Bridget Doin' the Minotaur

"Holy hell. Why is it so ... big?"

Bridget was gazing up at the front door to her new home. It was an old thing, made of thick pieces of timber and straps of brass that looked as if it could have kept Vikings at bay at some point. Hell of a door for what amounted to a bed and breakfast.

It was technically an inn, and Bridget had inherited it from her great aunt, Tabitha. Aunt Tabitha had been the black sheep of the family. She'd hardly visited, but she wasn't to be blamed. She ran this inn in Ireland and the rest of the family was back in the States.

When she did visit, she would regale Bridget with stories of Ireland, embellishing them with pixies and fey kings and monsters of all sorts. She was Bridget's favorite.

And apparently Bridget was her favorite too. When she'd passed the rest of the family were basically ignored in her will. Bridget was named Tabitha's soul beneficiary, inheriting a sizable chunk of cash and her aunt's estate in Ireland as well. Her words were, "May you have adventures like I had."

It had been years since Bridget had seen Tabitha, and in those years Bridget had begun a career in advertising. She had also met and married Todd, who was a graphic designer. She and Todd had been a bit of a power couple at their agency when they'd first met, but lucrative job offers and the turbulence of advertising found them at separate companies and a bit burnt out.

They'd held off having kids in favor of their careers, but Aunt Tabitha's money and house made it possible for them to pivot. So, at age 30, in a fit of excitement they'd bought out of their lease, put their things in storage, and moved to Ireland.

Aunt Tabitha's inn was ... remote to say the least. Bridget and Todd had flown to Shanon, then taken a train and a very pricey Uber out to the country. It was undoubtedly beautiful country, though, and a really cute village sprang up as they got closer to the estate.

They passed through and out into more rolling hills a shade of green Bridget hadn't known existed. Eventually the car turned off the roughly paved country road onto an even rougher gravel road.

"Let's see if I can find it this time!" their driver joked, and Bridget saw how the meandering path could be confusing. She thought she saw the same enormous tree several times from several angles, despite the road not appearing to curve or wind overly much.

Eventually they saw crenelated stone peeking over a hill that grew into a short but distinctly medieval tower. The rest of the building came into view, a stocky stone structure with a thatched roof. There was a separate, plaster-walled cottage behind, attached to the stone building by what was clearly a more modern addition that Bridget hoped contained the plumbing.

"Thank the Lord, it's Sunday. It's always back on Sunday." He seemed genuinely relieved to have found the place. Maybe he wasn't familiar with the area?

He pulled them right up to the door and helped them unload. "Your Aunt Tabby was a fine woman, to be sure. She'll be missed. I hope you and your sir enjoy it out here." He shook Bridget's hand, got in his car and drove away, leaving Bridget and Todd staring at the oversized door.

"The key!" Bridget remembered, pulling out the antique brass key and found the matching brass keyhole in the timber door. It turned with surprising ease. With a subtle click the door seemed to relax without moving at all. Bridget pulled on the brass ring and the huge portal yawned open.

Beyond lay what Bridget could only describe as a common room. Time-softened wooden tables and chairs were arranged with a casual air that begged them to be moved around to fit anyone's needs. They surrounded a hearth big enough to stand inside of, a massive bear skin rug splayed in front.

The stone walls were lit by flickering sconces, somehow still lit despite Aunt Tabitha being gone for months. Likewise the tables were dust-free, the corners missing cobwebs.

"Someone has been taking care of the place," Bridget said to Todd. "It's clean."

As if on cue a slight figure stepped around the corner, carrying a set for serving coffee. They were shorter than even Bridget, who was by no means tall. The person had long hair up in a bun and wore trousers, a blouse, and a waistcoat that looked retro but from no distinct period. They also had long, pointed ears.

"Ah," they said. "You've arrived. So pleased to meet you. I'm called Reffy. You must be Mistress Bridget," they put out a fine-bones hand for her to shake. "And Master Todd," when they offered a hand to her husband.

"I ... wasn't expecting anyone to be here," Bridget said. "You worked for my great aunt?"

"With her. I help run the inn. You could call me a partial owner."

Todd said, "Wait, Tabitha didn't mention sharing ownership with anyone in her will."

Reffy shrugged. "Tabitha granted you legal ownership, yes, but that's only as far as the law is concerned. I can tell this is unexpected but I assure you it's as your aunt wanted it. You could say that the inn sits on my land. Part of the time anyway."

