At Peak Lodge

'You look very nice,' I said.

'Thank you.'

'Are we going to have a party?'

She glanced at her watch. 'We could do. Herman suggested that I should offer you a glass of Veuve Clicquot. Veuve Clicquot is Herman's go-to wine for all celebratory occasions.'

'What a splendid fellow your friend Herman is.'

'There's a music system hiding in that cupboard over there,' Noelle said. 'Perhaps you could choose us some cocktail music while I go and find the champagne.'

I must say that Herman -- or someone -- also had pretty good taste in music. I chose a David Benoit album. Noelle returned with the Veuve Clicquot -- and I managed to open it without spilling a single drop.

'To the holidays,' I said, raising my glass.

Noelle smiled. 'And to strangers who come knocking.'

'Could have been worse,' I said. 'You could have ended up with a whole coachload of Bulgarian grandmothers, none of whom spoke a word of English.'

'Oh, I'm not complaining,' she said. 'I'm rather glad that you decided to drop in. You must do it again sometime.'

We chatted on about this and that. And sipped our champagne. And I too had to admit that I was rather glad that I had dropped in -- albeit that I had been expecting to leave again an hour or so later. But how else would I have met the lovely Noelle?

And then I did something that I think surprised both of us. I know that it surprised me.

I got up from my chair and grabbed the champagne bottle with the intention of topping up Noelle's glass. But instead of topping up her glass, I leaned down and kissed her neck. Noelle made a sound a little like a surprised puppy. But she smiled.

'I'm sorry,' I said. 'Not sure what made me do that.'

'Don't be sorry,' Noelle said. 'It felt very nice. You could do it again if you want to.'

'Do it again? Umm ... yes. Yes, that would probably be a good idea, wouldn't it?' And that's what I did. And before I finally got around to topping up her wine glass, I also kissed her softly on her lips.

I would have kissed her again after I had topped up her glass had it not been for that fact that we were both distracted by the sound of the front door opening and closing.

Noelle frowned. 'I thought that I had locked that,' she said. 'Don't tell me that we have more stranded travellers.'

Noelle got up to go and see who it was. And then I heard her calling out 'hello' -- not as greeting, but as a question. 'Hello?'

'That's funny,' she said, when she returned. 'The door was still locked. I knew that I had locked it. But you heard that, didn't you?'

'I think so,' I said. 'It certainly sounded like the door.'

Noelle frowned. 'Yes. I'd better go and have another look.'

'I'll come with you,' I said.

We both went out into the reception area and looked around. There was definitely no one there.

'That door is definitely locked,' Noelle said. 'See? The electronic lock is showing red. The only way to unlock it is with one of the electronic keys.' She reached behind the reception desk and produced a small black object about half the size of a matchbox. She pointed it at the door and, with a soft clunk, the tiny light on the electronic lock turned from red to green.

'I'll just have a look outside,' I said. I opened the door and took a couple of steps out into the snow-covered parking area. There was no sign of anyone. No vehicles. No tracks. No footprints. And it was still snowing. Even near the door, the snow was about 30 centimetres deep. 'No. No one,' I said.

Noelle locked the door again.

We looked in the office behind the reception area, and the bathroom off to one side. No one. And there was no sign of anyone in the kitchen. Or in the dining room.

Noelle was still frowning. 'Strange,' she said.

'Oh, well ... must have been a ghost,' I suggested.

'Don't joke,' she said. 'Herman is convinced that this place is haunted.'

'Haunted?'

'So he says. By the ghost of a coachman who had too much rum and fell to his death from the lower terrace.'

'Not recently, I assume.'

'No. Not recently.'

'Come on. Let's go back to the fire. That was cold out there.'

Noelle and I had just returned to our chairs beside the fireplace when the lights suddenly flickered and then dimmed.

We looked at each other.

And then I saw a stocky figure, in a long oiled-canvas coat and a top hat, walking -- or perhaps it would be more accurate to say stumbling -- towards the dining room.

'Am I imaging this?' I asked.

Noelle shook her head. 'It must be the coachman. Herman said that he wore a top hat.'

We both got up and walked to the arch that divided the lounge from the dining room. The 'coachman' was shuffling, tottering, stumbling, towards the terrace. And then he simply walked -- silently -- through the closed French doors, out into the snowy night. Perhaps 20 or 30 seconds later, there was the mournful wail of a man, calling for help, but already resigned to the fact that no help would be forthcoming. Or was it just the sound of the wind?

'The ghost?' I said.

Noelle was shaking. 'I suppose so.'

I put my arm around her and steered he back to the warmth of the fire. But this time we didn't sit down. We just stood there -- me with my arms around her.

'Are you OK?' I said.

'I will be,' she said.

And then we kissed again. Well ... it was bound to happen.

'We could ... umm ... take our drinks upstairs,' I suggested, not knowing how she would react.

She nodded. 'Yes. We could. And we probably should. We're going to have to sooner or later.'

'Shall I ...?'

'Thank you,' she said.

I gathered up our glasses and, as we left the lounge, Noelle looked -- perhaps a little anxiously -- in the direction of the front door.

'It is locked,' I said. 'The red light is definitely on.'

And the light was also on in Peak Lodge's only six-star bedroom. It was lit up like a latter-day Crystal Palace. But not for long. Noelle ran her fingers over the touchpad on the wall near the door and, as if by magic, everything changed. Drapes silently shut out the night. The bright lights gave way to soft lights. And there was suddenly gentle music playing. Elgar, I think. Or possibly Vaughan Williams. Or maybe neither of them. Who knows?

'There. Better?' Noelle said.

'Yes. Much better. Thank you.'

And then, without further ado, we were undressing each other and smothering each newly-exposed area of the other's body with kisses.

But I guess that the greater part of the foreplay had already been played out in our minds. Almost as soon as Noelle's knickers hit the deeply-piled carpet, I was gently-but-firmly pushing her back onto the bed, spreading her legs, and starting to explore her pink crevice with my tongue. And then, maybe a minute or so later, I was lining up the head of my rapidly stiffening cock with her wet and waiting tunnel.

'Oh, yes,' she said. 'Yes.'

I took that as a yes.