Date: Wed, 4 Jun 2008 15:22:34 +0000 (GMT) From: sam c Subject: Garden of Love part 1 This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to anyone, anywhere, anywhen is purely coincidental. This story involves sex between adult females (and maybe males. See how it goes...) If that's not your thing, or if it is illegal in any way, then stop reading. Otherwise, enjoy! "Well, you certainly look fit enough to do the job. What experience do you have with maintaining gardens?" There it was, the question that would either land me this job or screw up my rather tenuous chances altogether. I mulled over my answer, deciding whether or not to stretch the truth. I was nowhere near as qualified as I should be, probably nothing like the other applicants (assuming there were other applicants). I'll be pretty truthful for now, I decided. "I learned most of what I know as I was growing up. My parents were fanatical gardners, I was probably naming plants before I could walk." I gave a nervous laugh. "I used to help out all the time, we had a variety of species and types of plants, trees, delicate roses in an arrangement of hedges and borders. Then when I was at university I had a weekend job helping the groundsmen around the campus. Mostly pruning hedges, cutting lawns and weeding." I fell silent, waiting for a reply. The woman sitting across from me, my potential employer and landlady, looked at me, eyes widened as though expecting more. When nothing was forthcoming, she cleared her throat, tossing her shoulder-length, mousey-brown hair back over her shoulders. "Do you think you could do this job? You've heard about the grounds and the tools and equipment you have to work with. It is an awful lot of work for one person, naturally I would bring in help if absolutely necessary, but..." She narrowed her gaze, the light brown eyes settling on mine. She seemed sharp enough to be able to see through any crap, so I decided to continue the path of honesty. "I think so, yes. I would need some help cutting back the large trees, but the rest of it I could handle myself. I'm no stranger to hard work!" We both laughed then, the ice seemingly broken. "The position is live-in, as you know. I have a bedsit with its own kitchen and bathroom available on the West side of the house with its own entrance and a small patio outside. I don't mind people coming in late as long as they are quiet and the job gets done. I will not bother you outside working hours and I pay enough extra to cover a substantial amount of your food bill as well. How does that sound?" I sat speechless for at least a minute. Just what I wanted to get me back on track, a live-in job with tolerant employees and decent pay, I was desperate to get the job, and it sounded like she was offering it to me - Lady Dalton, that it, the lady of the manor. When she said 'house', it really meant great big mansion with wings and a courtyard and stables. The bedsit was probably the size of my sister's house. "That sounds wonderful," I said, trying not to sound too desperate. Again, the flick of the hair over her shoulders as Lady Dalton leaned back in her chair, playing with a biro in her fingers. "I think so too," she smiled. "I'll send for some tea and we can talk about the details." I breathed a sigh of relief. Finally I was getting some pieces of my life back together. I sat back and looked around. It was probably a drawing room or something, with heavy curtains and expensive looking rugs. One of them had a head on it, perhaps kept as a trophy by Lord Dalton after he had been hunting in Africa or somewhere. Although I wouldn't put it past Lady Dalton to have done the shooting; she looked like a tough cookie herself. She wasn't particularly large but she had the appearance of someone who is no stranger to physical work, or at least workouts. Thin, sinewy arms and legs attached to a slim, hard-looking frame gave her the appearance of a leopard poised for a kill. She wasn't pretty in the conventional sense, her hair was flat and unbrushed, her nose had a sort of pinched look that seemed to extend to her eyes. Her eyes themselves were intelligent yet soft, honest eyes with integrity, I thought, light brown in colour with large pupils considering the brightness of the room. She walked with a lithe grace, not at all like I imagined a Lady would walk (prancing about wiggling her hips) but it was not unattractive. I watched her disappear out of the room, idly wondering why she hadn't just rung a bell for the maid. Perhaps I had got the wrong impression about the household after all. With Lord Dalton deceased perhaps she had to make cutbacks in the staff she hired in order to live within her means. Or perhaps there just wasn't a bell in this room... The door swished open and Lady Dalton reappeared, without a tray in her hands. I surpressed a smile. The help was