husband was a successful business man and considerably older than me. His problem was that he was either unable or didn't want to delegate and worked every hour available. Added to which he was a heavy smoker so he didn't make it past fifty. It was eighteen months ago when I got the phone call. I've since sold the business."

Her earlier aggression had disappeared completely and we chatted until it was time for me to return to the university and sort out a few things. I learned that before she was married she had unsuccessfully attempted to be an actress and had also done a bit of modelling but her lack of height had prevented her from making it bigtime.

I returned before seven and changed into my other slacks and shirt. The meal was chicken thighs in a sticky garlic sauce and I ate every last piece. She was delighted and said she would have to double deliveries. I got the impression that she never actually went shopping in person.

I had some studying to do and retired to my room. When it was time for sleep I heard a meow outside the door. I opened it and in walked Banjo. He jumped onto the bed and we both settled down for the night.

The next morning she was already in the kitchen preparing eggs and bacon when I went downstairs.

I had never considered myself to be a lucky guy but somehow I had stumbled into heaven.

******************************

My father sent me some money which eased the financial pressure and during the next few weeks we got to know each other really well. I would study for an hour in the evenings while she watched television or experimented with her cooking. Then I would descend to the lounge and we would sit opposite each other in comfortable armchairs and chat. The spacious lounge also contained a large sofa but we sat together on it only when we watched TV.

The cleaner and I were the only other persons to enter the house and most household requirements were delivered. There was a smart Jaguar in the garage but when she went to her hairdresser she would call a cab. She seemed to have no close friends and other than occasional telephone calls she had very little contact with the outside world. She was obviously financially secure and when I felt it was safe to enquire I asked why she had advertised for a lodger. She replied simply, "For the company."

Our chats often became arguments about current affairs or religion. She was intelligent and knowledgeable and as we both had firm opinions sometimes our discussions would get quite heated. We could also discuss intimate subjects without embarrassment and a major disappointment was that her marriage had been childless. I suggested that maybe he'd been firing blanks but she said apparently not. She wasn't crazy about sport but if there was something I particularly wanted to watch she would generously allow it and practice her cooking or announce that she would go for a bath.

She possessed a camera and would often walk around with it dangling from its strap. She would snap flowers, Banjo, a sunset and often me. I never saw the result of any of them.

After she returned from her bath she would usually be wearing something that resembled a cheongsam but without the revealing slit. She had several similar garments and all were brightly coloured with bold shiny patterns. Her bare feet had unvarnished nails and she always brought with her the heady scent of bath perfume. On one occasion I made a sniffing sound.

She looked at me suspiciously and asked, "What was that for?"

Too late I realised that I might be overstepping the mark but I was committed. Looking down I mumbled, "You always smell delicious after a bath."

There was silence and I waited nervously.

Eventually I looked up and could see that she was struggling to suppress a giggle. Her eyes were laughing when she said chidingly, "Christopher Atkins that was a very saucy remark. Just don't sniff it all up because it's very expensive."

I mentally breathed a sigh of relief and resolved to keep a closer watch on my tongue.

But on the next occasion when she returned from her bath she bent close as she passed my chair and said, "Would you like to have a sniff?"

I cowered away in mock alarm and protested, "Please Mrs Stevenson, I'm an innocent young man."

She scoffed, "I find that hard to believe."

Despite the difference in age we enjoyed each other's company and I always treated her with respect. I was experienced sexually and had enjoyed romps with several girls, but although she was vivaciously attractive I refused to allow myself any erotic thoughts about her.

That was until I observed a significant event.

Sometimes when she returned from her bath there would be flushed patches on each cheek. They weren't glaringly obvious but sufficient to be noticeable and within a few minutes they would fade. What was strange was that they weren't apparent after every bath. It was a curious phenomenon but I gave it no importance.

But that changed when I accidentally overheard something that was clearly associated with her flushed complexion. She had gone to her bedroom for a bath when I decided to get a sports magazine from my room. As I was passing her door I heard a strange noise that sounded like a baby crying. I stopped and listened to the curious whimpering that continued for several seconds. Then I heard an explosive gasp followed by a gagging groan. There was silence and then came the creak of a bed and movement within the room.

The realisation hit me and I turned and hared back downstairs. I was watching television when she entered.

I was in mild shock when I heard her say, "Why are you watching that? I thought you hated soaps."

I looked up and there was a flushed patch on each cheek.

"I wasn't watching it; I was deep in thought."

"About what?"

"Oh some engineering stuff that I need to get sorted in my mind."

She settled into a chair and said, "You were looking so serious I thought something was wrong. So what shall we argue about?"

It was only just after ten but I was struggling to think clearly and said, "I don't want to be a party pooper but would you mind if I called it a night. I need to go and do a bit of reading."

"Of course not. Are you sure there's nothing wrong?"

"Absolutely nothing; good-night Mrs Stevenson."

"Sleep tight Chris."