Bridget and Todd shared a look that made clear their confusion.

"Have you seen Brigadoon?"

"Oooooh!" the couple said in unison.

"So ..." Bridget reasoned, "the inn is here sometimes and other times it's somewhere else?"

Reffy nodded. "The Fey, to be exact."

"How?"

"Long story but some ancestor of yours made a pact with an ancestor of mine -- who knows what for -- and in exchange agreed to spend half her days in the Fey. Generations passed, yada yada, and then I get the property on our side and realize that I just have some lady gardening half the time. Not one to turn down a chance for profit I figure, 'why not a bed & breakfast?' She didn't really want to, but she was bored, lonely and broke. Half the profits and we run the business together. That was your great aunt's great, great, great grandmother."

Todd laughed. "This is some joke. Like a prank to play on out-of-towners? It's creative."

Reffy shrugged their slender shoulders again. "The inn is booked starting tomorrow. You'll see at 11:00. That's check-in time. Ready the big room at the top of the tower. Our guest needs lots of space. And remove any china we have displayed in there, if you want to keep it intact."

"You sound like you're going," Bridget said.

"Yes, back home. This is my day off. I'll see you at 11 sharp. Mistress Bridget. Todd. Good evening." Reffy bowed at the shoulders and then spun on a heel and walked back around the corner from whence they'd appeared -- seemingly deeper into the house. Just as Bridget and Todd were about to go look for them a faint breeze billowed around the corner and wafted over them. It carried a floral scent that was as intoxicating as it was indescribable.

"That was ... weird," Bridget said after a few moments of silence between them.

"Very weird. Think any of it is true?"

"I mean ... did you see their ears?" Bridget asked instead of answered. "And they just disappeared."

"Very weird," Todd repeated.

They spent the rest of the day exploring the inn and the house. There was indeed plumbing. The inn had four rooms and a kitchen big enough to serve guests. The cottage in back was set up to live in.

They poked around the grounds as well. Beautiful, green rolling hills, dark rocky outcrops, lichen. Gorgeous but a bit barren. Still, the gardens were pretty and well tended.

As evening fell they made dinner in the cottage, finding the pantry stocked with essentials and exotics alike. Todd grew more excited every time he hunted for an ingredient, saying aloud, "There's no way there's... ha!" and found it.

Todd's cooking was one of the things that attracted Bridget to him in the first place. He would come in to the agency with leftovers that smelled amazing! She went from coveting his lunch to asking to try a bite to asking to come over for dinner sometime. Todd was cute and funny and a competent lover but more than all that, the boy could cook!

The end of the meal found them exhausted and they turned in for the night. While they were getting ready in the cottage's quaint little bedroom and en suite, respectively, Todd sat on the bed and watched Bridget brush out her long brown hair. She could feel him ogling her bottom, clad as it was in only her panties. She loved the feeling of him watching her, wanting her.

"You know what I'm going to miss?" he said. "Going out. I loved watching you get all dolled up and then showing you off."

"You did?" Bridget asked, playing dumb. She knew. She enjoyed how turned on Todd was after watching her dance and flirt a little. She never got crazy or led anyone on, but seeing her husband watching her just like the other men who were checking her out while she danced with another guy had made her feel sexy and in control.

He came up behind her and rubbed himself against her. She cooed and returned the gesture, and before long the couple were making love on top of the quaint little wool duvet that covered the bed.

They drifted off in one another's arms and didn't wake until the sun poured through the wavy glass of the cottage's window again.

*******

Reffy had called the room at the top of the short crenelated tower the "big room" but that hadn't prepared Bridget for this! Everything was oversized, just like the door. In fact, she'd noticed furniture of odd proportions elsewhere, like a few tables and chairs in the common room she'd mistaken for high tops.

She was standing on a step stool to make the huge bed while her husband was downstairs preparing croissants. Reffy hadn't said how many guests were coming so he was probably over baking, but she figured he had his eye on any leftovers.

Bridget was taking the last cup in a tea set off a shelf when she heard a bell ring from downstairs. Guests!

She stowed the china on her way down and was met by Reffy. "Our guests have arrived. Is the room prepared?"

"All set. Who do we have?"

"A Mister ... McGregor," Reffy said.

"Is he tall?"

