The Manor In The Woods
By FenellaAshworth. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.
The landscape was almost entirely white now and dusk was starting to descend with surprising haste. As they walked, Emily observed how their route was bordered by thick, low hedges, laden with frosted, blood-red hawthorn berries and holly leaves; one of the few plants that remained green, within a mass of death and decay which mid-winter always conveyed.
Continuing along the path, they soon found themselves submerged in a dark, dense coniferous forest.
It was deathly quiet here, the evergreen trees packed so tightly that only the lightest sprinkling of dusty snow had so far been able to penetrate the shadowy depths. And yet the temperature seemed to have dropped even further. Emily felt a momentary waver in the high levels of confidence she’d shown, by accompanying Sam. She quietly questioned whether her normally good instincts were continuing to serve her well.
‘Still cold?’ Sam asked, picking up a little on her apprehension. Unable to voice any words, she simply nodded in response. 'I always find singing warms me up. If you’ll join me?’ he requested.
'Sure,’ she croaked, surprised at his suggestion.
Causing a sudden jolt of pleasure to travel up her spine, Sam began to sing in a soft, clear voice, filling Emily’s imagination with the aroma of chestnuts roasting over a gently crackling, open fire. How was it possible that this man was making her feel an excitement for Christmas that she had barely felt since childhood? And certainly not in the past few years.
Immediately recalling the lyrics, as though they were pre-programmed into her very being, she shyly joined in with him.
Although hesitant at first, the two of them quickly relaxed. They rattled off all manner of Christmas songs from 'White Christmas’ and 'Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer’ through to 'I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus’. The tunes were often accompanied by much guffawing, when they started to make up their own lyrics in the absence of knowing the correct ones, as well as adding in all manner of questionable vocal percussion. Consequently, it felt like no time at all before they were passing out of the thick canopy of trees and back into the white, snowy wilderness.
Their singing naturally petered out as they trudged around the edge of a huge field which provided a much less intimate setting for vocal melodies, or lack thereof. Indeed, it would have been drowned out by the unmistakable noise of squawking pheasants and distant shotguns filling the air. Skirting beside a river, the looming silhouettes of Giant Hogweed could be seen rising out of the mist, before they turned a sharp corner to follow an alternative footpath which led them directly into a churchyard. Too tired now to be spooked by the lopsided gravestones rising creepily out of the mist, Emily simply kept her head down and focused on Sam’s boots, which marched just ahead of her along the narrow path. It was all but dark by the time they wearily emerged into the main body of the village.
Emily noticed that parts of the main road through the village had been cleared by helpful residents. However, as the temperatures began to plummet once more, sheet ice had formed on the exposed sections, making it more dangerous than ever. Therefore, instead of slipping and sliding her way along the icy road, Emily tucked in behind Sam and followed the channel that his footsteps had made through the deep snow. It was a route which required more strenuous effort but, on the positive side, was less likely to see her fall arse over tit, and make a complete fool of herself.
As they fought their way onwards, Emily found her attention drawn to a huge, eighteenth century manor house, complete with lead-latticed windows and two smoking chimneys at either end of a long, bowing roof. Every light was blazing and a low pulse of music echoed from an open downstairs window. The place was a flurry of activity; the front door wide open, as caterers carrying various trays and boxes continuously made their way across the threshold. Whoever lived there clearly had no respect for the electricity or heating bills.
'Really well done. We’ve made it,’ murmured Sam, sounding relieved.
'Here?’ asked Emily, doing a double take. 'This is your Aunt’s house?’
'Yeah,’ confirmed Sam, gently dusting away the snow which had accumulated on her shoulders, before turning his attention towards his own.
'I was assuming she was a little old lady, living in a flat perhaps,’ admitted Emily, her eyes wide with astonishment, as they made their way up the sweeping driveway.
'She’ll love it, when she hears that,’ laughed Sam, pulling off his gloves to reveal large, strong hands with clean, neatly-trimmed nails. Emily froze. In that instant, all of her attention was directed towards him, as those same hands began to unwind the scarf wrapped around his face. At last, she would see what he looked like.
'Well, please don’t mention it then,’ she stuttered.
'What’s it worth?’ he teased, leaving Emily all but speechless. Was he flirting with her?
