All of Us Fit in Our Places

He looked up as she stepped forward and Perry was astonished to see a young woman with flawless skin, soft grey eyes and rich auburn hair. Mentally he noted he had lost his bet.

He quirked an eyebrow. "You want a job with me? Why aren't you modelling in London?"

She flushed. "I have things that keep me here."

Perry considered this and then inclined his head. "Fair enough. When can you start?"

"Now?"

He laughed. She smiled and the laughter died in his throat. He coughed to cover his embarrassment and motioned towards the door.

"I hope you don't mind a bit of water."

"No, I'm a good swimmer."

"I'm thinking more of waders," he chuckled. "C'mon, we'll hop in the Land Rover."

***

His gaze kept slipping sideways as they bounced up the track to the part of the lake where the feeder stream came in. It must be quite some obligation keeping her from the catwalks of Paris or Milan. And as for working, she'd surely be able to secure the affections of some rich man.

He chided himself for his thinking. She surely had her motives and would probably explain them in time. For now, she was an employee like all the rest. At least the others would know that he was immune to her charms. Or at least he assumed he was.

He cleared his throat.

"You're lucky in some ways."

"Really? How's that?"

"There's a bit of everything here. Livestock management, the arable stuff, maintenance, machinery, even the winery. You'll pick up a good grounding. If you stick it out."

"I will," she said firmly, and he looked at her in surprise.

"Can get a bit parky in the winter!"

"I can put a jumper on."

He laughed. "Might need more than one!"

She smiled and he had to look away. Fortunately, they had arrived at the fence next the river that marked the boundary of the estate. He held the wire so that she could climb through, and they were at the penstock.

"This is where we take water from the river to feed the lake."

"It's not natural?"

He nodded in approval; she was quick.

"No, it was part of the landscaping done when the house was built. Back when the family had money."

"They don't look poor to me!"

"Truth be told we're just about scraping by. We're not really big enough for proper economies of scale."

She raised her eyebrows and he explained.

"Modern arable farming is outsize. Over the last century or so, the men and horses were replaced by machines. The machines could cover far more ground so the bigger the farm the more costs you cut. We can't expand because we can't afford what people would want for the land."

He looked down to where the water foamed under the sluice on its way to the lake. Some of the deer watched him, speculating on whether he had any feed in the back of the Land Rover.

***

Events, dear boy, events

December

"What Ho, Master Stanforth!"

Charles cocked his head to one side and considered her.

"I sincerely hope you're not going to be this irritating all the time, Rosemary."

She cackled. "Just ask Em! Come in, come in!"

Anna rolled her eyes and followed her fiancé inside.

She loved visiting her sister and her extended family. They'd sprawl over the kitchen and dining room in fluid little groups. Josh and Tilly would appear at intervals to graze and eventually flake out in a corner of a sofa. Babies would be produced to coo over. The little ones were now well over six months old, and Anna was struck by how children accelerated everything.

The Pipers had been at the new house now since just after the babies were born. Six bed terraced houses were on the pricey side, but she assumed that Rosemary had smoothed that path.

Now it seemed that they'd always lived here, there was always something going on. It felt so safe and homely, Anna was almost jealous, conscious of her deep desire to create something as good with Charles.

Of late they'd come to discuss Dearborn, and her intended had eventually opened up to the estate's precarious position. Fuelled by good wine, good food, and good company, they'd explored the issues and uncovered Charles' unhappiness at his role.

Rosemary and Em would spar over this, the former attacking the static decay of inaction and the latter understanding duty and obligation all too well. Charles would sit between them and absorb the pros and cons as they were tossed back and forth.

This evening there was a barbeque on the patio and Charles was perched with a plateful of food next to Rosemary on the low wall of one of the raised beds. Her sister's wife made a fateful offer.

"Would you mind if I took a look around, Charles?"

He waved a forkful of tuna in the air. "Not at all, anything to see if we've missed the obvious."

She sniggered. "Anyone else would say 'the bleedin' obvious', but not you."

"That's because Charles is too well mannered to have to swear for emphasis!" Em admonished her.

"Tcha!" Rosemary scoffed.

