Sharing My Landlady's Bed - Sex Stories

Sharing My Landlady's Bed

... again.

I locked my car, walked up the short path to the front door and rang the bell. After about thirty seconds the hall light came on and the door was opened by a lady I assumed was Mrs Gregson, although it was difficult to see anything of her as the porch was in darkness and she was back-lit by the hall light.

'You must be Mr Barber,' she said in a voice that was rich and soft and low-pitched.

'Yes,' I agreed, surprised at her accent, which didn't sound anything like inner-city Manchester, in fact I wondered whether English was her first language.

'Come in,' she told me and I followed her in with my wheelie case.

She turned to face me and I got my first good look at Penelope.

How can I describe her? So much has passed between us now that it's difficult for me to be objective but I'll do my best.

My first impression was that she was tall and dark-eyed and self-composed. A lady of almost my height (five-feet-nine) with naturally dark hair, dyed a uniform black, presumably to hide the grey. It fell to her shoulders in a mass of curls and framed a face that was still striking despite the depredations of time: full lips, an aquiline nose and sleepy, heavy-lidded eyes surmounted by thick, black eyebrows. Her complexion had a mediterranean hint and was supplemented by lipstick and heavy eye make-up which couldn't quite disguise the crows' feet at the corners of her eyes nor the lines on her cheeks and her upper lip.

She wore an oyster-coloured blouse in ...

... some shiny synthetic material, taut across her bust, and a nondescript skirt that fell to below her knees.

'How was your journey?' she asked in that soft voice of hers. 'Was it Bristol you came up from?'

'Yes. I drove up early this morning. The roads were pretty clear.'

'You've been at work all day?' she asked. 'You must be exhausted!' She handed me a wooden key tag with two keys on it. Take your case up and I'll get on with some dinner for you. Yours is the room at the front.' I hefted my case and turned to the stairs. 'I bet you'd like a cup of tea too, wouldn't you?'

'I could murder one,' I agreed, smiling at her.

'Come through when you're ready,' she said, disappearing down the hall and through a door at the end through which I glimpsed a brightly lit kitchen.

My bedroom was ok as B&B rooms go: a double bed, a wardrobe, a chest of drawers and a sink in the corner. There was also a chair and a tiny table next to the window that I could work at in the evenings, if there was nothing else in the way of entertainment.

I did a bit of unpacking then left the case on the bed and went down to the kitchen where my landlady, now wearing a calico apron, indicated a mug of steaming tea on the scrubbed pine table. 'Your tea's there and dinner will be ready in twenty minutes. Is steak and kidney pie alright for you? Your company didn't mention any dietary requirements.'

'Lovely,' I replied.

'And I've made an apple pie as a bit of dessert.'

'Thank you... ...