'Darlings!’ cried a woman who appeared on the doorstep. 'You poor things! How awful! Come inside!’ Emily stared at her in disbelief; in her sixties, the woman that greeted them was tall, slender, elegant and incredibly attractive. She was adorned with silk scarves, expensive jewellery and an expression of uninhibited delight, as though she knew a very great secret that she couldn’t wait to share.
'Emily, this is my Aunt Rosamunde,’ introduced Sam proudly. 'Aunt, this is Emily Jones.’
'Rose, to my friends,’ she explained, putting her arm around Emily and drawing her into the warmth of her home. 'Of which you already are.’ Emily found herself unsure of where to look. Part of her wanted to soak up the interior of the amazing house into which she was now being led, but equally, she was desperate to find out what lay beneath Sam’s exterior layers of clothing.
'Oh, Sammie, Darling? Before you get too comfortable, ’ Rose added, glancing backwards. Excruciatingly, her words made him pause in his partial state of undress, just as he was about to remove his hat and scarf. 'Please could you grab another wheelbarrow full of logs from the woodshed and put them in the boot room? I’m sure we’ll run out otherwise.’
'Only on the condition that you look after Emily, while I’m gone,’ he stated, before looking directly at Emily. 'If that’s okay with you, of course?’ he asked. She nodded shyly in response, touched that he’d bothered to ask.
'Of course I’m going to look after her!’ the older lady exclaimed.
'Then, of course, I will get you some more logs, Auntie Rosie,’ he teased, walking once again into the cold evening and pulling his gloves back on.
'Oh! Get away with you, you cheeky boy!’ exclaimed Rose with a chuckle. 'He always calls me that whenever I accidentally revert back to his childhood nickname. He knows full well it makes me sound like I’m a hundred years old,’ she explained, hanging up Emily’s dripping coat and leading her through to the kitchen. Not unexpectedly, the kitchen was incredible; a huge room, with painted white walls, infilled with thick black beams and bordered by a selection of Welsh dressers and overflowing granite work surfaces. Against one wall stood an enormous navy blue Aga throwing out a serious amount of much-welcome heat. Meanwhile, the centre of the room was taken up with a scrubbed pine table and chairs which looked as though they had served the needs of several generations before.
'Now, let’s get you defrosted. How about a nice warming drink?’ asked Rose.
'That would be wonderful,’ admitted a lightly shivering Emily, subtly making her way towards the Aga, to share some of its precious warmth. 'A coffee would be lovely if you have one.’ Almost unnoticed, one of the catering ladies who was silently floating around the room, flicked a switch to set the coffee machine into action and laid out two coffee cups, cream and sugar on the table. Meanwhile, Rose had marched to the back of the room and was scrabbling around in a cupboard.
'Or how about something a bit stronger?’ she asked, waving a bottle of Whiskey above her head, whilst wiggling her eyebrows in Emily’s direction. 'You could have an Irish coffee, best of both worlds?’ she suggested with a smile. Giggling, Emily shook her head.
'Just a coffee would be great, for now,’ she added, receiving a nod of approval from her host.
'Of course, you’re right,’ agreed Rose, making her way back to the table and pouring out their coffees from the jug which had seamlessly been delivered. Emily accepted the welcome beverage, wrapping her frozen hands around the cup and gratefully inhaling the steam. 'We should definitely pace ourselves. My dear, late husband would have said just the same,’ she confessed, smiling fondly.
'I’m sorry,’ said Emily sadly, as she received confirmation that Rose was indeed a widow.
'Oh, my dear,’ she said warmly, laying her dainty hand over one of Emily’s and squeezing gently. 'I knew love in my lifetime. True love, the kind that inspires people to write songs and write books and do all manner of other glorious things. So I absolutely forbid you to feel sorry for me.’
'How wonderful,’ murmured Emily, sighing with deep contentment. 'Would you tell me about him?’ And with great delight, Rose did just that. As she launched into the story of how they first met, Emily provided a completely rapt audience, wanting no more in that instant, than to hear their true love story.
Sam returned a short while later, to find Emily and his aunt sitting cosily in the kitchen, holding hands, giggling outrageously and chatting ten to the dozen. Neither of them had noticed his arrival, so with great pleasure he simply stood and observed the two women, between which an indisputable spark of friendship had already been ignited.