Anna watched Charles smile at the squabbling that failed to disguise their obvious affection for each other. He caught her eye, and his face took on that wonderful subtle softness that absolutely made her melt. She loved him so much, it sometimes scared her.

Jen's words two years before often came to her now, '... this is completing me.' It hadn't really occurred to her until she voiced it aloud to Monica but now it made perfect sense.

"Let me know your car reg and I'll let the house know that you'll be wandering about. Do you need access to the house?"

"Maybe for the loo."

"I'll talk to Mrs Took. She'll probably try to feed you as well."

Em hooted. "Does she have a good line in junk food!"

"I know how to cook!" Rosemary retorted indignantly.

"You've come along in leaps and bounds!" David called from the griddle.

Jen gave Rosemary a big hug. "Yes, she has."

"And not just with the cooking," Em remarked.

Rosemary scowled at her and then grinned impishly.

***

December

Valerie Cane stood very still as she listened to the sound of heavy breathing coming from inside the stall. Very carefully she stepped closer and looked through the crack in the door. Inside were three figures moving against each other.

Her lip curled as she recognised Giles. The one in the middle she discovered was Perry. Poor lad, she knew he was sweet on Giles and Giles abused him horribly. Finally, to her amazement, she recognised Claire Foulds, a young schoolteacher from the village that helped out from time to time at functions.

Claire's breasts were exposed, and Perry was sucking one of her nipples. His hand was under her skirt. Perry's trousers were round his ankles and Mrs Cane realised that Giles was fucking Perry.

It didn't seem possible for him to drop further in her estimation but here he was, rutting with the staff. It wasn't as if he felt any affection for these two, they were just things to be played with when the mood took him.

She stole away back to the house but, as she walked, she became aware that her knickers were damp.

Mrs Cane bit her lip. She had been on her own for some years since her divorce. Now her bedmates were an artificial cock and a little bullet vibrator. Thinking about the dildo, her breath quickened, and she looked at her watch, it was nearly lunchtime.

Telling Mrs Took that she was popping back to her house, she donned her coat and gloves, mounted her bicycle, and pedalled off.

She opened the front door of the modest grace and favour cottage and locked it behind her before hurrying up to the bedroom. Once inside she quickly peeled off her tights and her knickers and sat on the bed. She opened the bedside drawer and took out the dildo and the lube.

The sex toy lay accusingly on the bedspread. Ultimately the separation from her husband had been down to a difference of personalities but she'd had no complaints in the bedroom. Sadly, the thing beside her was no substitute for hands and tongue, sweat and slick.

Mrs Cane sighed, visualising again Claire Foulds's pert breasts and Perry's stiff cock. Her breath quickened as she imagined herself between the two, Perry's shaft penetrating her while Claire's soft hands roamed her body.

Lying on her back with her legs wide apart, she eased the sex toy into her slit, biting her lip as the bulbous head stretched her deliciously.

Initially she settled for just easing the head in and out, enjoying the wet sounds and feeling of anticipation. In her head Perry was slamming into her from behind and Claire was on her knees licking her clit.

With a gasp she pushed the dildo deep inside her and rubbed her clit. This was when she needed the vibrator because she couldn't co-ordinate her hands when she was close to her climax. With a whimper she turned and fumbled in the drawer for the thing.

The vibrator buzzed to life, and she pressed it to her clit, pumping her cunt with the rubber cock. Shocks radiated out from her sex, and she started to gasp, feeling her climax building inside her.

Now she imagined Perry's hands pinching her nipples and Claire somehow licking her sex and kissing her mouth, her agile tongue probing and duelling. In her head Mrs Cane had three fingers inside Claire's opening, the young woman's lubrication running down her fingers.

With a shriek, she went over the edge, lifting her arse off the bed and ramming the dildo as far in as she could, legs shaking as she rode the crest of her orgasm.

Moaning, she relaxed and lay, sweaty but satisfied for the moment. The thought niggled at her that what she'd just imagined wasn't very different to what Giles had been doing. However, she scolded herself, fantasising about it was a very different kettle of fish to doing it.

After all, the very idea of Claire or Perry looking at her in that way was absurd. She was nearly old enough to be their mother!

But, a small voice inside her said, you're not dead. And with that the germ of an idea was formed.

***

A notice appeared on certain websites.

