“You’ll love England,” my boss said, sweeping aside my reservations in three simple words. “Besides,” he added, “it will be good for you to get away.”

I couldn’t argue with that. Linda had passed away four years ago and, despite my detached response, my friends hadn’t tired of trying to hook me up. They understood that Linda had been my soul mate but kept trotting out women they thought would be a suitable replacement. Bless their souls, they only wanted to save me from depression but they had no idea what Linda was really like, so the women they served up though attractive, weren’t a match for me.

True, on the outside, they seemed a perfect fit but how could our friends know Linda was more than the quiet, thoughtful woman they thought she was. Her erotic tastes would blown them away. But Linda had been a very private person and I couldn’t betray her true self to anyone, no matter how lonely I was. God, how I missed her.

“And don’t worry about the sales thing. Just let Mike take the lead. When he needs some substance, he’ll let you know. Give them the technical pitch and when their senior people start to glaze over, he’ll take over again. He’s a super salesman.”

I nodded. I didn’t like it but I didn’t have much choice. I could hardly quit after fifteen years with the company, especially in the current job market.

“You’ll love it at Mike’s place. His wife is super, his kids are nice, and the countryside is amazing. Very peaceful. If you can’t relax there, you can’t relax anywhere. So go, don’t work too hard, and enjoy yourself.”

Parker was holding the door open. I was being dismissed. “Molly has your tickets,” he said, slapping me on the back. “Have a good trip, Pete.”

I hated being called Pete. The door closed and Molly picked up the tickets from her desk, holding her hand out for me to take them.

“Thanks,” I mumbled.

She smiled sympathetically, having witnessed many apprehensive visitors emerge in the same state as me, having survived the whirlwind and still wondering what the hell had happened.

I tread silently through the thick carpet to the wood paneled elevator. On the way down, I cursed myself for not even mentioning my quartering at the super salesman’s home. I didn’t want to work with a sales rep but couldn’t argue that I was the company’s most experienced person to send for technical support. But to stay in his home? That was too much. I could barely stand being around sales types for ten minutes let alone day and night. And his poor wife. I’m sure she wasn’t happy about having to lodge her husband’s co-worker for an extended period. She might have to tolerate accommodating his boss, but some jerk techie?

This was going to be a disaster. Hopefully this super salesman, Mike Entwhistle, would be happy to see me stay at a local hotel and keep quiet about it. I’d take it up with him as soon as he met me at the airport.

I picked up my bags and cleared customs, irked that the Eurozone types were processed quickly by half a dozen agents while the rest of us suffered through just two. Eventually, I emerged from the secure area and was immediately greeted by Mike. Effusive would be too muted a description for his welcome. I tried to raise the issue of a hotel but Mike would have none of it.

“Oh no, Paula’s quite keen to meet you. Not our usual kind of guest, you know, and all that.”

“But it’s such an imposition. I know what Parker’s like,” I began, but Mike cut me off.

“Nonsense, it was my idea. We need to get to know one another if we’re to be a team for the next few months. Go, go go.”

God, it’s going to be worse than I thought.

As if to make his point, Mike drove even faster, zipping the BMW past cottages on the narrow rural road and careening recklessly through blind corners. Somehow, despite cars zooming the other way at similar speeds and meeting us at the apex of the corners, we managed to avoid a collision. How Mike spared any attention for driving was a mystery because he talked the whole time and spent most of it emphasizing points or noting historical landmarks rather than watching where he was going.

It was relief when we finally pulled through a stone gateway and drove up a winding lane through a thick set of trees before emerging onto a set of rolling hills surrounding a very large, white-with-brown-strappings, round-roofed, Tudor manor house with matching stables and garage. White fences divided pastures occupied with sheep and horses but it was the workmen wearing ties and the late model Jag and Land Rover parked in front of the three-car garage that completed the picture of the gentleman’s pastoral residence.

Wow. I knew Mike was the company’s premier international salesman but I was surprised that he could afford a place like this so near London. The company must pay its international sales people well and I wondered if Parker would divert some of this largesse to me. Probably not, given the way he painted my trip as a perk for me.

