The Boarding House 3
This is not a stand-alone story. It's highly recommended that you read parts one and two before part three. This is an entirely fictitious story, so don't go getting yourself incensed or upset by anything that you read here. Thank you!
As I walked back to my B&B at the end of the working day, I thought of the incredible week I'd had so far. I couldn't quite believe how much my life had changed in just a few days. From being a fancy free twenty eight year old single man, I was now seriously contemplating marriage with a young woman I had met just a few days ago.
I had seduced the twenty five year old innocent, who was extremely shy, introverted, and a virgin. Rachael had rapidly learned that there was more to life than working at the B&B and attending church with her mother. It had all happened by accident to start with, but I quickly realised that Rachael had a very sensual nature. She had succumbed to my attempted seduction after accidentally seeing my cock when I was peeing late at night and left the door open. She had been closeted and protected all her life, but her natural curiosity had proved her undoing.
Her sexual awakening had certainly changed her outlook on life, and within a day or two she had blossomed to the point where she had lost her initial shyness and developed a fine healthy interest in sex. She was a quick learner, and from being a reluctant participant had now embraced her latent sexuality completely and very enthusiastically.
Not only that, but due to extenuating circumstances I had rather forcefully seduced her beautiful born-again Christian mother, and spent a night of almost none stop sex in
her
bed the previous night as well. My head was in a whirl, and I couldn't stop thinking about it. How was I going to extricate myself from this I wondered? I was pretty sure I was in love with Rachael, even after such a short acquaintance, but now I had gone and literally fucked it all up with her mother. Problems, problems, problems!
I let myself into the B&B with my pass key, and called out to Sarah, (Rachael's Mother) but there was no reply. Thankful for her absence, for the time being anyway, I made my way to my room. There was a note on my pillow which read, 'I have to go out, but we need to have that talk tonight. Don't worry, it's not going to be bad. I'll see you soon. Sarah, x.'
Tonight
was underlined three times, so tonight it would most certainly be. No escaping this one, but in a way I was just as eager to get this sorted out. Whatever Sarah had in mind there was one thing certain in my mind, Rachael had to be my number one priority without a shadow of a doubt.
I heard the front door open and close about twenty minutes later and since Sarah and I were the only occupants of the house at the moment, I knew it had to be her. Summoning up my courage, or as they used to say in olden times, 'girding my loins,' I made my way downstairs to have, 'that talk,' with Sarah.
As I made my way downstairs, she came out of the residents lounge, and looked up the stairs as I came down. She had a surprised look on her face, and then she smiled. Relief filled my heart, at least she was pleased to see me. She hadn't gone back to being that joyless, strict, and almost unsmiling woman filled with holy zeal that she had appeared to be earlier in the week.
'Oh, you're back,' she said, still smiling. 'You're home early tonight. You got my note I presume?' and now she looked a little more serious.
'Yes, I've just read it,' I replied, 'Shall we go back into the lounge and have a "talk," now and get it out of the way so it's not hanging over us all evening?' I suggested, and she thought that was an excellent idea.
'Okay,' she agreed. 'I think that would be fine. We must have this talk, but first of all let me go and make us some tea. Let's do this in a very informal and civilised way, and having a friendly chat over a "cuppa," tea seems the right way to go about it,' and she smiled again, still warm and friendly. As I sat there in the lounge, listening to the mundane sounds of the cups 'clinking,' on saucers, the kettle boiling, and the boiling water being poured into the tea pot, I took heart from her demeanour. She seemed friendly enough, but there was no getting away from the fact that this was going to be a serious, maybe life changing hour ahead, not only for me, but for Rachael and Sarah too.
She came through the kitchen door carrying a tray with teapot, cups, milk, and a plate with some biscuits. (cookies to my American readers) Laying it on the low lying coffee table, she poured us both tea, and sat down on the couch at my left hand side. She handed me a cup of tea, and smiled. Was she luring me into a false sense of security I uncharitably wondered?