Dream Cottage Ch. 01

After sitting in my car for fifteen minutes to calm myself down, I then went on to the grocers; a little shop; which sold just about everything. The narrow aisles, and so much stuff stacked everywhere; overcrowding is the norm in here. Not I hasten to add, overcrowding with people, when I went in, there was only one other lady in there. I wandered my way around with a little wire basket, and then as I rounded the bottom of one of the aisles, there was Mr Harper, the shop keeper. A man around fortyish, small in build, but good looking. Now why did I notice that? I'd seen him a million times, and not once before has that thought crossed my mind.

Well anyway, he was making his way around towards the cool cabinet to get something for his other customer, which meant we'd need to pass each other. But as I'd said, this shop hasn't much room, so unless one of us had retraced our steps, it would require squeezing past with bodily contact. I can't remember, but I'm sure some time in the past, I must have done this in this very shop. But now, it was as if everything went into slow motion. He stepped back, pressing himself backwards in between a stack of brushes, and a stand stacked with weed killer. It meant I was almost forced into moving into the space in front of him. Yes, I know I could have turned and gone back the other way, but that would almost have been an insult.

So my first decision was made, now what I had to decide was, do I pass him face to face, or turn my back towards him. I decided I'd smile politely and pass face to face. Once I had started to make my move to pass him, after a brief acknowledging glance, I had diverted my gaze to directly down the aisle in the direction I was heading. But it was a small gap to squeeze through, and even with my shoulder-blades up against the shelf behind me, I still felt my breasts gently rubbing against Mr Harper's chest. Now this was the sum total of the incident, and maybe, as far as he was concerned, nothing had happened. After all, he's in this little shop everyday, so I guess it's happened lots of times before.

But for me it just heaped coals onto the fire that had been ignited by young Garry as he'd worked on the sausage machine. I collected the few other groceries I needed, and waited until Mr Harper had served the customer he was dealing with. And once I'd paid for my things, which I did without further incident, I left and made my way to my final call for the day; the pub. Going into a pub on my own is not something I'd ever done before, so even this felt strange, and as all the customers in the bar (only about ten) were men, it was with their eyes staring at me, that I had to stand and wait until the barmaid had finished serving, and then she went to fetch the landlord. He took the boxes of fruit from me, and paid the agreed sum. He also invited me to stop and have a drink while I was there, but I politely declined his offer, and went on my way.

Unbeknown to me, as I'd left, the talk in the bar had turned around to me. Surprisingly, started by the barmaid, a girl around my age, "Well lads, it looks like miss frosty-pants has come in from the cold."

This comment was soon picked up by one of the bar-flies, "It's the first time I've seen her tarted-up, without her husband."

Another man joined in, "Tarted-up be buggered. Did you see her nipples?"

The landlord nodded a glance towards his barmaid, "Now then John, ladies present."

"Young Katie don't mind. Do you lass."

"Course I don't. I'm just surprised any of you lot noticed. You don't normally get your eyes out of the sports page."

Soon most of the men in the bar were swapping comments about me.

"Noticed; she almost poked my eyes out, they were sticking out so far."

"To right, and unless it's our young Katie getting excited, I'd swear I caught a whiff of her fanny."

Again the landlord snapped, "That's enough of that kind of language Will."

Katie said, "He's right though. Even I noticed it from this side of the bar."

"Told you. Either she's been taking herself in hand, or somebody's been doing it for her."

"Are well from what I've heard, there's been some sort of a bust up."

"How's that then?"

"Don't know the ins and outs of it, but he's down in London, and hasn't been home for over six weeks."

"Well she's definitely out on the pull; I've never seen her dressed-up without being on her husband's arm. And coming into this pub on her own; never."

"Well six weeks without a bit of how's your father; it's enough to make any woman start looking for a substitute."

"What d'you mean you old bugger, you ain't had any how's your father for ten years or more; so how would you know?"

They all laughed at this.

Then another man joined their conversation, this time a stranger to the area. "So who is the young lady?"

"Ah she's not from around here. Her and her husband bought the old Thomas place up on shag fell. But he works down in London."