bringing the tea, after all. "Tea will be along in a moment," she said, grinning at me as though she had read my mind. "Let's get this sorted out, then you can move your things in. I'll give you a tour of the house later, and you won't start work until Monday after old Jack finishes." She caught my questioning look. "My old gardener. He and his wife are retiring to Devon, and he is moving down to join her on Monday. They've got a lovely little cottage by the sea near Teignmouth. He was a good worker, loyal and diligent in his own way but, well, he was getting on a bit. I was relieved when he said he wanted to go, actually - I wouldn't have wanted to get rid of him." Kind, tolerant, friendly - was there no end to this woman's pleasantness? We approached the West side of the house, the sun just poking out above the roof. It was a beautiful evening at the end of May and the grounds were bathed in warm light from the low sun. Long shadows were cast by the row of sycamore trees off to the North and hedges that approached the boundary fence to the West. Tastefully manicured flower beds wound around the hedges, spilling out in places to give a less regimented look. I could see two greenhouses way off to the North, towards the back of the house, the sun glinting off their sloping roofs, and ther was what looked like water further round. No doubt this would be explained during the tour. Ahead of us was a doorway cut into the wall with a set of narrow windows to the left of it and two further large windows above. It was this doorway that we went through, Lady Dalton having unlocked it with a small Yale key that was somewhat incongruous with the ancient, heavy wooden door. We passed into a dim hallway with rooms off to the right and left. I followed as my employer fumbled for the light switch and turned it on, lighting up the passageway. There was a set of narrow stairs at the end leading up presumably to another room. "This is the kitchen," she announced, pointing to the left and walking through the doorway. "It's a bit small but there's everything you need and it's all quite new. You can always come up to the house for Sunday lunch if you can't manage a roast dinner here." I nodded and glanced around the room. It was small, but laid out with the surfaces around the edges to give plenty of smace to move around. I saw a tall fridge-freezer, washer/dryer, microwave, kettle, toaster and oven with a hob, somehow squeezed in around the edges. The sink was stainless steel and it looked almost brand new. "Great, this should be fine for me," I said happily. I am not much of a cook, and it doesn't take much room to make a pot noodle or heat up some tinned curry. Lady Dalton nodded and turned back into the hallway. She strode through the door opposite on the right-hand side of the hall and I glimpsed the clean white surfaces of a small bathroom. "There isn't an electric shower," she admitted, "but the one attached to the bath taps works fine. I lived in here for a while whilst the decorators were doing up the house after James died - he wouldn't let me have it done - and it was perfectly liveable for one person." I caught a hint of something in her voice when she mentioned her late husband, not sadness I thought, more regret. Then the moment was past and she squeezed past me out into the hallway again. "You can bring in whatever you like as long as it will fit," she called over her shoulder as she trotted up the narrow stairs at the end of the hall. I nodded, then realising she couldn't see me I spoke. "Thank you, there are a few bits I'd like to have with me." Like my TV and Nintendo Wii, I thought privately. Apart from work, there may not be much to do around here. The house and gardens were on the edge of a sleepy village which had maybe a small shop, post office and pub along with three churches that I saw. At least it had a pub, I was glad to see. We emerged at the top of the stairs directly into the bedroom/sitting room. In the far right corner was a double bed with a large duvet covered with tasteful light blue covers and sheets. To the left sat a faded old couch, its blue nevertheless matching the general decor. Two large windows looked out to the East, and though not bright at this time of the day I realised that light would stream in during the mornings. I shouldn't have a problem getting up in the summer, I thought. I was pleased to note that wooden railings poked up at the sides of the staircase to ward off any mishaps in the middle of the night. Anyway, I noticed a pull-switch for the light at the side of the bed, so I wouldn't be wandering around in the dark. The roof was quite low and it made for a cosy, rather than cramped, feel to the place. I noticed Lady Dalton watching me and smiled. "It's great, just what I needed, thank you. I've just got a few things to bring in and then it will feel like