The Legacy, Chapter 1: Three Oaks - Sex Stories

The Legacy, Chapter 1: Three Oaks

... crystal vase with two huge, beautiful roses sticking out of it, the petals a brilliant yellow with blood-red slashes running through them. “Oh my! Henry, those are beautiful! Thank you.” She took them and set them at the center of the table. “They were too pretty to let this storm smash them. Beautiful roses for a beautiful lady.” He smiled at her. “By tomorrow, every single open flower will be nothing but pretty petals on the ground; thought I’d best rescue a couple for you before that happened.” She looked at him, noticing that he had changed from his old jeans into a pair of gray flannel slacks that fit him very nicely, and a light blue oxford button-down to replace his old, torn chambray that he’d worn earlier. “You look very nice, Henry. Do you really think the storm is going to be that bad?” He nodded. “Shaping up that way, yes – and you look absolutely lovely, Miss Elizabeth.” “Henry! Call me Beth, please? Just for tonight, at least?” He laughed. “I’ll try – no promises!” They set about putting dinner together, each falling into a familiar routine; since his wife had died, Henry was a frequent dinner companion, often when her husband was traveling and occasionally even joining the two of them when he was in residence. He refreshed her drink, adding another finger of bourbon and a new ice cube to replace the mostly-melted one before pouring his own, neat, two fingers. She prepared food as he set the table; without being asked, he put music on the stereo in the living ...

... room, soft jazz instrumental, set low. He prepared salads as she dealt with all of the hot dishes, and they carried on a comfortable conversation the entire time. It wasn’t about anything in particular, and nothing momentous, just the simple small talk and day-to-day mundane things that old friends – and old married couples – so easily enjoy. They listened to the music, and to the storm drawing nearer, and enjoyed the meal and each other’s company. Henry was a capable cook, but was old-school enough to enjoy having a woman – and a very beautiful one, at that – prepare a home-cooked meal for him. It was one of so many things that he’d discovered he missed after Mary had passed on, things one tends to take for granted until they’re gone. After dinner they cleaned up together, loading the dishwasher and putting things away. Moving to the living room he refreshed their drinks again, although Beth requested just a tiny bit, beginning to feel the effects of the alcohol. They talked about perhaps watching a movie – she had a library of movies on DVD – and agreed that it would be a good way to pass the stormy evening. Not comfortable alone during major storms, Beth was grateful to Henry for staying without discussing it. He’d known her for every one of her thirty years; he was well aware of her fear of major storms, particularly the wind, and simply wouldn’t leave her to face it alone. It was shaping up to be a major blow, loud and probably violent. The storm was close now, the flashes ...