'Darling!’ Rose exclaimed with delight. With her concentration broken, Emily twisted around in her seat to be confronted by a sight that she knew was already being meticulously downloaded into her memory, to remain imprinted there for the rest of time. Quite simply, the most gorgeous man she had ever set eyes on, was leaning against the oak-framed doorway watching them. Utterly relaxed, with his arms folded, it was his wide smile, piercing dark eyes and perfectly messed up dark hair that immediately caught her attention. Slowly, her eyes dared to drop down and devour the rest of him. She processed every tiny detail, from his lithe body and strong forearms, right down to the thick navy blue socks he wore, stretched over his large feet.
Unable to drag her eyes away, Emily’s gaze tracked his progress as he loped across the room, to grab another mug from the cupboard. Although she caught only a fleeting glimpse, unbelievably his back view seemed comparable to the front. Gulping in disbelief, she looked across at Rose for support. Her host seemed unusually quiet; half smiling, half grimacing, apparently incapable of speech. Glancing down at the table, a horrified Emily realised she was tightly clenching Rose’s hand. Too good-mannered to complain, relief flooded across the older lady’s face when the firm grip was eventually relinquished.
'Sorry,’ whispered Emily. Apologising had the added bonus of making her aware that, until that point, her mouth had been hanging open in utter shock. Swiftly rectifying her vacant look, Emily clamped her mouth tightly shut and tried to breathe as calmly as possible through her nose. There wasn’t anything she could do about her flushed face, but with any luck, that could be blamed on the extremes of temperature she’d been subjected to over the past few hours.
By this time, the man had joined them at the table and was pouring a steaming coffee into his own mug. Emily subconsciously licked her lips as his mouth wrapped around the cup and swallowed with contentment. The low groan he made, as that initial sip slid down his throat, caused a twinge to flutter across her tingling, already swollen pussy. This man was beyond gorgeous.
Emily’s mind was whirring, unable to believe he might actually be Sam. Surely this couldn’t be the man she’d spent the last two hours joking and chatting with, whilst methodically annihilating Nat King Cole’s back catalogue, could it? She would never have mildly flirted and nonchalantly shared a chocolate bar in the snow with a man who looked like, well, THAT. She shuffled slightly in her seat as a surge of blood pumped towards her abdomen. And then his familiar tone filled the room and her question remained unanswered no longer. God help her, it was definitely him.
'It looks like you two are destined to be great friends,’ he observed wryly. Neither of the two women responded; Emily because she was speechless, Rose because she was delightedly watching Emily’s reaction to the arrival of her favourite nephew. 'So, what’s the big joke?’ pressed Sam. 'You were laughing hysterically a moment ago and now there’s nothing but silence. What’s up?’
Recognising the signs of Emily’s distress, Rose stepped in to help. She had personally only observed a reaction like this once before in her life, decades earlier. It was etched on her heart because it was the precious night that she had met and fallen in love with her beloved husband.
'I was just sharing some stories about dear Arthur,’ explained Rose swiftly, but she had already lost her audience.
'You’re trembling,’ observed Sam, looking kindly at Emily. 'Come on,’ he said, taking another swig of his beverage before standing up. 'I’ll show you to your room. Then you can have a nice long bath and warm up again.’
With both of them gazing at her, as though waiting for her to take some form of action, Emily felt she had little choice but to follow Sam out of the kitchen. She wasn’t entirely convinced the cold was responsible for making her tremble, but that wasn’t something Sam needed to know. Instead, she allowed him to lead her through the house. Together, they ascended the grand staircase before turning off a long corridor.
'This is you,’ he explained, making his way into a large bedroom with a four-poster bed. Her bag had already been delivered and placed in a wing-backed armchair. 'And the en suite is just through there,’ he added, pointing towards an adjoining bathroom.
'Wow, it’s amazing,’ she croaked, overwhelmed by such a beautiful room. 'Thank you so much. Are there enough bathrooms for you to take a bath too?’
'Why do you ask?’ he teased. 'Would you rather share?’
'No!’ she gasped quickly.
'Is everything okay, Emily?’ he asked with concern. 'You seem different compared to earlier, more tense?’
'I’m fine. Thanks,’ she said a little flustered. Apart from the fact she’d surmised he had children and so probably a wife, it really wouldn’t do to let him know the overwhelming effect he was having on her body.