'Mature woman seeks sensual partners for fulfilling relationship. No one-night stands, no first date rumpy-pumpy'

The next bit had given her considerable pause for thought but eventually she had taken her courage in her hands, 'Replies from men and women welcome.'

She pressed 'Send' and sat back wondering how long it would take to get a response.

There were forty replies within the first hour. Some of them were quite graphic and she wondered how the authors had conjured such scenarios from her quite modest enquiry.

The following morning there were over two hundred responses and she surveyed them with some dismay. Who knew there were so many frustrated men in the world?

A couple of days later, she sighed and sat back in her chair. Thankfully, she'd discovered how to filter messages with an attachment to an online mailbox. There were only so many dick pics you could look at, after all.

In the five hundred replies she'd received, some from as far away as Siberia, only a dozen were credible in terms of location and intent.

She'd had to bin a gorgeous ex-marine from Florida and a Polish restaurant owner simply because she would have to go to them, they would not countenance coming to her.

Of the remainder, only those where the writer expressed some interest in anything beyond a roll in the hay had made the cut. There were eight men and four women. Oddly enough, one man and one woman lived within ten miles of her.

She tapped her pen on her front teeth and pondered her next course of action. A meeting at some neutral venue would be best, somewhere that she would be unlikely to run into people she knew.

***

January

Valerie Cane sat in the alcove of the pub and sighed. This was the last round of meetings, and she wasn't hopeful. People were so different in person to how they came across in print. George Welland had seemed so nice in his email; but had turned out to be the worst kind of golf club bore.

Charlene from Luton had driven a long way to embarrass Valarie by shrieking with laughter at off-colour jokes. It had been so bad Valerie had had to switch venue.

The two she was meeting this evening were the last from her initial cull and if they went awry then it was back to square one.

The ice clinked gently in her tumbler as she took a sip of her G&T and she regarded it gloomily. Dating in your forties was no picnic.

A smartly dressed man let himself into the lounge bar and stood for a moment looking around.

If it was Michael, he was guilty of artistic licence with his profile picture. He was probably fifteen years older than that even if he was in reasonable shape.

He spotted her and made his way through the tables to where she was sitting.

"Val?"

Mrs Cane preferred the longer form of her name. He was not off to a good start.

"Valerie. I assume you're Michael?"

He stuck out his hand. Mrs Cane inspected it briefly and then placed her fingers on his.

"I'll get a drink. Are we eating?"

"That would be nice."

"I'll get a couple of menus," and he headed for the bar.

One of the reasons for choosing this place was that it had a good reputation for basic but well executed pub fare.

Michael was chatting up the barmaid which earned him another black mark. She was giving him the 'you're just another punter to me, chum,' stare.

He returned with a pint of beer and two laminated menus.

"Did you drive?" she asked, looking at the beer.

"Yeah. I'm going to have the curry; I'll be okay for a couple of bevvies."

Another black mark.

However, she found herself warming to him as they talked. He was a bit 'laddish' for her, but amiable enough.

They were on firmer ground talking about growing up in the area and shared life experiences. His wife had died five years ago after suffering a severe stroke. Valerie expressed her sympathies, and he was sensitive to her divorce.

Their food arrived and the conversation took a natural pause, which pleased her greatly. Valerie wasn't a fan of trying to conduct a conversation with a stranger while managing a mouthful of food. Accidents could happen.

Speaking of which, he was on to his third pint, and she was certain that, curry or not, he was going to be over the limit.

After the food they talked about this and that, but nothing consequential. The pauses grew longer, and Valerie could feel the date winding to a close.

At 9 o'clock, Michael rose from the table, thanked her for a pleasant evening, and left the pub. She sighed again and started to think about whether it was all worth it.

The barmaid came by to collect their plates and said she would bring a glass of wine to the table. While she waited for the wine, Valerie thought it best to make a few notes about Michael; this was a bit like interviewing for staff and she knew how quickly people could fade from memory without some prompts.

She was busy jotting when a pleasant contralto voice with a slight American accent asked, "Are you Valerie?"

Valerie looked up to see a woman a little younger than herself, dressed in a cream-coloured pencil skirt suit and matching heels. Under the jacket there was a pale blue silk blouse.