"Still, I suppose she's got relatives or some companion living with her?"

"No. She's normally a real recluse. That's why today was so different. She rarely comes into the village, and when she does, she normally dresses like her." He pointed to a picture on the wall. A beggar woman dressed in rags.

"Oh come on Roy, she isn't that bad, she's always got a pleasant smile, and even if she doesn't normally dress up to the nines, she's always clean and tidy."

"Never said no different. But you ain't telling me, she isn't looking for company."

Another local quipped, "The petals only open up when the flower wants to attract a bee. And she certainly had her pollen on show today."

"Not just on show, she was wafting the scent of it around like an orchard in full spring blossom."

The stranger asked, "The fruit she was selling, do you think she'd have any more for sale?"

The landlord said, "I think I bought all her spare fruit, but she did tell me she'd got more jam and bottled fruit than she could ever use; so maybe she'd sell some of that."

"Well that would be even better; it would save me the job. Do you think you could give me directions to her place?"

"She lives about fifteen or so miles out on the Thirsk road, but look out there now, the weather is closing in. They promised us a storm, and it looks like it won't be long a coming. If I was you I'd by some local, Mrs Gamer in the middle of the village always has some for sale."

"Maybe, but as we're going out that way, it wouldn't really be off our path."

One of the locals quipped, "If you ask me, you're more interested in her pollen than her fruit." There was a little chuckle all around.

The stranger smiled, "Well I'd be interested if she was game. But at my age, I can't see her offering to let me collect any honey."

Then he looked across to where his two boys sat. I say boys, but they were men in their twenties, and built like giants, "Now if it was my lads you were talking about; that might be different. I think they'd me'be stir something up in the lass. Anyway, you say her place is about fifteen miles out, what's the name of it?"

"You won't need a name, once you leave the village; you'll pass two farms about five miles out, and then nothing until you see her place right high up on the moors. She's at the end of a private road. There isn't another property within seven miles."

One of the other regulars butted in, "Ten."

"Well yes, from Jackson's place, it's about ten miles by road. But she's at least seven miles as the crow flies from any other house."

"Well thanks for the information, I think we'll get going now, it looks like the rain has already started."

I of course, wasn't privy to any of that conversation, so I'd just gone off home, and before I'd arrived, the storm had started. I parked my Land Rover, and went inside. The days events, although looking back now, all seem innocent, had stirred something up inside me. So much so, that as soon as I got inside I went immediately to the bathroom and run myself a bath. During the half an hour I lay there soaking, I not only calmed down, but I also decided to ignore Mrs Lang's suggestion, about how I should dress that is, and I decided I'd revert back to my normal wear.

We now move on just a few hours, its seven o' clock, I've not long washed up the things from tea time, and I'm sitting in the snug in a comfy arm chair. Being late autumn it's already dark outside and that storm is now raging in its full fury out there. Thunder and lightning, and rain coming down in sheets. Up here on the moors, when a storm rages, it's a real fury. Not that I'm worried, the cottage is well built and well maintained. There is plenty of wood stacked up inside, and not only is the kitchen range blazing away pumping out heat, but the big open fire in the snug is also roaring and crackling.

This place of ours is at the end of its own private drive, a road which is a good two miles long. So of an evening, unless I've got something arrange with one of the local women, I never ever get an evening visitor. And with a storm like the one outside in full fury, I certainly am not expecting one tonight. So my hair is tied up, I'm not wearing makeup; I'm not even wearing a bra. I've got on an old wrap-around house coat come dress, which doesn't even button together. All it has is a loop and tie-string to hold the overlapping front to the waist. And underneath, I'm wearing a very old fashioned pair of cotton knickers. You know, very long, elastic around the waist, with big baggy leg openings. Like I say, I'm not expecting company, and I find this style of underwear very comfortable.

I hear a noise, and its coming from the front of the house. With the noise of the storm, it's only just discernable. I turn off the stereo, and then the noise changes, it's now recognisable as the big brass door knocker on the actual front door. I guess the first noise was someone using their hand or fist to bang on the outside door to the porch. Now you might think I should have been worried, especially being on my own. But in all the time we'd lived up here, there has never been a hint of trouble, and the local people are the salt of the earth.

