This story is very loosely based on a real event, heavily embellished by imagination, with an added touch of mysticism. Oh to be twenty-two again!
Part 1. The beginning.
We'd been married just over a year when we moved to the cottage in Ashfield. Angela was twenty, I was twenty-two. We'd married young. At first we lived in a crummy flat in the nearby town, where we both worked, but we really wanted a more rural life. When a workmate tipped me off about a suitably affordable cottage that had just become available to rent I was immediately interested. Having got the details I phoned the landlord right away and arranged to view the place that evening.
As we drove through the rolling green fields and scattered woods the fifteen miles or so to the small village of Ashfield we were both excited at the prospect of getting out of town and starting a country life. I knew from my phone conversation with the landlord that the cottage was some half mile outside the village, just off the single narrow road that connected it to the outside world, and as we pulled off the road onto a rough drive we could see that there were actually two, almost identical red brick detached houses, side by side, each set in it's own garden plot.
A tallish, heavily built man with a big belly stood waiting for our arrival, closely observing our approach. I guess he would be in his late fifties. Early sixties, maybe.
He came up as we got out of the car and shook our hands, introducing himself as Brian. His general demeanour was friendly and welcoming, but I felt that he was a little intimidating with his cropped grey hair and beady, dark, piercing eyes. However, the meeting went well and when we viewed the property we liked what we saw.
It seemed that he owned both of the cottages and himself lived next door. The property he was looking to let had been left to him by a relative who had died a few months previously. Long term he planned to sell the property, but was looking to rent it out for now, until he decided on his next move. That suited us quite well as our plan was to rent for a while whilst we saved a deposit for our own place. And the rent he was asking was really reasonable. Honestly he could have charged a lot more, but he said getting the right tenants was more important than getting top dollar.
And so eventually it was decided. He offered the tenancy and we accepted. A month later we moved in and immediately felt at home. It was everything we had hoped for. A short commute, a quiet country life, a small but comfortable, picturesque cottage to come home to after work. Shop and pub just a short walk along the road. What more could we ask for?
We tended to see Brian most days as he seemed to be always pottering about in his garden when we arrived home from work. He apparently didn't work himself, whether he was retired or had a private income we couldn't say. We always spoke and passed the time of day, but I tried to keep a polite distance as much as possible. To be honest, I began to think of him as being a little bit creepy. For one thing I couldn't fail to notice the way his beady eyes were all over my wife's body whenever we stood talking. She couldn't see it and thought I was imagining things, but it made me a little bit uneasy. Angie was always more accepting of him and more inclined than myself to stand chatting with him.
Not that I could blame him. While her face was quite plain, a bit homely you might say, she had a damn good figure. Her hair was long and pale brown, nice breasts, not over large, but well shaped and full. Her ass was to die for. Shapely legs. Neither of us were terribly experienced lovers when we married and I always hoped for a more adventurous sex life, but she was strictly vanilla, eyes shut, lights out, straight missionary only. Still, I enjoyed our lovemaking and remained hopeful that it would improve as our marriage progressed.
One Friday, maybe five or six weeks after moving in, I drove home from work in the late afternoon. Normally I would pick her up from her workplace on the way home, but she didn't work on Friday, so I could get home a little earlier. I parked on the drive in front of the two cottages and walked the short distance to our front door. Brian wasn't anywhere in view. He rarely was on Fridays, somehow. As I let myself in, hanging my jacket and bag on the hooks in the hallway, Angela called out from the kitchen.
"Hi, love."
She was cooking. The smell had me salivating right away. I walked through from the hallway. She was standing at the stove with her back to me, stirring something in a pan. I walked up behind her and squeezed her ass cheek gently, but firmly, and nuzzled her neck.
"Stop it" she said. "Early dinner tonight, almost ready. Wash your hands and get the cutlery". I did as she said.
I was thinking she might be planning a night out in town, or at the village pub, but as we ate she dropped a bombshell out of the blue.
"I was talking to Brian this afternoon" she informed me. "He's invited us round this evening."
"I hope you you said no" I answered. That was the last thing I wanted to start the weekend.
"Actually I said we'd go" she said. "It turns out he's a spiritualist. Says he'll give us a reading."
I groaned inwardly. It was one of the things we couldn't agree on. She'd grown up in a family where Ouija boards, horoscopes and tarot cards were a normal part of life, whilst I thought all that stuff was pure bollocks. She saw the pained expression on my face.
"Oh, come" she said. It might be fun. You don't have to join in if you really don't want to. To be honest, I think he's a bit lonely. He'd appreciate it. Some company for a couple of hours. What's the harm?"
Reluctantly I agreed.
"But as soon as we can get away, I'm out of there" I insisted.
After the meal was finished I began to do the washing up. She told me she was going for a bath and get changed for the evening.
"Is that really necessary?" I protested.
"Well, he said I should be dressed entirely in white" she answered. I pulled a face.
"Isn't that a bit weird?" I asked. She looked puzzled.
"Why would it be weird," she replied. "It's probably something to do with creating the right ambience or something."
"What about me?"
"He didn't say anything about you. I guess you can wear whatever you want."
"Yeah well, that suits me," I said, peevishly. "I'm not getting dressed up for that weird old git."
