A Voyeur in the Country
She was all I could think about as I climbed the stairs to my room. Beautiful, charming, and completely intoxicating. I couldn’t remember the last time I had met a woman remotely like her. Her husband was a nice guy too. Damn, he really won the lottery with that one. What a lucky son of a bitch.
It had been a busy and stressful week of meetings in London. With the looming prospect of another such week one of my local colleagues suggested that I get out of the city for the weekend. Find a nice Bed and Breakfast in the Cotswolds…relax, unwind, catch my breath before we hit it hard again next week.
After a little research I found a place that would fit the bill nicely and gave the innkeeper a call. “I’m sorry” she started “but we are all out of our standard single rooms. The only room I have left is one of our deluxe luxury rooms. Since it is just you, well, you may feel it is a little more than you need.” She explained the room and then the price. It was a little much, but fuck it, I decided to splurge and booked the room. After all, it was just for one night.