"Excuse me?"

"The room," she said. "It's huge."

Reffy chuckled. "Yes, now that I think about it, you'll find him quite tall."

He and Bridget walked side by side into the common room, but he got ahead of her when she stopped short and let out a yelp.

Her first thought was that they'd left the door open and a cow had wandered in. Looking past the bar, tables and front desk, Bridget saw a bovine snout, shaggy red-brown hair, and a set of massive horns. There was drape of tartan fabric hanging from the beast, and Bridget imagined the bull wandering through someone's drying laundry on its way to barge into her inn.

But then the massive bull head began to rise and she realized that it wasn't a cow at all. He had been stooped to ring the bell. Now he stood, the horned head perched atop massive shoulders with delts pretending to be a neck. The red-brown fur covered his entire body, shaggier in places like his chin and chest, shorter and velvety on his arms and abdomen. The tartan fabric now showed itself to be a kilt in the traditional style, draped across his furred chest and wrapped around his waist.

"Reffy, honestly!" the bull man bellowed in what sounded to Bridget like a highland brogue. "I get why Tabby is slow, but you?" The accent made it unclear as to the horned man's mood. He sounded both enraged and amused.

"Mister McGregor, you start your holiday with your hoof lodged firmly in your mouth," Reffy said as he reached the desk.

"Ock! Tabby knows she's old. And she's late, after all." He turned his great head, scanning behind Reffy as if looking for Bridget's aged Aunt. His deep brown eyes stopped on Bridget and he grinned, the expression looking surprisingly human on his bovine face. "Who's the lass?"

Reffy cleared his throat. "I'm afraid Mistress Tabitha is more than late. She has passed away. The 'lass' is her great niece and your landlady the next few days. Meet Mistress Bridget."

"Tabby ...? Oh no! Oh lass!" Bridget was holding out her hand to shake when the bull man took one long stride and scooped her up into a full body embrace. "I'm so sorry! He was a bonny woman! Just lovely!"

Bridget could barely breathe, let alone talk. The hug wasn't unpleasant though. His fur was soft and clean, and he held her with such ease she felt no danger of being dropped. Also, when she did inhale, his scent was extraordinary! Nothing like the animal he resembled. It was warm and spicy, but with remnants of the floral scent they'd smelled yesterday.

He finally did set her down though. "Apologies. My passion runs close to the surface. Aye, I see the resemblance now. I can see it's true that Tabby was a goddess in her youth, Miss ...?"

Bridget rolled her eyes at the cheesy line and offered her hand again. "Wagner. Call me Bridget."

The bull shook her hand and raised an eyebrow with an expression that could only be described as cock. "Wagner? A fine Irish name ..."

"My husband's name."

She felt the bull man's grip loosen slightly before he fully released her hand. "And is Mr Wagner here as well?"

"Present!" Todd said, coming out of the kitchen with a basket of warm croissants. "Welcome sir it's ..." He stopped short when his eyes feasted on the giant bull man. He looked at Bridget, who shrugged, and Reffy, who smirked. "It's a pleasure to have you have a pastry!" Todd said this last part at high speed before setting the basket within reach of the horned creature and darting back a few arm's length.

McGregor used a thick digit to poke aside the linen napkin covering the croissants and plucked one out. He popped it into his mouth in a single bite, chewed, and smiled. "That is excellent! Finally, Reffy! A halfway decent cook!" He popped another flaky pastry into his mouth. "Delightful!"Then another.

Bridget watched the bull eat pasties like popcorn and found herself noticing the muscles on his jaw and throat moving under his fur. She wondered what it would feel like to put her hand there and feel those muscles work. The thought made her feel a little restless.

McGregor was attractive, although Bridget couldn't quite put her finger on what made him attractive. It wasn't as easy as looking at a man and saying, "Well he has great cheekbones and a strong jaw." McGregor looked like a bull. Was he handsome for a bull? Maybe. But even if he wasn't, there was something about him Bridget enjoyed looking at.

It could have been the powerful muscles in his shoulders, arms and chest, thought. Bridget did find herself tracing the lines and shadows they made. His arms had held her so easily. He could have done anything he wanted ...

"Whelp! Big day!" the bull bellowed, handing the empty basket back to Todd. "I'll be having a soak first. I know the way. Please bring my things up to my room, lad." And with that he strode through the common room and out a back door similarly oversized.