'Okay, if you’re sure,’ he replied, clearly not convinced. 'Help yourself to whatever you need and I’ll see you downstairs when you’re ready. And don’t rush, I know from experience that sometimes, only a long, luxurious bath will do when you’re chilled to the bone. There’s tons of hot water, always is, so don’t hold back. My aunt doesn’t know the meaning of the word economising!’ He was just closing the door behind him when a final thought occurred.
'Oh, and don’t forget to call your folks,’ he added, walking back into the room and handing his mobile phone to her. 'The four-digit keycode to unlock the screen is my age,’ he grinned. 'See if you can guess it.’
'Seriously?’ she protested, temporarily knocked-out of her shyness.
'Yep,’ he laughed. 'I’ll give you a clue. The first two numbers are zero, zero. Don’t forget to tell your parents you’re staying with a perfectly respectable lady. Probably best not to mention her far from respectable nephew.’ With a wink that made Emily’s cheeks and neck flush, their eyes met lingeringly before Sam closed the door firmly behind himself.
With the huge bath gradually filling, Emily took Sam’s phone with a significant level of apprehension and tried to guess his keycode. Starting with an estimate of thirty-five, which was her own age, Emily gradually added one year until the phone unlocked at zero zero three nine. With a level of willpower she was unaware she possessed, Emily entered her parents’ home phone number, without once scrolling through his photographs, previous texts, or any other personal information Sam had willingly entrusted her with.
Her parents’ relief when they realised their daughter was safe was palpable. Indeed, it only served to emphasise how right Emily had been not to contact them, before she could give them good news. Providing as much information as she could, Emily described the events of the day and her current location and plans. With a promise to try her best to see them tomorrow, although she had no idea how, she rang off and sank into the welcoming, deep, steamy bubble bath with a satisfied groan.
Following several top ups of hot water, during which time she could hear more and more partygoers gathering downstairs, Emily eventually stepped out from the bath, her cold, aching body now warm, supple and relaxed. The sounds of excited chatter, clinking glasses and increasingly raucous laughter echoed up through the floorboards below. Wrapped in a thick, soft bath sheet, she wandered back into the opulent bedroom and emptied her rucksack. Her clothing choices were very limited; she was going to have to wear what she’d purchased for Christmas day. Having dressed in the dark-green, velvet dress, coupled with her favourite lace underwear, Emily felt classy, elegant and unsurprisingly sexy. It was either that or jeans and, glancing out of the window to see what some of the late arrivals were wearing, it didn’t look like a jeans kind of event.
Once she was satisfied with her physical appearance, Emily turned her attention to her questionable emotional state. It was time to give herself a thoroughly stern talking to. In all probability, Sam wasn’t single. Besides which, he was utterly, gloriously, perfectly gorgeous. Only in her very wildest dreams would she end up with a man like that. Furthermore, it was clear he had enjoyed spending time with her on their walk, when she’d been behaving like her normal self. So acting like some love sick teenager, incapable of rational conversation, wasn’t going to be helpful on any level. It would be much more sensible to just relax and enjoy their limited time together as friends. And with that mantra firmly lodged in her mind, Emily took a deep breath, retrieved his phone from her bed and drifted downstairs.
The party was a roaring success. Even though the bad weather had prevented many from attending, the majority of the village had still turned out to help make it a night to remember. Emily found herself chatting non-stop, not just to Rose and Sam whom she naturally gravitated towards, but to an array of other guests, many of which were delightful company. Towards the end of the evening, Sam sidled up behind her, taking her quite by surprise.
'Dance with me?’ he murmured into her ear. Looking around to see his smiling face, she felt her stomach drop with lust. Up close and personal, dressed in black tie, he truly was faint-making.
'Sure,’ Emily replied, in the calmest tone she could muster. She watched in astonishment as he picked up her hand, stroked her sensitive palm gently with his thumb and led her towards the dance floor at the far end of the house. The beat was slow, sultry and purposeful as 'Please come home for Christmas’ oozed out of the speakers. Gently, Sam pulled Emily’s body against his own. In a heightened state of bliss, Emily lay her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. Revolving slowly around the room, they were aware of no one but each other. With her hands placed properly around his back, she could feel his taut muscles moving beneath her fingertips and the easy sway of his hips against hers. It was, quite simply, overwhelming.