She had light coffee coloured skin, black hair cut in a sort of asymmetric bob, blue eye shadow and vivid magenta lipstick.

Her breath caught in her throat.

"Yes, I am! You must be Kim."

She struggled to her feet.

The other woman laughed, and Valerie thought she had the most wonderful eyes. Before she knew what she was doing, her mouth was saying it.

"Can I just say, you have the most wonderful eyes?"

"You sure know how to charm a girl!"

"Oh! That was very forward of me! I do apologise," Valerie stuttered.

Kim had a husky laugh. "You're doing just fine, honey! I'll get a drink and be right back."

Valerie sank back into her seat, watching the other sashay elegantly up to the bar. By the time Kim returned with a glass of red wine, Valerie had regained a little of her composure.

"How was your other date?" Kim asked.

"I don't think he would have said 'no' if I'd offered," Valerie said demurely.

Kim threw her head back and uttered a rich and throaty peal of laughter.

"They don't, do they?"

To her amazement, Valerie found that they had already cut to a place where they could be comfortable with each other.

"And you, Kim?"

Valerie cursed her errant mouth. Now, instead of asking an innocent question, it sounded as if she was querying Kim's morals.

The other blushed.

"I don't want you to think I'm easy."

Alarmed, Valerie leaned across the table and put her hand on the others arm. "No! That's not what I meant at all! Please forgive me."

Kim smiled and covered Valerie's hand with her own. Valerie stared at the contrast between Kim's cool electric skin and her own. She looked up to see Kim thinking the same thing.

"Gee, I wasn't expecting this at all, Valerie. To be honest I was expecting you to be a little dull but you're a wolf in sheep's clothing."

It was Valerie's turn to blush and feel a little warmth in the pit of her stomach. They had only met a few moments ago and here they were flirting like teenagers.

"You think I'm attractive?" Again! Again, her mouth betrayed her!

"Your hair is to die for, and you've got that whole posh English thing down to a tee!"

Valerie found herself touching her copper waves with a little flush of pleasure. She didn't consider herself particularly vain, but her hair was something she took pride in.

"Your accent, are you American?"

"I was born there, my parents moved here when I was little, but we were back and forth several times when I was growing up."

"Forces?"

"You guessed it. What about you?"

Suddenly Valerie felt a little provincial next to this exotic and travelled creature.

"I've lived and worked here all my life."

"Country girl!" Kim pronounced, with a wide smile of even white teeth.

'Heavens, I'm blushing like a school-girl,' Valerie thought, and took a rather large gulp of her wine.

"I hope you don't mind, but I ate with my previous date."

"Not at all. If I eat anything substantial now, I'll be reaching for the antacid before bedtime."

Valerie laughed and nodded. "It's awful isn't? When I was a girl, I ate and drank what I liked and was up with the lark the next day."

Kim smiled and Valerie had to look away. She'd explicitly asked to take things slow and now she was on the verge of blowing that out of the water. She changed tack.

"What do you do for a living?"

"I work in the NHS."

"Oh, are you a doctor?"

"Sort of, what about you?"

"I'm a housekeeper."

Kim chuckled. "See? I said you had that whole English thing down. Is it a big house?"

Valerie narrowed her eyes. So, Kim thought this was some quaint English custom!

"Well, the main house at Dearborn has twelve bedrooms, three state rooms and a variety of receptions. I manage a permanent staff of eight."

Kim sat back in her chair, astonished.

"That's not a house, that's a palace!"

Valerie shrugged.

"I'm used to it. I've been working and living there since I was sixteen. Although, I don't live in the house, of course; there's a grace and favour in the grounds."

"You don't keep house, you run one! What's a, what did you call it, a grace and favour?"

"It's a house as part of your salary package. I have to pay the bills but there's no rent and the estate takes care of the maintenance."

"Sweet!" Kim sounded impressed and Valerie warmed to her some more.

***

They were still talking when the barmaid asked for last orders. Kim had a fount of stories about growing up a Forces child and Valerie was able to hold her own with the goings on with Dearborn and the Stanforths.

A taxi driver stuck his head into the bar and called, "Taxi for Wallace!"

"I'd love to see Dearborn. It sounds like quite a pile!" Kim said as she retrieved her coat.