home." "Well, you've got all weekend to get set up, and I can help you if you like. I'm not away until Tuesday. Oh, I organised a brunch with Jack on Sunday so you can get up to speed on what he's been doing around the grounds, what needs doing urgently, a timescale of jobs to be done, that sort of thing. I won't be there but I'm sure you'll get along just fine. That's at five o'clock if that's ok." "Yep, that's fine, I'll make sure I'm sorted out by then. It will be good to have an idea of the work I should begin with, just to get me started. If I need your help I will call you if you really don't mind." "Not at all, I will give you my mobile number when we go back to the house. I still can't remember it offhand!" She smiled at me again and I noticed how her whole face changed when she did so, lighting up in an almost childlike expression of happiness. She wasn't that old (for a lady, I thought), probably in her mid-forties but with the body of a twenty-something-year-old. Although there were a lot of good points to Lady Dalton, I didn't feel more than a tiny bit attracted to her. She seemed nice, though, and I was pleased at the thought of moving in here and working for her. We were outside again now, the sun hot on my face as we walked slowly back towards the front of the house. "So, when would you like to move in, Dr. Jones," she asked, stopping and leaning against the wall. I caught a hint of amusement in her voice. "Please, call me Chris," I said, wondering whether or not she would prefer Lady Dalton to whatever her first name was. "My things are in my van, I've been staying with a friend. I can move in tomorrow morning." She didn't answer, merely nodded and held out her hand with a bunch of keys. "These are keys to pretty much everywhere you will need. There are some rooms in the house which are private but apart from that you will be able to access the whole of the grounds. Jack will tell you where you need to go for all the gardening equipment. We have a ride-on mower and all the tools you will need in a shed around the back." She dropped the keys into my outstretched hand. "Let's get on with the tour." She strode off and I followed close behind. "I'm telling you, Tom, this place has it all. Stables, a pool, massive grounds with apple trees, huge house with an East wing and a West wing and a courtyard bigger than the one at University. It's gonna be fantastic!" My friend eyed me with interest. He and I had studied together at University, a long way away from here, and he was now living in the nearby village of Little Hayton whilst he worked up in London. He had given me the run of his flat whilst I was lacking a home, though I slept in my van as there was precious little space for two people. But at least I had had access to a bathroom and washing machine, and we spent many evenings together eating and drinking and playing cribbage. "Glad you're happy, Chris. Just one thing - are you absolutely sure this is what you want? I mean, you've just got your PhD for Christ's sake, don't you want to use it?" I leaned back into the corner and nearly hit my head on a lamp, brightly lighting our table in the corner of the Fox and Hounds. It was a pleasant little pub, this was only the second time I had been in as I had been woefully short of cash recently. But I could afford to splash out tonight. Lady Dalton's wages were generous and I would be paid in just over a week. "I'm sure. This is just what I want. A nice job outside, nobody telling me exactly what to do and when to do it, just left to do things myself. And the village is beautiful, of course, and you are here as well." He gave a rueful grin. "I'm not here much, you know, working up in the City. I'm lucky if I'm home for nine p.m. and I'm up before the lark. But you know that anyway. So, what's she like then, the Lady of the Manor?" I sighed. Tom obviously had the same impression as I had had before meeting Lady Dalton - a posh, rich widow strutting about her mansion. It couldn't be further from the truth and I set about putting my friend right. It was dark now and the pub looked quite full even though there were only a dozen or so customers dotted around. An old couple were playing cribbage in the opposite corner and they were silent except for calls of "fifteen-two" and "one for his nob". The landlord stood behind the bar, his grizzled old face cracking into a smile whenever anyone approached him and his Yorkshire accent apparent whenever he spoke. I chatted with my friend over a few drinks and a couple of games of cribbage, and it was a pleasant evening. As I lay in my makeshift bed on the floor of my van, my thoughts turned inevitably to Lady Dalton. Although I wasn't overly attracted to her there was something about her that my thoughts kept coming back to, try as I might to put her out of my head. I was feeling horny, and