Todd was left holding the basket and mouthing "Lad?" to himself. Reffy spoke up and brought him back to the present.

"Take Mr McGregor's things up to the big room." They pointed to the front door where Bridget saw a sword that was taller than Todd leaning against the wall. It had a leather scabbard coving parts of it and a red bindle hanging from the crosspiece. Todd sighed and got to work.

*******

"Where's the pool?" Bridget asked when Reffy told her to take tea out to McGregor during g his soak. "We didn't spot it anywhere yesterday."

"It wasn't there yesterday. Just go out back and follow the path. You can't miss it."

Yeah right! Bridget thought, all the way out the back door. But once she was outside, everything was different. Instead of rolling green hills, the inn was surrounded by dense, vining, flowing trees. The aroma from before washed over her. She nearly spilled the tea as she spun around to take in the transformed surroundings.

But at the edge of the clearing the inn stood in was a path. It lead down a hill and passed some rock outcroppings that glittered in a way the stone yesterday had not. She felt the air grow warmer and steamier before she caught sight of the pool. Or the bull bathing in it.

He was only visible from the waist up. His arms were out to his sides, resting on the natural rock what formed the outside of the pool. His fur was wet, but his head was drier, like he had dunked it first and then soaked neck-deep for a while. The longer hair on his chin cling together slightly with dampness, but where it met his chest it became clingy and matted with water. She saw that the longer fur filled the cleft between his massive pectoral muscles, defined now in wet, fine fur. Below his chest it made a thin tuft running down his tummy and disappeared into the warm water.

His eyes were closed so he didn't notice her standing there, so there was no one to stop her from staring. Her curious eyes raked over the bull man's muscles, trying to map the way his fur grew and changed direction around the ridges formed where they met.

"Place the tea on the bench yonder, lass," said the bull man without opening his eyes. He must have heard her gasp at the surprise. She'd thought she'd been undetected. "I could smell you the whole way down. I love the fragrance, by the way."

Bridget unfroze herself and walked the rest of the way to the bench he had indicated. "Are you enjoying your soak, Mr McGregor?" When she turned to look at him she found him watching her.

"It would be better if you joined me,"he said, his brogue turning rough and deep at the end. McGregor wasn't trying to hide his desire for her, and it made Bridget feel underdressed in her thin cotton shift. It was modest enough, ankle length with wide straps and a neckline she could wear to church, but his bold gaze seemed to heat every point her skin touched fabric.

Bridget furrowed her brow and almost started to lay into him for being a cad, but she took a breath. He was the first bull man she'd met. Maybe this was just their way?

"Mr McGregor, that's tempting, since I know our pool to be very relaxing," she lied, since she hadn't even known there was a pool until she'd laid eyes on McGregor's massive body bathing in it. "However, I'm working. And married. Mostly married."

The shaggy bull man's chest moved up and down as he breathed a snuffling laugh. "Oh right. Croissant lad. He seemed nice enough. Come on in and you can tell me how he won a beauty like yourself."

"No bathing suit."

"Me either." He waggled furry eyebrows at her, his big, warm brown eyes glinting with mischief.

"Even less appropriate!" she cried, but she had to smile at him. She was being flirted with by a bull man next to a hot tub in the fey realm. It was, if nothing else, an experience.

"Fine, lass." He raised his knee out of the water. The wet fur was gleaming dark brown and outlining his muscles. "Sit on my knee. You can stay dry and tell me about the man who owns your heart."

She looked at his knee, and couldn't help but peer a little past into the pool. His comment about having no suit might have been to blame, putting the thought in her mind and the impulse to check. Or it could have just been the angle she was at. But whatever drew her eyes to his lap, they saw that the shaggy hair on his belly did indeed keep going, and the longer hair waved like seaweed in the pool, hiding any further inspection.

She looked back at his face and his smirk told her he had caught her looking before she could catch herself, and that was enough embarrassment to clear her mind of the beginnings of dirty thoughts.

"Mr McGregor that sounds delightful but I really should go about my business. So if you will excuse me ..." She spun on her heel. She'd meant to do a smart about face and march up the stairs to find and fuck her husband. The rocks around the pool were wet, though, and slippery. Her heel spun but she couldn't stop when she wanted to. Instead she wobbled like a top on its last spin and toppled over the rock edge of the warm pool.