I flopped onto my bed and reviewed the evening's events. I thought, "Jesus, she was masturbating and she does so fairly regularly." And then I thought, "So what's wrong with masturbation; I masturbate so why shouldn't she? After all, she's in the prime of life and without a man to service her she probably gets horny."

But I couldn't get out of my mind the image of her lying on her bed and caressing herself to an orgasm and I wondered what she fantasised about. One thing was certain; I would never be able to look at her again without being aware that she enjoyed sex even if it was self-administered. Had I lost respect for her? Certainly not, but she had definitely become a much more interesting person. It took very little time for me to achieve my own orgasm before I drifted off to sleep.

******************************

During the days that followed I found myself continually picturing her masturbating and noted how many times she returned to the lounge with flushed cheeks. One thing became clear; it was happening more frequently. Her behaviour towards me was also becoming increasingly familiar and occasionally tactile. I also like to cook and if we were close together in the kitchen she would sometimes appear to accidentally bump into me and then apologise.

I was becoming worried. Of course sex with no strings attached was welcome but I was in a cosy situation and I didn't want to mess it up. I had wonderful accommodation and a generous landlady but I was also keen to get my M.Eng degree and I needed to keep to keep my head down. So I hatched a plan to try to direct her attention elsewhere.

We were both good at backgammon and we often played in the evenings. It was during a game that I took the plunge. She was considering a move when I asked, "Mrs Stevenson may I ask an inappropriate question?"

"It depends."

"How old were you and was it a good marriage?"

"I was eighteen and towards the end I hardly ever saw him. I was fond of him as he was of me but there was never any real spark. I've never admitted that to anyone before."

"It's safe with me. May I ask a very personal question about your marriage?"

"Don't bother, I was a virgin and it was slam-bam thank-you ma'am."

So far so good and I continued. "You are a very attractive female."

"Well thank you but the rent stays the same."

"May I then substitute the word desirable for attractive."

She looked up sharply with a surprised expression but said nothing.

I added hastily, "I'm not coming onto you. I just want to know why you are depriving the world of your existence. You never have any social engagements and there don't seem to be any men in your life when there should be. Okay, let me be very personal; you are an absolute knock-out. A gorgeous sexy female with great personality and you're wasting it all on me. There are hundreds of eligible men out there who would crawl over broken glass if you just snapped your fingers."

"I don't like men."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"I had a couple of dates early on and all they wanted to do was empty my bank account."

I sighed and said, "So you've decided to be a recluse."

"Why not? I've been married once and it was okay. I don't need money and if I require man's work I hire somebody."

I persisted with, "You've just been unlucky with your dates. Why not give it another go?"

"I told you I don't like men, I like you."

"Well thanks. Please give me a few minutes while l work on that one."

She said calmly, "You don't pose a threat. You're intelligent and amusing and you haven't tried to rob me. Pretty soon you'll move on, but it's fun when you're around and I'm enjoying it."

"Okay I give up."

She reached across the board and put her hand behind my head to pull it towards her. She kissed my forehead and as she settled back into her chair she said, "You're a really sweet guy and that was just an affectionate kiss."

******************************

So my plan didn't work and nothing changed. She masturbated regularly and her attitude towards became increasingly familiar.

It all came to a head one evening when we were sitting together in the lounge. She had promised not to disturb me if I studied downstairs and I was doing some reading.

She enjoyed a glass of wine and always handed me a can of beer which she said was included in the food supplement. Towards the end of a second glass she would become less inhibited. She had nearly finished her second glass and had been glancing through a magazine when she announced, "I'm bored."

She was obviously feeling playful and I replied, "I won't be long."

Apparently that wasn't soon enough because a few seconds later a screwed up ball of paper landed in my lap. I looked up and she was staring at me with a cheeky smile. I brushed it off and carried on reading but another twist of paper hit my shoulder.

I said firmly, "I'm warning you Mrs Stevenson, if you continue to behave like a naughty girl I will spank you as I would a naughty girl."

"Oh yeah," she scoffed, "I don't think so."

I continued reading and yet another tuft of paper landed in my lap. I looked at her and warned, "If you do it again I will carry out my threat."

With a defiant expression she deliberately tore off another piece and calmly screwed it into a ball. She took careful aim and flicked it at my head.

I moved quickly and made a grab for her. I missed the first time but as she tried to flee in panic I grabbed a foot and she sprawled headlong on the carpet. I hauled her towards me and with one arm around her waist I carried her to the sofa.

When I draped her face-down across my lap, she squawked, "Chris don't you dare. I'm warning you if you put a hand on me it will be the last thing you will ever do."

I decided that if she was going to throw me out then it might as well be for a good reason. So I said calmly, "I did warn you."

I lifted her dress to expose the panties that covered her tight little butt. With my left arm on her back and pressing her down I hooked my right hand under the band and pulled the flimsy material down to her knees.

She screamed, "Stop it you bastard. I'm warning you, I'll have you arrested."

It was too late now and anyway I'd never spanked a girl before so it would be something to reminisce while serving the prison term. I declared, "I believe six of the best is the standard punishment for naughty little girls, so here they come."