As I walk down the hall, I'm thinking it must be a local who has been stranded in some way by the storm, and made their way up to our cottage to take refuge. Well I was partly right. I opened the door, and there were three men. I'm sure you've heard the expression, drowned rats. Well I guess it's not fair to say they looked like rats, but one thing is for sure. If they just climbed out of the local river, they couldn't have been any more soaked. All three of them were huddled together in the little porch, and with the dim light in there I could just about make out their faces.

I didn't recognise any of them. There was a man about as tall as my Jim, but he was in the same age group as my dad, well into his fifties. And the two other men with him were much younger, I'd guess, late twenties. But these two were giants, six foot six at least, and big broad shoulders.

The older man spoke. "I'm sorry to call on you in this state lass, but our car has just been hit by a falling tree. And from down in the valley, the lights of your house were the only thing we could see. Can we use your phone? Or being as were in such a state, could you ring for a breakdown truck for us?"

I stepped back into my hallway, "Come on in. You look perished."

"No it's alright. We'll mess-up your house. If you could just ring for us?"

"Well ok. But pull the porch door closed behind you, and I'll go and get some towels, so you can at least dry yourselves down a little."

So off I went, leaving the front door open, and I returned with three bath towels.

"There you are. Now I'll go and ring for a tow truck. Do you have any special firm in mind?"

"No lass. We're not from around here. Just ring the local garage."

So off I went, and as soon as I'd picked up the receiver, I realised the line was dead. Again, this didn't worry me or seen suspicious, in a storm out here, a tree taking down the telephone line was quite normal. But, of course, that fact wasn't going to help their situation. I went back out to where they were now at least looking at me without water dripping from their heads.

"I'm sorry, but the telephone line must be down. I guess there's nothing for it, you'll have to come in."

"But your floor?"

"It'll clean. If you follow me straight down the hall into the kitchen."

With this I started to walk back down my hallway, as I continued with, "I guess you'd all better take it in turns to have a bath and get out of those wet clothes."

They were following me in a line, with the older man first. He replied, "But lass won't your husband mind."

"He isn't here, but I can't see why he would anyway. The only thing is, he's not the same build as your friends, so I won't have any dry clothes for them. I think I might find enough bath robes, they might just about be able to get one of them to wrap around them."

We were now in the entrance to my kitchen. I say entrance, because the main part of the kitchen has the range, washing machine, spin dryer and fridge all along one side; these take up the full length of the outside wall. And with a work surface all the way along the length of the other, the gap in between the two is really only wide enough for one person. To pass someone in between the two sides requires both people to turn sideways, and then squeeze past each other. Something Jim and I love doing; but that's another story. Anyway, being as we have a downstairs bathroom, built in the extension on the back of the house, this puts it the other side of the kitchen. So I'd stopped short of the range, where the kitchen is considerably wider, so as to allow the first of them to make their way past me to the bathroom.

As we reached this point, the older man replied, "Are you sure its not too much trouble lass?"

"Well I can't get you a tow truck, and I can hardly send you back out into that storm, so if you're gonna sit it out here, it makes sense to let you each get a hot bath. And if you throw your clothes out while you're in there, I can stick them into the spin dryer. Then maybe by the time the storm has eased off, with them hung on the drying rail up there, they might be dry enough for you to wear."

"Well lass I don't know what to say. You're an angel and no mistake. Well if your sure about this, I think its best if our Tom goes first. You see,"

And at this point he spoke softly, and nodded back towards one of the younger men, "Our Kenneth here is a little slow on the uptake, so if Tom has first go, he can then show Kenneth the ropes."

So as Tom went off toward the bathroom, I followed on behind. Once I'd shown him what was what and where to find a robe, I waited outside the bathroom door for the clothes to be passed out. I'd expected the door to crack open, and Tom to hide behind it, with just his arm appearing around the door to pass the clothes. But to my surprise, and horror, the door swung wide open and a naked Tom stood there. Brazen as you like, his wet soggy clothes in a bundle in his hands. And the height he was holding them did absolutely nothing to cover his manhood.