Mike’s wife exited the stables just as we pulled into the empty third spot in front of the garage. I was stunned by how similar she was in appearance and manner to Linda. Paula quietly allowed her husband to finish his effusive introductions, then offered her hand accompanied by a smile that, while reserved, wasn’t aloof. If anything, her demeanor was similar to Molly’s around Parker and I felt a sense of kinship, as if we were victims suffering through the presence of an over-the-top personality. I liked her immediately.

Paula had dark hair in contrast to Linda’s blonde but it was worn in the same cute, short style popularized by Meg Ryan. Her body was slender, like Linda’s, with small but pert breasts suited to her frame and longish legs despite being as much shorter than me as I was compared to her husband.

Mike called for a stable hand to get my bags from the ‘boot’ but I insisted on carrying them myself which seemed to please the man and, I was happy to note, Mrs. Entwhistle. I surmised that Mike treatment the employees as servants wasn’t popular. He took a call on his cell and walked briskly ahead of us to the house, through the entranceway and into the large living room, which was enclosed by dark beams, a stone fireplace, and many cross-hatched windows.

“I apologize for the intrusion, Mrs. Entwhistle,” I said as we followed Mike into the house. She turned and was about to speak but I rushed on to make my point. “I would really be quite happy at a local hotel but your husband whisked by them and wouldn’t stop.”

“Oh no, Mr. Briggs, you’re most welcome here. I’ve been looking forward to your stay. It will be nice to have something new to talk about at dinner.”

Her smile convinced me that perhaps I wouldn’t be a burden after all.

“Please, call me Peter.”

She offered her hand to me and I took it in mine, noting how warm and soft it was as she spoke.

“And I’m Paula, not Mrs. Entwhistle.”

“Pleased to meet you,” I said, in as genteel a manner as I could muster. I hoped the smile that ensued wasn’t mocking me.

“Let me show you to your room.”

Paula led the way to a wide stairway with dark, glossy banisters leading to a landing and then turned at a right angle to rise to the second floor, at least twelve feet above the first. A narrower set of stairs led to another floor but we walked down a hallway to the third door on the left, which was the only one that was open.

“This is your room. Please let me know if you would prefer another. The facilities are across the hall.”

The room was large and ornate, antique furniture filling the space beneath the ten foot ceiling. There was a large, almost floor-to-ceiling window opening onto the fields beyond. Sun spilled through it and glowed around Paula.

“This will be splendid,” I said, for some reason trying to speak ‘English’ but thankfully not attempting to replicate the accent.

I was treated to the muted smile and again worried that she was mocking me.

“Well then. I’ll leave you to get unpacked. Please come down whenever you’re ready, but don’t feel obliged. I’m sure you must be tired.”

Paula left, pulling the door closed behind her almost all the way. I shifted my laptop bag off my shoulder and lowered it onto the chair sitting in front of the antique desk and then lifted my suitcase onto the bed. As I unpacked, placing my socks and underwear on the shelves of the ornately decorated wardrobe and hanging the rest, I replayed the whole arrival in my head.

I lingered on the first sight of Paula and realized only then that I’d been captivated from the moment she appeared. Details of the yard, house, and all else except for the stables immediately behind her, were lost. But I could visualize the brown riding jacket and the design on the white blouse showing between its open lapels in great detail, including the swollen rise of her low-slung breasts. I hoped I hadn’t been caught allowing my gaze to wander down her front but knew, after the fact, that I had lingered there too long. How gracious of her not to note any displeasure.

The rest of the trip to the house was vague except for a few images of her smiling face highlighted against the backdrop of the entrance hallway. Then we were climbing the stairs with her husband’s voice banging away despite originating at the far end of the living room. I hadn’t noticed how loudly he had been speaking but the din faded into the background as my gaze latched onto the fancy riding breeches in front of me stretched over a simply delectable posterior. The tight breeches left little to the imagination. Mrs. Entwhistle—referring to her more formally somehow made me feel that gawking at her bottom was less rude—had an ass worthy of Hollywood.