Disappointment flooded her as the song naturally came to an end. When it was replaced by 'All I want for Christmas is you,’ Sam readjusted his hold on her and continued to dance, causing Emily’s heart to soar once more. With a wide smile, Emily was unable to prevent herself from gazing up at him, her admiration blatantly discernible.
'Is everything okay?’ he asked gently.
'Everything’s just perfect,’ she replied, beaming. Chuckling slightly, he shook his head before laying his cheek against her forehead.
'You look beautiful tonight,’ he murmured matter-of-factly into her hair, as they continued to revolve around the floor. Those words had a devastating effect on Emily’s pulse, which shot through the roof as a tingle of pleasure flooded every cell in her body. They danced all the way through the tracks that followed, until the final song of the evening began to play. When the chords of 'We wish you a Merry Christmas’ boomed out of the speakers and the entire party seemed to cram into a single room, Emily and Sam were forced to step apart. The time for slow dancing had concluded.
It was a little after midnight when all of the guests had finally departed and the elderly house fell still once more.
'That was the best party ever!’ Emily confided to Rose as she collapsed beside her on the sofa, in front of the gently crackling fire. 'Thank you so much for letting me stay.’
'I’m so pleased you enjoyed yourself, my dear. I saw you dancing with Sam,’ she added mischievously, before taking a final sip from her mug of hot chocolate.
'Yes,’ admitted a blushing Emily. 'We danced.’
'He’s a good boy, that one,’ sighed Rose as she eased herself up to standing. 'Faithful, trustworthy and very, very decent. And now I absolutely must go to sleep, so I’ll say good night, dear girl.’
'Good night,’ echoed Emily, watching the older lady leave the room. But listening to the muffled hum of conversation between Rose and her nephew in the hallway, Emily couldn’t help but feel a sense of loss. Had Rose just warned her off Sam? Had she been trying to help her understand that he would not betray the trust of his partner; of his children?
Emily gazed into the middle distance. Out of the window, thick snowflakes continued to fall silently from the dark sky. Lost in her own thoughts, she wasn’t aware of Sam’s presence, until he dropped down onto the sofa beside her. Luxuriously, he rolled his head around on his shoulders and stretched.
'Hey,’ he growled.
'Hey,’ she replied, glancing across at him. The look in his dark eyes, which danced and twinkled back at her in the firelight, forced her to inhale swiftly.
'Bed time?’ he asked. Emily nodded in agreement, with no appreciation as to whether he was making a statement or an offer. As they made their way out of the room and up the sweeping staircase, curiosity prevailed.
'Won’t your children miss you tonight?’ Emily asked.
'My children?’ he clarified, turning off lamps as they went.
'Yes, in the photo on your phone.’
'Ah, Sally and William? Probably not,’ he explained. 'But I still have no doubt they’ll be as excited as ever, by my arrival tomorrow. I’ve always spoilt my niece and nephew with an excessive amount of Christmas presents; they’ll be pleased to discover that this year will be no exception.’
'Niece and nephew? Oh, right,’ croaked Emily. They had come to a halt outside her bedroom door and she had absolutely no idea what to do next. Her eyes rose slowly upwards, on the off chance that a thoughtfully placed piece of mistletoe might make things easier. To her disappointment, there was only a dusty light fitting and a spider’s web.
'Well, good night Emily,’ said Sam softly, dipping his head to her cheek and allowing his lips to brush across her soft skin. He stayed there for a beat longer than necessary before straightening up. Smiling down at her, he nodded his head decisively. 'Happy Christmas.’
'Happy Christmas,’ she murmured to his departing back, unexpectedly overwhelmed by an acute sense of loss. On the other side of the corridor, he opened his own bedroom door, paused and turned back to face her. For a long moment, they gazed at each other, although their friendly smiles had all but disappeared. Somehow, over the course of the evening, their relationship had transformed into something more intimate, perilous and demanding of attention. Emily found herself unable to do anything other than stare back, utterly spellbound. Eventually, he sighed and nodded almost imperceptibly, before retiring into the bedroom and closing the door behind himself.
To be continued in Part 3
By FenellaAshworth for Literotica.