there was only one course of action to take. My hands caressed my soft, shapely breasts, squeezing my nipples gently on both sides as I began to breathe more quickly. I pictured her eyes, lighting up as she smiled at me across the table, and felt a suddent jolt of arousal from my groin right up my spine leaving a warm tingle behind. My hands slipped further down into my pyjama waistband, stroking my pubic hair, teasing and probing. Part of me thought I ought to stop but I knew now that I couldn't, reaching down further to part my woman's lips and feeling the wetness therein. One hand caressed my clitoris, oh so gently on one side whilst the fingers of my other sought that warm place inside. I spread my legs wider to allow a finger to slip inside and curl upwards, hitting that sweet spot that sent me wild. Deeper and deeper I went, in and out until I was panting, my breath coming in gasps as I neared the end. I flicked my clit with two fingers rhythmically, feeling the warmth building inside me, and my legs started shaking uncontrollably. Pumping my fingers into my wet hole now my back arched suddenly as the first wave of orgasm hit me unexpectedly. Another flash of Lady Dalton in my mind as the next wave hit and my finger found my clit again after sliding off. Gently I stroked it now, my other hand still, teasing out the last threads of pleasure, muscles still tensing and relaxing in waves as the orgasm subsided. I loved masturbating, did it two or three times a day but it was never enough. I couldn't wait for the first time in my new bed tomorrow, the first time for me in a different place was always special, always memorable. I wiped the juices from my fingers on a towel next to my sleeping bag. It will be bliss to sleep in a proper bed again, I thought as I began to drift off to sleep. "You owe me one, Chris," growled Tom as he dragged an old, battered Ikea bookcase out of the van and in through the door of my new abode. It was Saturday and Tom looked like he could use a day of sleep, but instead I had commandeered him to help me move in. I didn't want to bother Lady Dalton despite her generous offer of help, so I was up bright and early and had woken Tom up for some help and moral support. We had nearly finished now, nearing ten o'clock, there was just the bookcase and a few more bits and pieces for the kitchen. I let him manouver the bookcase upstairs himself (it wasn't very big and there wasn't room for two on the stairs anyway, I told myself) and I carried in the last box and set it on the side in the kitchen. Already I was starting to feel at home, surrounded by my things that had been in boxes ever since I left my last place. I just needed to put the kitchen stuff away and get my books on the shelf, but that could wait until later. "Hey Tom, fancy a beer?" I yelled up the stairs, instantly regretting it as I had no idea what rooms of Lady Dalton's shared walls with the bedsit. I could be waking her up for all I knew. "Tom?" I called more quietly, hearing muffled curses from upstairs, then Tom appeared at the top. "All done, where's that beer?" he said, tramping noisily downstairs. I walked into the kitchen and pulled out two bottles from the fridge (that had been my first priority). Though it was early the sun was already warm on my skin as I rested against the side of the van, and I chugged down half the beer in one go. I leaned my head back, not worried about getting dirty as I was already filthy from moving all my stuff in. I'll get the kitchen all dirty, I thought, unless I get changed. Yes, better get changed now. I stood up straight and was about to head inside when a voice stopped me. "Morning, everything ok?" It was Lady Dalton. I turned to face her and saw that she looked almost as filthy as I was, with torn jeans and a short-sleeved cotton shirt that was once white. "I've just been pottering about the garden," she said by way of explanation, gesturing to her clothes. "So, have you moved in, then? Who's your friend?" "Oh, this is Tom, a friend from University, he lives in the village. Yes, I've got everything inside now. Er, where should I keep the van?" I asked, wondering seriously if she would rather get rid of it, eyesore that it was. "There's a place around the back next to the estates van where you can park, it's only a minute's walk away, I'll show you." She nodded at Tom without introducing herself then walked off. I gave him a helpless look, thrust my empty beer bottle towards him and jogged off behind Lady Dalton. "Back in a minute," I threw over my shoulder to a bewildered-looking Tom. The weekend passed in a blur. Tom stayed to help me unpack and Lady Dalton brought us lunch herself, sandwiches and beer on a tray. Tom and I went for a walk in the afternoon, taking in the grounds of the house then walking a circuit around the village, ending at Tom's house