I hadn’t had the opportunity to scrutinize such a fine ass since Linda passed away and, even upon close examination, was unable to detect any marked dissimilarities from my wife’s most appreciated asset. The stairs took a long time to ascend and I realized, somewhat embarrassingly, that Paula hadn’t once looked back. I wondered if she knew I was inappropriately assessing her delicious bottom and thought the best way to handle was to pretend it wasn’t happening.

But then, why wouldn’t she have quickened her pace? She had climbed the stairs so slowly, talking casually about the things she hoped I would have the time to see on the estate during my stay, but never posed a question or framed a sentence in a way that would require a response from me. Could it be she enjoyed the attention? God only knows, her husband wasn’t one to pay attention to much other than himself.

I re-focused my own attention and replayed the trip up the stairs again. The tan-colored riding breeches perfectly outlined Paula’s lovely bottom, emphasizing first one and then the other buttock while never fully relieving either of its intriguing form. And, though each cheek was thoroughly outlined with each step, neither was so lewdly displayed as to reveal a vulgar crease dividing the two. Instead, one side of her pants bulged and then sagged as the swelling was transferred to the other.

As each buttock blossomed, the leg below tensed into its own muscular definition, at least down to the knee where the riding boot hid the rest. At the landing, Paula quickly crossed to the next flight of stairs, then slowed for the rise to the second floor. I sensed my disappointment, not originally noted, when the stairs had been fully traversed but knew that it was a feeling I had actually experienced.

I sighed, and sat down on the Edwardian chair next to the bed. My god, Linda. I miss you so much. Could He be so cruel as to introduce someone who could, while not replacing you, be capable of making me happy, except she was already committed to someone else?

I sat for some time, feeling more depressed than I did at home, until the beep of my watch signaled the top of the hour and galvanized me into visiting the bathroom. It was large but thoroughly modern, having been upgraded with the latest in fine European fixtures and conveniences. I freshened myself and headed downstairs, hoping my delay wasn’t rude.

The kitchen was even more modern than the bathroom. It was large, with the latest in sleek cupboard and counter designs, outfitted with a large central island and appliances that blended into the walls. Neither Mike nor Paula were there. The room was staffed with two cooks, both busy preparing a meal.

“Your presence is requested on the patio,” I was told, with an arm directing me through the dining room.

I walked past the long table and a dozen chairs to the open French glass doors. Paula was sitting one of two lounges, gazing at the serene countryside. The other was empty. She turned and smiled at me.

“Thank you for joining me,” she said, indicating the empty lounge. “Michael had to go into the office,” she explained her husband’s absence, “and probably won’t make it back for dinner.”

“Oh. He should have called me.”

“Michael loves to work but you should relax and get some rest after traveling all day.”

“Well, I confess, it would be hard to tear myself away from all this.”

“It is lovely, isn’t it?”

“It certainly is. You have a beautiful home, Mrs. Ent ... Paula.”

She seemed pleased that I had caught myself and used her Christian name.

“Please, help yourself to the wine.”

I poured myself a glass and topped up Paula’s when she extended it toward me. Only then did I notice that the riding jacket had been removed. She shielded her eyes from the sun which allowed me to examine the silky white blouse closely. As I remembered, her breasts —now looking larger than they had first appeared— were slung low on her chest and had a tendency to bulge sideways. The silky white material settled pleasingly over that bulk. I detected the presence of an underlying bra but one made of equally delicate material incapable of real imprisonment.

“Do you like gently rolling hills, Peter?”

For a moment, I thought she was making a sly remark about my attention to her chest until I realized she was far too classy for that.

“Yes, I believe I do,” I answered, settling into the empty lounge beside her.

The feet of the lounges were angled toward each other and each had its own table beside it. The orientation allowed people to converse if they pleased but didn’t force it upon them. Paula surveyed her estate, a view she must be thoroughly familiar with, and I did too, but soon found my attention settling on an equally pleasing vista nearer to me.

