In between gasps, groans, and sighs, from Jake’s manipulation of her feet and lower legs, Anne gave him a potted history about herself. She took over the Inn from her parents at the age of twenty. They had her later in life, her mum was thirty-nine when she gave birth to her, and her dad was forty-three. It was the only life she knew, a life which she had spent at the Inn, apart from a couple of years at college in Nottingham.
George was a local youth who worked at the Inn. He was eighteen when he became a bartender and later progressed to bar manager. She was just six years old when he started working there, but it was only at the age of nineteen that she and George started going out together. Just after her twentieth birthday tragedy struck, her mum and dad were killed in a car crash. The Inn passed to her.
The first five years were a struggle. Anne had learnt to do bar work, and some kitchen work, as a teenager, but didn’t know anything about managing the business. George knew the bar management side of the business and Anne gradually got to learn the administrative side. Six years after her parents' death, she married George.
“I wouldn’t say that I was passionately in love with him, but he was like the other half of me, as far as the business was concerned, we were a good team, and it just seemed natural to marry,” she told him. “And so here we are.”
“You don’t sleep together, do you?”
“We do sometimes,” she answered. “It’s just that work patterns clash. George rises early to take care of breakfasts for the guests and gets the bar ready for the day. I look after the housekeeping side, and bookings, and organise the staff. We work well together, in our own way.”
By now, Jake had massaged her feet and calves and wanted to progress higher. “How does it feel, so far?” he asked her,
“I’m feeling much better than I was, thank you.”
“I could feel lots of knots, lots of tension in your muscles,” he told her, “May I move a little higher? I’m sure that I’ll find muscular tension higher up.”
She hesitated before agreeing. Jake pushed the hem of her skirt midway up her thighs, poured more oil on his hands and slowly worked from behind her knees to mid-thigh, first one leg and then the other. The higher he ventured with his fingers, the softer her flesh; white and sensitive. His fingers were gentle and stroked her inner thighs lightly. Jake sensed her breathing getting heavier.
Slowly, his fingers reached higher, pushing the hem higher. Inch by inch, he worked it upwards until he could see her panties. Red, soft, cotton, that called out for the touch of a finger. Higher and higher, he slowly massaged, until her sex was within touching distance. He could feel the heat. He could see the swell of her mound.
His first touch between her pouting lips was very quick, a brush of his forefinger that could have been accidental, she flinched, but remained silent. Another touch followed later, again with the same reaction. Jake knew never to rush those first few intimate moments. Only a fool dived in with fingers all over the place. This was her most intimate place, and his fingers were alien to her, diving in cack-handed would only repulse her. Take it slowly, let her become accustomed to that soft gentle touch, and then she would open up, literally!
His third touch was a lingering one, resting against her groove. He felt the heat, felt the dampness. Anne was aroused. The next touch a few moments later became a prod at her panty-clad entrance. Anne sighed and her legs parted, only slightly, but it was enough. Jake knew that she would soon be parting them a lot wider.
“Why don’t you turn over, Anne?” he asked quietly, with his finger against her sex.
Now was the point of no return for her. She either turned over to have sex or she ended his seduction there and then. She was slow to respond. Jake thought that he had failed, but her body moved. Anne turned onto her back. Jake reached for the waistband of her panties, she arched her hips, and Jake brought them down over her hips and down her legs. This was the moment of her surrender.
Her pubic hair was dark and well-trimmed, but he didn’t waste time looking at her. He placed her panties on the bed beside them and lowered his face to her sex. Anne reacted with a loud groan and grabbed the back of his head. She approved.
He took his time, licking her, tasting her, exploring her, and fingering her deeply. She came a couple of times before her lifted his face from her. He quickly got to his feet and hurriedly removed his trousers, pants, and boots. As he grabbed her feet to pull her down the bed closer, Anne pointed to a drawer at the side of the bed. “Condoms,” she uttered.