for tea. We watched the sunset from the swings in the village park and for the first time in a long time, I felt at peace with myself. On Sunday I spent the morning going through the book I had ordered from Waterstones on Estate Management with a sinking feeling - could I really manage all this? Lady Dalton obviously thought so. I had lunch of cheese and crackers then later on met Jack the gardener over tea. Though there was an awful lot of work to be done he patiently explained every little detail whilst I made notes, then he took me to the shed and went through all the tools and equipment, insisting that I had a go on the mower and showing me the controls. By the time we had finished the sun was almost setting but I had a much clearer idea about the work I would be starting the next day, and I went to bed tired but ready to face the morning. I was too tired to bring myself off, partly wanting to save it for another night when I could really make the most of it, and partly because I still didn't know what rooms were next to mine (I got hopelessy confused on my tour of the house but it may have been guest bedrooms) - I was usually quite noisy when I orgasmed. So I thought I would wait, and with the waiting it would be even more pleasurable. I was up early again on Monday morning. Lady Dalton had not given me specific hours to work, being rather vague about that aspect of the job. Her philosophy seemed to be that anything goes as long as the job gets done but I was keen to make a good impression on this small, strong woman so I set about my work with gusto. I decided that the best way to familiarise myself with the grounds was to mow all the grassy areas with the ride-on mower, so I filled it with diesel from a can in the shed and set to. I began with the West side which was mostly grass apart from a few huge apple trees that stood majestically towards the Western boundary. They would need cutting back at some point, but I wasn't going to tackle that for a while. I moved to the front then, cutting the long stretches of grass that meandered up the sides of the driveway almost up to the front doors. It took me the best part of two hours and I stopped for a drink. It was a scorcher of a day again, must have been twenty-five degrees out there, and the sweat was pouring off me. I upended the remainder of my bottle of water over my head and shook it off, my hair damp from sweat and water. I had to keep reminding myself that it didn't matter how I looked, I was not an academic any more but a gardener, and gardeners were supposed to look scruffy - if they didn't, they weren't doing it right! One of the maids brought out a sandwich wrapped in cling film, blue cheese and ham it was and very welcome. She said that Lady Dalton had told her to feed me until such time as I was able to go shopping and stock up my kitchen, reminding me that a dreaded trip to Morrisons was on the cards in the near future. I decided to go tonight, get it out of the way. The East side was more populated with flowers and hedges and I weaved my way tentatively between the borders. I took care not to accidently mow the flowers which took patience and some deft manouvering, and after a short time decided that this section would be better done with an ordinary petrol mower. I returned the ride-on to the shed and dragged the mower behind me. Over the boundary I saw what looked like a group of children in the field, running about. I began mowing but kept watching the activity as I did so, wondering what they were doing. Then it dawned on me - the private school was just up the road and those must be their sports fields. I stopped for a moment and shielded my eyes and I could make out one lone woman in the midst of about twenty children, marshalling her troops in a game of football. There were four tennis courts just south of the football field, again right next to the boundary of the Dalton grounds, but they were currently empty. I wondered idly if perhaps they might let me use the tennis courts, which were the one thing that the house didn't have. The woman looked across in my direction and I gave a half wave before realising that she probably couldn't see me amongst the hedges and I put my hand down, feeling foolish. She looked about my age, late twenties, with blond hair tied in a ponytail, and I could occasionally hear her voice raised over those of the children. It was a deep, strong voice and I felt a shiver run up my spine as I listened. There was an accent there, I couldn't make out what, but it reminded me of my previous lover, Katja, also my PhD supervisor. That era of my life was over after an intense six months and I was not sorry. If you like what you've read, email me, sam_c02uk@yahoo.co.uk If you don't, also email me, bearing in mind that I'm not a professional writer and this is only my second effort. Cheers! Sam.