We spoke occasionally, about the estate and its animals; mostly about the horses which were clearly a favorite of my host’s. She told me how pleasant and satisfying it was to ride through the countryside, communing with nature. As with the ascension of the stairs, Paula never looked toward me, as if she didn’t want to interrupt my appreciation of the property. Or did she know I was enjoying something else? Was I that obvious?

We weren’t disturbed until the children arrived home from school. Paula hadn’t looked my way until they burst through the glass doors to greet their mother. They were wonderful kids, polite and well-groomed, and both bore a strong resemblance to Paula. In fact, there wasn’t a recognizable linkage to Mike at all. After they left, Paula commented on my obvious confusion.

“They’re from my first marriage.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I mean, I didn’t mean to pry...”

“It’s alright,” Paula said.

I loved the tinkle of true mirth and felt pleased that, through my awkwardness, I had made her laugh. Bringing pleasure, however minor, to this intriguing woman felt very good and for the first time I thanked Parker for sending me here.

We talked while we finished our wine and, this time, Paula gave me her full attention. We sat for a while after that in silence, each surveying the beauty before us, and listened to the sounds of the birds and the odd bleat of a sheep or snort of a horse. I actually did look at the countryside to belatedly grant this lovely woman her privacy. Eventually Paula reluctantly got up, sighed, and announced that it was time for her to change for dinner. I started to get up but she motioned for me to stay put.

“Should I get changed?”

“No, you’re fine just the way your are. Enjoy the scenery. I’ll call when dinner is served.”

Paula’s daughter Christina woke me with a touch on the shoulder. I guess the long flight had taken its toll and I had fallen asleep on the lounge. When I joined the others in the dining room I saw that Paula had put on a nice dress that fit her body well without being too snug. Though not a fancy affair, it seemed elegant nonetheless.

Dinner conversation with Paula, Mark and Christina was lively. They had obviously been well-educated in fine schools and I was surprised how varied their interests were and the extent of their knowledge. Their mother was quietly proud, as she should have been. Linda and I hadn’t had children, a decision I now regretted.

During dinner, Mark discovered that I was a chemical engineer and not a salesman. I had the sense that Paula already knew this but she pursued it as if she hadn’t known and got me to agree that being a chemical engineer was a vocation but not my true calling. A career in classical music had been my dream but I succumbed to my father’s pressure and completed two degrees in engineering so I could earn a living. It wasn’t until I met Linda that I returned to music, playing in the symphony part-time and even taking bit roles in plays at the local theatre. Linda had made me come alive.

Twice during dinner, I mentioned Mike, and both children stiffened and lapsed into silence. Paula smoothed over the awkward moments but it was clear to me that the children did not have a warm relationship with their step-father. The children stayed for dessert and didn’t leave until their mother bade them do their homework. By then, we were sitting in the living room in front of a small but nice fire burning in the stone fireplace. When they were gone, Paula asked me if I’d like to join her on the patio for a port. I gladly accepted.

Blankets had been set out on the lounges. We settled upon them and Paula had just covered her feet with a partially folded blanket to ward off the chill when the port arrived. As in the afternoon, Paula sipped her drink and stared off into the night. Although there was no birdsong, the occasional sound from a farm animal could still be heard. In the light from the living room, I could see the outline of Paula’s body and, though her legs were covered, the gentle slope of her breasts was discernible.

“They like you,” Paula said.

“Excuse me?”

“The kids. They haven’t engaged with a guest like that since ... I don’t know when.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t think I ever had to force them to leave the table when one of Michael’s colleagues was here.”

“They didn’t seem to be forced.”

Paula laughed but didn’t look at me.

“They have good instincts.”

I didn’t know what to say. It was an enormous compliment and I took it that way, but it left me speechless. I wanted to respond but couldn’t think of anything worthy to say. So I stayed silent, and looked into the night.

I was uncomfortable being labeled as Mike’s colleague and was about clarify our relationship when Paula drew her knees up, causing the blanket to cascade down her legs. I held my tongue and admired the curve of her slender calves instead. I was so engrossed that I was caught off guard when she spoke.