I stood there for a second, in a state of shock. Not only at his barefaced rudeness, but also, the size of his manhood! I know I'm a married woman, but I'd been a virgin when I'd walked down the aisle with Jim, and my Jim's cock, was the only cock I'd ever seen. But this big lump of meat hanging limp in between Tom's legs, was over double the size of my Jim's cock. I was staring as much in disbelief as I was shock. Then I came to my senses, and without a word, I grabbed the clothes, turned and marched back into my kitchen.

I stopped at the spin dryer and bundled the clothes in. I needed the few moments it took to distribute the clothes around the drum, not only to make sure this heavy load was spread evenly, but more to give myself time to collect my wits. With the bathroom being positioned off to one side at the end of the kitchen, I knew the older man and Kenneth would not have seen what had taken place, but I'm sure if I'd have gone straight back, without time to collect myself, they'd have known something had happened.

So now recovered, and spin dryer cycle started, I made my way back to where the older man, was standing alongside Kenneth, and both of them directly in front of the range. As I approached, the older man backed away from the range, as if making room for me to sidestep past him. I looked at the small gap, but knew I wouldn't get through without making bodily contact. I was for a moment not sure if I should just squeeze through, or say something.

But just then the man said, "Shift yourself back up there Kenneth, so I can move out of the way to let the lady get through."

And as soon as Kenneth moved, so did he, and so I slipped past them both without incident, saying, "Thank you. Would you like a cup of tea whilst were waiting for, Tom. It is Tom, isn't it?"

"Yes, that's my lad Tom. And this is my other boy Kenneth. Oh, and I'm Jack." We shook hands, as I said,"

"Well that's rich; I'm Jill."

We both laughed, but Kenneth just stood there looking confused.

I made a pot of tea, and the three of us stood there in front of the range drinking it, while Jack told me how a tree had been struck by lightning and a massive branch had landed in the road directly in front of them. Their car had collided with it, and mounted itself up in amongst the smaller branches, coming to a standstill straddling the main bough.

"So you see its going nowhere without a tow truck."

"Well thank god you're all unharmed, the car can be mended, or if not, replaced."

"Too right. But without an angel like you, we'd be out there in that nightmare."

He'd only just finished his tea and put his cup onto the work surface, when the light from the bathroom lit up the passage at the end of the kitchen, "Ah, I think Tom's done. Go on then Kenneth lad, Tom'll show you how to go on."

"I'll go and take Tom's clothes out of the spinner."

And with that I followed Kenneth, but I stopped at the spinner, where I removed Tom's stuff, taking it back and piling it on the work surface opposite the range. Then after lowering the drying rack from the ceiling, I positioned the clothes along its length, to keep it balanced, but leaving enough spare bars for the next two lots of clothing. As I was about to haul it up, Jack's arms came around my shoulders, and he took the cord, hauling it up for me. But in so doing, it had brought our bodies into a very close contact. Not that he took advantage, but it nevertheless unnerved me a little.

Then Tom appeared, and with him being so tall and broad, the bathrobe looked almost like a jacket, one that only just met with very little overlap. Thank god it had the tie/belt around it, which did at least attempt to keep the front from hanging open. Not wanting to have to pass Tom in the narrow gangway, I called down to him, "Wait there a second, I'll come and put Kenneth's clothes in the spinner."

And then as I saw he looked like he was about to ignore me, and make his way towards where we stood, I added, "No Tom, wait the other side of the spin dryer, there isn't room for us to pass alongside the work surface."

He smiled broadly as he said, "Don't worry, I'll squeeze past you."

I looked at Jack for support, but as none appeared to be forthcoming, I turned back and said, "Ok, drop them on the work surface; I'll wait for you to come here. And then once I've put them into the dryer, I'll pour you a cup of tea."

He did as I'd told him, putting the clothes down, but then his reply took me by surprise. "Its not tea I need, ain't you got no whisky?"

Jack replied in an agitated voice, "Now then Tom lad. That's not very polite."