“Were you close to your wife?”

I was surprised by the question from a near stranger but, in this case, wasn’t offended. I felt Paula knew the answer already and was simply seeking confirmation.

“Yes, I was.”

I shifted my gaze away from Paula’s legs, expecting her to turn around to face me, but she didn’t. Instead, she continued her odd habit of looking away.

“It’s nice being so close to someone. I miss it.”

I didn’t respond because I thought it would be prying into her and Mike’s relationship but Paula continued anyway.

“I was very close to my husband.”

I presumed she was talking about her first husband, the father of her children, and not Mike, but I didn’t reply.

“It’s rare for two people to truly know each other well.”

It was a statement rather than a question but I nodded anyway, which was silly, given she was looking into the darkness, but it didn’t seem to matter.

“Were you and your wife close like that? I mean, truly intimate?”

“Um, yes. I guess we were.”

“Michael isn’t close to anyone. Oh, I know he loves me, but it isn’t in him to be truly close to anyone.”

I held my tongue. I didn’t want to get involved in marital discord no matter how kind and intriguing my hostess. Paula used her right foot to scratch an apparent itch on the back of her left calf. Knocking the shoe off her right foot, she brought it behind the left and used the top of her toes to scratch her leg. Much too soon for me, she bumped the sandal off her left foot and used it to scratch the back of the right leg.

Paula put her glass down and leaned forward, pressed her breasts against her raised thighs, and ran her hands down the top of her lower legs to her now bare feet. I enjoyed watching her hands slide down her legs and her toes curl upon their approach. She turned her head to rest it on her knees, and looked at me, catching me in the act. She smiled, a pleasant, inviting smile.

“Did you do special things for her, Peter?” Her voice was husky and warm.

“I supported her causes, went to the opera, remembered all our anniversaries, that sort of thing.”

Paula smiled and her eyes twinkled. I knew that wasn’t what she was talking about but she let it go.

“You seem to be a very nice man. I’m sure you did all that and more.”

“I did my best to please her.”

Paula rubbed her hands along the length of her calves. “And, I imagine, she for you.”

I was glad that she turned her head away so I could digest her words without scrutiny. They could be interpreted on a superficial level but the forward flex of Paula’s body, the hands running down her legs, the press of her head upon her thighs, and the depth of her eyes when she finally turned to look at me, placed the conversation on a level of intimacy that I hadn’t experienced with a woman since Linda had passed. Startled, I realized I was aroused and instinctively brought my hands together over my lap. Paula leaned back, picked up her port, and stood up. I heard someone greet Mike inside the house.

“It’s late,” she said. Most of her weight was placed on her right foot which pushed her hip to the side. “I hope you didn’t mind me prying, Peter, but I get a little melancholy when Michael works late, which is a sometimes too often and others not enough,” she said with a wistful smile.

I stood up myself, to be polite, and instantly regretted it when my condition became evident. However, Paula didn’t seem to notice. She bid me goodnight and surprised me as she passed by, pausing to briefly brush her lips on my cheek. I watched her go, marveling at the flexibility of her legs and the way her buttocks kicked the dress to the side as she walked away in bare feet. From the back, she looked so much like Linda.

I sat down and finished my port. Mike didn’t come out to the patio and I was thankfully left alone with my thoughts. I couldn’t match this woman, so frankly intimate, with the reserved lady I had met in the afternoon, or either one with Mike. As the day had progressed, she had become steadily warmer and more personable. At least, she had after I met the children.

For the rest of the week, I went to the office with Mike. I met the sales staff, but except for a few brief sessions, I was left pretty much alone. The salesmen didn’t hang out together much and only met to trade stories if they encountered someone while getting coffee. They were like sharks circling one other and all of them, Mike included, were threatened by technical people while simultaneously, and paradoxically, feeling superior to them. I was tolerated only because Parker had sent me.

I saw Paula and the kids at dinner but, in Mike’s presence, the lively dinner discussion wasn’t repeated and neither was the frank conversation with Paula later in the evening. However, a more intriguing set of events did occur later in the evening after everyone had gone to bed.

On Tuesday, I awoke in the middle of the night, which wasn’t surprising since I was never comfortable sleeping in a strange bed. I sat up and turned to put my feet on the floor. It was then that I noticed a light under the door. Thinking someone else was up, I waited. I didn’t want to encounter anyone in the night while using the bathroom.

I listened but couldn’t hear anything that would indicate that anybody was up so I went to the door, paused to listen again, and then opened it a crack. I still couldn’t hear anything so I pulled the door open and stuck my head into the hallway.

The bathroom light was on and the doorway was open. Someone must have forgotten to turn off the light. Probably one of the kids since Mike and Paula probably had a private bathroom connected to their bedroom.

I slipped into the dark hallway and quietly crossed the six or seven steps to the open doorway. I looked into the bathroom and was surprised to find it occupied.

Paula’s back was to me. She was simply standing, looking out the bathroom window, with all the patience in the world. The light, above and on the far side of her, lit up her body so its silhouette shone through her nightgown. I knew she had a good figure but to see it this way made that assumption seem uninspired.

Her body was truly remarkable. A perfect, elongated hourglass with a beautifully slender neck protruding from the top, slightly muscled arms hanging listlessly from the sides, and a fine set of legs extending to the floor. I cleared my throat, but Paula didn’t turn around, or even turn her head slightly. She didn’t respond at all.

“Paula?” I whispered.

Nothing.

“Mrs. Entwhistle?”

Nothing.

I started to turn away, then changed my mind. I stepped into the bathroom and brought myself close to her, worried that she was having some kind of strange attack.

“Paula?”

I looked into the mirror to her left at the profile of her face. She seemed far away. Except for the fact that her eyes were open I would have said she was asleep. My gaze dropped lower in the mirror, along the outline of the front of her body. Paula’s breasts were easily discernible under the nightgown, sloping down and swooping out, her nipples seeming to hold the nightgown up on their own. An electric bolt shot through my penis, which had been dormant since our intimate discussion the night I first arrived.

“Paula?” I whispered.

I put my hand tentatively on the outside of her upper right arm and she turned to face me. She wasn’t awake. Paula was sleep-walking!

I stepped back and to the side, surprised, and Paula started walking. She went right out the door and into the hallway, then stopped. I followed her and whispered her name again. When nothing happened, I turned her toward her room. Paula walked calmly to her door and stopped. I followed and stood behind her.

The door to her room was open about halfway. It crossed my mind how awkward this would be if Mike suddenly got up and found me standing so close behind his attractive wife who was clearly naked under the semi-transparent nightgown. Nervously, I looked into their room but couldn’t see anything. It was dark.

“Paula?” I whispered, very quietly.

There was no response. I glanced into her room again, then touched her shoulders and urged her toward the right to face the bedroom doorway. She complied but didn’t move forward. I sighed, and swore under my breath, “Shit.”

I got behind Paula and gently prodded her back but she still didn’t move. I nudged her again but, upon continued resistance, pushed harder. The added pressure forced my hands past Paula’s shoulder blades and under her arms. Suddenly, my fingers were scraping beside the fullness of Paula’s breasts. Oh, God.

I wanted to grasp them fully, to pull her firmly back until her ass nestled against my bulging cock. I was suddenly acutely aware that I was standing in the hallway, behind my hostess, dressed only in my underwear, with my hands cupping the sides of her breasts. This was insane!

Paula took a step forward, then another, and another. She slipped into the darkness and out of sight. I stood there for a minute, breathing hard, looked down at the hardness poking through my shorts, and then up into the impenetrable gloom. I turned away and started back to my room.

“Are you okay, Darling?”

I quickened my pace and beetled into my room, not stopping to use the bathroom or to turn off the light, and clicked the door closed behind me.

I stayed up the next night, listening for signs that Paula might walk in her sleep again. I finally fell asleep but woke up twice. Both times, I checked to see if the bathroom light was on and got up to listen at my door. Nothing.